“Thank you.” She welcomed the warmth of the towel her caretaker wrapped around her, easing her anxiety.
“I have a housecoat warming by the fire. Hurry and slip into it so we can do something with that hair of yours.”
Jenna hurried to the fireplace and slipped on the housecoat, pulling the collar up under her chin and reveling in its cozy warmth. She squished her toes in the plush carpet as she crossed the room to sit at her dressing table. Edna rubbed her hair with a dry towel before beginning the arduous task of pulling a brush through her hair. She tilted back her head and closed her eyes.
“Mmm, that feels so good. I remember my mother brushing my hair dry every night while she told stories about growing up on a horse farm.” Thankfully, for every bad situation life threw at her, there was a good memory to combat it.
“Your mother would be very proud of the strong woman you’ve become.”
Edna’s voice always had such a calming effect on her. She focused on the pull of the brush and warmth of the fire. She might not have had her father’s love, but the love shown to her by Edna, Grace, the cook, and especially Charles, was far more than most people experienced in a lifetime.
And then came Jack...
She smiled, remembering the first time he’d brushed her hair…and I fell asleep in his arms.
Edna setting the brush down abruptly ended the precious memory. She rubbed her upper arms, missing his touch against her skin.
Jenna saw the compassion and worry in the housekeeper’s misty eyes as she gazed at her in the mirror while smoothing her now shiny hair. Charles probably told her about what her father said.
Please forgive me, but I just can’t talk about it right now.
“Charles would like you to join him for a meal.” Edna gathered the damp towels.
Knowing her mentor, he was probably worried sick about her. “Tell him I’ll be down in half an hour.”
Jenna got up and stood in the doorway of her walk-in closet. She perused row upon row of color-coded clothing sorted by dresses, shirts, skirts and more. Her gaze traveled up to the ceiling of shelves filled with shoes for every occasion and then some.
“Wow.”
Back home with Jack, she had a couple shoes and a pair of rubber boots. Her wardrobe consisted of two pairs of jeans, half a dozen tops and two bulky knit sweaters. She flipped over a price tag dangling from one of her dresses—five hundred dollars. It shamed her to think how she’d tossed about money on such frivolous things.
I’m definitely not the same girl who didn’t think twice about spending that much on a dress. A dress I haven’t even worn.
Jenna rummaged through the closet until she found a pair of comfy yoga pants. She’d just pulled them up when a familiar item of clothing brought a smile to her face. She quickly discarded her housecoat for Jack’s oversized sweater she’d put in her bag at the last minute before leaving the cabin. She brought the ragged sleeves to her face and inhaled his lingering scent on the misshaped knit.
It’s too bad there isn’t a way to communicate with him.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror. Her shiny red hair fell in waves down the front of the forest green sweater. She smiled at her reflection, happy with the woman looking back at her. The only time she glanced in the mirror at the cabin was in the morning when she brushed her teeth. It wasn’t a matter of not caring how she looked anymore; Jack gave her all the positive affirmation needed. Without words, he told her with his eyes, usually coupled with a lop-sided grin, just how beautiful he thought she was every single day, and that’s all that really mattered to her.
The polished marble tile was cold against her bare feet as she made her way down the staircase to the foyer.
Something is different...
She paused midway.
Father’s portraits are gone.
All that remained of the paintings were several large squares of wallpaper untouched by age.
Her nose twitched as the scent of flowers wafted up to her.
What the...?
Her gaze settled on a large arrangement of cheery yellow roses atop a table in front of an open window. The last time she remembered flowers—or the windows opened wide—her mother was alive. It was as if her spirit had been set free in the house once again. A smile played on her lips as she made her way to the solarium, her favorite room on the estate.
“Well, hello there.” Charles kissed her on the cheek and held out a chair.
“Thank you.”
She caught him giving her attire a once over, but kept any comments he might have had to himself. The quiet of the solarium grew a little uncomfortable. She wasn’t quite sure how she was supposed to act. She couldn’t be the grieving daughter some might expect her to be, and chanced a look at her friend through her lashes.
“Listen, Jenna, I’m sorry how things turned out. If I thought there was even the slightest chance of something like that happening, I would never have brought you back here.”
She straightened in her seat and lifted her chin, willing the hurt and anger away. “We both know what kind of man my father is...was. For a minute, I forgot and allowed myself to think there might be a final heartfelt moment between us.” She sipped from her water glass. “Do you mind if we not talk about this anymore?”
“You’re quite a gal.” Charles took a bottle from the ice bucket at the tableside. “Would you like a glass of wine?”
“Sure, why not.” She gazed up at the canopy of stars they dined under. It brought comfort in knowing even though Jack was hundreds of miles away, they shared the same breathtaking view.
Conversation flowed easily as they enjoyed a meal of scrumptious cracked crab. She’d forgotten what an incredible cook Grace was as she eased back in her chair and wiped the butter from her chin.
“What would you like to do with the rest of the evening?”
“Actually, I think I’d like to visit my mother’s sitting room and see if I can’t find some answers to those cryptic entries I told you about.” Now that her father was gone, she could move about the estate freely.
“You’d mentioned wanting to take a closer look, so I took the liberty of having the room spruced up. Are you sure you’re up to it?”
Jenna smiled and got up from the table. “Yes, I guess seeing the flowers in the foyer have me feeling a little nostalgic. Thank you, for everything.”
“If you’re sure you’re okay, I’ll tend to a few things while you explore.” He balled up his napkin and pushed away from the table to stand. “You don’t have to do this today.”
She wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his chest. “Don’t worry about me. You go do what you need to do.”
“I…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” he stammered.
Jenna kissed his flushed cheek. “Relax, I’m joking. You need to loosen up, old man. Go get a massage or something.” She winked playfully on her way out of the solarium.
Mounting trepidation slowed her pace, however, as she meandered to her parents’ wing of the estate.
Jenna mindfully opened the door where, only a short time ago, her father lay dying. She breathed a sigh of relief to find the bed stripped and windows open wide. The sweet scent of freshly cut roses masked any lingering smell of death. She squished her toes in the lush, white carpet, worlds away from the rustic hardwood floors of the cabin, and forced her gaze away from the spot her father had discarded her.
The sitting room door opened with a creek, and the breeze from the open window married the scent of roses and lily-of-the-valley perfume. It had to have been Edna’s idea to spray her mother’s perfume in the room. Her gaze settled on the rocking chair where a fresh, hand-knit throw hung over the arm.
Thank you, Edna.
How many nights did I spend sitting on Mother’s lap right there?
Precious memories.
Her eyes misted as she opened the small closet to find boxes and baskets of various sizes and colors lined the shelves. One container in particular caugh
t her eye, a floral hatbox hidden behind a tub filled with an assortment of hair barrettes. She wasn’t able to shake the feeling she was somehow treading on forbidden territory as her hand trembled when she lifted the lid.
Jenna sat in her mother’s chair and laid the soft knit over her legs. The container was filled with letters in neat bundles, tied with ribbon. The yellowish edges of some told of their age.
She took out what looked to be the oldest pile and gently tugged at the ribbon. The letter wasn’t addressed to her mother.
Ursula Jennings?
If she remembered correctly, her mother’s mother…a departed grandmother she never knew existed until after her passing.
If they were mailed to my grandmother, why did Mother have these?
Jenna flipped the envelope over to find no postal stamp or marking of any kind.
Hmm...
She carefully took the stationary out of the envelope and unfolded it. Her mother’s familiar handwriting sprawled across the page. The letter dated only months before she married.
Mother,
I am a very lucky woman to have a job here at the Ski Resort, but I’m terribly homesick and missing my Angel. I have to keep reminding myself it’s only for six weeks and I’ll make twenty times the money I would working on the farm.
Jenna furrowed her brow. Missing my Angel…who? She knew her mother was raised on a horse farm, but she’d never talked about working at the resort. So far the letter added to her confusion, not answered her questions as she continue reading...
I think some of the men here aren’t so interested in skiing as they are in the girls. I don’t care for the way they look at me. However, I did meet a rather polite man today. His name is Kenneth. My heartbeat races every time he glances my way. I hope to see him again.
It became obvious this letter was written at the same time as the last entry in her diary. Jenna continued to read the neatly written lines. She could almost feel her mother falling in love, telling the story of the loving man Jenna remembered from her childhood—full of laughter and spontaneity.
She leaned back and closed her eyes, picturing a little girl at the window, waiting for Daddy to come home after a business trip, because she knew he’d have something special hidden behind his back just for her.
Polar opposites of the father who spoke such hurtful words on his death bed.
An air of melancholy settled in the room, prompting her to take a break. She stood and stretched her stiff body before gathering the letters and returning to her bedroom where she changed into pajamas. She reached for the phone to call the kitchen and stopped, the clock on her bedside table reminding her how late it was.
Jenna dashed downstairs in her bare feet. She’d forgotten how cold the floors got at night. The warmth from the kitchen welcomed her as she swung open the door.
A very startled cook looked up from what she was reading. “Oh, Ms Jenna. What are you doing down here this time of night?” Grace stood and strode across the room to wrap her arms around here. “It’s so nice to see you, even in your bare feet.” She clicked her tongue like she’d always done when scolding.
“I missed you, Grace.” She stepped out of her arms and sat at the breakfast bar. “I couldn’t go to bed before I had a cup of tea and your famous shortbread.”
The dear woman chuckled, setting her tired eyes to sparkle with pleasure. “Now, that sure brings back some fond memories. I’ll be right back.”
Grace ducked into the pantry and closed the door behind her as she always did when fetching her shortbread. She had a secret hiding place, and to this day Jenna didn’t know where it was. Not for lack of trying, having climbed the shelves many times in search of the treasure.
She scampered over to the stove and turned on the kettle to boil. “Would you like a cuppa tea?” Jenna called out.
Grace stepped out of the pantry with a stack of shortbread in hand. “What do you think you’re doing? That’s my job.”
“That was your job. I’m not a little girl anymore.” She opened the cupboard door. “Did you want some or not?”
The cook sighed wearily. “Oh, not this late for me or I’ll be up half the night peeing.” She giggled behind her hand.
After a brief battle over who would carry the bedtime snack upstairs, Jenna was off with her goodies in hand. She’d just set the steaming mug down when there was a light rap on the door, and Edna appeared in her housecoat and hair wrapped for the night.
“What are you doing up at this hour?”
Edna waddled across the carpet and fussed with her blankets, folding them down for her to get in. “I could ask you the same thing. I ran into Grace on my way to my room…”
She laughed and held up her hand. “Don’t worry, she already scolded me enough for both of you.”
“I’m sorry, but...”
Jenna quickly kissed her cheek and climbed under the blanket. “No need for apologies, I’m quite capable of making myself a cup of tea.”
Edna sniffled, shaking her head. “You’ve changed some since you’ve been gone.”
“I hope that’s a good thing.” She sat up against her headboard and reached for her tea.
“You’ve grown into a lovely young woman. Your mother would be very proud.”
Tears stung her eyes at the mention of her mother. “If I never thanked you for being there for me after she passed...”
“You were so young and heartbroken.” Edna shook her head as she scurried to the door. “Good night, Ms. Jenna.”
Jenna recognized the quiver in her voice. Her rush from the room undoubtedly preceded having a good cry. “Good night, Edna.”
She got comfy and reached for the hatbox on the other side of the bed. The next letter she took out wasn’t addressed to her grandmother, but to her mother’s sister Rose, who passed away many years ago.
Dear Sister,
Kenneth has offered to pay for her to stay at one of the best facilities who cater to people like her. She’ll have everything she’d ever want or need. All of the things I could never afford to give her. He’ll pay for it all, even her clothes. How can I say no?
All he asks is to keep Angelina a secret between us. No one can know she exists. Kenneth says it’s because his family will never approve of our marriage if they knew I had a child out of wedlock.
Jenna dropped the letter to her lap and stared off into space.
A child? Out of wedlock?
“I have a sister?” Her mouth grew dry and her heartbeat quickened. “I have a sister!” She reread the last two paragraphs to be sure she’d understood correctly. Her heart ached for her mother.
How did she endure all those years without being able to talk about her own child...my sister?
The term, “people like her” left her unsettled, not knowing what it could possibly mean.
Jenna tossed the blanket aside and shifted to sit in the middle of her bed, her bum resting against her heels as she read the last page for the third time.
Somebody has to know something. Did Father continue to pay her expenses after Mom died?
One thing was certain: she had far more questions than answers.
“Where could she be?” She owed it to the memory of her mother to find her and make sure Angelina was still being cared for. Surely, once Jack learned of this unexpected revelation he’d understand why she needed to stay a little longer.
Jenna hugged her pillow and closed her eyes. “Don’t worry, Mama, I’ll make sure Angelina is okay.” She flopped back on her bed. “Wow, I have a sister.” Tears of happiness filled her eyes.
I wonder if she looks like me.
Does she even know I exist?
Chapter Thirteen
A jumble of possible scenarios scrambled in her mind, least of which, her father might have deleted her from the Will, and she wouldn’t have the resources to find her sister. She didn’t want or need the money for herself; Jack provided her with everything she could possibly need.
Outside of her father’s
den, she came to a full stop to steady herself. “I really wish I knew what to expect.”
Charles shrugged. “I wouldn’t put it past your father to leave everything to a stranger just to piss us off.”
Jenna smiled despite thinking it was a definite possibility.
He winked at her before opening the doors.
Mr. Bond sat behind her father’s impressive desk—hand-carved out of the finest mahogany money could buy. Without fully standing, he nodded toward two empty chairs across from him. “Good day, Mr. Wylder, Ms. Blackburn. Please be seated.”
Jenna raised a brow at being seated in her own home, and Mr. Bond cleared his throat and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his narrow nose.
The next half-hour passed like a dream.
“So, as you can see, Ms. Blackburn, you are the sole benefactor and executor of this estate and its considerable holdings. That is, excluding the antique cars, which your father left to Mr. Wylder.”
Jenna sat utterly dumbfounded. I’m not surprised my sister wasn’t mentioned, but it makes no sense he’d leave me his vast fortune. Maybe he didn’t intentionally do so.
His last words echoed in her mind. You are dead to me.
I can’t imagine he made this decision in the recent months.
“Mr. Bond? Can you please tell me when my father wrote this will?”
The lawyer flipped through the file. “He had this drawn approximately one year before your mother passed away. If she were still alive today, she would’ve been the sole benefactor. The provision in the event of her death being all holdings go to any children they had together.”
“Wow.” She crinkled her brow. “I find it hard to believe he never made any changes over the years. He didn’t even know Charles back then?”
“A codicil to his will with respect to Mr. Wylder was made last summer when he bought the Rolls Royce.”
Jenna summoned the courage to bring up the topic of her sister. Bracing herself for whatever may come, she straightened in her chair and took a deep breath.
“If you could indulge me for a minute, I’d like to share something I discovered last night while going through some of my mother’s old journals and letters.”
Angels In Red Page 10
