Ida looked at me, tears welling up in her eyes, threatening to spill over. “There’s quite a bit more to it than that, darlin’.”
Something was amiss. “What do you know about the visit from the lawyer?”
“I didn’t know that handsome stranger was a lawyer, but I knew your momma hired one to handle her affairs.”
“What affairs, Ida? Will someone please tell me what the heck is going on here?”
“Calm down child, your momma did what she did to protect you from that no-good swindler of a father of yours.”
My patience was wearing thin. “What did she do, Ida?”
Then it registered.
“What do you know about my father?”
Tears rolled down her face, and she didn’t bother to wipe them. “I told your momma you were strong enough for the truth, but she thought she was protecting you. Making sure that con-artist didn’t steal from you.”
“Ida, slow down. I don’t understand a word you’re saying. Did she know where my father was this whole time?”
“He was actually lurking behind a tree at the funeral—that no-good coward.”
I could feel the blood leaving my head and slamming to my feet, then, back again, pounding in my skull like a jackhammer. “Why didn’t someone tell me he was there so I could talk to him? How could she keep him from me all these years?”
Ida grabbed both my hands. “It wasn’t like that, child. He was only after your inheritance. And he’s not going to stop until he gets his hands on it.”
“Even if my mother saved every bit of her tips over the years, it couldn’t have amounted to much. How bad off is he?”
“He was after the estate.”
There was that word again. “What estate?”
“Peyton Manor.”
“That old abandoned mansion over in Wellington? The one with the cottage across the lake? What does that have to do with me?”
“It belonged to the Widow Karrington and she left it to your momma.”
I jumped up from my seat. “You mean the rumors are true?” I was practically screaming.
Ida walked around to the other side of counter where I was now pacing furiously.
“Even the orphanage belongs to you. Your momma used some of the money from the estate to re-open it after the fire, and it’s been housing children all this time under the supervision of that lawyer—with the help of the nuns, of course.”
I continued to pace while Ida tried to fall in step with me. I stopped short and turned abruptly, causing the poor woman to run into me. Frustrated, she grabbed me by the arms and guided me back to my seat at the counter.
Stunned, I looked at her blankly. “If my mother was so rich, why did she struggle to raise me on tips from waiting tables?”
“Your momma loved working here. She used some of the money from the estate to buy the house you live in and to make sure you never went without a meal. But she didn’t want to spend too much or live too extravagantly for fear that your father would discover the money and try to take it from you.”
“You mean we lived in that small house on purpose when we could have had more?”
“Listen to me, Claire. Your momma wanted you to have that money and the estate when you finished school. None of it meant anything to her since she never knew her benefactors. The Widow Karrington was ninety-four years old when she dropped your momma off at the orphanage. Rumor had it that she died just days after. Her own granddaughter died giving birth to your momma.”
“Why did she let me believe all this time that this was nothing more than a rumor?”
Ida finally wiped her tear-drenched face with a napkin. “She didn’t do it to hurt you. She did it to protect you. She knew you’d heard the rumors, and she wanted them to stay rumors because she wasn’t ready to tell you the truth yet. Problem was, she didn’t plan on dying so quickly. She thought she had more time to tell you—to ease you into it. She hoped to give it to you as a gift for your graduation, but the cancer made her sick faster than she thought it would. She was too busy struggling to spend one more day with you than to worry about this. Maybe it was the medicine that made her forget to tell you, I can’t say for sure, darlin’. I wish you could have heard it from her. It might have made things a little easier for you.”
“So how do I find out the whole truth about this?”
Ida wiped new tears from my face with a clean napkin. “I think you have to talk to the lawyer. Your momma never wanted to have much to do with the estate so she let the lawyers handle everything, including running the orphanage. She never talked too much about it. I think she was really afraid of what your father would do if he found out the rumors were true. He hounded her about it all the time, but she never admitted it to him. Geez, I don’t even think she ever fully admitted it to herself.”
Feeling overwhelmed, I stood up and walked out of the diner, leaving my rain slicker behind. Thunder echoed in my ears, and the heavy rain felt cold as it soaked through my clothes, making them cling to me like cellophane. I couldn’t think anymore. The only thing I wanted was to be at home, because at the present, it was the only reality I could count on.
CHAPTER TWO
The sun came up the next morning, the same as it did every day, giving the appearance that life all around me was going on as usual. In my world, however, life had come to a sudden, painful halt. I wasn’t looking forward to my mother’s birthday party at the diner, and had nearly talked myself into getting sick just so I’d have an excuse for not showing up. But I knew I had to go because my mother would never forgive me if she knew I was planning on being so disrespectful to the friends she considered family.
In an effort to distract myself, I opened up my laptop, thinking I’d catch up on my emails. Before I realized, I was conducting a search of Peyton Manor. Every search came up the same. Article after article spoke of the mansion as being haunted, and of passersby sighting the ghosts of the three children who were murdered in their sleep by their father in 1901. One week after being imprisoned for their murders, the father, Doctor Edward Blackwell, hanged himself in his prison cell. Peyton Manor had been named for Dr. Blackwell’s wife, Peyton, who had died of leukemia a few days before the children’s murders. Officials claimed Peyton’s death may have resulted from untested medicine and unorthodox treatment methods practiced by Dr. Blackwell. In turn, the burden of responsibility for his wife’s death must have caused Dr. Blackwell to go mad and murder the children he intended to put in the orphanage the day following his wife’s funeral. The manor had remained vacant since the 1901 murders, but the lake house had been inhabited by Dr. Blackwell’s older, widowed sister, Lucinda Blackwell Karrington, until her death on October 17, 1953; only two days after my mother was born. There were unconfirmed reports that the Widow Karrington had been sheltering her great granddaughter who’d died giving birth to an illegitimate child two days before the ninety-four-year-old Widow Karrington had passed away in her sleep. Speculations were made as to the whereabouts of the child, but to date, no one has officially come forward to claim the estate, making it the longest-standing vacancy of record.
So that was my mother’s story. No wonder she didn’t want anything to do with such a family. Murders, suicide, and haunting. What would make her think I would want such a place?
I phoned Emily and told her what I discovered from my search.
“I already heard all that crap about the house, but I didn’t know it belonged to your mother. I mean, there has been a lot of talk over the years, but I sure didn’t see this coming. Did you, Claire?”
I sighed heavily. “I guess the more I read, the more I hoped it wasn’t true. But it is. All of it.”
Emily chuckled lightly. “I’m sure the house isn’t really haunted though.”
“How do you know, Em?”
“You know there’s only one way to find out.”
“I’m not going there by myself. Are you crazy?”
“Claire, don’t be such a baby. But you probably ha
ve to go see the lawyer and sign some papers and get a key or something first.”
“Oh crap. I forgot about the lawyer. He probably thinks I’m an idiot for running out of his office the way I did.”
“Who cares what he thinks, Claire. Go get your key and you won’t ever have to see him again.”
“What if I don’t want the key, Em?”
“Give it to me. I could use a bigger house.”
“I don’t understand you, Em. Why would you want to live in a house that is haunted? Maybe that’s why my mother didn’t want to live in it.”
“She couldn’t live in it or your father would have divorced her and taken it from her. Then she wouldn’t have been able to give it to you.”
“But I’ll bet he could still take it. He’s a widower now because they never divorced.”
“I think you better call that lawyer right now, Claire. It’s the only way you’re going to find out the truth and how to protect your inheritance. I wouldn’t worry so much about it being haunted. Your mother would never give you the house if she thought it was haunted. And you can’t let your father get his grubby hands on it now. Not after your mother went to such lengths to preserve it for you.”
“I suppose you’re right. I’ll call that lawyer right now.”
“Call me back as soon as you get off the phone with him.”
I agreed and hung up the phone, then went to my room to get the business card so I could call Mr. Avery. I made an appointment for an hour from now, hoping that the quick appointment would prevent me from chickening out again.
****
Once again, I found myself waiting in Mr. Avery’s office, but this time I was determined to stay put. The wall beside his desk consisted of tall windows that overlooked a lake, complete with long grasses and cat-tails at the water’s edge. The water rippled in the breeze, causing a family of ducks to bob up and down in the water like little boats braving the rough waters of the ocean. Mr. Avery interrupted my thoughts about the ducks as he entered the room. He gestured me toward a chair in front of the desk, and I watched him as he walked around his desk and took his seat behind it very proudly. Emily and Ida had been right about one thing. They both agreed with me that he was definitely very nice looking.
Focus, Claire. You are here to talk about your mother’s last wishes. But keep it light because you don’t want to cry in front of this beautiful man.
Mr. Avery placed some papers in front of me, then, slid an envelope with my mother’s handwriting on it over the top of the papers. “This letter from your mother might help to clear up a few things about the estate. Would you like to read it before we move on?”
I picked up the envelope and traced over the letters of my name with my fingers, already feeling the lump form in the back of my throat. “Do I have to read it now, or can I wait until later?”
“If you would rather read it later in private, I completely understand. Shall we proceed?”
I nodded as he began to explain the things I already knew from talking to Ida and my research on the internet. He confirmed that the manor had lain vacant since 1901 when the children were all found dead the morning after their mother’s funeral, and that Dr. Blackwell had been accused of murdering them and was put in prison, where he hanged himself a week later. The Widow Karrington, Dr. Edward Blackwell’s older sister of ten years, had resided in the cottage across the lake from Peyton Manor until she passed away in 1953, just two days after leaving my mother at the orphanage with the papers bequeathing the entire one-hundred acre estate, including both houses and the orphanage to her, along with a generous donation to care for my mother while she resided in the orphanage. Ellenor Karrington, who’d gone by the name of Ellie, was the unwed, fifteen-year-old great granddaughter of the Widow Karrington, who had come to live with her when both her parents died in a car accident two years before. At ninety-two, the Widow Karrington was too old to properly care for the teen, and was unaware she fell into trouble. Ellie had indeed died giving birth to my mother, and there was no mention of who had fathered the child.
Mr. Avery went on to say that even though the furnishings in the home had remained undisturbed since the Blackwell family had lived in the manor, the Widow Karrington had installed updated electric and plumbing in an attempt at selling the property. Since the rumors of haunting had plagued the estate, she was unsuccessful in selling the property. However, many offers were made on the land, but the Widow Karrington rejected all proposals, knowing the manor would be demolished in the process.
The Widow Karrington held fast to her brother’s innocence, claiming he was incapable of hurting the children, despite the fact he had decided after his wife’s death to place the children in the orphanage so he could travel for work, since his wife’s illness had nearly wiped them out financially. Dr. Blackwell was an apothecary physician who owned a traveling medicine show complete with tonics and elixirs he himself had patented, and needed to travel again to earn money for his family. The Widow Karrington had rejected the idea of caring for the children by herself, as she was mourning the recent loss of her husband, and had fallen ill at the time.
“The only thing I want to know is whether or not my father—I mean this Grayson Mayfield III—if that’s his real name, has any right to take this from me. I think it was very important to my mother that he would never be allowed a dime of the money or an inch of the property.”
“You’re getting way ahead of yourself. First I have to have you sign some papers for it to even become yours.”
I shook my head. “I’m not signing anything if it means this man can turn around and take it from me.”
“Relax, Miss Mayfield, he will have a tough time trying to convince a judge to let him take property from his deceased wife whom he left twenty-six years ago, and from you, his daughter, whom he’s never attempted to have a relationship with. The judge might just decide to make him pay back child support for the eighteen years he never paid.”
“That’s pretty funny. I like that, Mr. Avery.”
“Please, call me Ben. We will be spending a fair amount of time ironing out all the details of the estate, and it might make the work a little easier for both of us if we don’t have to be so formal all the time.”
“Okay, Ben. I suppose it would be nicer if you called me Claire. Miss Mayfield was beginning to sound a bit too formal. So where do we begin?”
“First things first. I will need for you to review the contracts for the orphanage in order for it to remain open under new ownership.”
I scrunched up my face. “Are there children living there right now?”
Ben flipped through several pages of the orphanage documents. “It says here there are twelve children currently residing in the orphanage.”
“Does that mean those kids belong to me?”
“Well, not technically. The building and the property belong to you, but the children are placed by the state and there is state funding as well as funding through residual investments that were made by the Widow Karrington. It’s a bit complicated, and a rather unusual situation, but it has worked ever since Dr. Blackwell built it back in 1885 when he built both the manor and the cottage across the lake as a wedding present for Peyton, his wife. The orphanage was a “project” of Mrs. Blackwell’s until she fell ill with leukemia just after the birth of the youngest of the three children.”
“Did the dad really kill those kids? Did they die in the house?”
“Yes the children died in the manor, but I don’t have any idea of Dr. Blackwell’s guilt or not. The Widow Karrington spoke to the newspapers several times on her brother’s behalf, claiming his innocence, but he was put in prison for it. Unfortunately, he hanged himself before he was given a proper trial.”
“That could make him seem guilty—or, he could have been grieving so much that he didn’t want to live without them. It’s almost romantic in a sick sort of way.”
Ben raised an eyebrow. “I suppose that’s one way of looking at it.”
&n
bsp; He handed me the papers and I read over them the best I could, not wanting to ask too many questions for fear I would look stupid. I trusted Ben, I suppose. If nothing else, everything seemed so complicated, it had to be legal.
I looked up at Ben, feeling a little overwhelmed by all the legal jargon contained in the contracts. “Am I supposed to get a second opinion?”
Ben cleared his throat. “I suppose if you wanted to, you can have another attorney look over the contracts. It might put your mind at ease to know that your mother hired my father’s firm twenty-six years ago to handle her affairs, and the firm has been taking care of everything very smoothly ever since.”
“You don’t look old enough to have been handling my mother’s affairs for twenty-six years.”
Ben chuckled. “Not me, personally, but the law firm; my father, in particular. It’s my father’s firm and I’m only handling this in his absence since he will be out of the country for another three weeks. I’m only twenty-seven, so I was just a baby when your mother handed her affairs over to this firm.”
I sized him up. “So you must be fresh out of law school.”
“Fairly recently, yes. I’m a Public Defender, but let me reassure you, I’m only handling this in my father’s absence at his request, and the senior partners will oversee everything so no mistakes will be made.”
I put a hand under my chin and stared at the contracts on the desk in front of me. “You do seem very knowledgeable of the situation.”
A Secret in the Attic (Mystery/Suspense/Romance) Page 12
