by Debbie Mason
“Yes, well, it wasn’t my fault her great-grandson found the fog machines before they set the boxes on fire. Even without a fire, I expected her family to encourage Colleen to sell. I know I did, sir. I need more time…How was I supposed to know she’d drop dead before she signed? How long…Well, there’s only one holdout, so I’d say the odds are looking up. All we need to do is convince Michael Gallagher to sell.”
The woman made a face, as though she didn’t relish sharing the next bit of news. “We may have a slight problem, though. Today he announced he’s having his wedding at the manor. I know, I’m not happy about it either, sir. The last thing we need is for the new manager to generate more publicity and income for Greystone. Sabotage the wedding?” The realtor tipped her head back and looked up at the ceiling. “Of course I’m up for it. Yes, I’ll be in touch.”
She disconnected. “Arrogant ass. If I didn’t need the money, I’d tell him to find someone else to do his dirty work. What are you looking at, cat? Shoo, get out of here.”
“It’s you who best be leaving,” Colleen said, and went to push the ladder to give the woman the fright she sorely deserved. Colleen’s hand passed through the brass rail. She tried again with the same result. It was no use. She must have used too much energy whacking Griffin earlier. Simon hissed at Paige and jumped on the woman’s lap. The realtor shrieked and leaped off the chair.
Colleen smiled as Paige rushed past her. “Well done, Simon. At least we know she wasn’t the one spying on Ava and Sophie. If she had been, she’d know exactly how to sabotage the wedding.”
Following the realtor out of the library, Colleen checked the alcoves and hidey-holes as she went. No one was about. Paige headed for the bar where her partner in crime, Hazel, chatted up Colleen’s attorney.
George patted his flushed face with a hankie. “Give it up, Hazel. Colleen was of sound mind when she had me draw up her will, and I’d advise you not to stir up trouble.” He narrowed his eyes at Paige. “And you, young lady. Stop encouraging her. This wedding will be good for both the manor and the local economy. Just you wait and see. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll pay my respects and be off.”
“Well done, George,” Colleen said, accompanying him to the sitting room. “We can take him off our list of suspects, Simon. Those three, too, I would imagine,” she added, nodding at her great-grandsons. They were still where she’d left them sitting by the fire. It was good to see them together. She stopped and listened in, smiling when she heard Liam and Griffin telling Aidan how to handle Harper from now on. Good, it was about time someone talked to the lad. Colleen never did like Aidan’s wife. Told him so the day he’d brought Harper to meet her and Kitty.
Colleen headed for the sitting room. Out of her three great-grandsons, only Liam would care about the conversation in the study. But she knew him well. He wouldn’t stoop to eavesdropping. If Liam overheard the conversation, he would have confronted Sophie right then and there. Colleen had a feeling it wouldn’t go well for those two when Liam discovered the truth.
Mr. Wilcox left the sitting room and walked straight through Colleen. They both shivered. She was about to apologize then remembered he couldn’t hear her. Probably a good thing. He’d have a heart attack and then where would she be? She couldn’t remember if she’d made arrangements for another trustee.
Definitely wouldn’t have been Sean or Maura, she thought as she entered the room. Her grandson and his wife stood in front of the painting Colleen had commissioned. Maggie had a great talent; she also had a secret. And if someone happened upon Colleen’s memoir…
It was bloody annoying that her taped message cut out just before she’d delivered the book’s whereabouts. She’d noticed that electronics went haywire when she was close by and shouldn’t have touched the television screen. But she’d caught a glimpse of herself in the casket and was so shocked by the sight of her garishly made-up face, she’d leaned on the television for support. Which didn’t help because of course she fell through it. She’d haunt the staff at the funeral parlor if she wasn’t tied to the manor. Something she’d discovered when she’d tried to follow Hazel and Paige the day she’d died. She’d wanted to see what they were up to. She knew now, didn’t she? Proving it would be another matter.
She went to stand behind Sean and Maura. “A brilliant job you did, Maggie,” Colleen murmured, looking at the faces of those she loved in the painted crimson sky. She’d probably be bawling now if she were able to. If things hadn’t worked out the way they did, she’d be with them. Ah well, it was looking like her family here and Greystone needed her more.
Which became as clear as crystal when she heard Maura say, “I don’t care what George says—there must be a way to contest the will. You’re a lawyer, figure it out.”
“I’ve already gone over the will, Maura. George crossed his t’s and dotted his i’s, and there’s nothing to be gained by tying the will up in the courts.”
Maura sighed. “I suppose you’re right. It’ll be up to Bethany then. The last thing she wants is to be tied to this mausoleum and Michael’s cousins forever. Not to mention the money at stake. If Michael hopes to run a successful campaign for political office, he’ll need the extra funds. Did Ms. Townsend tell you what that developer offered for Greystone and the estate?” She shook her head. “They’d all be set for life.”
“Money isn’t everything, Maura.”
“It is to Bethany. She’s accustomed to a certain lifestyle, you know. I’m sure she expects Michael to provide for her the same way her father did. If he isn’t careful, he’ll lose her.”
“A blessing if you ask me,” Sean said under his breath.
“Oh, hush. She’ll make a wonderful politician’s wife, and our son loves her.” She turned to smile at her husband and patted his arm. “Thank you, darling. You always make me feel so much better.”
“How? I barely said ten words.”
“True, but by talking it out, I realized there’s no need to worry after all. Bethany probably convinced Michael to sell on the drive back to Boston. We should leave too. You know how much I hate this place.”
Colleen shuddered, and it had nothing to do with Maura passing through her body on her way out of the sitting room. No, it was because Colleen had assumed Michael’s love for Greystone could withstand any attack Bethany launched. But he was his father’s son, and Sean had never been able to stand up to his wife.
Colleen had to get rid of Bethany. There was only one way she knew how to do that…aside from murdering her, of course. Michael needed to know he was Mia’s father now. Colleen had to find her book, but that was proving harder than she’d anticipated. None of the Widow’s Club had found it either. Then the answer came to her. The private investigator she’d hired to keep track of Sophie in LA years before had sent her a package. She had a copy of Mia’s birth certificate in a locked drawer in the study.
“Sorry, Sophie my girl, but it’s for your own good. Take it from someone who knows—lying weighs heavy on the soul. It’s time for the truth to come out. This truth at least.”
It felt like déjà vu. And not in a good way. Sophie was sitting at the kitchen table with her grandmother and Mia when the phone rang. Instead of lunch, they were having breakfast and Mia was drawing a picture of Mistletoe Cottage. “Sí. Yes. Un momento.” Rosa let the phone dangle from the long cord. “Mia, come with Nonna. I’ll show you my ticket for the raffle. We’ll say a novena.”
When Mia skipped off, Rosa whispered the dreaded words, “Protective Services. Her name is Ms. Olivetti. I liked the other one better.” She made the sign of the cross.
Sophie’s breakfast curdled in her stomach as she picked up the phone. “Sophie DiRossi speaking.”
“Ms. Olivetti, the social worker assigned to your case. I have a date for your in-home visit. Do you have a pen?”
“Yes.” As if she needed a pen. The date and time would be burned into her brain.
“Friday at nine a.m. sharp.”
“Oh, I…my c
aseworker in LA said I would have at least a month to get settled. Mia and I are moving into our apartment today. I—”
“A matter was brought to our attention, and we’ve moved you up due to that.”
Sophie briefly closed her eyes. She should have been nicer to Aidan’s ex-wife. At the very least heard her out. Maybe tried to explain…Sophie frowned, but that was just yesterday. There’s no way Harper could have called Protective Services between now and then…unless she knew someone personally. “What matter are you referring to, Ms. Olivetti?”
“There was an article, along with a photo, of you and your daughter in the Harmony Harbor Gazette. We, or at the very least, your previous caseworker, should have been made aware of the incident at Greystone Manor. Has the minor child spoken yet?”
Sophie clenched her teeth. “No, Mia has not spoken yet, but she’s doing better. She no longer has nightmares, and she’s acting more like herself.” When she isn’t crawling under caskets and smiling and waving at imaginary people.
“I’ll make my own evaluations, thank you. I’ll see you at nine a.m., Ms. DiRossi. We’ll schedule follow-up visits at that time.”
Follow-up visits? Oh God, she was never going to get rid of them. They’d always be there, watching her every move, judging her. She wouldn’t measure up. They’d take Mia away. Her heart pounded so hard she couldn’t hear herself think. And she needed to think. As she took slow, deep breaths, the answer came to her. No matter how much the thought of Michael digging into their life terrified her, she didn’t have a choice. He was her best hope. “May I have your full name, Ms. Olivetti?”
“Olive Olivetti.”
An inappropriate laugh escaped before Sophie managed to stifle it with her hand. The woman’s name wasn’t that funny. It had to be panic fueling the half-hysterical giggle.
“Goodbye, Ms. DiRossi.” The caseworker’s sharp tone left no doubt she’d heard Sophie laugh.
She rested her forehead against the phone as she hung up, positive she’d made everything worse. If the woman didn’t have it out for her before, she did now.
“What did she say, bella?”
Sophie’s feet were heavy, her heart filled with dread as she returned to her chair at the table. “There was an article in the Gazette about Halloween at Greystone, when Mia got lost in the tunnels. It sent up a red flag, I guess, and they’ve moved my in-home visit to Friday.” She rested her elbows on the table and rubbed her eyes. “One of many from what Ms. Olivetti inferred.”
Her grandmother pulled a chair closer and sat down. “These people, I don’t trust them. They pick, pick, pick until they find something. You have to call Michael. He’s an important man. A lawyer. He’ll take care of this Olivetti person.”
Her grandmother had questioned Sophie when she came home last night about what had upset her. She’d ended up telling Rosa as a means of distracting her from asking about Liam. Now she was wondering if she’d made a mistake. The way her grandmother was playing with the gold chain around her neck and her refusal to meet Sophie’s eyes made her nervous.
“I’d already decided to ask for his help, Nonna. I’ll call—”
“If you told him the truth, he’d take care of you and Mia.” Rosa rubbed her thumb against her fingers. “He has money. You work too hard. If you married him—”
Stunned, she stared at her grandmother. Sophie opened her mouth and no words came out. They were stuck in her throat.
Her grandmother nodded, looking beyond her. “Sí. It would be best for everyone. Mia, she needs a father. She—”
Once her throat unlocked, the words exploded from Sophie’s mouth. “Have you lost your mind? The man is getting married in six weeks. At Greystone. On Christmas Eve. You know the high-profile wedding that will save the manor?” What was she saying? Sophie shook her head. She’d lost her mind too. “I don’t love him, and he doesn’t love me. I don’t think he even remembered me.”
Rosa crossed her arms. “Once you tell him about his daughter, his memory, it will return.”
“No doubt, but this would be far from the happy reunion you obviously think it would be, Nonna.” She leaned across the table to ensure her grandmother’s bedroom door was closed. It was, but she lowered her voice to be safe. “Have you met his fiancée? Can you imagine her as Mia’s stepmother? And Maura? Do you know what would happen if she knew?”
Last night, after she’d left the manor, Sophie had asked herself those exact same questions on the drive home. Her guilt at keeping Mia a secret from Michael had eaten at her while she shared her story with Ava. Things looked different in the cold light of day. While there was a part of her that wanted to tell him—she was tired of the lies—the fear that the situation would play out just as she expected it to outweighed the guilt over keeping her secret.
Her grandmother lifted a shoulder. “We can get rid of the fiancée. Maura…she’d be a pain in the culo, but she doesn’t live in Harmony Harbor. And Michael will move here once he marries you. It’s perfect. He wants to save Greystone, and so do you.”
“This is crazy talk. I don’t know what’s gotten into you.”
Her grandmother uncrossed her arms and shuffled her chair closer then took Sophie’s hands in hers. “It’s time, bella. All the lies…they make you sick. They’ll keep growing. Mia has to go to school sometime. You see her face when you lie about her age. Your worst fears? They’re already coming to pass. If you do not end this now, you will lose your daughter’s love.”
Sophie closed her eyes. It wasn’t fair. No one loved their child more than she did. All she’d ever tried to do was give Mia the best life she could. To make sure her daughter always knew how much she was loved. “I’ll…I’ll talk to Mia, try to explain. I’ll ask Michael for his help, but I can’t tell him, not yet. I need to know what kind of man he is. I need to know he’ll love and protect Mia. I’ll know better once I meet with him and Bethany. But I can’t just spring this on them. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them. If I’m going to have any chance at all of turning Greystone around, we need their wedding. And we need it to be perfect.”
Rosa nodded. “I’ll talk to the Widow’s Club. We’ll have our next meeting at the manor and include the local business owners who aren’t in the club. Sí. Yes, that will work.”
Sophie didn’t trust the smile on her grandmother’s face. She looked a little too pleased with herself. “Nonna, what will—”
She patted Sophie’s cheek. “Don’t worry, bella. Nonna will take care of everything.”
That’s what Sophie was afraid of.
Every time Sophie looked in the rearview mirror at Mia, she got a painful lump in her throat. She felt like she’d already lost her. Not only because of the lies. Their lives would never be the same after she told Michael. And she would—as she’d promised her grandmother—tell him after his wedding. Even if everything went well and Michael and Mia didn’t hate her for keeping them apart, Sophie’s relationship with her daughter would change. It wouldn’t be just the two of them. They’d have to figure out custody arrangements…
She felt shaky and breathless at the thought of not having her little girl with her, not tucking her in at night, not waking up to her sweet smile in the morning. Even if she hadn’t seen that smile for far too long. And Michael would be able to give Mia everything Sophie could only dream of. Snowflakes dotted the windshield, and she thought how this might be the last Christmas she had with her daughter.
She blinked away the moisture welling in her eyes and forced a smile. “Are you excited we’re going to live at Greystone and have our very own apartment?”
Mia met her eyes in the rearview mirror and nodded.
“You’ll have a room of your own. That’s pretty exciting, isn’t it?” They’d always shared a bedroom. “As soon as Mommy gets paid, we’ll go and buy you some things and decorate however you want. How about pink with purple polka dots?” She caught the small smile tugging on her daughter’s lips and her heart lightened. “No? What about purple with
pink pigs?”
The hint of a smile still playing on her lips, Mia pulled a folded piece of paper from her red velvet coat, leaning as far forward as the seat belt allowed. Sophie reached back and took it from her. Keeping her eyes on the road, she smoothed the paper open on her knee. Mistletoe Cottage. “You really love this place, don’t you, baby? I’ll ask Kitty if we can check it out this week. How does that sound?” The smile Mia gave her was wide, warm, and wonderful. Exactly the smile Sophie had been praying for.
She swallowed hard. She didn’t want to mess up what she had to say by crying. “I know you’ve been mad at me for telling people you’re six. You don’t understand this right now, but I’ve being doing it to protect you, to protect us. Really soon, I won’t have to. Someday I hope you’ll understand why I did what I did, baby. Someday I hope you’ll be able to forgive me for everything.” Greystone’s imposing gates blurred, and Sophie swiped at her eyes.
She drove past the parking lot and the front of the manor before turning onto a loose gravel road. “Here we are. Home sweet home,” she said as she pulled in front of the carriage house. The wood on the front and sides of the building was grayish brown while the roof was black with two peaked windows. Four barn doors were painted black and open to what would have been the bays that once housed Ronan Gallagher’s impressive car collection. All that remained was a late model estate car in the far bay to the right.
“Okay, let’s get you out of here and settled in our new place.” Sophie hadn’t had a chance to check out the furnished apartment, but Kitty had assured her it was in good shape. She grabbed the small suitcase off the backseat and set it on the road then lifted Mia out of the car and held her in her arms. She needed to hold her close for just a minute more. Mia surprised her by not immediately wriggling to get down. Then shocked her by touching Sophie’s face, and when Mia lowered her fingers to lean in and flutter her lashes against Sophie’s cheek, she barely kept it together.
