Her Deadly Inheritance

by Beth Ann Ziarnik

  She rubbed her upper arms to chase away the sudden chill. Dwelling on the mystery of her father had only brought arguments and tears until finally, she had run away to find him. She had come back to end her lie, not to solve her parentage. She might never know her father, but now that she had returned to Windtop, she would do all in her power to make things right with her mother’s family. She wasn’t sure how, but she would try. Maybe that’s all God expected of her, and it was time she started.

  Combing her fingers through her hair as if to free herself of dark thoughts, she leveled her gaze at the man beside her. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Merrick—”

  His gray eyes engaged hers. “Clay.”

  “Clay.” His simple invitation warmed her heart but didn’t unravel her resolve. She wouldn’t keep leaning on him. “I can handle it from here.”

  His jaw took a firm line.

  “Really,” she assured him. “I’ll be fine until my uncle arrives.”

  He didn’t appear convinced. “Humor me, Miss Shepherd—”

  “Jill.”

  He nodded once. “Jill. I promised your uncle I’d see you safely settled in. I’d like to keep that promise.”

  The conscientious type. She shrugged. “It’s a long trek to the third floor.”

  His eyebrows raised in surprise, but he didn’t ask questions. Gathering up her luggage, he said, “Lead the way.”

  On the third floor, she entered the one room in Windtop where happy memories and bright sunlight lived. The room once inhabited by Maggie Pierce.

  Jill surveyed the place where the housekeeper had poured all of her “mother love” on Jill as she grew up. Other than fresh wallpaper in a tiny blue rose print, Jill was relieved to find it as she remembered. The brass bed, the rosewood wardrobe, and Maggie’s bentwood rocker before the fireplace all remained as if the dear woman would return at any moment.

  Clay lowered her luggage to the floor inside the bedroom door. A slight frown creased his brow. “This house has better rooms.”

  Jill laid her purse on the glass-topped table. “This one is right for me.”

  He shrugged. “If you’re hungry, I’ve stocked the kitchen. If you need anything else, just let me know.”

  When his retreating footsteps became inaudible on the thickly carpeted stairs, a crush of loneliness rushed upon her. Her heart thudded in her ears as she steeled herself to keep from sprinting to the rail and calling him back. For what? To hold her hand until her uncle arrived? Ridiculous! With God’s help, she could handle this. After all, he had made it clear he wanted her here, hadn’t he?

  Go home to your family and …

  And what?

  Kneeling on the varnished floor, she dug her Bible from her suitcase and sat back on her heels. She flipped the pages to Mark 5:19. Go home to your family and tell them how much the Lord has done for you.

  She blinked. Really? He wanted her to talk to Lenore about the Lord? That would take a miracle. Yet Nona insisted the Lord was still in the business of miracles.

  A hollow rumbling from her stomach reminded her it was well past lunchtime and she hadn’t taken time for breakfast this morning.

  Rummaging through the refrigerator and food pantry, Jill found the makings of deli ham on bakery rye bread. She poured a glass of cold milk and carried both to the back porch to savor their flavors while sitting on the top step and basking in the sun’s warmth.

  “Me-ew.”

  The soft sound rose from the bottom step just as Jill finished the last bite of her sandwich. Struggling to climb to the next step, a tiny gray kitten regarded her with large golden eyes.

  What a cutie! “Who are you?”

  “Me-ew.”

  She glanced around the yard. “Where’s your mama?”

  The golden eyes blinked.

  “All alone?”

  “Me-ew.”

  A familiar stab pierced Jill.

  She released a long, low sigh. “Me too.” She dipped two fingers in her milk glass and held them out. The kitten sniffed, and then licked them with its raspy tongue.

  “Hungry?”

  The big eyes watched her pour milk onto her empty sandwich plate. Again, she dipped her fingers in and held them out to the kitten before lifting its thin body to the edge of the plate.

  She smiled as it sniffed and plunged in, cleaning the plate more than once. With its little tummy full, it climbed onto her lap and curled up. Giving her a last searching look, the kitten closed its eyes.

  Jill stroked the soft fur, feeling a contented rumble beneath her fingers. She gazed wistfully at the tiny creature. She’d once received a kitten as a Christmas gift. With all her five-year-old heart, she had loved that kitten the moment her mother put it in her arms. So cute with a big red bow around its neck, but she didn’t have it long. The kitten died when four-year-old Carver played with it a little too roughly. An accident really, but she cried inconsolably. Aunt Lenore had scolded her for making such a fuss and hurting Carver’s feelings.

  Jill continued stroking the sleeping kitten. Half-opening its eyes, it peered at her. Closing them again, it nestled deeper into her lap. Could this kitten be a gift, a promise of more good to come? Was God giving back what had long ago been taken from her? Warmth crept into her grateful heart. She closed her eyes and raised her face to heaven.

  Clay stopped short the moment he caught sight of Jill on the back porch, her eyes closed, and her beautiful face aglow with contentment. In her lap, a little ball of gray fur lay sleeping. “You found the little dickens.”

  Jill blinked. “The kitten? Oh. It’s yours.” A delicate disappointment overtook her gaze.

  “Not really. The little rascal hitched a ride from Hanley Field in one of my truck’s wheel wells. I spent the last half hour looking for it. At least some island predator hasn’t made a snack of it. I should get him back to his mother.” Closing the distance between them, he reached for the kitten.

  Jill pulled away. “Do you have to?”

  “Does your landlord allow pets?” Maybe she hadn’t thought about that.

  “Nona won’t mind.” She seemed certain.

  “Are you sure you want it? Pets require a lot of work.”

  The kitten climbed to her shoulder and nudged her under her jaw. “Please.”

  He stepped back. “If you’re sure. When I go back into town to pick up your uncle, I’ll see what the kitten’s owner has to say. If it’s all right, I could pick up some pet supplies.”

  “You’d do that?”

  “Not a problem. You’ll need ’em.”

  He walked away, trying not to rap himself on the head. What was he doing? Instead of discouraging her stay, he’d just volunteered to aid and abet it. Not smart. For her own safety, she had to leave as soon as possible.

  Smiling dreamily, Jill observed the kitten asleep on Maggie’s bed. It only took this tiny creature and a certain contractor’s kindness to push back Windtop’s shadows. Maybe Uncle Drew was right. Maybe everything would turn out all right.

  The kitten yawned and stretched from the tip of its tail to its tiny pink nose. It relaxed, examined her with quizzical eyes, and then sprang to the edge of the bed.

  “Wait!” She lifted him to the floor, amused as he explored the room. He settled at a bottom corner of the rosewood wardrobe and sniffed delicately. Then he dug in, intent on snagging something with his paws.

  Jill chuckled. He was as curious as the child she’d been in this very room. Whenever she became restless, Maggie would say, “Let’s play the game, Button.”

  Button! What a perfect name for her kitten. She bent to stroke its fur, but Button refused to be distracted.

  What did he find so interesting? It couldn’t be … could it? She nudged the kitten aside to check the hidden compartment Maggie’d devised years ago. Her heart thumped as she pulled it out. A piece of paper was wedged in it.

  Excitement surged through her as she stared at the housekeeper’s handwriting. Her eyes rimmed with moisture as she gazed at M
aggie’s last message. Knowing just how to comfort her hurting heart, God had brought her here to find it.

  “Button, you little dear. You’ve led me to Part One of Maggie’s game: Start with the paper message. Now for Part Two: Decipher the key.“

  Jill sat on the floor. Button climbed into her lap, nosing her hand as she turned her blurred gaze to the words on the paper. They would direct her to Maggie’s real message. She brushed the moisture away in order to read. “If you bear to puzzle it out, you will see clearly under glass.”

  The words didn’t make much sense but wasn’t that the point? So first, pick out the main words. “Bear … puzzle … see … clearly … under … glass.”

  Put some of them together. “Bear … Puzzle.” She said it faster. “Bear puzzle!”

  A favorite childhood toy. But where would she find it now? Whoever cleaned Maggie’s room might know. More likely, Maggie had put it somewhere herself. Not in here where it might be thrown out once she was gone but maybe in the attic where they used to store old toys.

  Setting the kitten down, Jill hurried to the end of the hall and opened the attic door. As she stepped inside, Button scampered between her feet.

  Sunshine penetrated the bank of gabled windows ahead, making the dust motes visible as she picked her way through aisles of stored trunks and furniture. Deep inside the attic, she found what she was looking for. Shelves jammed with old jigsaw puzzles stood against a far wall. In the attic’s stifling heat, she sorted through the many boxes. What if she didn’t find it? About to give up, she spotted it in a dark corner.

  She removed the lid of the box and turned a piece over. Maggie had printed one word on the back. She stroked the word tenderly, a precious link to a dear friend. Checking a few more pieces confirmed each bore one word.

  Closing the box, she glanced at her watch. Just enough time to finish the puzzle before Uncle Drew arrived. She’d have to hurry.

  “Button?” A movement caught her eye as the little gray fellow tried to disappear behind a large trunk. She seized his tiny tail. “It’s way too hot to play in here.”

  The kitten protested but came along, contented enough once she cradled it in one arm and shut the attic door.

  Back in her room, Jill set the puzzle on the bed and returned to the paper message. “See. Clearly.” She needed clarity. Lord, please help me to see clearly when I face Lenore.

  She returned to the game. “See. Under. Under the puzzle pieces? No. Under. Glass. The glass table?”

  Strange how Maggie had made the game so easy. Had she been in a hurry?

  Spilling the pieces on the table, Jill turned each one design-side-up as Maggie had taught her. She checked her watch again and stretched enough to see out the French doors to the room’s wood balcony. As long as those doors were open, she could hear Uncle Drew arrive and have plenty of time to run downstairs to greet him.

  She collected the straight-edged pieces and formed the puzzle’s frame before filling in the other pieces. Three more to go.

  The hum of a motor approaching floated through the open doors. She jumped up in time to catch the flash of black.

  Uncle Drew! Finally, she’d learn how he planned to tell his wife the news. Her throat went dry. It wouldn’t be long before she’d have to face her aunt.

  Jill scooped up Button and shut him in the bathroom, then hurried down the stairs. She reached the second floor and rushed toward the final flight of stairs as the entrance door below opened.

  “At last.” A rich, throaty voice caressed the words.

  Jill froze.

  Chapter Three

  Lenore!

  Strength drained from Jill’s body. Her legs wobbled as she backed into the second floor’s deep shadows. Pressing against the dark paneled wall, she struggled for every shallow breath. So this was Uncle Drew’s idea of how to break the news. He could have warned her.

  “Carver, dear,” her aunt gushed to her son. “Leave those things by the door and bring in the rest of our luggage, would you please?”

  Jill’s heart thrummed in her ears. This was no simple meeting. Lenore was moving in! What was Uncle Drew thinking?

  “Dad will be furious,” a girl whined.

  The childlike voice belonged to Tia. The younger of her two cousins would be sixteen by now.

  Jill closed her eyes momentarily. Thank goodness her Uncle Drew had no part in this invasion. He hadn’t betrayed her after all. Still, she couldn’t quite envision him angry with Lenore. He’d be miffed maybe or frustrated, but not angry.

  “He will get over it,” Lenore said. “Mrs. Fenton will give your father my note when he arrives at home—which should be any minute—and I will handle him when he gets here.”

  Feeling sick to her core, Jill sagged. Her aunt had maneuvered this whole thing. Nothing much had changed.

  “Dad said to wait until tomorrow,” Tia insisted.

  At the sound of the grandfather clock’s door opening, Jill stretched to see who might be near it. Too much balustrade blocked her view from this angle.

  “Your father required we wait one year. It will be over”—the clock began its soft ticking—“at precisely five o’clock when the judge declares your cousin legally dead. Then Windtop will finally be ours.” The door to the clock closed. “I’ve waited long enough and will not be deprived of one more moment.”

  “But—”

  “Tia Bradwell, do not give me any more trouble. When your brother returns, we will take our luggage upstairs and settle in.”

  A trembling overtook Jill, gaining momentum. At any moment, Lenore would march up those stairs. What was she supposed to do? Greet her aunt as if no bad blood had ever flowed between them? Run for the hills and hide out until Uncle Drew arrived?

  She pressed her lips together and straightened her shoulders. No. She would not run or hide. Uncle or no uncle, her aunt would not find her cowering.

  Stepping away from the wall, Jill paused and bit her lip. She’d let them know she was here. The trick was seizing the right moment without scaring the life out of them.

  Skirting through the shadows, she positioned herself behind the second-floor railing where she could safely observe. Her aunt stood near the clock at the right side of the fireplace. Amazing how the woman never aged. How did she maintain the same flawless skin, the same dark hair, perfectly styled, the same tall and slender figure?

  “That will be the first thing to go,” her aunt said, flicking a disdainful glance at the portrait above the fireplace. “As for you, Tia, you worry for nothing. No one is left to stop us. Susannah is dead, and—”

  “—Jill’s body was never found.” The girl tossed her silky blonde hair.

  Carver dropped the last of the luggage onto the parquet floor. “Tia, you know Lake Superior never gives up its dead.”

  Her cousin was right. The lake’s deep waters remained so cold a body could freeze and remain on the bottom, never to be discovered. A fact well known to locals, which—to her shame now—she had counted on to cover her tracks when she fled during that storm.

  “What if she didn’t drown?” Tia ventured.

  Carver rolled his eyes. “Jill’s boat shattered in the storm. Face it. She didn’t survive.”

  Jill shuddered. Yes, according to Uncle Drew, after the storm, pieces of her boat were found floating on the bay. Officials were certain she had not survived. A reasonable conclusion since a storm that great could break huge iron ore ships in half. Another fact which made possible Lenore’s request that the courts declare her niece legally dead three years later.

  Lips quivering, Tia turned to her mother. “I want to go home.”

  Lenore arched to her full height. “We are home. For the summer at least. Now calm yourself. You know what the doctor said.”

  “I hate this dingy old place!” With a pout, Tia folded her arms and dropped into a fireside chair.

  “What is the matter with you?” Lenore had obviously grown tired of the confrontation.

  Carver shook his
head. “She thinks this house is haunted.”

  “Ghosts haunt places where people die tragically,” Tia countered.

  Lenore’s gaze pinned the girl. “Who said that?”

  Tia jumped to her feet. “The girls at school and Mrs. Fenton.”

  “Weak-minded fools,” her brother said. “Every intelligent person knows we live, we die. It’s over.”

  A frown flickered across her aunt’s face. “I don’t know about that, but I do know this—haunted or not, Windtop is ours and, this time, no one will drive us out.”

  The clock’s first deep chime sounded. Lenore whirled toward it as if captivated, a woman full of joy and expecting to possess her dream.

  Fascinated, Jill stared as realization rocked her heart. She and the woman who hated her had something in common. Her aunt, whose actions she deplored, also knew what it was like to strain toward an impossible dream. They both suffered from fierce desires driving them to make choices that hurt others, intended or not.

  Here was Lenore, on the cusp of owning Windtop, unaware Jill lurked in the shadows, blocking her way. Jill wished she had never come. She had hurt enough people in her lifetime, including her mother and Maggie. She had no desire to hurt one more, not even her aunt.

  Yet to stop the lie, she had to reveal her presence, and revealing her presence would force her to claim her inheritance, ending Lenore’s dream. Not even Jill had the power to change that. The provisions of her grandparents’ will forbid her to sell or give away the old lake house. What her grandparents had meant to protect her from her strong-willed aunt, unwittingly forged a wedge that had divided the family and caused years of conflict.

  Nona insisted God had a plan to set things right again. If only Jill knew what that plan was, but time was running out. The moment the clock stopped chiming, her aunt would climb those stairs to possess the house.

  If Jill was going to do something, she had to do it now.

  Clay gunned the Jeep along the road toward Windtop. He’d been gone too long. Bradwell’s meeting at the mill ended later than expected. Then the boat had given them trouble. Nothing he couldn’t handle, but it ate more time while something inside him grew edgy.