Drew Bradwell made notes on some business papers and packed them into his briefcase. He set it on the back seat. “Thanks for stepping in to help, Merrick. I knew I could trust you.”
Trust. Clay rolled the word around in his mind. Not a word he’d choose, but then his client didn’t know his true purpose at Windtop.
Bradwell loosened his tie. “I wish I didn’t have to put Jill through all this. Or drag you into it. But I don’t have much choice. Did she really seem all right when you left her?”
Clay stared straight ahead. He wouldn’t exactly say all right. Jill had too much grit for her own good. But the kitten had helped. “She seemed to relax some.”
Bradwell cleared his throat. “Good. Yes, good.”
Guiding the Jeep through Windtop’s gate, Clay wondered if now was as good a time as any to find out if he should adjust his plans. “I hope you don’t mind my asking, but I need to know. Do I still have a job?”
The man leaned back in his seat and stretched. “You didn’t bring it up with Jill?”
“No.” Somehow he couldn’t bring himself to press her. She was so deep in her grief.
“You’re nearly done, right?”
“I’ll need another two weeks at most.” He’d have to stretch the work at Windtop to make it last that long, but he’d adjust his bill to be fair.
“Let me talk to her.”
Clay preferred discussing business with a client himself, but technically, Jill wasn’t his client. Under the changing circumstances, his situation might be better handled by her uncle. “I’d appreciate it.”
“You will still have to fill her in on what you’ve accomplished, what remains to be done, and get her approval for any further expenses.” Bradwell closed his eyes and heaved a great sigh. “Right now, I have a bigger problem. I’m still not sure how to break the news to my wife about Jill.”
As they left the forest drive, bringing the house into view, Clay focused on the car parked beside it. “It looks like that’s no longer a problem.”
“What?” Bradwell jerked upright. His eyes widened. “Hurry!”
Flooring the accelerator, Clay brought the Jeep to the house in seconds. While Bradwell bounded toward the porch, Clay gripped the steering wheel, his shoulder muscles taut.
If only he had the right to barge into that house. He needed to know what was going on.
The clock’s fifth gong hung in the air. Jill stepped out of the shadows and into the light at the second-floor railing. Before she could say a word, Tia glanced up, and her young cousin’s face paled.
“Tia …” Lenore followed her daughter’s unblinking stare and her own jaw slackened.
Carver looked up with a flicker of surprise. He grinned. “So, cousin, you’ve returned.”
“It’s Jill?” Tia whispered.
“How …?” The word died on her aunt’s tongue as the front door burst open.
Uncle Drew. Jill closed her eyes briefly. Thank you, Lord. She wouldn’t have to face Lenore alone after all.
He stopped short, his dark pin-striped suit snug around his stocky girth. He glanced from his wife to his children. A deep pink flush crept up his neck to his round face. “What’s going on here?”
Lenore glanced up at her and then back to her husband. “You! You knew!” She spat the words. “You knew she was alive. You knew she was here!”
Jill cringed, but her uncle stretched himself to the full extent of his five-and-a-half-foot frame. “I tried to save you this embarrassment.”
Her aunt‘s face grew red. “How was I supposed to know?”
“I didn’t know myself until this morning,” her uncle asserted.
“You didn’t know what until this morning? That she was alive?”
He looked his wife in the eye, and Jill took hope at his firm but quiet restraint. She never suspected him capable of being so firm. Maybe he was in the office, but never with Lenore. This must be something new since his sister’s death.
“I didn’t know until this morning,” he said, “that she would return.”
Lenore crossed her arms and looked down at him. Her words cut like ice. “You knew all along.”
“About a year,” he said.
Lenore whirled to spear Jill with a glare. “You both let me believe a lie.”
Jill tensed and gripped the railing to steady herself. If only she hadn’t talked Uncle Drew into their awful agreement. “Blame me, Lenore. It’s my fault.”
“I do blame you. Both of you!”
“Uncle Drew never wanted to keep the news from you. He only tried to help me through my grief. I talked him into it because I believed we would all be better off if things went on as they were. I never intended to return. This morning, I had no choice but to change my mind.”
Lenore’s flawless features worked as if the woman were struggling to grasp the nuances of her predicament.
How odd. Jill could hardly believe that her aunt’s anguish could touch a tender place in her own heart.
Lenore spun back toward Uncle Drew. “And when did you intend to tell me?”
“By the time I knew, I expected you to be on your way to the auction you told me you were going to today.” Her uncle leveled his gaze. “And you refuse to carry a cell phone, Lenore. How was I supposed to tell you?”
“Carver,” her aunt barked, “return those bags to the car. We are leaving.”
“No!” Jill nearly choked as the word slipped from her lips. She skimmed down the stairs. “Please. Wait.” As she stopped on the Persian rug at the foot of the stairs, icy prickles raced along her spine. “We’ll have to talk. Why not now?”
Lenore’s brown eyes narrowed. Her lips pressed into a thin red line as she folded her arms and glared. “So you can gloat? No. We will not chat as if your inopportune reappearance were of no consequence.”
Warmth climbed Jill’s face, knowing her aunt had a right to be angry. She swallowed hard. “I have no desire to gloat, Lenore, but you may want to hear what I have to say.”
Her aunt quirked a brow, her dark eyes still smoldering.
“At least I hope so,” Jill added. Please, God, convince her. Because if you don’t, I’m done here.
“Five minutes,” her aunt said, “and it had better be worth my time.”
Uncle Drew forced a tense breath and took his wife’s elbow to accompany her, but she jerked away and shot him a venomous glance. “Carver. Tia. Come.”
Their two children fell in behind her as she disappeared into the library. Tia paused at the doorway and glanced back, confusion in her gaze.
Once they were alone, her uncle’s shoulders drooped. “I am so sorry, Jill. I should have known Lenore might try this.”
“It’s not your fault.” No one controlled her aunt, including her uncle. If anyone were to blame for the mess they were in right now, Jill knew who it was. Her uncle may have gone along with hiding the truth from his wife, but she had made it almost impossible for him to refuse. She used his self-blame about his sister’s death to talk him into it at a time when he would have done anything Jill asked to make up for his past failures. “Talking you into lying to your wife wasn’t fair to either of you. If I could go back, I’d do it differently.”
“But we can’t.” He paused, wrinkling his brow. “You don’t really think talking to her now will help, do you?”
Jill chewed her lower lip. “We can try.”
An idea struck her. She grinned and dashed toward the library. “Come on. I think I know a way out of this sticky situation.”
Chapter Four
Clay stole into the house through the back door and deposited the newly purchased kitten supplies on the kitchen counter, providing a good excuse should he be caught snooping. He had to know what was going on during Jill’s first family encounter.
Moving through the kitchen shadows, he entered the butler’s pantry and inched toward the swinging door separating the pantry from the dining room.
Cracking the door enough to peer beyond, he quickly e
ased it back into place. With one glance through the dining room’s arched doorway into the library, he caught Mrs. Bradwell scowling from the red leather couch, her son fidgeting at the writing desk on the far side of the room, and her daughter frowning as she plunked into one of the wing-backed chairs.
This was as far as he could go. Thank goodness for acute hearing and eyesight. Both had served him well in the Army Special Forces.
He cracked the door again as Jill entered the library followed by her uncle. Bradwell’s wife crossed her slim legs, then her arms. Her dark eyes narrowed. “Well? You insisted we hear what you have to say. Get on with it.”
The woman’s brittle words could’ve pierced metal.
“Yes, cousin,” her son said, “tell us why you returned.”
Jill gave Carver her full attention. “Simply to let you all know I’m alive.”
“And to take possession of Windtop.” Her aunt glowered as she ground out the words.
“No. I never intended—”
“Nevertheless, it has happened. You returned. The house is yours.” Her aunt glared at her, not a drop of family kindness evident. Clay would have liked to assess Jill’s reaction, but she had her back to him.
“You know I have no control over the provisions of—”
“Of course. Your grandparents’ will. How convenient,” her aunt said.
Clay marveled as Jill continued speaking with a soft appeal in the face of her aunt’s spite. Where did she get such inner steel?
“Admit it,” her aunt said. “You came back to snatch Windtop out of our hands. It was your plan all along. So just where have you been hiding while waiting to spring the trap?”
“I was looking for my father.” The yearning in her voice clutched Clay’s heart. A yearning he well understood.
“Your mother didn’t want that.” Her aunt smirked. “Did you even know his name or what he looked like?”
“Not his name, but I had my father’s picture in the locket Mother gave me.”
Lenore huffed. “I’m sure that fuzzy little thing was a great help.”
“And my birth certificate. I felt sure I’d find him in a few weeks. The problem was it wasn’t as easy as I thought, and once I started looking, I couldn’t stop. Not until I ran down every last clue. That’s when I called home and found out Mom had died.”
“So you didn’t find him,” Lenore snapped. “Serves you right when a simple phone call might have saved Susannah’s life.”
“Mother!” Her daughter seemed shocked at the cruel accusation.
“Lenore!” Her husband chided.
“What?” the woman said. “Everyone knows your sister killed herself because she believed her daughter was dead.”
Jill tensed as if struck, and Bradwell motioned to his family. “I think it’s time we all went home.”
“No!” Jill said.
No? What in the world was she up to? Bradwell and his family should go home. They’d done enough harm. How much more could the girl take?
With a satisfied smile, her aunt leaned back into the couch. “Well, then, I take it you have more to say. Go ahead. Not that it will make a difference.”
“Lenore, I’m sorry I dragged Uncle Drew into keeping my secret from you. I’m sorry I made him promise not to tell you I was alive. I really believed it was best for all of us.”
“You actually want me to believe you thought lying to me was best?”
Clay grimaced. Jill was getting nowhere with the woman. Why even try?
“It made sense to me then because I never intended to return and felt sure you’d be happy owning Windtop. Something only possible if I were dead.”
“And you expect me to believe you would abandon a valuable property like Windtop?”
“What did I have to come back to, Lenore? An empty house? My mother’s grave? It just seemed to me that remaining dead was best.”
Lenore glared at her husband. “And you agreed to this insane plan?”
Bradwell shifted his weight to his right foot. “She needed time to get over the shock, time to adjust to Susannah’s death. I owed it to her. For a while.”
“At the cost of deceiving me?”
When he made no attempt to defend himself, his wife turned on Jill. “And you. All of a sudden, today, here you are. Why?”
“I realized this morning I was living a lie and couldn’t do it anymore.”
Tia peered around the wing of her chair. “Why not? Everyone lies.” At her mother’s disapproving stare, she lowered her voice. “Sometimes.”
“True, but I … I’m a Christian now, and I knew it was time to stop the lie. So I came back to make things right with all of you.”
Clay frowned. So that’s how she walked right into this trap.
“And how do you propose to make things right?” Her aunt goaded her.
“Just this. I don’t know—I don’t even care—when or how the fight over this house began, but I want it to stop.” When her aunt opened her mouth, no doubt to protest, Jill put up her hand. Good for her! She had gumption. “So here’s what I propose.”
Clay held his breath.
“We can’t change the past, but we can change the future.” Jill went on. “What if you and I no longer had a reason to fight?”
Her aunt eyed her suspiciously. “What are you talking about?”
“I admit my solution isn’t perfect, but if we try hard enough, it might work.”
Clay tensed. Whatever it was, Jill had their full attention.
She stepped closer to her aunt. “I propose we share Windtop. I may not be able to sell or give it to you, but I can let you use it anytime you like. Move in right now. How about it?”
Her aunt’s mouth gaped. Tia drew back as if Jill had slapped her, and Carver eyed her as if searching for some hidden flaw.
Her uncle broke the silence. “You don’t mean it.”
Clay almost cheered. All Right! Talk her out of it, Bradwell. Bad enough she was here, but share the house? She couldn’t have come up with a worse proposal.
A lopsided smile pulled at one corner of Carver’s mouth.
“Look,” Jill pleaded. “Windtop is legally mine, but it’s also a Bradwell family heritage. It belongs to all of us.”
“Lovely sentiment,” Carver said, not a speck of warmth in his eyes or voice.
“Think about it, Lenore,” Jill said. “You could go ahead with your plans as if I’d never returned. I won’t stay long anyway, and when I leave here, I may never come back.”
Clay relaxed. That part sounded good. But the sooner she left, the better.
“What do you say?” Jill still urged them.
“No strings attached?” her aunt asked.
“No strings attached.”
Uncle Drew coughed. “Jill, I don’t think—”
“We accept.” Her aunt’s voice rapped like a gavel.
“Wait!” Bradwell’s daughter jumped up from the wing-backed chair. “I say no!”
“Not now, Tia.” Mrs. Bradwell waved her daughter away.
The girl turned pleading eyes on her father, and he slowly shook his head. While she plopped back into her chair and flicked a pouting glance at Jill, the man cleared his throat and coughed.
“So let me get this right,” Carver said. “You came all this way to hand the house over to us. Incredible!”
“To let you know I’m alive.”
“I hate to clue you in, cousin, but we were perfectly content without that information.” His gaze challenged her. “So before I accept your kind”—he laced the last word with sarcasm—“invitation, is there anything else you care to confess?”
“Nothing.”
Her cousin didn’t appear convinced, and Clay clenched his teeth.
“I have a question,” her aunt said. “You say you are now a Christian. How long ago did you make your decision?”
“About six months.” A simple, straightforward answer.
The woman’s upper lip curled. “And it took you this long
to decide you were lying.”
“I’m so sorry. I should have come back long ago. Would you please forgive me for waiting so long?” Jill pleaded.
Her aunt stood and peered down at her, her jaw twitching. “I will never forgive you.”
“Lenore, dear,” her uncle said, “you don’t mean that.”
“You betrayed me, Drew, and you both lied. What do you expect? A quick apology and it’s over?” Her mouth closed in a hard line.
“Please don’t blame Uncle Drew,” Jill said. “I convinced him we were sparing you needless pain.”
Her aunt bristled. “This is sparing me needless pain?”
“If I hadn’t come back—”
“But you did,” Lenore said, “and now it’s over. You’ve won. Windtop is yours, and I will never forgive you.” She glanced from Jill to her husband. “Either of you.”
Clay breathed easy again. Jill’s plan had failed.
“Now I’m tired of all this talk,” Lenore said. “It’s been a long day, and if you don’t mind, we’ll go and settle in as planned. May I ask which rooms are available to us?”
What?
“Um, I suppose any rooms on the second floor will do. I’m already settled in Maggie’s room.”
Tia blinked. “But that’s—”
“My favorite room,” Jill said.
“It’s settled then,” Bradwell’s wife said. “Carver, you take the east room and Tia, the tower room. Drew, join me in the master bedroom when you are ready. We will talk.” Lenore bustled off, giving orders to Carver and contending with Tia’s objections. With a scrunched brow, Bradwell watched his family retreat from the library.
Jill sank to the couch, releasing a sigh. To Clay, she appeared drained but pleased. Her uncle unbuttoned his suit coat and eased down on the couch beside her. “I don’t know, Jill. I’m not sure this plan of yours is wise.”
Clay jerked. Maybe the man would talk her out of it yet.
“You’re not pleased? Lenore is, isn’t she?”
He shook his head. “You meant well, Jill, but I don’t think she will ever give up her fight for this house.”
“But, Uncle Drew, she no longer has a reason to hate me. And maybe this arrangement will make it easier for her to forgive us.”
Her Deadly Inheritance Page 4
