Her Deadly Inheritance

by Beth Ann Ziarnik

  When he returned, he found her kneeling on the floor before a humpback trunk. With her right index finger, she traced the three initials on its large brass plate. She gazed up at him with soulful eyes.

  “S.B.S.” Her voice quavered. “Mother’s keepsake trunk.”

  He crouched beside her, wanting to put an arm around her and let her rest her head on his shoulder, but it wouldn’t be right. “Do you have the key?”

  Jill examined the lock. “Uncle Drew gave me a box with two keys in it. One might fit. Anyway, I’ll keep this trunk too.”

  “Where should I put it?”

  “At the foot of the bed in my room, if you would please.”

  Her soft smile and hurting gaze tied his heart in knots. “The foot of the bed it is.”

  He reached for the trunk’s handles, and in the cramped quarters, his right hand brushed against hers. How warm and soft it was.

  She shot to her feet and stumbled back, falling into a jumble of oak kitchen chairs. One of the legs jabbed her in her side. “Ugh!”

  Abandoning the trunk, he snatched her from the tangled mass and set her back on her feet. “Are you hurt?”

  In the awkward silence, he realized he had an arm around her, holding her steady as he checked her over.

  Staring at him with widened eyes, she eased his hands away. “I … I’m fine.”

  He wiped his suddenly sweaty palms on his jeans. “Sorry. I … uh … I’ll get that trunk to your room.” Gripping its handles, he swung it to his left shoulder and strode from the attic.

  He needed breathing space and maybe more.

  Jill rubbed her arms, trying to still the tingling sensations his touch had caused. She wasn’t falling for Clay, was she? All right, he was attractive, but he wasn’t for her. For Pete’s sake, she hardly knew anything about him. He could be married for all she knew—though she hadn’t seen any sign of a ring, and no one mentioned a wife. She couldn’t allow another Brian into her life.

  When Clay returned, they went back to work. It seemed he was as careful as she to keep an adequate distance between them. As comforting as that was, shaking off his powerful attraction proved impossible. Each time he glanced her way, she struggled to catch her next breath. This couldn’t go on.

  Footsteps pounded down the hall.

  “Tia, come back here!” her aunt called.

  Jill took a bracing breath as her cousin stopped outside the attic door.

  “I won’t help with that party. You can’t make me.”

  “Yes, you will. Your father and I feel it is best for you.”

  The girl crossed her arms. “Don’t drag Dad into this, Mother. He wouldn’t insist if you didn’t make him.” She burst into the attic. “Jill, get some backbone and tell Mother the party is off!”

  Lenore stormed in right behind her daughter as Jill stood up beside a corrugated box of odds and ends and brushed the dust from her jeans.

  Ignoring her, Lenore speared her daughter with a piercing stare. “It is a lovely tradition. Most girls your age would kill for all it offers.”

  “Well, I won’t!” Tia scowled at her mother and turned to Jill with eyes pleading for help.

  Jill held her breath, not wanting to be dragged into another of their mother-daughter squabbles. “You two need to settle this yourselves. I can’t help you.”

  “You mean you won’t.” The girl screamed and stomped from the attic.

  Lenore glowered. “Well, Jill, thank you for your less than stellar support. I suppose you also have no intention of helping with the party.”

  Without bending to her aunt’s manipulation, Jill met the woman’s challenge. “I will help when I have the time.”

  “What could possibly stand in your way?” Lenore stopped as Clay moved into sight from the back of the attic. She looked from him to Jill. “What are you two doing in here?”

  “We’re making an inventory,” he said.

  Her aunt’s eyes narrowed. “What in the world for?”

  “I’m donating these things to charity,” Jill added quietly.

  “What?” Lenore’s voice grew shrill. “Jill Bradwell Shepherd, if you get rid of them, it’s this house that should benefit from the proceeds, not some dubious charity.”

  Closing her eyes briefly, Jill took a deep breath. She could take no more of her aunt’s greedy preoccupation with Windtop. “My grandparents’ will provides for the annual upkeep of this house from the mill’s profits each year. I doubt it needs more than that.”

  “It wouldn’t if your mother hadn’t let it fall into disrepair during her last years,” Lenore countered. “It’s only right that the sale of these things makes up for that loss.”

  “She had her reasons, as you well know,” Jill said.

  The obvious reference to Lenore’s disastrous garden party, where she had publically humiliated Jill’s mother, was not lost on her aunt. After that, her mother never ventured out again. Eventually, she also agonized over allowing repair people in, and then stopped doing so.

  “Then you intend to dump the entire burden on your uncle. Well, he will hear of this before you have the chance do anything foolish.” Her aunt whirled about and left.

  In the sudden silence, Jill combed her fingers through her hair and let it fall around her shoulders. What should have remained a simple act of kindness had quickly turned into a power struggle with her aunt. The last thing she expected, but she would not back down. She was no longer the child Lenore used to intimidate.

  Clay stood beside her. “We still have a little time left. Should we get back to work?”

  He was right, of course.

  A half hour later, he checked his watch. “I have to go, but I can free up some time tomorrow to help you finish.”

  “In the morning?”

  “No problem.” As he handed the clipboard to her, their fingertips touched.

  For a breathless moment, Jill didn’t move. She gazed into his eyes, part of her longing to linger, another part horrified that her heart had again overruled reason.

  Clearing his throat, Clay broke away. “I’ll … uh … see you in the morning then.”

  Watching him retreat, Jill fought a longing that made no sense. He was a good man, but he’d never indicated any interest in God, and she couldn’t take less than a man who loved God. Why this pull, then? Why did it seem so right when she knew it was wrong? “Lord, I’m in trouble.”

  As she locked the attic windows one by one, she thought again about Amelia’s invitation. Maybe meeting her friend’s grandson would distract her from her runaway attraction to Clay. Escaping Lenore for an evening wouldn’t hurt either.

  “Me-ew.”

  Jill picked up Button and headed back to her room to get ready. For one evening at least, she would push Clay out of her mind.

  At the foot of Maggie’s bed, she found her mother’s trunk where Clay had placed it. If only … but, no, she wouldn’t think about him. The trick was to focus on something else.

  Like those keys Uncle Drew had given her. Maybe the larger one would open this trunk.

  Minutes later, she pushed back the trunk’s heavy lid, revealing those things her mother had collected as treasures worth saving. In the wooden compartment that stretched across the top, she found a pair of baby shoes, yellowed with age, ones she recognized from her baby pictures. A satin-covered baby book with photos of her growing up, her long, lacy baptismal dress and bonnet, and a collection of her school report cards and awards spoke of her mother’s love. News clippings about her achievements, her few attempts at poetry, and her high school graduation cap expressed her mother’s pride in her.

  Jill lifted the wooden compartment and set it aside. Here was the dress her mother had worn in the portrait. Beneath it, layers of tissue protected the folds of a wedding dress, a gossamer creation embellished with delicate, hand-crocheted lace. How lovely her mother must have been while beside her father as they took their vows of undying love.

  Why had they ever separated?

&nb
sp; If only her mother were alive. Jill had so many questions. Questions her mother might finally feel free to answer. Now only her mother’s journals could tell her what she longed to know, if she could find them.

  She turned the smaller key over in her hand. Did it belong to her mother’s journal box? Her heart beating rapidly, she placed the wedding dress on the bed and continued digging through the trunk. When she finally reached its bottom, she sat back on her heels. No diary box. Yet her mother never went anywhere without it, and since she had spent her last days in this house, the box was somewhere within its walls. Where?

  “Me-ew?”

  Jill stroked the kitten’s head. “You’re right, Button.” She had just enough time to repack the trunk, take care of him, and get ready for Amelia’s dinner.

  Jill hesitated on Amelia’s porch. This could be an awful mistake. Her new friend hoped a romance would develop from this meeting, a romance to help Sonny get over Janice’s death.

  Wrapped in the fragrant evening air, she prayed that Amelia would have a sensible heart. This was, after all, just one dinner.

  She rapped on the screen door.

  Within moments, Amelia pushed it wide. “Jill, I’m so pleased you came. Sonny isn’t here yet. I hope you won’t mind waiting.”

  “Not at all. I’m early. I had to take the ferry. Could you use some help?”

  “Everything’s almost ready, but I guess we’ll need another place setting now, won’t we?” She smiled and headed for the corner cupboard near the dining table. “You will like Sonny.”

  Jill couldn’t have cared less, but at least her new friend wasn’t trying to hide her intentions.

  Amelia arranged the additional plate, napkin, and silverware. “There! Now I’ll fill the water glasses.”

  Jill followed her into the kitchen. “Let me do that.”

  “The pitcher is in the refrigerator,” the older woman said as she took the glasses from the cupboard. “While you’re doing that, I’ll check the roast.” She opened the oven door.

  The savory aromas of roast beef with onions, potatoes, and carrots filled the small kitchen. Jill left the kitchen with the water glasses, realizing how truly hungry she was. At the very least, she would get a good meal from this evening.

  “Goodness!”

  Jill rushed back into the kitchen. “What’s the matter?”

  Amelia straightened up from the refrigerator. “I forgot to make the salad.” She pulled an array of fresh vegetables out and placed them on the cupboard countertop beside the cutting board.

  “I’ll have it done in a minute,” Jill said. “You just relax. You’ve done more than enough.” Getting right to work, she chopped tomatoes and cucumbers, adding them to frilly lettuce already arranged in a large glass bowl.

  Amelia smiled gratefully. “Did I tell you Sonny is a Christian?”

  “Yes.” As if that made any difference. The man was still in love with someone else, and Jill had no desire for the complications that would bring to her life. Besides, she wasn’t all that good at attracting terrific love relationships.

  However, there was no stopping Amelia. “He was five years old when we knelt together in my living room. He asked Jesus to forgive his sins, come into his heart, and be his Savior. I’ll never forget it. The minute he finished praying, he looked so surprised. ‘Grandma,’ he said, ‘I feel so clean!’”

  Jill glanced at her friend who grinned and went on. “I couldn’t imagine what sins a little boy might commit to make him feel unclean, but I knew then that his experience was real.”

  Dumping the vegetable scraps into the sink, Jill turned on the water and ran the garbage disposal.

  “Years later,” Amelia continued, “his grandpa and I were so happy when he asked Janice to marry him. A sweet girl who truly loved the Lord and our Sonny. Then she died.” Her eyes misted, and she shrugged. “Who knows why God allows such things?”

  Jill’s heart went straight to her mother. Yes, who knew? “Salad’s done,” she said.

  “Good. Let’s start dishing up.”

  Arranging the roast beef in the center of a large china platter, Jill surrounded it with roasted carrots and potatoes while Amelia poured buttered garden beans into a bowl.

  Clay’s smiling face invaded Jill’s memory. She pushed it away. The least she could do was give Sonny a fair chance and concentrate on enjoying the evening.

  “Let’s leave the hot food in the warming oven while we get everything else ready,” Amelia said. “Would you slice the bread while I put the salad on the table?”

  Jill took the clean dish towel off a loaf of fragrant, freshly baked bread and picked up a knife.

  “Sonny!” Amelia exclaimed from the living room.

  During the ensuing moments of silence, Jill imagined Amelia hugging her grandson. Her own heart beat faster. This was a mistake. She never should have come. She should grab her purse from the counter and slip out the back door.

  No, Amelia might be trying to fix her grandson up with a stranger, but Jill could not abandon her new friend. She finished cutting and arranging the bread in its basket.

  “I have a wonderful surprise for you,” she heard Amelia say. “Jill, come out and meet my Sonny!”

  Her stomach fluttered. Showtime! She brushed the last bread crumbs from her skirt and stepped into the dining area.

  She stared as she felt the color drain from her face.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Clay’s stomach knotted as he eyed the unsuspecting Jill. She had obviously been caught as off-guard as he. His dear grandmother … what was he to do with her? She meant well but had no idea of the disastrous complications her matchmaking plan might unleash.

  She scrunched her brow, looking from him to Jill and back. “You two know each other?”

  “Windtop belongs to your new friend, Grandma.” He hadn’t meant the words to come out quite so cold, and the puzzlement in Jill’s eyes made him feel lower than dirt.

  She grabbed her purse from the counter inside the kitchen door. “I’m sorry, Amelia. I think I should go. Maybe some other time.”

  As she hurried past, the hurt in her eyes cut him to the core.

  “Don’t, Jill,” he blurted. He couldn’t let her leave like this. “You’ve both gone to a lot of trouble. Let’s enjoy the meal. Then I’ll take you home.”

  While she weighed her options, he waited with a lump in his throat. He wouldn’t have her alone and unprotected in the night while he dined with his grandmother.

  “I’ll get our dinner from the warming oven, Amelia,” Jill said.

  As she returned to the kitchen, he released a tense breath. Spending this evening with her, he’d at least know she was all right until he could get her back to Windtop. In the meantime, he’d have to scramble to protect the plan that brought him to Windtop.

  “Let me help you, Grandma.” Clay moved around the table to seat her while Jill carried the platter of pot roast to the dining table. She returned to bring in the bowl of beans and then slipped into the chair opposite him. As he seated himself, she glanced his way, confusion swimming in her gaze.

  In a heartbeat, he’d tell her everything to save her from any suffering because of him, but what he’d have to say could hurt her more. If what he suspected was true, he couldn’t allow this psychopathic killer get away to murder again.

  He opened his napkin and dropped it on his lap.

  Right now, he needed to know how much his grandmother had told Jill about him and Janice. One loose word to the wrong person would scuttle all he had accomplished so far. If she already knew too much—even if she didn’t realize it—how could he convince her to say nothing until he found that final piece of condemning evidence?

  His grandmother smiled at him. “Sonny, would you please ask the Lord to bless our food?”

  He hated to disappoint her, but since he and God no longer saw eye to eye, he wouldn’t play the hypocrite. He slowly shook his head, and his grandmother’s sweet smile faded. He sat in silence while sh
e prayed.

  As always, her food was delicious, but this time their meal progressed painfully. It was his fault. He watched Jill pick at the bounty on her plate, seldom looking up. He didn’t do much better. His grandmother fussed, urging each of them to eat.

  Maybe a change of subject would help. “How are your quilts coming along, Grandma?”

  Her faded eyes brightened a little. “Much better since Jill started helping me. We’re on the last one.”

  With a stab of regret, Clay glanced across the table. If only he and Jill had met at another time, in another place.

  His grandmother’s forced cheer broke the thick silence that had fallen on them again. “How was your day, Sonny?”

  “Fine.” A lie, of course. He was hurting the ones he loved. Ones. As in the plural? Had his feelings for Jill progressed that far? He liked her, admired her, but surely he didn’t love her. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

  “Clay’s helping me inventory the furnishings,” Jill said. “If everything goes well, we should finish before Ed Drummond arrives tomorrow.”

  “So Ed can handle your pieces along with the rest. Wonderful!” His grandmother turned to him. “Did Jill tell you she’s donating those things to our church auction?”

  “She said something about a charity.” Nothing about his grandmother’s church.

  A bright smile lit his grandmother’s face. “That’s where we met.”

  “And you didn’t connect her with Windtop.”

  “Well …” His grandmother blinked. “I don’t think Jill ever offered her last name, and I never thought to ask.”

  Jill looked up. “And Amelia always called you ‘Sonny.’”

  Of course she would. She had never called him anything else.

  He sat back in his chair and pushed his empty plate away. So that’s how they wound up in this precarious triangle. Had that Someone he tried to avoid masterminded the situation?

  But why? An all-knowing God should realize that he was anything but right for Jill.

  Jill had to admit she couldn’t eat another bite of Amelia’s delicious dinner. The strained atmosphere had stolen her appetite. She laid her fork across her plate, still trying to fathom the evening’s surprise.