Where Secrets Sleep Page 18

  “The Blackburns’, the Standishes’ and every other member of the old guard,” Julia finished for her. “When my husband died, I took a look at my life. What did I want with that big mausoleum when I was on my own? I decided to simplify—a place I can take care of on my own, a little car to get around, a lawn service to tend the outside—that’s all any widow needs.”

  “I don’t think my grandmother agreed with you,” Allison said, her mind on the elaborate Victorian which had to be expensive both to run and to keep in repair.

  “Evelyn thought she had a standard to maintain. I’d rather have comfort.” Julia sat down across from her and pushed her empty plate back with an air of clearing the decks for action. “What did you think about your letter from Evelyn?”

  “So it was you who mailed it. I thought it must be.” Julia was making it easy for her, going directly to the subject Allison wanted to discuss. Somehow that didn’t surprise her.

  Julia nodded. “I thought it a bit overly dramatic, waiting until you’d arrived in Laurel Ridge, but Evelyn was determined, so I kept my promise. Well?” Her eyes were bright, and it seemed clear she wasn’t going to be satisfied with an evasion.

  “I was surprised, obviously.” Allison considered the possibilities. Her instinct was to trust Julia, and there was also the fact that if she opened up, Julia might do the same. “I wasn’t sure what to think. Did she show it to you?”

  Julia hesitated. “Well, yes, she did. Looking for confirmation that she was doing the right thing, maybe.” She shrugged. “It wasn’t what I’d have said in that situation, but if I’ve learned anything in a long life, it’s that you have to take people as you find them. It was very Evelyn.”

  Allison’s fingers tightened on the cold glass. “She sounded as if she still hadn’t forgiven my father.” The old longing to defend him seemed to still exist, despite the fact that she knew his behavior had been indefensible.

  “She was so proud of him, you see. Well, any mother would be, I guess. Hugh had a way about him that made you love him even when you suspected he was manipulating you.” She frowned, seeming to look into the past. “Evelyn made excuses for him, always trying to believe he was the golden boy she imagined him. In the end, when she had to face the truth about him, she just couldn’t go on.”

  “So she abandoned him, just like he abandoned me.” The bitterness in her voice startled her. She’d thought she’d developed enough maturity to forget the past. But in Laurel Ridge, it seemed the past had been waiting for her.

  Julia regarded her with an expression reminiscent of a teacher whose student has come up with a ridiculous excuse for being late. “Hugh was a grown man when he left here. You were a child when he left you.”

  She grappled with the unpalatable reality of the words. Maybe, like Evelyn, she’d been trying to find excuses for Hugh Standish. She took a deep breath. “Evelyn implied that he’d done something criminal. What was it?”

  “Took money under false pretenses, I suppose you’d call it. He convinced people in the area that he represented an investment opportunity bearing his father’s name, supposedly with his mother’s backing.”

  Allison could only stare at her. “But he must have known it would be found out.”

  “Sure he did. But by then, he’d pocketed a tidy sum. The only difficulty was deciding when to do his vanishing act, but he managed it.” Julia’s voice had hardened. After all this time, she’d obviously not forgotten. “Evelyn was devastated. She paid everyone back somehow. I don’t suppose she’d have been liable in law, but she didn’t care about that. She came pretty close to bankrupting herself, but somehow or other she pulled out of it eventually.”

  “He seemed to have a talent for leaving devastation behind him.” Allison realized her hands were twisting together painfully. She pressed them flat on the tabletop.

  Julia eyed her cautiously. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” She kept her tone firm. “I’m not six any longer. It’s time I gave up trying to make excuses for my father.” A weight she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying slid from her at the words.

  Julia nodded slowly. “It’s not easy, this business of facing who people really are.”

  “No, it’s not.” She faced Julia squarely. “So I’m not making excuses for my grandmother, either. She could have helped us, but she acted as if my mother and I didn’t exist.”

  “Because she didn’t know you did exist.” She nodded emphatically at Allison’s startled look. “It’s true. After about a year, she started trying to find Hugh. Wanted to know he was all right, I suppose. But she didn’t have any luck. She finally hired a private investigator. Not sure how good he was, but he finally found out about you.”

  “So my grandmother could have gotten in touch with us.”

  “Yes, she could. But by then your mother was engaged to be married. Evelyn said she had to consider what would be best for you. She eventually decided it would do more harm than good to disrupt your life at that stage.” Julia shrugged. “I don’t know whether she was right or wrong, but she was trying to put you first.”

  Evelyn Standish had always been a distant, forbidding figure in the back of her mind. She’d known her grandmother existed, but when she’d asked once why they didn’t visit her grandmother, her father had been so angry that she’d never asked again. Now she began to see Evelyn as a person, and she wasn’t sure what to make of what she found. It sounded as if Evelyn had at least faced up to her mistakes and tried to do the right thing.

  “She showed you the letter.” Allison said abruptly. “Did you see the postscript?”

  “Postscript?” Julia’s eyebrows lifted. “No. What did it say?”

  Allison pulled the letter from her bag. Wordlessly she handed the paper across the table and waited while Julia read it.

  Julia frowned, shaking her head. “I never saw this, no. I knew something had been bothering Evelyn that last week or two, but she didn’t tell me.” The frown deepened. “One thing I know—if Evelyn uncovered something wrong going on in her building, she wouldn’t have ignored it.”

  No. That was what Allison thought from the little she knew of the woman who’d been her grandmother. She’d have handled it, apparently on her own. If Evelyn Standish had relied on other people a little more, she might still be alive.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ALLISON HAD BEEN aware of people watching her all day, no matter what she was doing. Sarah, James...even Ellen made an excuse to stop by on her way to pick up Jamie from school. But by late afternoon, Blackburn House was like a pot slowly coming to a boil as people began setting up for the Spring Fest. Hammers sounded outside, and from the front window she could see booths springing up along Main Street like so many mushrooms. If she heard one anxious comment about the weather forecast for the next day, she heard a dozen.

  Over Sarah’s protests, Allison helped her pull out several boxes of small items for tomorrow’s sale. “How soon do we actually set things up?” she asked. “And how on earth do you decide on prices?”

  Sarah’s eyes crinkled. “Pricing is an art, that’s certain sure. It depends on so much, including who’s doing the buying. Some folks will give you more than a thing is worth, just to make a donation. Others might really need whatever it is but not have much money to spare, so I usually ask for half what I might otherwise.” She shrugged. “And late in the day, every price gets cut. After all, we don’t want to pack it all up again.”

  “Sounds too complicated for me,” Allison admitted. “Maybe you can find me something useful to do that doesn’t involve making decisions.”

  “That won’t—” Sarah stopped, her gaze fixed on several men who were coming in the building’s front door. Five of them, mainly youngish, Allison thought, and two of them Amish.

  She nudged Sarah. “Who’s that?”

  “Just some of the vo
lunteer firemen. They’ll put the tables up, and then we can start setting out the sale items.”

  Sarah made it sound very routine, but there was a faint color in her cheeks that hadn’t been there before.

  “What about the Amish?” She didn’t think she was imagining the way Sarah’s gaze clung to one particular Amish male—tall, with a curly chestnut beard and broad shoulders.

  “That’s Aaron King and his younger brother, Jonas.” Sarah’s tone flattened, and she busied herself sorting through the items in the box. “Plenty of Amish volunteer for the fire company. After all, Amish houses and barns burn the same as other people’s do.”

  “I suppose so.” Her thoughts were caught, remembering what Sarah had said about not marrying because she’d loved someone who didn’t love her. Was Aaron King that someone? She couldn’t ask. If Sarah wanted to share, she’d listen, but she couldn’t ask.

  A customer came in just then, waving a scrap of fabric she apparently wanted to match. Allison left Sarah to deal with the woman and slipped out, for the first time that day managing to do so without a question as to where she was going.

  Not that her destination was any secret. She’d somehow managed to avoid Ralph’s lamentations all day, but she really should check on him. She headed back down the central hallway, weaving her way around men carrying folding tables and a few giggling teenagers who’d apparently been pressed into service to carry donations from the storeroom. An impressive scene, now that she stopped to consider it. Everyone seemed to be happy about working together on a project for the community’s good.

  Nice, but Allison felt quite sure that Laurel Ridge, despite this current harmony, wasn’t any utopia. Her grandmother’s worries expressed in her letter, Ralph’s mutterings about malice, her own fear when she saw that bookcase toppling toward her—all those things combined to convince her that behind all this small-town charm, something nasty lay concealed.

  She was vaguely dissatisfied with herself. She’d stayed because she felt she had to know the truth behind her grandmother’s death, or would feel she’d somehow failed herself by running away from the challenge, but what had she accomplished? Evelyn had seemed convinced that something was going on in Blackburn House, something unethical or illegal or both. But what? And more to the point, by whom?

  Not Sarah, certainly. That was ridiculous on the face of it, and besides, Evelyn had confided in her. Nick? Her stomach clenched at the thought. Not Nick, unless he was a far better actor than she gave him credit for. But she wasn’t sure that her judgment was altogether sound where Nick was concerned.

  There was Ralph, of course, but Ralph seemed far more likely to be a victim than a villain. Still, her “accident” had taken place in his store.

  Then there were the occupants of the upstairs offices. She hadn’t gotten to know them very well yet, other than brief introductions and exchanges of greetings. The owner of the real estate office, Harvey Preston, was clear in her mind, maybe because real estate agents tended to be outgoing and chatty. He might have been sizing her up as a prospect.

  The attorney, Richmond Willis, was barely thirty, with an eager, hopeful look each time his office door opened. Someone else looking for clients, she supposed. It couldn’t be easy to establish a solo practice in a town like Laurel Ridge, where people had probably been dealing with the same firm for generations.

  Then there was the financial adviser. She frowned slightly. It was a two-person firm, apparently, and the partners, Bart Gordon and Lena Oberlin, hadn’t exactly welcomed her with open arms. Not that she’d expected anyone to do that, she told herself firmly. They probably preferred a businesslike relationship with the building’s owner, and she’d been telling herself that was what she wanted, as well.

  With Ralph, unfortunately, that desirable gap had been irrevocably bridged already. The bookshop door stood open, and Ralph was arranging a display of paperbacks on a folding table just outside. He seemed totally absorbed, and when she said his name, he jumped.

  “Allison. It’s just you.” He blinked rapidly, running his hand over ruffled white hair.

  “Sorry if I startled you.” She wasn’t sure what he had to be upset about. After all, she was the one who’d been attacked.

  “Foolish of me.” An unconvincing smile twitched his mouth. “I’m just unnerved. I mean, a break-in. Who would imagine it? Such a thing has never happened in all the time I’ve had my business in Blackburn House. Not until now.”

  Was the implication that she had somehow brought trouble with her? Well, it did seem that way, didn’t it?

  “Was anything taken? Or damaged?” She knew the answer from Mac, but she wanted to hear what he’d say.

  “It was a mess, of course. But I can’t say anything was really damaged. And as far as I can tell, nothing is missing.” He said it with seeming reluctance, as if it would have been more satisfying to have an actual theft. “I suppose maybe you scared them off.” He darted a glance at her and then looked away. “What—what brought you to my shop last night, anyway?”

  “I thought I’d told you. I was going in the quilt shop to pick up my computer when I saw the light from the back room.”

  “Yes, yes, of course. I suppose you felt responsible, being the owner and all. Well, you won’t have to worry about that much longer.” He blinked repeatedly, turning away so that she nearly lost the final words.

  It took a moment to register. She caught his arm, turning him to face her. “What do you mean? Why won’t I have it to worry about much longer?”

  “Why I...I thought I heard... Well, maybe it was just a rumor... But aren’t you going away? I thought you were taking a position out west someplace.”

  The job in San Francisco, in other words. But how did Ralph know anything about it?

  “Where did you hear about it?”

  He tried to pull away, but she gripped him tightly.

  “It’s important, Ralph. Where?” she demanded.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. You know how people talk. I just got the impression...”

  “From whom?” She had a strong urge to shake him. Maybe then the truth would come spilling out.

  “I don’t know, exactly. Someone...it might have been Brenda, now that I think about it.”

  Brenda. How could she know? Had Brenda been in her office? Accessed her computer? That seemed impossible. But impossible things happened every day, and it seemed this might be one of them.

  * * *

  BLACKBURN HOUSE HAD been a storm of activity from the moment the doors had been unlocked at nine o’clock on Spring Fest day. But by midmorning the surge had mellowed to small waves of people who were shopping, chatting and nibbling on treats they’d picked up at the booths outside.

  “It’s going well, ain’t so?” Sarah tucked a few more bills in the cash box. “I think we might be able to sit for a bit.” She gestured to the folding chairs that had been set up behind the tables for workers.

  “Good idea.” But Allison leaned over the table so she could see down the center hall to the bookshop, glad to notice little more than a minor ache from her bruises. “Looks as if Ralph turned the sale over to his clerk.”

  “He’s certain sure been nervous since the break-in,” Sarah murmured, sympathy in her voice. “Poor man. He’s easily upset, I think. And I’m sure Emily is enjoying being in charge.”

  Allison nodded, but her mind was preoccupied with Ralph’s surprising knowledge of the contact from the recruiter about the job in California. When she’d been satisfied she wasn’t going to get anything else out of Ralph, she’d gone so far as to call the headhunter, for all the good that had done.

  “Allison?” Sarah eyed her quizzically. “Was ist letz? What’s wrong?”

  Allison hesitated, but there was no real reason to hold back the information from Sarah. Sarah certainly knew the people involved far be
tter than she did.

  “Ralph said something odd to me yesterday. Something that indicated he had knowledge of an email I’d received about a job in California.”

  “But...you’re not going, are you?” Sarah’s gaze sought hers for reassurance.

  “No. Not now.” That at least she felt sure of. “But what bothered me was how Ralph could know anything about it. When I pressed him, he said he’d heard it from someone, possibly Brenda.”

  “How would Brenda know anything?” Sarah’s reaction was the same as hers had been. “She hasn’t been in your office, has she? I haven’t seen her in the building for several days, not since she brought those things in for the sale.”

  “That’s what I wondered. I finally called the recruiter who’d contacted me about the position. Asked him how he’d heard of me. He edged around the question, finally saying that was confidential. But when I mentioned Laurel Ridge, I thought I heard a reaction in his voice.”

  “So you think what?” Sarah’s usually peaceful expression turned troubled.

  “I think someone got in touch with the recruiter and urged him to offer me a job at a nice, safe distance from Blackburn House. If I accepted, that would suit Brenda, but somehow I don’t see her doing such a thing. Does she have any business connections? Do you know what she was doing before she came here?”

  “I wouldn’t think so.” Sarah answered the first question with a considering air. “Before she came to live with Evelyn, they lived in a small town upstate. Her husband ran a hardware store, and after he passed, she and Krysta came here.”

  Allison grimaced. “Doesn’t sound likely she’d have much knowledge of specialized business recruiters.”

  “It sounds more like Thomas Blackburn,” Sarah said, and then put her fingers to her lips. “I’m not meaning anything by that. It’s just that he’s run the mill for more than forty years, so he likely knows a lot about business.”

  Thomas Blackburn. Yes, the act certainly fit better with his position and his personality. There was a certain amount of subtlety to the notion that seemed unlike Brenda. Logically they might have linked forces in their efforts to dislodge her. Well, they were going to be disappointed. The more she was pushed, the more determined she was to stay.