CHAPTER ONE

Madilyn paused on the stairs, one hand lightly resting on the railing as she listened to her grandfather down below, the tap, tap, tap of his cane on the hardwood floor announcing his presence.

“Maddie? Where are you off to?”

She gave him a gentle smile. “I thought I’d go through Grandma Belle’s things, Grandpops.”

She could see the steely resolve in his dark eyes. Despite his age—eighty-nine a few months ago—and his dependence on the cane, he was still a tall, intimidating man who was as mentally sharp as he’d always been.

“Your mother will go through it all, no doubt,” he said, tapping his cane for emphasis. “What she hasn’t already pilfered through.”

She spread her hands out. “When is she going to go through it? She already left.”

Yes, she had dashed back to the city, returning to her apartment in Manhattan immediately after the burial, saying she had urgent business to attend to. Madilyn knew the urgent business was a pleasure trip to Bermuda with some new friends of hers. She’d learned that from Evan. Never mind that her own mother had just died. Never mind that her elderly father was apparently going off the deep end and planning to not only sell the estate but move to an assisted living facility, of all places. Yes, that was his plan. And her plan was to talk him out of it. Her mother, however, had assumed he really would sell, and hadn’t been concerned in the least. Instead, she had sorted through Grandma Belle’s jewelry, taking the most expensive pieces without asking. She wondered if her grandfather knew that.

To be fair, her grandmother had been ill for the last several years, bedridden for the last ten months. A nurse had lived here at the estate with them, tending to her until the end. And only one day after she’d died, her grandfather had surprised them all by declaring he was going to move on, saying he couldn’t bear to stay there without his Belle.

He motioned up the stairs. “Whatever is up there is not worth keeping anyway. Belle moved all our things down here when she couldn’t manage the stairs any longer. Years ago.”

“What about in the attic? You have things in there still, don’t you?”

“Mostly ancient junk. I doubt anyone has been up there in years.” He waved her away. “Look through it if you want. I’ve already decided to have all that hauled off.” He waved at the formal room where he stood. “All of this. Might as well get rid of it all.”

She went down the steps a little way and leaned on the railing, looking at him. “Is there not anything you want to keep, Grandpops?”

“What for?” Then he straightened his shoulders—tapping his cane in that familiar way of his—and gave a disinterested sigh. “I won’t be around much longer anyway. No sense in hanging on to stuff.” He waved around him again. “No sense in hanging on to any of this. There’s no one to take over when I’m gone.”

“You’ve been saying that you won’t be around much longer for the last ten years and you’re still managing just fine.”

“And what do you call this damn thing I have to use to walk with?”

She went down a couple more steps. “You’ve had that damn thing ten years too. You wouldn’t be you if that cane wasn’t in your hands.” She tilted her head, meeting his gaze. “This is your home.”

“There’s nothing here for me anymore.” He looked at her sharply then. “Why? What’s the reason I should keep the estate? Do you want to move here when I’m gone? Take it over for me? There is no one else, Maddie. Just you.”

She laughed. “I’m single. This place has eight bedrooms, not to mention several sitting areas and formal living rooms,” she said, waving her hand down at him. “What in the world would I do with it all?”

His expression turned thoughtful. “Maybe you should take it over, Maddie. It’s been in the family for generations. It does pain me to think about selling. I had hoped your mother would want to keep it, but she has no interest. She doesn’t care if I get rid of it all.” He scowled. “She thinks because she’s got money, she’s got to rub elbows with those snooty high society people in the city who don’t give a damn about her. She seems like she couldn’t care less about where she came from.” Before she could go to him, he waved her away. “No, no. Go on up. I’m fine. Just venting.”

“You don’t really want to sell it, do you?”

“Like you said, it’s too big for one person to rattle around in. Your mother is off in New York City and wants no part of the homeplace. She never did. And your brother? I’ve given up on that. Evan is…well, Evan is Evan. He’s far too much like your mother. Who’s going to want it, if not you? You’re the only sensible one in the family.”

“You know what, there’s no need to rush into anything. I can stay with you for a while if you want. See how it goes.”

He raised his bushy eyebrows. “What about that fella you’re seeing? Your mother seems to think it’s serious this time.”

“Serious?” She tucked blond hair behind her ears. “He wants to marry me, yes.”

He nodded. “Your mother thinks he would fit in perfectly with the family.”

“Does she?” She sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t feel that way about him. Maybe I’m being too picky.”

He smiled. “I’ve always liked that about you. You were smart enough not to fall for the first one that came along. Most of them see nothing but dollar signs anyway.”

“Most do, yes. I don’t always tell them who I am though.” She smiled quickly. “Grandma Belle taught me that when I was still young.”

He laughed. “Your mother never learned that lesson.” Then his smile faded. “My fault. I let Belle spoil her beyond belief. We should have had more children.”

Yes, spoiled was a good way to describe her mother. She had been married and divorced four times now. She and Evan had different fathers. While she was still on decent terms with hers, Evan was not.

“Now, you best go on up. Loretta will have lunch ready at noon, as always. She cycles through my favorite meals, but if you’ve got a hankering for something, I’ll let her know. She could whip that up for you.”

“I’m not particular,” she said as she moved up the stairs. That was a daily occurrence whenever she visited. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner, all at regimented times. After all these years, she still wasn’t used to that. She preferred to eat when she was actually hungry, not at a predetermined time.

She paused at the landing, then moved onto the wide hallway, her gaze moving to each of the closed doors. The six bedrooms up here were still furnished, yet most were not used anymore. Her mother had stayed only one night, that was the night before the burial. The first room was small and only had one window. It had been her childhood room until her mother bought the mansion, as she called it, and moved them there to Chester Heights. Now when she stayed with her grandparents, she always chose the second room. It had two large windows looking out over the once manicured grounds. Bennie had been the groundskeeper since he’d been a young man. When he grew too old and retired, they never replaced him, instead hiring a local lawn service to tend to things. They did little more than cut the grass.

She walked down the hallway to the far end of rooms. Her grandparents had slept up here for years, only moving into one of the downstairs bedrooms when Grandma Belle had grown too frail to manage the stairs any longer. She moved to their door, about to open it, when her attention was drawn to the end of the hallway and the large door in the corner. The attic.

She nearly shivered at the thought. She’d always been afraid to go up there. Probably because Evan had tormented her with ghost stories when she was young. Well, she was now twenty-seven years old. As far as she knew, despite the multitude of generations who had lived here—and died here—the place wasn’t haunted. Still, she had no desire to go up there. At least not alone.

Yet before she could turn the knob on her grandparents’ old room, she found herself moving slowly to the attic door, almost as if in a trance. She stood there staring at it, not quite understanding the sudden compulsion she had to go up there. It was as if a force were urging her along and she had no will to fight it.

She took a deep breath, then touched the knob, pausing only a second before turning it and pulling the door open. The stairway leading up was wide and dark. She felt along the wall for the light switch and flipped it up. A dull and dingy lightbulb swung overhead, the shadows moving lazily around her.

Something beckoned and she found herself climbing steadily up the stairs. Spiderwebs were draped from every nook and corner, and she could smell the dust as it floated about. She wondered how many years—decades—it had been since someone had been up there.

And she wondered why she was going up now.