Feeling like a complete klutz, Nick was almost afraid to touch anything. If he broke something, he’d probably spend the rest of his life paying for it.
Cara took Nick and Gerry to a large, round, glass-walled room with a peaked ceiling. Plants hung around the top of the walls, and bigger, lush plants were placed on the floor to allow an open view of the rolling green lawns and flower gardens, yet give them a feeling of intimacy while they ate.
Two big, colorful birds chattered away in a huge cage on one side of the room. Cara spoke to the birds, Romeo and Juliet, then sat with Nick and Gerry in comfortable rattan chairs. The round, glass-topped table had a crystal vase filled with white tulips in the middle.
“Nice room,” said Gerry.
“Sure is,” said Nick. The curved glass panels in the walls must have cost a small fortune. “We could put a room similar to this in that new house you asked Al to design.”
“I’d love it, but my grandfather had this one custom made. I don’t need anything this elaborate or expensive.”
“Without custom glass, it wouldn’t be expensive. We’ll make it ten or twelve feet wide, tall, with a ceiling sloped up to the second floor. We’ll put a spa at one end and an open spiral staircase to the master bedroom on the other end. You’d have room for plants and a table like this in the middle.”
Cara’s face glowed. “That sounds wonderful, Nick.”
“You’re planning to stay in Washington?” asked Gerry.
“I thought I’d go back and forth until I feel comfortable with the way the estate is being handled. The trustees have been doing everything for years. I don’t know if that’s good or bad. I just want to understand what they’ve been doing. I need your help with that, Gerry.” She glanced at Nick. “Yours, too, Nick. I took business classes in college, but most of it went right over my head.”
“You want in on the major decisions?” asked Gerry.
“Yes, but not the day-to-day business.”
Gerry nodded. “That makes sense. Do you know the value of the estate?”
“I have no idea. I know the paintings in the house are worth millions. My grandfather was a collector, but my mother didn’t share that passion. My last stepfather collected Egyptian artifacts. I assume they’re still here in the house.”
Nick listened quietly. He came along to help Cara, but he felt like a fish out of water in this castle she called a house. He pointed to the folder Cara had brought downstairs. “What’s that?”
“A list of the employees, years of service, and what they do. I want to review it before I do any firing.”
Mr. Pettibone stood in the doorway, clearing his throat. Cara turned to look at him. “Miss Andrews, I thought you’d want to know. Cassie is back.”
Cara’s whole face smiled.
“Who is Cassie?” asked Nick.
“My favorite cook. She’s been here as long as I can remember, but Lance fired her last week.”
Cara excused herself and returned with a big-boned woman who had skin the color of latte. “Nick, Gerry, this is Cassie Wilson. She makes the best croissants.”
“So, Cassie, when do we get to taste these famous croissants?” asked Nick.
“I’ll make you some for breakfast.”
Gerry leaned forward and whipped off his glasses. “Would you mind answering a question, Miss Wilson?”
“It’s all right, Cassie,” said Cara. “Sit down. Mr. Merlino is my attorney.”
Cassie looked wary, but as she sat down, Gerry pushed ahead. “I understand Mr. Berkshire fired you because of a dispute between you and his assistant, Miss McCullough.”
“Assistant?” said Cassie. “Is that what he calls her?”
“What was the dispute about?” Gerry lowered his voice. “We know he and Miss McCullough are lovers. Was that it?”
Cassie glanced from Cara to Gerry. “I found them naked together about two days after she came. They didn’t see me, but I couldn’t get it out of my head. Then when Miss Cara went to Seattle, Sally started acting like she owned the place, acting all high and mighty, ordering folks around. She came in the kitchen one day, bitching about something, and I gave her a piece of my mind. Then last week, Mr. Berkshire showed up and fired me. Mr. Pettibone said I wasn’t fired, that he’d talk to you about it, Miss Cara, but he didn’t know how to reach you. I’m so glad you’re back. Everybody here is glad you’re back.”
“I can’t stay long, but Lance isn’t allowed on the property. Sally Jane McCullough will be gone today, but keep it to yourself for now.”
“Okay.”
Cassie returned to the kitchen and lunch was served. Nick stared at his salad. He liked salad, but this looked like a bunch of weeds with pink stuff on it.
“Something wrong, Nick?” asked Cara.
“I guess I’m a meat and potatoes kinda guy. What’s the pink stuff?”
“Raspberry vinaigrette.” Gerry stabbed another bite. “It’s delicious.”
Nick tasted it. “It’s okay.”
The next course surprised him. Huge sandwiches thick with sliced beef and cheese, grilled to perfection, with a side of fries. Cara told the waitress, or whoever she was, that Nick liked ketchup, and seconds later, they all had little dishes filled with ketchup.
“What? No bottle?” he joked. “Mmm, this is good.”
“Almost as good as yours,” Cara said softly.
Nick knew she’d ordered this for him. “I don’t suppose you ordered rocky road ice cream, too.”
“What if I did?”
And a few minutes later, bowls of rocky road ice cream were served to them, with dainty little cookies stuck in the side. Nick laughed. It was a little thing, but it meant Cara cared enough to try to make him comfortable in her house. It was a considerate thing to do, but he’d never feel at home in a place like this. Seeing this house sealed it for him. He’d begun to dream of a future with Cara, but there was no way he’d ever fit in this world.
<>
After lunch, Cara spoke with Mr. Pettibone. “We’ll meet in the library in about twenty minutes, Mr. Pettibone. I’ll need at least two security guards.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Do we have a tape recorder in the house?”
“Your grandfather had a tape system installed in the library. There are several hidden microphones in the room. The controls are in the top left drawer of the desk.”
Cara scanned the list, marking Sally Jane McCullough’s name and one other. “Mr. Pettibone, who is this other person who came recently? Did we need another gardener?”
“Your husband hired him, Miss Andrews. Security is still investigating. The name may be an alias.”
Nick asked Mr. Pettibone, “Does he live here?”
“Yes, he does.”
Nick looked at Cara. “Better have your security people search his room.”
“Has anything disappeared, Mr. Pettibone?” asked Cara. “Paintings? Art work?”
“Now that you mention it, the painting over the bed in your mother’s suite has been tampered with. It looks like the back has been removed and replaced.”
“Anything else?” asked Gerry.
“The Egyptian artifacts were moved ever so slightly.”
“By someone dusting?” asked Nick.
Mr. Pettibone lifted his chin. “I am always present when that cabinet is opened and the contents dusted.”
“Damn!” said Nick. “Somebody’s been snooping around.”
“At the very least,” said Gerry. “We should get an expert in here to look at the painting and make sure someone didn’t replace it with a copy.”
“Yes, of course. I’ll take care of that right away,” said Mr. Pettibone. “Perhaps the expert should authenticate each piece in the house. When Mr. Andrews was alive, he had it done every other year.”
Cara nodded. “Then it’s long overdue. Let’s get back on that every other year schedule.”
Mr. Pettibone nodded.
“Has anyone else been hired since my mother’s death?”
“No, I don’t believe so. Would you like me to call Security now, Miss Andrews?”
“Yes, please do. Have someone search my guardians’ quarters while I speak with them. No one else is to know what’s going on. Do they have cell phones?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“Have them removed, along with the other phones in their suite. I don’t want them to speak with anyone until I’m ready for them to leave.” Cara paused for a deep breath. “When the guards are ready, send for Mr. and Mrs. Corinth. I want to get this over with.”
As Mr. Pettibone left the room, Cara leaned on the desk and buried her face in her hands. “What am I doing?”
Nick rubbed her back. “Hey, Maxine, you’re on a roll.”
“You’re doing fine, Cara,” said Gerry. “You’re taking charge. That’s good.”
“Then why are my hands so cold?” She begged Nick with her eyes.
Help me
, she said without words.
Nick glanced at Gerry, who excused himself and left the room. Nick took Cara’s hands. “You can do this, Cara. You’re the boss, and it’s time to let everybody know it.”
She swallowed hard. “Hold me, Nick.”
He held her gently, cradling her head against his shoulder with one hand, rubbing her back with the other. When he felt her body relax, he pulled back, kissed her lightly on the lips, and said, “Give ’em hell, Maxine.”
Gerry came in first and Cara heard the others coming. Mr. Corinth grumbled about being needlessly disturbed. She wondered how ‘disturbed’ he’d be in a few minutes.
Outside the door, Mrs. Corinth said, “Who does she think she is, treating us like servants? She knows our position here.”
“She is to treat us with respect,” said her husband.
Anger surged through Cara.
Respect? They never treated me with respect.
She watched them walk through the door, hating them as much today as she had when she was thirteen. She pointed to the wing-back chairs in front of the desk. “Sit down. This won’t take long.”
She glanced at the door. “Mr. Pettibone, please stay.” He sat near the door.
Mr. Corinth stood in front of the desk, glaring at her. His wife snarled, “How dare you summon us as if we were servants.”
Two security guards stood inside the closed double doors as Ian and Jane Corinth sat on the other side of Cara’s grandfather’s big desk. Nick sat by Cara’s left side, Gerry on her right. The two men fortified her, and her anger at these rude, inconsiderate people fueled her. “How much of my money do the trustees pay you to live in my home?”
Mr. Corinth’s lips pressed together tightly as his face reddened. Cara knew he was angry and she didn’t care. “How much do they pay you to be rude, to treat me as less than a person? How much?”
“Not enough to put up with an insufferable brat like you,” said Mrs. Corinth.
Cara caught Mr. Pettibone’s eye. “Would you get the accountant on the phone, please. Ask him—”
“Ten thousand a month,” said Mr. Corinth.
“Jeez,” muttered Nick. “For what?”
“Miss Andrews came of age several years ago,” said Gerry. “Why are you still here?”
Mr. Corinth raised his chin slightly. “Mr. Holcomb told us to stay.”
“Her husband told us to stay, too,” said Mrs. Corinth.
“This estate does not belong to Mr. Holcomb or to my husband,” said Cara. “It belongs to me.”
“In a marriage, the man is always in charge,” said Mr. Corinth. “That’s the way God intended it to be.”
“Gimme a break,” muttered Nick.
Gerry shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what he’d heard. Cara believed it. She’d lived it since she was thirteen. “Did God intend for my husband to have sex with your niece in my home? Or put drugs in my tea?”
Mrs. Corinth nearly came out of her chair. “You’re lying. My niece—”
“Why do you resent me? In all the time you’ve lived in
my
home, I can’t remember a single kind word from you.”
Mrs. Corinth stood and glowered at Cara. “How dare you speak to us this way.”
Nick stood and leaned menacingly toward the woman. “Sit down and shut up.”
Mrs. Corinth looked at Nick and the color drained from her face. She closed her mouth and sat down.
Leaning her forearms on the desk, Cara said, “Your services are no longer wanted or needed. They haven’t been since the day you arrived. Pack your things and leave my home. You’re not welcome here.”
Mr. Corinth jumped to his feet, his face a mask of indignity. “You can’t fire us.”
Cara stood to face him, matching glare for glare. “I just did,” she said firmly. How dare he try to intimidate her like this.
The guards moved forward as Nick moved like a big cat, stepping quickly and quietly between Mr. Corinth and Cara. Mr. Corinth looked up at Nick, who stood at least three inches taller and forty pounds heavier, and sat down.
Cara stayed on her feet. “If I find you’ve taken anything that doesn’t belong to you, I’ll have you both arrested. I may do that anyway if I learn you’re involved in my husband’s scheme.”