Shades: Eight Tales of Terror (15 page)

Janie now looked at the regal woman in astonishment. Was that what this was all about? Had they simply brought her here to apologize for an old wrong aga
inst her grandmother? And if so, why? Neither of these two would have had any part in that situation.

“I…uh…thank you,” she stammered.
“I’m not sure what to say. Like you said, this was all a long time before I was born. I’m sure it really doesn’t matter now.”

The two women shared another look, and this time the younger took over.

“Oh, it matters.” Rosaline laughed and led her over to the fireplace.

She gestured up at a large portrait of a rather grim looking man in nineteenth century garb. He had white hair, a hawkish face, and deep set eyes that glared out at the world in a way that announced he was a ruthless, iron-willed son of a bitch and didn’t care who knew it. The litt
le metal plate on the bottom of the frame identified him as Solomon Danford, 1840-1910.

“It also means
that you and Diane share something else but good looks. Since her brother Reggie died late last year, you two are the last people on this planet to have descended from this man, the founder of the Danford dynasty.”

Janie stared up at the harsh, unforgiving face of her new ancestor and shuddered.

“Oh yes,” Rosaline seemed to read her mind, “when it came to evil, black hearted bastards, our dear Solomon stood second to none. Trust me, the Danford men came by their traits honestly. But, now there aren’t any Danford men left.”

“And,” Jacqueline interrupted, “since my daughter has refused to come back from Moscow
, and take charge of the part of the Danford legacy that can only fall to blood relations, that has forced our hand to take these rather extraordinary measures.”

“Extraordinary measures?” Janie struggled to follow. “You mean me?”

This couldn’t be happening. Things like this only occurred in fairy tales, not in the real world of the 21
st
century.

“Yes
, dear.” The elder woman looked at her with sympathy. “I mean you. Assuming you meet a couple of criteria—which I feel you will—by tonight, you will be the sole owner of Magnolia Rise, and all the funds that are attached to it.”

***

“Have another truffle, dear.” Rosaline gestured at the silver bowl of dark chocolate candies. “Chocolate makes everything better, and if you’re going to be rich you might as well eat like it.”

Janie ga
ve the large bowl a guilty look and tried to wrap her mind around what they represented. The chocolates were delicious, but she had almost choked on the second one when Rosaline informed her they were imported black truffles from France and cost over two hundred and fifty dollars per bite. It turned out the candies, cheeses, and wine on the balcony table between them represented more than her entire salary for the year.

Wealt
hy people didn’t eat like this. People who were richer than God ate like this.

The view from the balcony was fabulous. This side of the mansion overlooked a wooded creek tha
t ran alongside the property, with a beautifully tended park and arboretum beyond. The rooftops and chimneys of other nice houses peeked above the trees of the forested neighborhood, and in the distance she could make out a new skyscraper being built on the northern edge of Houston.

“So…” S
he tried to focus on something other than watching the glamorous blonde pop another obscenely expensive piece of candy in her mouth. “There must be more to this than ‘ Hey Janie, guess what? You’re grandma had a date with the right guy forty-five years ago and now you’re rich!’”

“Actually,” Rosaline almost choked on her candy with laughter, “that’s pretty damn close to the way this works. This particular portion of the Danford estate, and everything that goes with it, can only go to a blood descendent of Solomon Danford
. And since Diane isn’t interested, you’re now the main candidate.”

“Everything that goes with it?”

Something about the way Rosaline said that, almost as if she had tried to avoid it in the middle of saying it, caught her ear.

What the hell was going on here?

“I suppose it’s time we get to that,” Jacqueline announced as she came out onto the patio with a folder in her hand. “I’m afraid there are a few things you need to know, so that what you will be required to do next will make some sense.”

“Required to do?” Janie felt a sinki
ng sensation that the other shoe she had been fearing was about to fall. “What exactly is it that I will have to do? Are we talking a blood test? Or something else?”

“Something else.
” Jacqueline gave her that oddly sympathetic look she had used earlier. “We are already satisfied with your claim to this portion of the estate. Although some may wish to see a blood test later, it would be a mere formality at that point. I’m afraid we are approaching the part you may find strange. The part where you prove your bona fides to other…interested parties.”

“Other interested parties?”

Janie frowned, not liking the sound of that at all. Something was going on here, and it was something unpleasant. Just the way the two women looked at each other, then back at her, made her nervous. That feeling of being in over her head intensified again.

“Janie,” Jacqueline looked at the papers in her hand, then at her, “I’m afraid your part of the estate comes with more than Magnolia Rise and its associated funds.”

“More?” Janie swallowed at the ominous way the older woman had used the word. “What ‘more’ does it come with exactly?”

“History,
” the elder woman stated. “It comes with some very black and sordid history. The Magnolia Rise portion of the estate has been handled separately from the rest of the Danford holdings almost from the beginning. It has been handed down from one direct descendent of Solomon Danford to the next for more than a century. Some have tried to avoid it, while others have taken it on as a duty to the rest of the family. It’s a very private matter that we have never let slip outside the confines of this family. The portion that has fallen to you is one that few Danfords ever wanted, and the reason for that is that it comes with both a prophecy and a curse.”

Janie looked from one woman to the other, trying to gauge if they were serious or not. They both looked serious as a heart attack.

“A prophecy?” she repeated. “And a curse? You mean like supernatural stuff or are you being metaphorical here?”

“There is nothing metaphorical about this,” the elder woman stated. “Although Diane is already vastly wealthy, you can be certain this is the reason she chose to turn down a one hundred and forty million dollar portion of the estate.”

“One..hundred…and…” Janie’s mind almost locked up at the number. She had started to get used to the idea she might be about to become a millionaire, but this…this kind of thing went far beyond her experience. A hundred and forty million dollars? She found the thought of that kind of money a lot more intimidating than talk of prophecies or curses.

But intimidating in a way that came with a hundred and forty million reasons to get over that fear in a big hurry.

“Okay,” Janie held up a finger and regrouped. “A prophecy and a curse then. So be it. What is the prophecy?”

The two Danford women looked at each other again. Rosaline lifted an amused eyebrow at the older woman, then Jacqueline turned back to Janie and answered her.

“The prophecy is that as long as a blood heir of Solomon Danford owns Magnolia Rise, the Danford fortune will thrive. But should the estate ever sit empty without an heir, then the family fortune will wither and fade away.”

Janie studied the pair as she mulled that over, searching for any sign they might be less than serious about this.

“And you believe this prophecy?” she pressed.

“I have too,” the older woman admitted. “
We
have to. My son Reggie died eight months ago. He was the last owner of Magnolia Rise. Since then we, as a family, have been trying to get Diane to take up the mantle but she has refused. And over the past six months our collective worths have all declined by almost thirty percent. Investments started failing, deals started falling through, business started declining. In one case a cargo ship carrying a fleet of cars for resell sank in the Indian ocean.”

And because of all that,
Janie thought to herself,
you’re so desperate that you are willing to look up an outsider that just happens to be the product of an illicit affair. Hell, I’m the bastard grandchild of your late husband and you’re practically sucking up to me. You really believe this stuff, never mind that the whole economy has been tanking recently. This is nuts!

“Wow.” S
he chose to keep her thoughts to herself. “I guess I can see how that could be cause for concern. But what about this curse? What’s that all about?”

This time it was the younger woman who answered her.

“The curse,” Rosaline drawled while lighting a cigarette at the end of a long stemmed filter, “is that the owner of Magnolia Rise is said to be haunted by one of the victims of Solomon Danford.”

“Haunted? Like, by a ghost?”

“That’s what I understand.” Rosaline shrugged. “Remember, I married into this family and so did Jacqueline. But since we’re the two largest holders of the family fortune, we get to decide how things are handled. The prophecy says we need a blood heir here in Magnolia Rise for things to return to normal, so we’re making that happen. And since neither of us were going to get Magnolia Rise anyway, it’s no skin off our nose to see you get it.

Nothing to lose and everything to win, eh? And all this over some kind of ghost story?Rich people really are nuts! Remind me to donate to the Edgar Allen Poe Society if this all works out.

“I suppose that makes sense.” Janie reached for one of the little truffles. “But what can you tell me about this ghost, or curse? Is there a story behind it?”

“I can tell you some of it.” T
he elder woman watched Janie examine the truffle, then take a bite. “It comes from over a century ago…and as Rosaline already pointed out, I married into the family so I might have a hole in the story here or there.”

“Underst
ood.” Janie nodded, and took a sip of wine.

Jacqueline motioned Janie to join her, and the girl rose to follow the woman over to the balcony rail. From this vantage, the entire area spread out below them. Janie gripped the rail and gazed out over the wooded neighborhood. It felt like surveying a kingdom. She wondered if she could really have the chance to be standing here tomorrow as well.

The older woman stared out from the balcony a moment, then began her tale.

“It happened a little over a century ago…”

***

“
Back at the turn of the last century,” Jacqueline gazed out over the balcony rail, “Houston was much smaller and still about twenty miles to the south. This area was wooded farmland centered around a small town named Bradlow. The town would have been about where that little corner store and coffee shop is over there.

She indicated an area slightly to the south and east.

“There wasn’t much to it. Just a few stores, a bank, a lumberyard, a sawmill, and about four hundred people. It was a rural community, and I think it disappeared before they ever got around to paving any of the streets. There’s no trace left of it today…well, other than a graveyard at the back of that park over there, and I suppose Magnolia Rise, but that came later.

Anyway
, it wasn’t much and in 1890 Solomon Danford moved into town. He had been an executive in one of the larger banks in Houston, and to this day nobody knows why he left. Knowing him, it probably wasn’t pretty. But he was already a man of moderate wealth when he arrived, and in a town like Bradlow that translated into rich.”

Jacqueline took a sip of her wine as she gazed out across the tree tops, and Janie got the sudden insight that the elder woman took history very seriously. She hadn’t merely heard
the story and was passing it on. She must have done some research herself to understand the lay of the land back then, and the context within which her story happened.

“Solomon worked at the bank for a couple of years as the vice president, but his ambitions were much larger than that. In 1895 he left the bank and went into politics. He was sophisticated, intelligent, and had a distinguished bearing…things the simple people of Bradlow confused with being a man of high character.  Later that year he ran for and achieved the office of judge.

And not long after that some members of the Bradlow community would learn they had made a terrible mistake.

The mid 1890s was a hard time, almost a depression, and many of the farmers in the area were hanging on by the skin of their teeth. Most were in debt to the b
ank and behind on their bills. But they were still scraping by, partly due to an understanding local judge who believed in giving them time to try and pull themselves out their hole.

That started to change when Solomon Danford took over the bench.

Oh, nothing dramatic at first. But over time he started to find for the bank more often and allow a foreclosure here or there that wouldn’t have happened before. Nobody thought much of it since the notes were actually owed, and Solomon had been perceived as a tougher judge from the start. But shrewder eyes would have noticed a pattern.