Authors: Maureen McMahon
At one side of the bed, double doors opened onto a balcony
running the entire length of the second floor, connecting the bedrooms from the
outside but divided by intricate lattice partitions of wrought iron.
Against one wall was a dressing table and my eyes fell on
the small shell dangling by its chain from one corner of the mirror. It was a
simple tiger shell—the kind that washes up on the beach frequently but rarely
survives intact. David gave it to me on my thirteenth birthday. He polished it
to a high gloss and bored a small hole in one edge so that I could wear it as a
necklace.
I turned the shell over between my fingers and read the worn
words inscribed inside the pink leaf.
For Your Collection—David
. At the
time, I wore it, hidden beneath my shirt. My infatuation for him was a child’s
crush and a mortal secret. The gift had meant nothing to him, merely a token
but I’d treasured it and dreamed of a David I now realized was as much a
fantasy as the relationship I hoped we could have.
They say that love is blind and, at that tender age when
adolescence begins to blossom, I was walking proof. The old tenderness tugged
at my heartstrings as I fingered the smooth surface—tenderness mingled with a
sense of sadness that occurs when dreams are doused by reality.
I put the shell into a drawer and turned to the immediate
distraction of dressing for dinner.
* * * * *
Dinner was a tense affair.
Grant was preoccupied.
Alicia and Colin were at odds with each other.
Even David seemed more subdued than usual.
Only Giles Lancaster, David’s father, appeared unaffected.
Giles was a lifelong friend of my father’s. A retired medical practitioner, he
and David were our nearest neighbors. Their estate, Spindrift, wasn’t nearly as
palatial as Beacon but possessed a quiet, homey appeal that Beacon lacked. I
was particularly glad Giles had stopped by. His uncomplicated compassion was
just what I needed now.
“Have you made any plans for the future, Suzanna?” Giles
asked.
“Not really,” I replied. “I think I’ll stay on here for a
while, though—until I get my bearings.”
“A wise decision, though I’m sure it won’t be easy. Beacon
must hold some sad memories for you.”
I nodded, grateful for his frank perception.
Giles was somewhere in his early sixties, yet still
good-looking despite the obvious marks of time. His hair was pure white and his
face was lined beneath a deep tan. He kept fit by sticking to a regimen of an
early morning jog, followed by—weather permitting—a swim in the lake. Giles’
wife, Bethany, had died after a prolonged illness many years before. I didn’t
remember her but I was told she meant the world to him.
Our housekeeper, Martha Simms, compassionate by nature took
on the additional responsibility of Spindrift and for her convenience as well
as at the insistence of Lottie, our cook, Giles and David were regular dinner
guests at Beacon.
I smiled at the concern in Giles’ eyes. “It’s not as bad as
all that,” I said. “Beacon still holds a lot of good memories too.”
He nodded. “Well, if you ever feel you need to get away for
a while, you’re welcome to stay with us at Spindrift. It’s been ages since the
old place has felt a woman’s touch.”
Martha rattled the serving caddy noisily and glowered. He
winked at me and added hastily, “Besides our dear Martha, of course.”
“That’s an excellent idea, Dad,” David put in. “We’d love to
have you, Suzanna.”
I smiled across the table at him. “I’ll keep it in mind. It’s
a very kind offer.”
“Well—” Alicia roused herself, “I for one just don’t know
why you’d want to leave.” She glanced at Colin from beneath lowered lashes. “After
all, this place is your home. Now more than ever.”
I looked at her but she avoided my eyes and picked at her
food.
“What do you mean?” I knew she was playing games with me but
my curiosity was piqued.
Her eyes widened in mock surprise. “Why, darling, hasn’t
Grant told you?”
“Alicia,” Grant cut her off. “I think you’ve said enough.”
He sent a dark look in my direction. “But I would like to discuss some matters
with you, Suzanna. Privately.”
I glanced around the table, feeling once more like an outsider.
“It seems as though we should talk,” I agreed, “and the
sooner, the better. After dinner?” My voice was bitter but I didn’t care. How
dare they keep secrets from me?
* * * * *
Grant nodded and lapsed into brooding silence.
The rest of the meal was wrapped in tension. Colin scowled
at his untouched dinner, then pushed back his chair, tossed his napkin onto his
plate and strode from the room. This seemed to please Alicia and she smiled her
feline smile at me, as though we’d somehow contrived his hasty exit. David
looked confused and once again, it was only Giles who seemed willing to
establish some semblance of rapport.
“I’ll be jogging later, Suzanna. If you’re not busy, perhaps
you’d like to join me—just like old times?”
I grimaced. “I’m afraid I haven’t kept up with it. I’m
probably so out of shape, I’ll collapse at a hundred yards! But I’d love to
give it a try if you promise not to laugh.”
He nodded but his eyes held a message. “Maybe we could just
talk then. About seven-thirty, shall we say?”
I agreed and he made a polite exit via the kitchen for a
word or two with Martha. It was obvious to us all that he held a deep
admiration for her and I was certain, despite her coy protestations, she
reciprocated the feeling. At least that was one area untouched by gloom.
Grant excused himself by stating he’d be in Leo’s study when
I was ready. I resented his dictatorial manner and though I hardly tasted the
food, made a point of taking longer than necessary over my dinner.
“What’s this all about, Alicia?” I asked. But even she
seemed uncomfortable.
“Really, Suzanna, how could you ask me? I wouldn’t dream of
taking that pleasure away from Grant.”
She also stood to leave but paused and glared at me with a
venom that took me by surprise. “You two really wouldn’t get along, honey. He’s
not your type. Believe me, I know.”
I stared, dumbfounded, as she sauntered away. What in heaven’s
name was she talking about? Grant and me? How absurd! I pushed my plate aside
and hurried off in the direction of the study.
* * * * *
He sat behind Leo’s desk, the tall back of the black leather
chair turned against me as he apparently perused the gardens and the few golden
chips of lake twinkling through the thinning foliage of hedgerow beyond the
plate glass windows. A thin string of smoke rose from the recesses of the
chair, which explained the butt-filled ashtray on the desk. I inhaled
automatically, savoring the passive hit of nicotine. It wasn’t the first time I
craved a cigarette but I was determined to quit.
“Come in, Suzie,” he said at the sound of the door. He didn’t
bother to turn and his arrogance ignited my smoldering irritation.
“Don’t call me that!”
He swiveled around and his stony blue eyes met mine. “Don’t
call you what?”
“Suzie,” I said, then faltered under his questioning gaze. “Dad
called me that.”
I couldn’t explain to him the nickname was something I’d
discarded along with my youth. When Leo called me Suzie, it was an endearment
that made me feel loved and protected but when others used it, it seemed
somehow demeaning. I didn’t want anyone to find that child still alive in me. I
was still too vulnerable.
“All right, Su-zann-a,” he said. Then, in a less belligerent
tone, “You’re really going to let this thing affect your whole life, aren’t
you?”
“Yes and why not?” I fumed. “Am I supposed to ignore it? Of
course, it affects my whole life. He was my father, for God’s sake!” All the
pent-up tensions of the past week boiled up. I couldn’t have stopped them
spilling over if I’d tried. “Who are you to judge me anyway? He’s dead and
whether it matters to you or not, I happen to have loved him. But what would
you know about love?”
I was never one to give in to tears but it seemed I had no
control over them anymore. I looked away as my eyes misted, all the more angry
for my weakness. Grant got up and went to the cupboard and produced a bottle
and two glasses. A short time later, he shoved a drink into my hand.
“Here,” he said, “it seems all I do lately is give you
alcohol to soothe your nerves.”
I was sorely tempted to toss the drink in his face. Instead,
I glared at him until he dropped his eyes and shrugged.
“Okay,” he said, “I’m sorry. I guess we’re all a bit on
edge.”
Mollified by my victory, I sat down in the nearest chair. “Perhaps
it’s time someone told me why everyone is on edge,” I said. “I thought
something like this was supposed to bring a family closer together but I get
the impression it’s driven us at each other’s throats. What’s going on?”
He straddled the corner of the desk and turned the glass
between his hands. His eyes were downcast and his face looked positively
haggard.
“Drink up,” he muttered. “You’ll need it!”
I complied, chilled by the same sense of foreboding that
overcame me when David had appeared at the cabin. I wasn’t at all sure now I
wanted to hear what he had to say. I saw he was struggling for words and knew
for someone practiced in law and used to speaking on sensitive matters, a loss
of words wasn’t a good sign. When he did speak, his voice was strained.
“I don’t know how else to tell you this but straight out,”
he said. “Leo’s will is to be read tomorrow, as I’m sure you know…”
I nodded. Of course I knew and I knew what it would say.
Colin and I would share equally in Leo’s holdings, while Grant would receive a
substantial settlement as well as a good percentage of the business itself.
Everyone knew Leo had groomed him to take over.
“I’m afraid,” Grant continued, “your father was rather upset
about this newfound independence of yours. I’m sure, in his own way, he thought
he was guaranteeing your security as he thought it should be. He often changed
his will. It was a quirk he had.
“He often said, ‘If I should die tomorrow’, never really
seeing past today but arranging the world just as he would want it to be if he
were still here.”
I was getting impatient. “Please, Grant, don’t pretend to
explain my own father to me. If you’re trying to say that he cut me out of his
will…” The idea hadn’t occured to me until just that moment but, as I looked
back at that last encounter, it seemed an obvious conclusion.
“No.” He hesitated. “It’s not that. Your father left
everything to three beneficiaries—you, Colin and myself.”
I smiled, relieved. “Yes, I—”
“But that’s not all.” He moved to the windows so his back
was to me once more. “There’s a stipulation.”
“Stipulation?” I parroted.
“Yes. To make a long story short and to put it as simply as
I know how, if you and I don’t…marry, all liquid assets will be divided up
among the stockholders, the state and a large number of charities. The rest
will be put up for public auction.” His voice was cold and emotionless. “We
here at Beacon would be, as they say, up a creek without a paddle.”
I blinked. “Excuse me but did you say marry? Us? You and me?”
I paused, then laughed. “Why, that’s ridiculous! You can’t be serious?”
His smile was bitter. “I wish I weren’t.”
Silence hung like ice as I stared aghast. In an instant,
cold rage gripped me. I leapt to my feet. “It’s unthinkable! Who does he think
he is? How dare he try to manipulate me like that?” I slammed the glass down on
the desktop, sloshing the liquid heedlessly. My heart was pounding and I felt
claustrophobic. I took a deep breath and tried to regain some composure. “I don’t
want the blasted inheritance! Let it go to the state. Why should I care?”
He cocked a rueful brow. “Because you aren’t the only person
involved,” he said. “Because if you throw this inheritance away, you’ll be
sentencing Colin and Alicia, Martha, Lottie—everyone, including David—to
certain bankruptcy. You’ll destroy their lives.”
I glared at him, feeling more trapped than ever. I knew he
was right—and hated him for it.
“Let’s not forget your own precious stake in the fortune,” I
spat.
He dropped his eyes and a muscle played in his jaw but when
he spoke, his voice was reasonable and detached. “Think what you like about me,
Suzanna. It really makes no difference in the long run. The facts still remain
the same. A lot of lives hang in the balance and you hold the key to it all.
“Don’t make any decisions right now. Think it over. Perhaps
you’ll be able to come up with some alternative. God knows, I’ve tried.”
I stood for some time, still dazed, then moved blindly
toward the door. I needed time to think. It all seemed like madness. Surely, in
this day and age, these sorts of things didn’t happen? I’d contest the will! I’d
claim Leo was insane! I’d…
* * * * *
I paused, my hand on the knob as a new suspicion occurred. “Why
did you go along with this in the first place?” I asked. “You were Dad’s
attorney, his confidante. Surely…”
He raised his eyebrows in surprise, then laughed. Still
chuckling, he came around the desk and took my shoulders in his hands. I felt
small and helpless in his solid grip and, looking up at him with his eyes
sparking steel into mine, I knew he could easily squeeze the life out of me.
His teeth were very white and very close and I could almost feel the rough
stubble on his chin. He stopped laughing and his eyes narrowed.
“Do you think I want this any more than you do?” he asked,
his voice low and tight. “Leo Dirkston liked to use people. To him, the world
was his chessboard and everyone in it, his pawns. Perhaps in your case, he
honored you with a slightly higher esteem but you were a toy just like the rest
of us.” He stopped and the pressure in his hands increased until I cried out.