A Hearth in Candlewood (7 page)

Though her head still ached, her vision was clear. Offering him a weak smile, she looked at the minister, who sat in an upholstered chair at the far end of the sofa near her feet. ‘‘I’m truly feeling much better. You really don’t have to stay and keep me company.’’

‘‘Then what would I do with myself?’’ he teased as he massaged the back of his weakened left hand.

‘‘I believe you might be keeping Widow Leonard company. Instead, she’s . . .’’ She let out a sigh and tried not to worry about the fact that Mother Garrett had insisted on keeping the ten-o’clock appointment with Emma’s lawyer on her way to ordering supplies at the General Store and taking Widow Leonard with her to get the sewing thread she needed.

‘‘They’ll be fine,’’ he offered, as if able to read her thoughts. ‘‘It’ll do them both good to be out and about for a spell.’’

When Emma tried to shift her position to catch more of the morning sun that was pouring through the windows, she put too much pressure on her head and gritted her teeth. ‘‘As a point of fact, I was looking forward to being out and about myself. I don’t often get a full day to spend as I please, especially not a day as glorious as this one. The sun is bright and warm, there’s a bit of a breeze, and yet here I sit with a lump on my head and my day ruined, all because I was in such a rush.’’

Reverend Glenn moved his hand up to massage his weakened forearm. ‘‘It’s not easy for any of us to accept disappointments or troubles of any kind, even little ones, regardless of how strong or how weak our faith might be.’’

Her cheeks flushed. Whining about a minor fall to a man who had lost both his pulpit and his independence to a stroke was truly insensitive. The notion he might be struggling to accept his infirmity and his reduced circumstances was completely foreign to her perceptions of him. ‘‘I’m sorry. I don’t believe I’ve ever told you how much it means to me—to all of us—to have you here at Hill House. I never realized how difficult it might be for you, though.’’

‘‘There are days when I wonder why I’ve been given such a heavy cross to carry,’’ he admitted as he leaned down and patted the sleeping Butter on the head. ‘‘Other days I’m content enough to set my disappointments aside and enjoy the blessings I do have. Like you,’’ he said. ‘‘For all the days and months I’ve been living here, I can’t remember the last time we had the chance to spend time with each other without distractions.’’

A loud crash overhead told her Ditty had apparently knocked something over or dropped something while cleaning, and she sighed. ‘‘Obviously, we’re not without any distractions today. Not with Ditty around,’’ she teased.

Chuckling, he pulled on his chin. ‘‘Even so, I can’t say I’d be happier to live alone again. After Mrs. Glenn died, the parsonage was very . . . quiet.’’

‘‘We don’t find quiet here at Hill House very often, at least not during canal season, do we?’’

‘‘Indeed we don’t. We do have a lot of good conversation, companionship, and laughter. Great blessings all,’’ he murmured. ‘‘I’m a bit curious, though. You don’t make much mention of the General Store. After operating it all those years, I assume you must miss it—at least occasionally.’’

She cocked her head. ‘‘I think I do. Sometimes. But the older I got, the more I realized that I wouldn’t be able to operate the store forever.’’ She chuckled. ‘‘My grandmother and my mother warned me I would feel that way one day. Working six days a week from dawn to candlelighting can wear a body down. I tried to explain that to Ralph Iverson when he bought the General Store. I only hope he fared better after he sold the store to Wayne Atkins.’’

She looked around the parlor and smiled. ‘‘Here at Hill House, my life has a different cadence. During the season, I’m still working as long and as hard as I always did at the General Store, even though I have a lot more help here. But come November, I can look forward to a good five or six months of slowing down a bit. I’m not sure how many days Mother Garrett has left on this earth, but I like the idea she doesn’t have to work as hard as she’s had to, working alongside me all these years.’’

He began to massage the weakened muscles in his left thigh. ‘‘Slowing down is a challenge for me. I suppose it might be for her, too. Widow Leonard doesn’t lack the energy of a woman twenty years younger, either.’’

‘‘Which is precisely why I’m worried about what sort of trouble the two of them might stir up in town,’’ Emma admitted.

‘‘I doubt either James or Andrew would be about during the week at this time of year. They’re too busy finishing the last of the harvesting and such. Besides, I’ve known both of the Leonard boys all their lives. They wouldn’t cause their mother any trouble in town.’’

Emma adjusted the poultice Mother Garrett had fixed for her. ‘‘I hadn’t thought about either of them being about town. I’m more concerned about the gossipmongers who will find plenty to chew on when they see Widow Leonard. Once they discover she’s living and working here at Hill House, they won’t be satisfied until they learn every lurid detail of why she’s no longer living with one of her sons.’’

She paused and locked her gaze with his. ‘‘You’ve spent a lot of time with her. I was wondering . . . that is, has she shared whatever it is that has caused such a rift between her sons? Not that I’m asking you to break any confidences,’’ she added quickly. ‘‘If you don’t want to discuss it, I certainly understand.’’

He blushed. ‘‘We’ve talked some about it, but mostly we’ve been talking about me, or should I say Mrs. Glenn. Letty and Frances were friends growing up, you know. Their families both left New Jersey to move here together.’’

Emma sat up straighter. ‘‘No, I didn’t know,’’ she said, although she did vaguely recall the gossip ignited by his marriage to a woman some twelve or thirteen years his senior.

‘‘I’m hopeful she’ll seek our advice, if she needs it. Until then, I’m very grateful you’ve made a place for her here. It’s almost like having Letty back with me.’’

No sooner did the front bell ring, startling both of them, than Liesel charged down the hall past the parlor to the front door. After a brief but muffled conversation, Emma heard two sets of footsteps approaching: one light, the other heavier. To her surprise, Liesel led Zachary Breckenwith into the parlor.

An uncommonly tall man, he was impeccably dressed in a dark serge suit, as usual, and carried himself with a confidence that stopped just short of arrogance. Although they were nearly the same age, he looked a good bit younger. While her own blond hair was streaked with white, there was not a single strand of gray in his dark hair, and she suspected it was because he simply did not allow it. Not wanting to appear weak, Emma sat up straight, tucked the poultice under the cushion, and carefully avoided touching the lump on her head. She was also vain enough to quickly smooth her hair and be grateful she had chosen a winter green linen gown to wear on her outing today, rather than one of her usual cotton work dresses.

‘‘Since you weren’t able to keep your appointment this morning, Mr. Breckenwith asked to see you,’’ Liesel announced.

‘‘Assuming you’re feeling well enough,’’ the lawyer said, and his dark eyes shimmered with concern. ‘‘I understand you had a fall of some sort.’’

‘‘I’m feeling much better. Thank you. But I didn’t expect you to come all the way up here,’’ Emma replied.

‘‘There’s important business we need to discuss,’’ he said curtly.

‘‘If you’ll both excuse me, I think I’ll just take myself to the kitchen for a cup of coffee,’’ the minister suggested.

When he started to edge forward in his seat, the lawyer shook his head. ‘‘Please stay here. I’d prefer to meet with Widow Garrett in her office.’’

Irritated by how adroitly her lawyer placed himself in control, considering he was in her home, Emma got to her feet. When she did not experience a wave of dizziness, she managed a genuine smile. ‘‘Liesel, bring Reverend Glenn a cup of coffee, won’t you?’’ She turned her attention to her lawyer, determined to be hospitable despite her annoyance with him. ‘‘Would you care for some refreshment? Coffee? Tea?’’

He held up his hand. ‘‘Thank you, but no. I promised Aunt Elizabeth I’d be home in an hour for dinner, which reminds me: Since I mentioned I was coming here, Widow Garrett asked me to let you know she and Widow Leonard will be having dinner in town.’’

Emma’s eyes widened. ‘‘They’re not coming home for dinner?’’

He shrugged and did not hide a grin. ‘‘Apparently not.’’

‘‘Where? Where are they having dinner?’’

‘‘She didn’t say, and I didn’t ask. She did say that she expected they’d be home by late afternoon,’’ he offered as he followed her to her office.

Emma walked just a little more slowly than usual so she would not slip or fall again, most especially in front of him. By the time they had taken their respective places in her office, she was grateful to be off her feet again. ‘‘I trust you had no trouble helping Mother Garrett draw up her will?’’

He shrugged. ‘‘Young Jeremy has only been in Candlewood to study law with me for the past six months, but he could have done it just as easily. The woman owns little enough, though she did mention something about a parcel of land she had recently acquired from you. In any event, her will has been duly written, signed, and witnessed.’’

‘‘Good,’’ she murmured. From the middle drawer, she took the paper she and Mother Garrett had signed yesterday to transfer ownership of the property on Hollaway Lane and handed it to him. ‘‘I’m not sure if this is exact enough. You might need to rewrite it or do what you lawyers do.’’

He leaned forward to get the paper and sat back again to read it. When he finished, he shook his head and frowned. ‘‘I won’t bother asking why you didn’t have me draw this up for you, but you’re right. I need to better identify the land in question by using the survey data, but a simple addendum will do for that.’’

He folded the paper again. ‘‘I must admit I’m rather amazed that you sold this particular parcel of land at all. The last time we discussed the matter, which was after Mr. Langhorne asked me to intervene on his behalf, you were quite adamant that the land would not be sold under any circumstances.’’

When she started to protest, he silenced her by raising his hand. ‘‘Am I surprised you sold the land to your mother-in-law to outwit that man? In truth, not a bit. Not with the restrictions you placed on the transfer. But I am shocked at the sum you accepted. Then again, I’ve been your lawyer for five years now and should know better.’’

‘‘I’m quite certain you’re not as shocked as Mr. Langhorne will be when he finds out once the sale becomes a matter of public record, which will do little to support my reputation as a clever businesswoman. Not when the selling price of fifty cents is recorded. Anyone with a pinch of business sense will know that land is priceless.’’

Mr. Breckenwith’s frown deepened. ‘‘I wouldn’t say priceless, exactly, but since it’s the last parcel of land in Candlewood proper with direct access to the canal, I’d say the land is very, very valuable. Definitely worth a small fortune, and one you might very well need, which I would have been able to explain to you if you had consulted me first before coming up with your scheme.’’

Stung by his reprimand, she stiffened her back. ‘‘As you well know, I’m quite aware of my holdings, as well as my needs. I have fortune enough—’’

‘‘You have far less than you think,’’ he insisted. He took a packet of papers from his vest pocket and laid it on top of her desk.

‘‘You can read the correspondence I received six weeks ago, along with the documents related to the subsequent work I’ve done on your behalf, and draw your own conclusions—or I can explain them. In either case, you have much more to worry about than how Mr. Langhorne or the general public will react to the sum paid for that particular parcel of land you sold to your mother-in-law.’’

A chill inexplicably raced up her spine, and Emma let the packet of papers lay untouched. ‘‘Correspondence? Why would you be receiving correspondence that concerns me? Or wait six weeks to bring something to my attention when you obviously believe it’s important enough to adversely affect the extent of my fortune?’’

‘‘I have the correspondence because six weeks ago Mr. Atkins at the General Store didn’t know what to do with a letter addressed to ‘a lawyer in Candlewood.’ Fortunately, he gave it to me when I stopped to collect my mail. I didn’t bring it to your attention until I confirmed the veracity of the letter. I know you well enough by now to suspect you would not have followed my advice and fully investigated the matter but would have chosen to ignore the letter as a hoax of some sort.’’

Emma decided to overlook his complaint about her instead of arguing. She moistened her lips and glanced at the papers but still resisted the temptation to read them. Since Mr. Breckenwith was so self-confident, she decided to let him explain the contents of the correspondence to her. She could always read everything later for herself. ‘‘Perhaps you should simply tell me who sent the letter and how I’m involved. Succinctly,’’ she insisted, fearing he might prolong her unease by being overly thorough.

He captured her gaze and held it. ‘‘In a nutshell, Widow Garrett, you don’t own Hill House.’’

8

I
DON’T OWN
H
ILL
H
OUSE,
’’ Emma said quietly, as if repeating her lawyer’s words might help her to make sense of them.

The very idea she did not own Hill House was so ludicrous she might have laughed out loud, but Mr. Breckenwith’s expression was too grim and his gaze too intense. Gooseflesh dimpled her arms, and her heart began to race. ‘‘Perhaps you might explain what you mean. Less succinctly, if you please.’’

He nodded but held his back ramrod straight and his gaze steady. ‘‘Four years ago you barged into my office with Michael Spencer, the lawyer who represented the estate of the late Richard Hughes, who had built Hill House for his wife, then abandoned it after she died in childbirth, along with her babe.’’

She blinked hard. ‘‘I wouldn’t say ‘barged.’ I simply arrived without making an appointment with you beforehand.’’

He ignored her protest and continued. ‘‘Against my very specific advice, and without any prior indication you were even considering the idea, you bought Hill House that very day and paid quite an extraordinary sum for a property that had been abandoned for nearly a decade.’’