Lavender Morning (4 page)

pocket, and unlocked a drawer in his desk. “She left these for you.”

He held out two small, blue satin bags, and the contents looked to be bumpy, as though they contained

jewels.

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“Oooooh,” Bell and Ash said in unison. “For us? Why that darling. She shouldn’t have. We really didn’t

expect anything.”

With their much-photographed faces alight, they opened the bags, then looked up at the lawyer in

consternation. “What are these?”

Ash dumped the contents of her bag into the palm of her hand. There were about twenty small black

objects, some of which had been emerald cut, some in the round diamond shape. “What are they? I’ve never

seen stones like these before.”

“Are they black diamonds?” Bell asked.

“In a way, they are,” Mr. Johnson said, then, still smiling, he started for the door, but he paused with his

hand on the knob. Turning just a bit, he gave Jocelyn a wink, then he left the room.

Joce had to work to keep a straight face. The “black diamonds” that Miss Edi had left for the stepsisters

were actually pieces of coal.

She didn’t say a word as they left the offices. She sat in the back of the car on the drive home and listened

as Bell and Ash, sitting beside her, held the pieces of coal up to the light and exclaimed over their beauty and

discussed how they were going to have them set.

Joce looked out the window to hide her smile. The joke that Miss Edi had left her jealous, greedy

stepsisters lumps of coal made her miss her friend with a painful longing. Miss Edi had been mother,

grandmother, friend, and mentor all in one.

Joce glanced up and saw her father frowning at her in the rearview mirror. She could see that he knew what

the “stones” were and he was dreading the coming fury when the Steps found out. But she didn’t mind. She

planned to be gone long before the Steps discovered what the black stones were. Her bags were packed and in

the back of her car, and as soon as they got home, she was going back to her job at the university.

Only when Jocelyn was back at school and in her tiny apartment did she open the packet that contained

Miss Edi’s will. She’d tried to steel herself for what she’d find, but nothing prepared her to see an envelope with

that beloved handwriting on it.
TO MY JOCELYN
it said on the envelope.

With trembling hands, she opened it, pulled out the letter, and began to read.

My dear, dear Jocelyn,

I promise I won’t be maudlin. I don’t know if it’s been days or months since my demise, but

knowing your soft heart, you’re probably still grieving. I know all too well what it is to lose people you

love. I’ve had to stand by and watch most of the people I loved die. I was very nearly the last one left.

Now, to business. The house in Boca is not mine, nor is most of the furniture. By now I’m sure the

contents have been moved out and put up for auction. But don’t worry, my dear, the best of what I

owned, meaning everything that I took from Edilean Manor, will go back to where it came from.

Jocelyn put the letter down. “Edilean Manor?” she said aloud. She’d never heard of the place. After her

initial confusion, a feeling of betrayal ran through her. She’d spent a great deal of her life with Miss Edi, had

traveled with her, met many people from her past, and had heard hundreds of stories about her time with Dr.

Brenner. But Miss Edi had never mentioned Edilean Manor. It must have been important, as it was named for

Miss Edi—or she was named for it.

Jocelyn looked back at the letter.

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I know, dear, you’re angry and hurt. I can see that frown of yours. I told you so much about my

life, but I never mentioned Edilean, Virginia. As you can guess from the unusual name, the town

“belonged” to my family—or at least we thought it did. Centuries ago, my ancestor came from

Scotland with an elegant wife and a wagonload of gold. He bought a thousand acres outside

Williamsburg, Virginia, laid out a town square, then named the place after his young wife. The legend

in my family is that his wife was of a much higher class than he was, but when her father refused to let

his daughter marry the stable lad, he ran off with the girl and a great deal of her father’s money. No

one ever knew if she was abducted or if she went willingly.

I’m sure the truth is much less romantic than that, but Angus Harcourt did build a big brick

house in about 1770, and my family lived in it until I broke the tradition. My father left the house to

me alone because my brother, Bertrand, couldn’t manage money. If he had a dime, he’d buy

something that cost a quarter.

I grew up sure that I’d live in Edilean Manor with David Aldredge, the man I was engaged to,

and raise a strong, healthy, handsome family. But, alas, fate has a way of changing our lives. In this

case, it was a war that changed everything and everyone. When I left Edilean, I let my brother live in

the house, but I kept strict watch over him. Bertrand died a long time ago, and for years now the

house has been empty.

Dear Jocelyn, I’m leaving you a house you’ve never heard of in a town I carefully never

mentioned.

Jocelyn put the letter down and stared into space for a moment. A house built in 1770? And outside

beautiful Williamsburg? She looked around her drab little apartment. It had been the best she could afford on her

tiny salary. But an entire house! An old one!

She looked back down at the letter.

There’s something else I want to tell you. Remember how good I was at knowing who at church

would make a good couple and who wouldn’t last six months? If you’ll remember, I was always right.

I’m sure you also remember that I learned from experience not to interfere in your personal life—after

you were old enough to have one, that is. But now I can no longer see your wrath, so I’m going to tell

you something. The perfect man for you lives in Edilean. He’s the grandson of two friends with whom

I went to high school, Alex and Lissie McDowell. They’re gone now, but their grandson looks so much

like Alex that I thought he’d never aged. On one of my trips to Edilean—yes, dear, I went in secret—I

told Alex that, and he laughed hard. It was good to see him laugh again, as there were days in the past

when he found nothing to amuse him. His wife, Lissie, was a saint for what she did. I look forward to

seeing them both again in a Better Place.

Jocelyn looked up. A man for her? The thought made her want to smile and cry at the same time. Twice,

Miss Edi had tried to match her up with young men from church, but both times she’d refused to so much as go

out to dinner with them. They were boring young men, and she doubted if either of them had ever had a creative

thought in his life. She hadn’t given her reasons for turning the men down, but Miss Edi had known what was

going on. “Beer drinking does not qualify as an Olympic sport,” she’d said quietly, then walked away. Joce’s

face had turned three shades of red. Two weeks before, Miss Edi had driven by Jocelyn’s house when she’d

been standing outside with two young men on motorcycles and downing a can of beer. For all that Joce loved the

ballet, she was sometimes drawn to the life her family led.

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“Like my mother,” she said aloud, then looked back down at the letter.

His name is Ramsey McDowell and he’s an attorney. But I can assure you that he’s more than

that. My last request of you is that you give the young man a chance to show you that he’s right for

you. And, remember: I am never wrong about these things.

As for the house, there’s some furniture in it, but not much, and there are some tenants in the

wings. They are both young women from families I’ve known for many years. Sara grew up in

Edilean, so she can help you find whatever you need. Tess is new to the area, but I knew her

grandmother better than I wanted to.

That’s all, my dear. I know you’ll make the best of all that I leave you. I apologize that my

housekeeper won’t be there, but the poor dear was older than I am. I have a gardener, so maybe he

can help you with whatever else you need.

I wish you all the luck in the world, and please remember that I’ll be watching over you every

minute of your life.

It took Jocelyn the rest of the evening to recover from the letter. It sounded so much like Miss Edi that it

was almost as though she were in the room with her. She slept with the letter curled up in her hands.

The next morning, her mind was so full of all that she’d learned in the last twenty-four hours that she could

barely concentrate. Her job as teaching assistant had become uncomfortable because she’d had a year-long

affair with one of the other assistants. When they had to work together, he scowled at her across the table and

she found it very unpleasant.

He’d been the third man in a row who had been perfectly suitable for her, but in the end, she’d not wanted

to go on with any of them. Jocelyn knew it was all Miss Edi’s fault. She’d told Jocelyn about the man she’d been

in love with who’d been killed in World War II—a true love, and that’s what Joce wanted.

“He was my all to me,” Miss Edi said in the voice that she used only when she spoke of him. She had only

one small photo of him in his uniform, which was inside a folding picture frame she kept by her bed. He was an

extraordinarily good-looking young man, with dark blond hair, and a strong chin. The frame was oval, and on the

other side was a photo of Miss Edi in her army uniform. She was so young, so beautiful. Beneath David’s photo

was a tiny braid of hair, her dark intertwined with his blond. Miss Edi would hold the frame, say, “David,” then

her eyes would glaze over.

Over the years, Joce had pressed her for details, but Miss Edi would just say he was a young man from her

war experience—which had been brutal and she had the scars to prove it.

But at last Jocelyn had found out something about him. His name was David Aldredge, and he and Miss

Edi had been engaged to be married in Edilean, Virginia. But David’s death in the war had ended that.

“No wonder she couldn’t bear to mention Edilean,” Jocelyn whispered.

To Jocelyn, Miss Edi’s love for the man had become a legend. It epitomized the love that she wanted. But

so far, Joce hadn’t been able to find it. Miss Edi never knew it, but Joce had twice lived with young men, and

she’d been quite happy with the arrangement. It was nice to have someone to go home to, to tell about her day,

and to laugh with about what had gone on. But when the men started talking about rings and mortgages and

babies, Jocelyn ran. She didn’t know what it was that was missing from her relationships, but it wasn’t there—

and she was going to hold out until it was.

And now Miss Edi had given her a way to change everything. That evening, she looked through the legal

papers, read them carefully, and held the key that was in the package. All the legal work was being handled by

the firm of McDowell, Aldredge, and Welsch in Edilean, Virginia.

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The name of “Aldredge” made her pause for a moment before she could go on. Did descendants of Miss

Edi’s David still live there?

A letter was included saying that when she got to Edilean, she should stop by the office and she’d be told

about the financial arrangements. The letter was signed by Ramsey McDowell.

Jocelyn shook her head at Miss Edi’s letter. “You never give up, do you?” she said, her eyes raised

upward. But the truth was that Miss Edi
was
always right about the couples at church. Many times Jocelyn had

caught Miss Edi staring at a young couple who were more interested in each other than what the pastor had to

say. Afterward, she’d tell Jocelyn—and only her—what she thought of them. “True love,” she’d sometimes say,

but not very often. “Pure sex,” she said once and made Joce laugh. She was right both times.

“Ramsey McDowell,” Jocelyn said, then looked back at the letter. He’d put his home phone number on

there. It was only seven. On impulse, she picked up her cell, called him, and he answered on the third ring.

“Hello?”

His voice was nice, deep and smooth. Like chocolate, she thought. “Is this Mr. McDowell?”

“I think of that as being my father, but I guess I qualify. Is this Miss Minton?”

She hesitated. How had he known that? “Caller ID.”

“Can’t live without it,” he said. “You know how we lawyers are. We must fight off the masses because of

our underhanded dealings. Are you going to be here soon?”