The Attic Read online

  “I guess you could say that.”

  “Say what—that you built the trail?”

  A cold stare. “Ms. Kline, like I said, please do not go back there again by yourself—I can't stress this enough. Especially at night.” His dark eyes bore into her own as though he were reading her very thoughts. Yet somehow she didn't feel threatened by the look.

  “O-o-o, because that's when the monsters come out, right?” She chuckled, expecting him to join in.

  He didn't.

  “No—because that's when the wolves come out.” He cleared his throat. “And you might get lost in the dark.” There was an impatience in his voice and he glanced away from her, looking down the hall; as though eager to part ways.

  It was clear now that Ian Hawke was no long-lost, kindly uncle or a fun-loving cousin delighted to make her acquaintance. They wouldn't be sitting down with tea and crumpets to discuss her grandfather and the inheritance, and each other's lives.

  Who was this guy, anyway?

  “So, what do you do in your work shed?” she asked, grasping at straws.

  He crossed his arms again and a thin line appeared in his forehead.

  “I was putting away some tools.” He dropped his hands to his sides. “So—have you met everyone around the estate yet?”

  Finally, a question for her to answer.

  “Yes, I've met Hannah and Mike so far and I suppose I'll meet the others at dinner.” She smiled, regretting once again that she hadn't called ahead to let them know what date she'd be arriving; it was embarrassing. She hated to impose. “Do you eat dinner together?”

  “Of course. We're a family.”

  She nodded, relaxing a little.

  “Look, I suppose we'll have to talk about the details of the inheritance soon,” he said, “but I'll tell you right now, I'm not selling.”

  “Oh, no-no—” she said, putting up her hands, palms out. “I wouldn't dream of doing so!” Did he not understand what she'd meant earlier when she said she was here to stay?

  He lifted his chin, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He seemed nervous. “I'm willing to buy you out instead,” he said. “I'll pay you far more than your half of the estate is worth.”

  Perhaps a turf war was at hand.

  “Mr. Hawke, Ian,” she said, clasping her hands together and frowning. “I thought I explained already. I'm here to stay. I'm really sorry to invade on your territory like this, us being strangers and all. But I'd . . . I'd really like to live here. At least, for a little while.”

  A look of shock flicked across his features and he cleared his throat again. “I see,” he said evenly, blinking once, eyes wide, and set off down the hall, saying over his shoulder: “I've got to run. See you at dinner, all right? Five o'clock.”

  He disappeared into an arched portal on the left-hand side of the corridor, leaving her all alone.

  Chapter 3

  After Ian took off, Lily had nothing else to do but wander upstairs to her new quarters. At first she considered taking a tour of the mansion on her own but it seemed impertinent, so she decided to wait for Mike instead. There was no hurry after all.

  When she reached her room, she looked through the mahogany chest of drawers next to the door and found it to be empty and clean. Someone—she guessed Hannah—had recently dusted and polished all the furniture in this room. She decided she might as well take this time to unpack her things and get settled in.

  Next to the chest of drawers was a matching dome-top wardrobe; and upon finding it empty, she hung up her clothes and stored her suitcases. Everything else she organized in the chest of drawers. There was no clock in the room so she fished through her purse to find her watch. Noting it was four-thirty now, she glanced down at her torn stockings with a sigh and kicked off her pumps. She put on a fresh pair of leggings and took the time to straighten her hair and inspect her makeup in the oval Victorian mirror above the chest of drawers. Everything was fine except for a smudge of dirt across her left cheek. With a fresh wave of embarrassment, she rubbed it off with a Kleenex and let out a huff. Great first impression she'd made on Ian; he probably thought her a scruffy squatter come to take over his personal domain.

  Realizing she didn't actually know where the dining room was, she decided to go hunting for it. The last thing she wanted to do was arrive late for her first meal with the “family.” She still had no clue what Ian's relation to her grandfather was.

  She stepped out into the hallway and nearly collided with Hannah, who had just ascended the staircase.

  “Ms. Kline,” she said with a smile, “I was looking for you. May I escort you to dinner?”

  Lily accepted the offer gratefully and followed the old woman down the staircase.

  “Were you able to find Mr. Hawke?” Hannah asked, glancing sidelong at Lily as they walked together down the vaulted corridor.

  “Yes—though it was a bit of an ordeal. He was out at his work shed.”

  The housekeeper slowed her step down to a pause. “So you've seen it then?”

  “The shed? Um, no—not really. I didn't even reach it. I—uh—” She let out a laugh and lowered her voice: “I tripped over a tree root and fell on my face. That's when Ian showed up.” She laughed again. “Not my most flattering moment.”

  Hannah cast a furtive glance down the corridor and resumed eye contact, speaking in a hushed tone. “Was he angry with you? I had some words with Mike about letting you wander off into the forest on your own.”

  “He did seem a little angry, or annoyed. I'm not sure. He wasn't very friendly but I thought it might just be his personality?” She put her hands on her hips. “Why is everyone so concerned about me going out back alone in broad daylight?”

  Another furtive glance down the corridor. “Ian doesn't like anyone going near his shed, is all. He goes there to be alone and we've all learned to respect his privacy and leave him be.” A pertinent look. “But anyhoo”—she started off down the hall again—“let's get you off to the dining room then. It's just here on the left, before the library.”

  Hannah approached a set of wooden double-doors on the left side of the corridor and turned the brass knobs, pushing the doors inward. She entered the room with a breeze of authority and Lily followed close behind.

  She clasped her hands together in delight as she stepped into an elaborate room with white trim work and a stamped-tin ceiling.

  “Oh, this is beautiful,” she gasped, awed by the many gilt-framed paintings covering the crimson walls. A Persian rug covered the entire floor space, save for the area of raised hearth on the right side of the room where stood a two-story mantel fireplace with white columns and an intricate keystone of a chimera. Beneath the keystone was an Arras tapestry featuring a landscape and a group of nymphs near a fountain. On the far side of the room was a door leading into a kitchen and Hannah took her leave through it, urging Lily to get comfortable. There was no one else in the room yet.

  Lily moved around a mahogany dining table with ball and claw foot legs—breathlessly running her fingertip along the smooth carved edging as she went. She pulled out a polished chair in front of the fireplace and sat down gingerly, wondering when the others were going to arrive. The table was already set with six place settings, though it could easily seat a dozen. There were wine glasses stuffed with cloth napkins and the silver-plated candelabra in its center was lit with five tapered candles. Across the room was an ornate China cabinet.

  After a few minutes of twiddling her thumbs, she began to worry about seeing Ian again. She didn't want to impose, but she really wanted a fresh start on life. Plus, Auguste Kline was her grandfather, and even though she'd never met him and had only just learned of his existence, she did have a legal right to this place. Once settled in, she planned to visit the nearest town and begin seeking employment. She was in no rush for now.

  As if bidden by her thoughts, approaching footsteps sounded in the corridor and Mike the handsome handyman entere
d the room, flashing her a grin. Behind him was the elderly man whom she recognized as the gardener. She rose from her seat to greet him, taking his rough leathery hand in her own for a quick, strong handshake. Mike introduced him as Christopher Linus. Though his sunbaked skin was in stark contrast to his snow-white hair, his smile was kindly and his face full of laughter lines. “Please call me Chris, dear,” he said, a twinkle in his eye, and for a brief second she felt a pang of sorrow—wishing she could have known her grandfather while he was still living. Perhaps Chris could tell her all about him.

  “Oh, there you are,” Hannah said, trotting into the room with a wine bottle in each hand. “I was gearing up to go find ya'll.” A petite woman with cropped graying curls was behind her, mitted hands gripping the handles of a steaming pot.

  “What's on the menu tonight, Angie?” Chris asked, licking his lips and raising an eyebrow comically.

  “Chicken in almond sauce with garlic and parsley frittata, and—an almond-praline cheesecake for dessert.”

  Chris rubbed his hands together in delight. “That's my gurl.”

  “That sounds glorious,” Lily said, smiling brightly at the woman. Angie nodded an acknowledgment but didn't smile in return.

  “Angie's a great cook,” Mike said, dropping down into a seat across from Lily. “You're in for a treat.”

  Angie set down the pot on a hot plate and went back to the kitchen.

  “Does anyone know where Ian is?” Hannah asked, plucking the napkins from each glass and filling them halfway with translucent burgundy. “It would be a shame to start without him.” She nodded at Lily—“Especially when Auguste's granddaughter is joining us for the first time.”

  “You needn't worry,” Ian said tonelessly, appearing from the corridor and taking an abrupt seat at the head of the table.

  Lily's stomach tightened at the sight of him. She looked away and smiled politely at Christopher.

  Angie returned with more food things and when everyone was settled around the table and grace said, they each served their own plates and dug in.

  As expected, the food was delicious, and no one spoke during the meal; each seemingly content to enjoy their entrée in silence. Lily avoided looking at Ian but his presence was palpable, like a hovering storm cloud. When they were finished the meal, Angie and Hannah cleared the table and served coffee and dessert.

  Mike took successive swigs of his coffee and inhaled his slice of cheesecake in three bites. “Still up for that tour, Lily?” He dabbed his lips with a napkin and pushed his plate away, winking at her.

  She took a bite of the cheesecake, savoring its rich, creamy flavor. “Mmm,” she said, closing her eyes briefly, “yes, for sure. I've been looking forward to it.”

  Mike grinned, soft brown eyes alight. He was doing nothing to hide his interest in her, and she sipped some coffee to avoid blushing. Though she hadn't looked at Ian even once since the beginning of the meal, she was aware now of his gaze boring into her.

  She glanced in his direction.

  “You're giving her a tour?” he asked Mike in a low voice.

  Mike nodded, brows arched as though to say, “Uh, yeah—duh.”

  “I'll come with you.” Ian pushed back his chair and stood.

  “Uh, you sure about that? I'm fine taking her around. It's no problem.”

  “I'm coming.”

  Mike looked at Lily, the pleasure gone from his expression. “You mind?”

  “Of course not.” She smiled at both men, masking her discomfort, and finished the last bite of her cheesecake.

  “Thanks for dinner, Angie,” Ian said politely, before heading out to the corridor.

  “Do you need any help with dishes?” Lily asked the cook, rising. Typical men, she thought, not even stopping to consider that Angie had cooked dinner and was now left to clean up all the mess on her own.

  “Oh, goodness, no,” Hannah interjected. “You three run along. Angie and I will be just fine.”

  Ian trailed behind Mike and Lily as they wandered through the house from room to room and floor to floor.

  He watched their interactions with a feigned air of disinterest and made no attempt to join conversation. He really needed to get back to his workshop to finish up some projects, but couldn't leave just yet. He had to make sure Mike didn't show Lily any of the rooms he wanted kept private.

  He discreetly eyed her lovely form as she walked. She was going to be major trouble. He'd known it from the moment he laid eyes on her in the sunlit backyard. Even in the shadows of the woods, her feminine outline, her soft voice, had told him she was going to get under his skin. He mustn't let her get close. He had far too much to hide.

  Snapping from his thoughts, he realized where they were and his pulse pounded.

  Mike was reaching for one of the paintings on the wall.

  “Check this out,” he said, hand grazing the gilded frame.

  Ian lunged forward and grabbed Mike's wrist. “Don't touch the paintings—”

  “What's your problem, man?” Mike yanked his wrist free and swung around, glaring at him.

  Ian met his eyes with a glare of his own.

  “Oh, right, yes, sorry—how foolish of me.” Mike rolled his eyes and took Lily by the elbow, leading her farther down the hall. “I wouldn't want to get any dirt on Auguste's priceless paintings.”

  That was close . . . too close. Thankfully Mike had taken the hint. But it was time to get rid of him. He didn't want to be mean, but he had his reasons and Mike should have known better. There were secrets he and Auguste had worked far too hard to protect to just give them away to some woman for the mere sake of manners.

  “I'll take over from here,” he said, stepping in front of the door Mike was about to open.

  A wary look crossed Lily's face and it stung to know he was making such a bad impression. He didn't want to scare her.

  Or maybe he did?

  Mike stepped back, folded his arms across his chest, spread his feet, and narrowed his eyes. “Take over what, the tour? Was I doing that lame of a job?”

  “I don't think it requires two of us,” Ian said, taking a step forward. He was slightly taller than Mike and didn't hesitate to use that to his advantage. “So, don't trouble yourself then. Take off and I'll finish the tour.” He stared him down.

  For a moment Mike dallied, eyes dark with anger, but he uncrossed his arms and gave Lily a sympathetic look. “Sorry, kid. He's the boss.”

  Ian waited for him to vanish around a corner before he turned to face Lily.

  “Look—I, um—”

  She took a step back away from him. “I'm sorry,” she said, “but maybe I should finish this tour another time.”

  His throat tightened, though he supposed it was best this way; now he wouldn't have to finish showing her around and once he'd had a private talk with Mike, Mike wouldn't be doing so either.

  Yet everything within him wanted her to stay.

  “No-no, I'll show you the rest,” he insisted, surprising himself. He tried to smile in a friendly manner. “There isn't much more to show you, though. Most rooms are self-explanatory, right? Bedrooms and powder rooms. Sitting rooms. The usual. We might as well just get it done and over with.” Never mind that there were quite a few unusual rooms and passageways that he had no intention of her ever seeing. It didn't matter that she was co-heir; this mansion belonged to him and him alone.

  Lily studied him a moment, the guarded look fading from her eyes.

  “Well, before I go anywhere else with you,” she said, “you need to tell me why you're being so hostile. Why don't you want me here?”

  “I never said I didn't want you here.”

  “You never outright said it—but it's as plain as day.”

  “I'm not used to having company.” He scratched the side of his neck. “Please don't take it personally.” That much was true, at least. The only “company” he'd ever had was the various contractors he or Auguste hired for any
repairs or maintenance outside of Mike's scope of expertise.

  “Okay then, so why do you want to buy my share of the estate? You seem in an awful hurry to get rid of me.”

  “Look, do you want me to finish the tour, or what?”

  He shuffled his footing. Keep your cool, man. Don't give in to those beautiful sea-green eyes.

  “Hmm, with you?” She let out a snort. “Won't that be fun.”

  “Fine. Have a good night.” He turned to leave.

  “Wait—”

  He paused, giving her a sidelong glance.

  A sheepish look. “I don't know how to get back to my room.”

  He let out a slow exhale. “Go back down this hall, take a left and—”

  “Can you please take me there?”

  “Fine.” Just what he needed; more time for her to badger him with questions he was unprepared to answer. More time for her to work her way into his head, dismantling his resolve piece by piece. She hadn't left his mind since he'd first laid eyes on her in the forest.

  He took quick strides down the hallway and she hurried after him.

  “Slow down. I'm wearing heels, for Pete's sake.”

  Holding back a childish growl, he slowed his step so she could catch up, and avoided eye contact.

  “I want us to get along somehow,” she said. “I'd like to live here, so I really hope we can find a way to be friends. I realize I'm imposing on your life and I'm really sorry. My grandfather bequeathed this place to both of us, so you must have meant a lot to him. But for some reason, he thought it was a good idea to make us joint-heirs.”

  Ian sighed, slowing his step.

  “I was hoping you could tell me about him,” she said. “My grandfather.”

  He met her eyes briefly as she fell into step next to him.

  “Were you close?” she asked.

  “Auguste was . . . a complex man.”

  Oh, great. Here comes the barrage of questions.

  “Was he nice? Did he have any friends—hobbies?” she asked. “Did he ever try to contact my mother? Do you know why he never came looking for me?”