“In fact, Miss Winslow is partially correct. The circumstances of your grandfather’s birth were beyond his control, obviously. However, your lineage can be traced to the Mayflower landing and farther. Master Reginald believed in honoring his heritage.” Conroy pointed to a blank space on the wall. “This is where Miss Winslow’s portrait shall hang, if you are the Winslow to fulfill the destiny of that lineage.”
“No pressure there at all, Conroy.”
His mouth hardened into a grim line. “Yes, Miss Winslow.”
“Indeed.” She followed the butler up the staircase.
****
“Yes, Miss Winslow,” she muttered the words to herself as she got ready for bed. She looked around the room and shook her head. She hated it. It was dark and depressing. Miss Winslow didn’t want this. Clearly Conroy wasn’t sure she could handle it all either.
The tour of the house had been astounding. Too many rooms to remember or count, each one with heavy, depressing décor. They had horses. They had two hundred acres of pristine oceanfront property complete with a sandy beach, a cruising yacht, a dedicated forest for hunting, and a man named Stew who she could call if she felt like fresh venison.
How could she wrap her mind around something like this? A month ago, she was eating tacos three nights a week. Tonight, she’d tasted the best roast lamb she had ever had. Better than her mother’s—and that was saying something.
During her meeting with Finn, after seeing a summary of all her holdings, she learned Reginald had bought land up and down the coast of Maine to be used strictly for conservation efforts, her heart nearly leaped out of her chest. The man had negotiated with local politicians on behalf of the Winslow Foundation, using a heavy hand in creating and shaping state and local charities to benefit children. He funded the first aquarium in Maine which used sustainable resources. This was a side of the Reginald she’d never heard of in the press or from her mother.
Over the past three nights, she’d prepared herself for her new job by poring over reports and organizational analyses, spending time learning how to use her new gadgets and finally figuring out to block time for herself on her schedule.
Additionally, she made a study of Reginald, focusing on his business acumen. Shrewd but fair, his one major flaw came when he disowned her mother. She wondered if he’d regretted it, then immediately hated herself for asking the question. She shouldn’t care if he’d regretted it. It was done. He could have fixed that mistake any time in the last thirty years, but he didn’t. She couldn’t forgive him for that.
None of the thoughts swirling in her head changed the one thing she really couldn’t face. Before, when it was just keeping her mother safe, she’d told herself she could handle the year of charity balls, board meetings, and roast lamb. Then she could chuck it all.
Now she felt sucked into a vortex that included charming attorneys and hateful aunts. She couldn’t keep up with the all the stop and go. On top of it all, someone wanted her out of the picture. Nothing could prepare a person for all of this crazy. She missed Atlantic Charters and the simple life she’d created for herself.
She’d just needed to figure out a way to make it all work and keep the promises she had made to herself. As the thoughts swirled, she drifted to sleep.
****
Rapping on the door woke her. She winced as pain shot down her neck. Served her right for falling asleep in the chair instead of the bed, but she really hated the idea of sleeping in her grandfather’s old room. She glanced at the clock and saw it was only ten P.M. She hadn’t been asleep for long. Bev shook herself awake fully. “Come in.”
Conroy opened the door with one hand. The other carried a silver tray. “I’ve brought you a glass of milk.”
“How’d you know?”
“It is my job.”
“Silly me. Obviously, you read minds.”
The butler ignored this. “Your light was on, so I thought you might be awake.”
She rose to grab the glass from him. “I hadn’t settled. I was dozing.”
“The room isn’t to your liking?”
She didn’t want to hurt the butler’s feelings—if he had them—but she might as well tell him. She didn’t want to live in this room for a year, even if it was only on the weekends. Bev didn’t normally hold back, so she shouldn’t start now.
“The room is lovely, and I am sure it suited my grandfather quite well. It isn’t really me.”
He sniffed. “I shall have your bag moved to the Blue Room.”
“Don’t go to the trouble. I’m here only one more night and then I move to the apartment in Boston.”
“You don’t wish to live here?”
She pushed a strand of hair off her face. She took a drink from the glass. “I’m not allowed to live here, only on the weekends.”
“A person in your position needs a place of rest and serenity for her weekends. I shall have the Blue Room made ready at once.” The butler turned to leave and then abruptly stopped. “When it is a convenient time for you, perhaps we can redecorate to suit your taste instead of Master Reginald’s?”
She nodded, unsure if the man was concerned about her comfort or his almost robotic need to do his job. Either way, redecorating wasn’t a bad idea.
“Thank you, Conroy. I’d like that.”
“Yes, Miss Winslow.”
Chapter Nineteen
He couldn’t take it anymore. He had to see her. He tried to sleep in the guest room three doors away from hers but couldn’t stop thinking about her. He tried to work. He even tried out the home gym the house had in the basement. Six miles on the treadmill and drafting a brief hadn’t stopped the longing.
After Bev answered his knock, he strode in without being asked. “Please come in,” she sniped after he was already through the door.
“Sorry to barge in, but I wanted to make sure you’re okay.” He hoped his voice sounded normal. He didn’t want to sound too eager.
“I’m fine. Why?” She leaned against the wall. “Don’t I seem fine?”
“You seemed distracted at dinner and quiet.” He stood awkwardly in the center of the room. He sat in the same chair he had weeks before when he last saw Reginald.
The room had been rearranged since his last visit. The club chairs once beside the bed had been moved adjacent to the desk. Unfortunately, the oppressive dark paneling and palette remained. She pushed herself off the wall and sat opposite him in the other chair in front of the desk. “I’m a little distracted. It isn’t every week someone’s life turns on a dime. I’m bound to have moments.”
“Of course.” He exhaled. “I’m here if you need anything. I’m not abandoning you, but I also don’t want you to think I’m micromanaging. That’s why I’ve stayed out of the way the past few days. I had to sign off on all of this but I thought you might need a break from the legal stuff.” She looked sleepy and sexy. It was a killer combination. He had to get control of himself.
“I thought it was because of the kiss on the boat,” she said. Uncertainty clouded her eyes.
“Christ, no.” Which wasn’t the complete truth. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t think he could be alone with her without kissing her again. “I should resign as your attorney because of it, but I promise it won’t happen again. It wasn’t appropriate. I am sorry.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not worried, Counselor and no, you cannot recuse yourself. If you micromanage me, I’ll tell you to back off.”
He leaned back in the chair. Even ground again or so it seemed. Although at this moment, he wished he hadn’t promised not to kiss her again.
“Sounds like a deal. Is there anything you need from me right now? Any questions I can answer? I’ll be leaving tomorrow straight after our meeting.”
He wished he wasn’t spending a night at the Winslow compound with Beverly down the hall. Too much temptation. He hadn’t slept when he’d stayed in the guest room in her cottage. Now that they’d kissed, he knew he’d spend all night
thinking about it—just as he had for the nights he’d spent in his own apartment alone. At least if he were away from her, he could stop himself from doing something stupid.
“You’re leaving that soon?”
“I’m leaving you in good hands. I need to get back to Boston so I can start really concentrating on finding out who set the explosion. And you start work tomorrow, too.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Research. I’ve been your grandfather’s attorney for a few years. I have access to case files no one else has. Any business deals that went south or anything that looks out of place is going to get a second look. I’m not convinced Serena isn’t involved, but we shouldn’t focus all our energy in that direction.”
“What the hell am I supposed to do while you’re playing Lancelot?”
“Well, Gwen, my darling, you could try running a multi-billion-dollar company and planning a charity ball.” He raised his hand to halt her protest. “But if it isn’t enough for you, just be curious.”
At her raised eyebrow, he explained further. “You are taking on a new job. You’ll be expected to ask questions. You can tell if something or someone seems off. It would fall under the heading of ‘doing your job’ and won’t seem suspicious to anyone. You’re just asking questions. Getting a feel, so to speak.”
“I can do that.” She rubbed her arms. “I’ll feel more in control that way.” Just then, a knock sounded on her door.
“Come in,” they answered in unison.
Conroy entered, carrying a silver tray with an envelope atop. “This just arrived for Mr. Callahan.”
“Thank you, Conroy.” Finn reached for the envelope, tore it open. As he read, the blood pounded in his ears. Fear gripped him. “Who delivered this?”
“A courier, sir. She said she had gotten lost and was sorry for the late arrival.”
“Thank you, Conroy.”
After the butler left, and Finn used his cell phone to call Tracy.
Bev walked up behind him. “What is it?”
“You can read it. I’m calling Tracy now.”
Her face drained of color as she read the note. He reached over to put his arm around her. Tracy finally picked up at her end.
“I’m at the Winslow Compound,” he said, not wasting time with polite amenities, “and just received a note threatening Beverly’s life.” He listened as she asked for details. He answered quickly and efficiently. Finally, she asked for the contents.
“It says, The money doesn’t matter. Beverly Winslow still has to die.”
****
By Wednesday, she’d had enough. Exhausted, Bev collapsed on the leather couch in her office at Winslow Holdings. Her grandfather’s office. Just like the compound in Maine and the apartment here in the city, her grandfather’s taste in dark furnishings and ornate fixtures filled the room. It was oppressive.
Oppression didn’t stop with the décor. For three full days, she had had Reginald’s ideas, opinions, thoughts and business acumen thrown at her from every direction. Problem was, Reginald wasn’t here, so she couldn’t be sure what she was hearing was the truth. She also wasn’t sure she liked what she was hearing. Her grandfather was a complicated man. There was no time for complicated right now.
Her meetings with the board members amused her for the most part. They all seemed terrified. She was a wild card no one knew what to do with. She didn’t mind. It gave her time to get her bearings. Barely.
Leaning back, she let her head fall to the back of the couch. She closed her eyes and tried to do one of those meditative breathing exercises her mother had taught her. It didn’t work. Two topics dominated her thoughts. One: someone was trying to kill her. There wasn’t much she could do about it, and there were people working on that problem right now. And two: Finn Callahan. Thoughts of him circled around until she was breathless remembering the kiss.
A knock at her door saved her from falling into adolescent fantasy. She stood. “Come in.” He was early. John Hamilton walked in, looking dapper as ever in a crisp, gray suit.
“Miss Winslow, you look lovely. That color suits you.”
She glanced down at her plum suit. Ms. Garrett had scheduled a personal shopper to meet her this week to fill out her wardrobe. Suits, shoes, and purses littered the apartment. Bev wasn’t sure she matched things the right way. “Thank you. Please call me Bev.”
John’s smile was magnanimous. “Bev, yes. That suits you, too.”
She raised her eyebrow.
“I don’t mean to offend you. It’s my observation you are direct, no nonsense, and capable. Your name complements that, in my opinion.”
He walked to the chairs opposite the couch she had been sitting on. He was very much at home in this office. “Shall we get on with it?” he asked as he sat.
She wasn’t really surprised by this comment. She couldn’t allow him to control the meeting, though. Every board member had tried. “Not quite,” she lowered herself to the couch. “I have some questions before we begin speaking about Winslow Holdings.”
If he was surprised by this, he disguised it well. “Fire away. I’m here to help.”
“Did my grandfather receive a lot of threats?”
John swallowed. “That’s a strange question.”
Could he be nervous? Interesting. Maybe this was as easy as it seemed. Serena and John wanted her gone. Perhaps they’d sent the note. She probed further. “I don’t consider it strange. You were his son-in-law. You worked side by side. It seems to me if Reginald’s life was ever threatened, you would know.”
John rubbed his chin and gave her a speculative look. “I can see I should have also said shrewd when assessing you. How like him you are.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“I apologize. Yes, of course Reginald received threats. No more than normal for a man in his position. May I inquire as to why you’re asking?”
“My attorney received a note a few days ago. The gist of it being I had to die.” She let that hang a moment as she gauged John’s reaction.
His eyes widened. “How terrible for you, and during your first week, no less. Maybe our in-house security should take a look? Any ideas who it is?” John got up and sat next to her. Taking her hand and patting it. “I’m sorry. This must be so difficult.”
“Not really. I don’t shake easily. Like you said before, it goes with the job. We are quietly investigating. We wouldn’t want to shake up the stock prices again and let the whole world worry Winslow Holdings will lose another CEO.”
She deliberately offered a warm smile. She didn’t trust John Hamilton, but she didn’t need him to know. She stood from the couch and strode to the enormous desk that didn’t suit her at all. She was ready to start the meeting.
“How are Serena and the children?” She didn’t particularly care about his family, but she figured this is what CEOs did.
John’s mouth hung open until he adjusted to the topic change. “Excellent. Thank you for asking.” He settled himself at a chair across the massive, mahogany desk. Ready to do business.
She steepled her hands. “I’m told you were taking over the fishery acquisition in Plymouth?”
“That’s correct. We are on hold since your grandfather’s death, but everything is ready to go.”
“I’m ready to go, too. It’s sustainable, it’s local, it employs hundreds of families in a town that needs it. It’s exactly the sort of project I plan to champion while I’m here. Good work.”
John raised his eyebrows, but quickly recovered. “Thank you. But I can’t take all the credit. It was Reginald’s idea. He loved the acquisition for the same reasons you named. I wasn’t on board initially. There is some fat we could trim there.”
“We won’t be laying off anyone. I’ve found a way around that. It has to do with shipping costs.” She picked up a file and handed it to him. “It’s all right there. I hope you’ll continue to head it up. It will be a boon to Winslow Holdings. I hadn’t realized Reginald wan
ted this.”
“Oh yes. Very much. He was ahead of his time on sustainability, environmental concerns, and worker’s rights. He wasn’t all bad.”
She gritted her teeth. More conflicting information about the grandfather she never knew.
John leaned forward in his chair. “His daughter isn’t all bad either.” His neck flooded with color. He pulled at his collar. “I’m speaking of Serena, of course, and I hope you won’t be offended by my asking if you’d give her another chance. She can be difficult, but we’ve talked. It would be best for everyone if we could all try to get along.”
She schooled herself. This was expected, and she needed to get her other message across. “I’m not offended at all, but I won’t allow my mother to suffer. If you can guarantee that, then we will proceed, cautiously, into a public relationship.”
“I was hoping we could get past all of this and heal the rift between your mother and Serena. It would be nice for my children to meet their aunt and their cousin.”
“That would be nice, but for now we will go slowly. You must understand my perspective, John.”
“Absolutely. I will relay your message. Shall we see you at the Children’s Charity Ball?”
“Of course. It’s important to show a united front in the press. My mother will attend. Relay that as well.”
John cleared his throat. “Of course. I’ve already mentioned this, but it bears repeating: you are quite a bit like him.”
She had no words for that observation. She hadn’t wrapped her mind around who Reginald really was.
John sat back in his chair. “Is there anything else I can do to help?”
“Actually, yes. I’m swimming in deep waters here.” She laughed. “I wouldn’t mind someone out there with a life raft.” At his raised eyebrow, she continued. “What I’m saying is, if you see any issues, potential problems, or just get a funny feeling, give me a heads-up. It’s my understanding my grandfather trusted you. Can I?”
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