Numbly, I glanced away to look anywhere but at this man whose sympathy was unwanted and unneeded. Finally, I looked up and said, “Gran was worried about something, but wouldn’t say what. I pressed her, but she refused to say what was on her mind.” I ran a hand through my hair, brushed it off my face and swiped at the tears that had begun to pour down my cheeks. “For some reason, Gran didn’t want me to go to the States to visit my father.”
He merely nodded and then said, “I fear her illness was more serious than the doctor had thought. When she became incoherent, I called the rescue and had her transported to Mevie Memorial Hospital. The doctor treating her said there wasn’t much they could do for her, except to make her comfortable. I stayed until she took her last breath. I’m sorry, Ms. Dragon. Your grandmother was a person who I had the honor of working with for some time.”
“Do you think she was insistent about my return because she knew she didn’t have much time left?”
“Probably. When people are about to pass away, they become intensely focused on things they need to address. This was so with Essie. She was determined that you’d be looked after and that you’d care for the dragons.” He waved his hand toward the regal statues that stood, crouched, and sat inside a huge glass cabinet. The statues were watched over by the most magnificent dragon of the group, from his lofty perch, atop an ornate pedestal. The collection was incredible and astonishingly beautiful.
Gran had always called them the Linty Dragons, after me. My formal name is Lynn Tegan Dragon, but I’d been nicknamed Linty from the beginning. I loved the entire collection of dragons as much as I’d loved Gran. I choked back the threat of more tears, asked to be excused for a moment, and ran for the bathroom.
Brokenhearted, I sobbed in silence a while and then I washed my face. Taking several deep breaths, I returned to the living room. Smythe perched on the sofa’s edge and poured steaming tea into dainty teacups as I entered the room. He offered me one and then said, “Essie’s final arrangements are made. You won’t need to deal with that stress, but she did something that I must explain to you.”
Heaving a sigh, I sipped the hot brew and leaned back. “What would that be?”
“Before she died, Essie changed her last will and testament. She made the changes several hours before she took a turn for the worse. The will is final, she made it with a clear conscience, and no one can claim she wasn’t of sound mind. It was properly witnessed and has been recorded.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
His eyes grew dark and earnest. “She left everything to you, Ms. Dragon. The entire estate goes to you. No bequeaths to anyone other than the cook and the groundskeeper. Your father and his brother get nothing, not a penny.”
“W-what? You must be joking,” I blustered.
“Do I look like I’m joking?” he asked with a narrow-eyed look.
“I guess not,” I said with a slight shake of my head. “Tell me this, why are the house and grounds in such sad shape? It’s not like Gran to allow things to end up in such disarray.”
His smile was genuine as he said, “She didn’t have enough energy in the last months to go out and keep track of what was happening on the estate. Before she became seriously ill, she would walk the grounds, in fact, we’d walk them together. She’d instruct the yard worker to care for this or that. Eventually, she stopped doing that and she sent him on his way without caring if any of the planting or weeding was done. I asked if she wanted me to handle the care of the property for her, but she always insisted that I shouldn’t bother with it. Something was very wrong, she became listless. By the time I found out she’d fallen into the same shape as the grounds had, it was too late to do anything about it.”
“But, why leave it all to me? I have a job, and I can’t live here,” I said.
His brows hiked a notch as he insisted, “I’m afraid you must. The will stipulates that you must take residence, care for the estate, and watch over the dragons. Her words, not mine, I’m afraid. You’ll receive a private letter from her at the reading. I can’t say more than that, I’m sorry.”
My teacup and saucer landed on the table with a clink and rattle. I stood up and paced the floor. When I reached the glass cabinet that housed forty or so dragons in various poses, I studied them and then turned to Drake. His amber eyes glowed softly until I reached out and touched him as he stood stately on his pedestal.
The dragon was two feet high, carved from solid jade with amber stones for eyes that flashed when I touched his perfect scales. No one else that I knew of, other than me, had this effect on Drake. For a second I was lost in his beauty, his eyes, and the curve of his long neck. Talon-like claws protruded from his paws, each one as perfectly defined as the rest of him. Adoration for and certainty of his response in my imagination, Drake the Dragon had been part of my psyche for as long as I’d been alive. You’ve finally come home. It’s your time now. The words were soft, a mere whisper in my mind. Had he really said them?
I turned to Smythe and found him studying me with an inscrutable expression.
I asked, “Did you say something?”
“No, I didn’t. Do you have any questions?”
I glanced back at Drake. His eyes no longer aglow, he seemed to have a triumphant expression on his face. That couldn’t be possible, and then I shook my head. All the dragons were inanimate, except maybe this one. A long, lost memory niggled at the back of my mind, but refused to come forth. I stared at Drake once more and then turned away.
Leaving the dragon behind, I walked the length of the long room, crossed the foyer and returned to the sofa. “What are Gran’s final arrangements? Will she be buried in the Dragon family cemetery in the valley?” I asked and pointed toward the rear of the house.
He nodded and withdrew papers from an inner pocket of his suit jacket. He handed them to me and said, “This explains what Essie wanted for her funeral and what has been set to take place. Her will is scheduled to be read after her burial.”
Chapter 2
As Smythe drove away, I noticed the wind had picked up, and it was raining again, giving the house a damp chill. My luggage was still in the car. In a mad dash down the steps and across the drive, I pulled my belongings from the trunk and ran full tilt to the house before I was soaked to the bone. The suitcase landed on the rug at the door, I tossed my jacket onto an ornate coat stand and wiped raindrops from my face using the sleeve of my soggy sweatshirt.
With a towel I’d taken from the first floor bathroom, I dried my hair while roaming the house inspecting closets and spaces I hadn’t seen in some time. Mine, it was all mine. What the hell was I going to do with a place as huge, old, and as far from work, as this? No sooner had the thought entered my mind when heavy winds moaned through the eaves, reinforcing my unease with the place.
Damp clothes didn’t help dispel the foreboding that had settled upon me since my arrival. I hauled my suitcase and carryall to the second floor. The fifth step creaked again as I climbed the stairs, another reminder that the tread needed to be replaced. I flung my bag on the bed in the room I’d used as a child, and changed into a jersey and sweatpants.
Once more, my curiosity took hold. After I’d hung my discarded ensemble on a hanger and left it on a hook behind the bedroom door, I scooted through the bedrooms on the second floor. I avoided Gran’s room, and nothing in the other rooms caught my interest so I hiked the staircase to the third floor. This level had slanted ceilings in rooms that had been used as servants’ quarters. Each space was small and drab. Just by viewing each one, I understood how back in the day, those who served wealthy families were considered unimportant, unless, of course, they couldn’t perform their duties. I shook my head and returned to the hallway and the second floor.
One lone door stood closed at the end of the narrow corridor. I tried the handle, figured the door might be stuck and gave it a shove with my shoulder. The thick oak didn’t give under pressure, and I rattled the door handle hoping it would magically open.
The door remained closed to me. There had to be a key ring somewhere in the house.
I skipped down the flight of stairs to the first floor by way of the back staircase the help had once used, and entered the kitchen. Rummaging through drawers, cabinets and closets, I found every supply imaginable, except the key I sought. My curiosity ratcheted up a notch.
My search extended to furniture and curios, along with various desk and table drawers throughout the first floor. Certain the key, or a ring of them, lay somewhere in the mansion, I flopped onto a nearby sofa and gave its possible location intense thought. Where would Gran or the housekeeper have stowed the key to that room? Why was it locked in the first place? Was there even a key for the door?
More questions, with no answers, brought on a downward spiral to a mood already on the rocks. The doorbell rang, which startled the daylights out of me, and I jumped from the sofa, scurried into the front hall to peer through the stained glass windows inset in the thick wooden door. The dragon family crest, depicting a dragon and warrior standing together, ready for battle, lay centered in the leaded glass.
A man stood on the stairs. He glanced from side-to-side and then caught sight of me peeking at him through one of the glass panes. Reluctantly, I opened the door and asked, “Can I help you?”
“You certainly may, Linty. Since we haven’t seen one another in years, you probably don’t remember me. I’m your Uncle Charles.” He reached out to shake my hand, and I felt obliged to invite him in.
A long ago memory fluttered back to me. Charles and his wife, what’s-her-name, had been at the house several times, when I’d visited Gran as a youngster. If my memory served me correctly, there’d often been harsh words between Charles, what’s-her-name, and Gran. “Come in, the weather is horrible and even though the rain has let up, you’re pretty damp. I’ll turn up the heat and make some tea.”
His smile wide, Uncle Charles dipped his head in agreement and followed me into the living room. While he settled in, I went to the kitchen and put the kettle on, pulled teabags from the container Smythe had left open, and assembled cups with a matching teapot on a tray. Ready to serve, I brought the load to a coffee table across from Charles and poured us each a cup of Earl Grey.
From above the rim of his cup, Uncle Charles studied me while he sipped appreciatively. “This hits the spot, Linty. Thanks. It’s been a long trip from London. I’d have brought Elizabeth, but she’s at a conference until the weekend. You remember Elizabeth, don’t you, my dear?”
Ah yes, that’s her name. Elizabeth. A tall, gangly woman with prominent front teeth, a horse-face shape to her features, and she walked with a slight limp. In direct contrast, Uncle Charles was short, portly, and had a belligerent jut to his jaw. His mustache seemed bushier than all the hair on his balding head combined would ever be, and his blue-eyes beadier than I remembered.
Wishing I had a pair of scissors handy to trim the ragged hairs that dipped into his tea every time he tipped his cup up, I watched Uncle Charles drink the brew. He made a slight slurping noise after each sip. His bottom lip came up over his top lip and he sucked the moisture from his mustache hairs. Yikes, that was nasty. An intense need to give those hairs a snip increased as we sat there. I wondered if they ever got caught between his teeth when he ate? My stomach acted all squirrelly at the mere thought of it.
With a smile, I asked, “I take it Mr. Smythe called to let you know Gran has passed away?”
He gave me a nod. “Indeed. He thought it wise to notify all of us that she’d been taken to the hospital and had expired this morning. I’m surprised you arrived so quickly from Boston.”
He’d known I was in Boston? How would he know that? Had Smythe told him, and why?
As though he read my mind, Charles continued. “Smythe said you’d been asked to return home. I suppose it’s a bit much to think your father would accompany you, isn’t it?”
Annoyed at his question and the tone of his voice, my own attitude kicked in. “Just as your wife isn’t able to be here immediately, neither is my father.” I gave Uncle Charles a cool stare. “He’ll be in attendance for the funeral.”
With a mild grunt, Uncle Charles glanced into his teacup, sipped, slurped, and then remarked, “I’m sure he wouldn’t want to miss the reading of the will.”
“As I’m sure you and Aunt Elizabeth wouldn’t. Where are you staying, by the way?”
His calculating gaze traveled the room and left me positive that he’d never stay in this house if I had anything to do with it. The estate was mine, and mine alone to care for. If this man thought for one second he would clean the place out and walk away, he could think again. Why I even considered his doing so was a mystery, but somehow my life was growing increasingly weirder by the moment. It suddenly occurred to me that I’d made an unconscious decision to maintain the estate as Gran had wanted.
I glanced at Drake, whose eyes gave off a slight glow. Even at this distance, he emanated power and strength. I shook my head slightly at the foolish thought. Not so ridiculous, Linty. You are the only one to take over. I stiffened and focused on the dragon, his golden eyes became a little brighter, or maybe my imagination had gone wild. I blinked hard and glanced away, then turned to my uncle.
“Are you all right?” Uncle Charles asked.
“Of course, why do you ask?”
“You seemed far away, lost in thought. I know you and Mother were close. I suppose this must be extremely difficult for you.”
“I would just like to be alone for a while, I guess. I have jet lag, I didn’t sleep on the plane to and from Boston, and then I rushed here from Aberdeen Airport. It was an exhausting trip actually.”
“Sure, that’s understandable. I’ll be at Sutter’s Inn on Cairn Road until the funeral is over and Mother’s estate is settled. Do you plan to remain here until all is set?” he asked with keen interest in his eyes.
“Gran would have wanted me to. I’m loath to leave the house empty now that she’s no longer here.” My breath caught in my throat. Gran was truly gone forever, except she’d always be in my heart.
When I looked up, Uncle Charles had risen from the sofa. He openly admired the dragons encased in the cabinet, and my heart hardened when a cold and greedy expression crossed his features. I was surprised he didn’t express a cha-ching sound as he mentally tallied the worth of Gran’s antiques and her dragons. The dragons were wonderful, yet fearsome, creatures that had been handed down through generations with the stipulation that they never be sold, destroyed, or given away. I wouldn’t break the dragon-keeper chain for anything in the world. These were now my dragons, I adored every one of them, and had my entire life, especially Drake.
I walked toward the collection, listened to Uncle Charles explain how each dragon had been acquired, and even though I already knew how we’d come by the magnificent creatures, I let him ramble on. When he hadn’t explained their history, but only spoke of their acquisition, I was about to ask if he knew each dragon’s background when we’d reached Drake. Suddenly, Uncle Charles took a cautious step back and visibly paled. A sheen of sweat covered his face, drops of moisture dribbled down from the corner edge of his brow. With undivided attention, I watched as Charles sucked in a breath while looking at Drake.
“What it is, Uncle Charles? Are you ill?”
He shook his head. “I thought this dragon’s eyes just flashed like flames of fire. Did you see it?”
Wary of admitting that I had, I smiled gently and laid my hand on his arm.
“I think you must be tired from your trip. Drake is a statue, as are all the others. Maybe the way the overhead light reflected in his eyes caused you to think that.” I motioned Uncles Charles toward the foyer and into the sitting room. “Why don’t you take a seat, you’ve had a long journey.”
Over my shoulder, I sneaked a narrow-eyed glare at Drake. It seemed I wasn’t the only one seeing things.
“I’m sure you’re right.” Charles checked his watch. “It’s late in the day, a meal and a
good night’s sleep is what I need.” Uncle Charles scurried away from the dragons, hauled his top coat on and made tracks toward the door. Moments later, he’d backed his car from the parking spot and turned down the drive as though he couldn’t get away fast enough.
Instantly, I marched toward the dragon. Drake’s eyes grew bright when I ran my hand over his scales. “You’re so beautiful. You nearly gave Uncle Charles a heart attack,” I murmured softly and pet-like, I stroked his body.
We have to protect the secrets, Linty. You and I are bound by tradition to do so.
Wait a minute, I’d just spoken to a dragon statue and he actually replied. Holy shit. Had he communicated with me by way of mind whispers, or had I imagined those raspy words like the ones before? Had I lost my marbles? Had my cheese slipped off my cracker? Had my cracker crumbled? If anyone became aware that I spoke to Drake, I’d be locked away in the nearest insane asylum. I had to be careful.
My thoughts were interrupted when the phone rang. I answered the call with a pensive hello.
“Linty, I’m so glad you’ve arrived, my dear,” Mrs. Douglas said. “You must be tired from your trip, and hungry, too. I’ll be over shortly with a bite of supper for you.”
Before I could utter a sound, the line went dead. I shook the phone, said hello again and realized Mrs. Douglas, Gran’s housekeeper, had hung up. With a sigh, I set the phone in the charger, shuffled to the sofa and sank into the deep confines of the soft cushions. What a day. I leaned my head against a pillow and closed my eyes for a moment.
How long I’d been asleep is anybody’s guess. It wasn’t until footsteps sounded on the wooden floor that I awakened with a start. Mrs. Douglas stood in the doorway, her expression kind as she stared at me, and I glanced around.
Dragon's Touch (Book 1 Linty Dragon Series) Page 2