Undying Love (Secrets 0f Roseville Book 1)

by Betty Bolte

  Undying Love

  Secrets of Roseville

  Book 1

  Betty Bolté

  Also by Betty Bolté

  A More Perfect Union Series

  Emily’s Vow

  Amy’s Choice

  Samantha’s Secret

  Evelyn’s Promise

  Hometown Heroines

  True Stories of Bravery, Daring, and Adventure

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Betty Bolté

  P.O. Box 33

  Taft, TN 38488

  www.bettybolte.com

  Copyright © 2017 by Betty Bolté.

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9981625-0-8

  ISBN-10: 0-9981625-0-7

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher at the address above.

  Digitally published as Traces April 2014 by Liquid Silver Books, an imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr., Indianapolis, Indiana 46235.

  First print edition of Traces published 2014 by CreateSpace.

  Table of Contents

  Also by Betty Bolté

  Copyright

  About UNDYING LOVE

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Sneak Peek of HAUNTED MELODY

  About

  Undying Love

  When architect Meredith Reed inherits her family’s plantation after the devastating loss of her own family, she must choose how to move on with her life. Keep the plantation? Not a good idea. Sell it? Better. Turn it into a memorial park? Better yet. But can she go against her family traditions and the hunky but irate lawyer?

  Max Chandler needs two things to complete his life plan: become a senior partner and find his soul mate. He’s due a promotion once his legislation to protect the county’s historic properties is approved. The wife part he finds more challenging, having never met the right woman. If only the talented, attractive, aloof Meredith didn’t want to destroy the very property he cherishes.

  While Meredith struggles to reconcile her past and future, will she learn a lesson from the spectral Lady in Blue in time to save both her family and home from destruction?

  (Updated and revised edition; originally published in 2014 as Traces.)

  Dedication

  To Chris, my own forever love.

  Acknowledgements

  Not only does it take a village to raise a child, I’ve learned that it takes one to write a book, as well. My dear friend, Deborah Neel, shared her architect’s eye and reaction to architecture to inform Meredith’s view of the plantation house. Rhonda Pepper, Facilities Development Engineer at NASA Marshall Space Flight Center, and Thad Stripling, Civil Engineer at NASA Marshall Space Flight Center, provided insights into the world of demolition and restoration of historic buildings. The owners of the Rattle and Snap Plantation, Dr. Michael and Bobbi Kaslow, graciously answered many questions about the history of their property. Jillian Rael, director of the Fayetteville-Lincoln County (Tennessee) Public Library, educated me on the National Register for Historic Places and how Tennessee historic properties are managed. Michael C. Moore, State Archaeologist and Director of the Tennessee Division of Archaeology, answered my questions about regulations and procedures surrounding private cemeteries and burial sites in Tennessee. Patrick McIntyre, Jr., Executive Director and State Historic Preservation Officer of the Tennessee Historical Commission, answered my questions related to procedures to be followed after finding remains on personal property. Last, but by no means least, my nephew, Ben Hay, trumpeter and musician extraordinaire, provided guidance on the appropriate music choices for the high school concert and solo. Thank you all for your willingness to share your expertise with me.

  Chapter 1

  Meredith Reed stared at the plantation home she’d inherited from a grandmother she hadn’t seen in years. A pair of ancient oaks, the inspiration for the Twin Oaks name, guarded either side of the sprawling two-story brick dwelling, providing shade and funneling cool air through the house. Sunlight filtered through the massive limbs. Meredith raised one hand to shield the glare as she scanned the façade. The architect in her appreciated the symmetry of the Greek Revival style as well as the quality workmanship of the brickwork as she walked around the site.

  “It really hasn’t changed. Not much.”

  She studied the once-elegant antebellum house, pausing at the base of its wide front steps missing a brick here and there, its four elaborate Corinthian columns and intricately carved woodwork flanking the double doors. The property description listed ten bedrooms, four bathrooms dating from the early twentieth century, a gourmet kitchen, two parlors, an upstairs ballroom, and several outbuildings.

  “It’s a real treasure.” The estate lawyer, Max Chandler, had driven her out to the four-hundred-acre property. He had barely spoken during the entire trip except to relay pertinent details of the surprise inheritance, including the fact she had also inherited her grandmother’s sizable and diversified investment account. A very handy part of the surprise.

  She’d have preferred to drive her own car, especially since he drove one of those redneck pickup trucks. Sitting in a vehicle with an attractive man set her teeth on edge. Worrying about what might happen tensed every muscle in her body. He also didn’t need to know how edgy being with him made her, as if her skin burned the closer he drew. But he’d insisted until she ungraciously relented. She picked her fights, and that one wasn’t worth the effort. The rolling Tennessee countryside had flowed past the window, immense fields dotted with horses and cows. Green shoots poked through the tilled earth in rows, reaching for the early spring sunshine. She’d noticed her surroundings automatically, but none of the hauntingly familiar sights held her interest. Once she no longer sat in the unfamiliar truck, her tense muscles eased, and she drew a deep breath as she studied the building.

  Why on earth had her grandmother, whom she hadn’t seen in nearly ten years, chosen her to receive the grandiose house that stood for everything she would never have? The family she could never have? Pain combined with a deep-seated longing blossomed in her chest. Three front steps led up to a brick porch with its immense white columns announcing to passersby that the building was more than a house. Unlike the small, boxy ranchers and nondescript houses they’d passed on the drive to the plantation, this structure cried out for a large family. Her parents had often carried her and her sister Paulette from Memphis to visit Grandma when she was a child. Back when love and laughter echoed through the many rooms. A great blue heron fished in the two-acre lake in front of the house, where they had once splashed and played. The huge yard, graced with
several shade trees—the site of barbecues and softball games, with the extended family arguing over who potentially cheated or whooping with glee when a good shot was made—now stood silent, accusing her of neglect and indifference.

  So be it. She stiffened her spine. She would not wallow in self-pity nor give in to the temptation to wrap her arms around her waist and cry. She squinted at the glare from the windows nestled into the brick walls, noting the ivy climbing up one front corner. Willy would want her to move on, build a new life, but she couldn’t. Not yet. Even after a year, the grief and anger stewed in her brain, sizzled in her veins, and throbbed in her heart. She led the way around the other side of the house and back to where Max had parked.

  “Shall we go inside?” Max leaned his tall frame against the hood of the green pickup, arms folded, his curiosity evident in his expression.

  The color of his eyes as he waited for her response reminded her of the crystal blue of glacier ice, and that thought evoked the bittersweet memory of her and Willy on their honeymoon trip to Alaska. The glorious clear sky that day had created a perfect backdrop to the pod of whales they watched blowing. She heard again the cry of eagles as they soared majestically above the surrounding mountains. The trip of her life with the love of her life. Back when they had their entire lives stretching before them, full of promise and hope. The weight of her wedding band drew her attention for a moment. The last connection she had with her husband. She raised her eyes to meet the steady regard of her grandmother’s lawyer.

  Her phone buzzed in her pocket, breaking the spell of Max’s intent gaze. She fished the contraption out and glanced at the screen before answering. “Hey Buddy, what’s up?”

  “Just letting you know the Murphy job is put to bed.” Her boss’s brusque, businesslike voice helped her focus, steady her breathing.

  “That’s good news. I left it ready to close out.”

  Buddy coughed and cleared his throat. “I only had to smooth out the final walk-through.”

  A chill spread through her at his words and the tone of his voice. “What do you mean? It was all set up and ready to rock and roll.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I took care of it.”

  She bet. Like he always did. With the end result a mess she had to sort back out again.

  A flash of blue in an upstairs window drew her attention, and she peered at the pane. Blinked away the lingering image. An illusion. A pair of turkey buzzards spiraling high above reflected off the window, wings outstretched so that the tips of their feathers stood out against the sky. Bringing home memories of how she used to pretend to be dead to lure them in, and then jump up and scatter them on the breeze. Memories she couldn’t afford to resurrect. Her stay in Tennessee would last no more than a month, maybe two, tops. She could survive that long.

  “Fine. I’ll follow up with her when I get back to Maryland.”

  Meredith ended the call and slipped her phone back into her pocket as Max pushed off from his spot near the front of the truck.

  “What is it you do again?” Max strode over to stand beside her.

  “I’m an architect.” She snatched the manila folder off the hood of the vehicle, a file Max had handed to her at his office. Inside were copies of the legal papers he’d reviewed with her across his massive mahogany desk. “Why?”

  “Your grandmother said you were the perfect heir for this property.” He let his gaze drift away from her to scan the hundreds of acres of fields and trees, across the lake, and on to the various outbuildings surrounding the plantation house.

  A circle of trees nearly hid the old gazebo from view, but they couldn’t stop the surge of memories of afternoons spent with her sister playing under its roof. Glimpses of white painted boards and black wrought-iron trim appeared through the dense branches and limbs sprouting with new growth.

  Meredith dropped her attention to the folder, severing the thread of the past, and turned a page without reading it. Why did Max care what she did? She slanted a questioning glance his way. “I enjoy designing beautiful yet useful buildings.”

  “Right. Utilitarian structures rule,” Max said, his words clipped. “Let me show you around.” He indicated for her to follow him through the kitchen door.

  Bristling at his tone, Meredith pinned him with a stare. “Look, you don’t need to. It’s been a while, true, but I have been here before. I know the layout. We can go.” Then she wouldn’t have to go inside and relive the happy, carefree days of her childhood through the weary eyes of an adult while Max watched.

  He shook his head, his dark chocolate hair touched with gray sweeping his collar, watching her. “Things have changed. You may be surprised by what you find inside.” He tapped a hand against one thigh and cocked his head to gaze at her for a long moment. “Either way, you should take stock of what you’ve inherited.”

  He didn’t appear much like a lawyer, truth be told. Didn’t lawyers wear prescription glasses and look nerdy? Not that she believed in stereotypes, but all that studying must make their eyes weak. Max was the other end of the spectrum. Perhaps her grandmother had a need for eye candy when she chose him as her estate planner.

  He was delicious to contemplate, that’s for sure. Probably a couple inches taller than a cornstalk with a soccer player’s physique, Max could double for a cover model. She appreciated his classic good looks, straight nose, and strong jaw. Dressed in khakis and a deep red polo shirt, he seemed more ready for a round of golf than a client meeting. He represented the unattainable type of man for her. The kind embodying something too smart, too handsome, too much for her taste. Even if she were in the market for a man, which she was not. None of that mattered since she would be staying in the area for only a short while. Despite her hard shell of indifference to the opposite sex, she couldn’t help a moment of succumbing to the temptation of drinking her fill of his appearance. But only for an instant.

  “I don’t want to keep you, is all.” Meredith waved a hand at the vehicle. “I’m a big girl. Take me to my car. I’ll come back on my own.”

  “Actually, your grandmother made it clear she wanted me to show you around when you claimed the place. She wanted to be sure you appreciate the extent of the inheritance and had an opportunity to see how much work is needed to put it to rights. So, if you’ll follow me?” He walked to the screened door, obviously expecting her to concede the point.

  “And Grandma always gets her way.” With a sigh, Meredith shadowed him through the door. She stopped inside the doorway to look around. The sickly smell of mildew hit her senses like a wrecking ball, bringing tears that smarted the corners of her eyes. Crossing the threshold was like stepping back in time to another era. “It’s exactly like I remember. Well, except for the smell.”

  Max nodded as he ushered her across the familiar sunny room and through the swinging door into the front hall and foyer. “Mrs. O’Connell prided herself on ensuring any necessary repairs matched the original decor and architecture. But as time went on, she wasn’t able to keep up with the issues of an old, historic home. A few repairs will be necessary. Your talents, skills, and expertise are why she left Twin Oaks to you instead of your father. You know, so you can ensure the repairs are appropriate to its original grandeur.”

  Dark wood floors reached throughout the plantation house. The stairs rose slowly from the left, boasting dark wood treads with white painted fronts, up to a wraparound loft. A cherry table sheltered against the wall beneath the stairs, showcasing a dainty crystal lamp centered on a lace doily. She smiled, spying the small door standing invitingly ajar, leading to the games closet tucked under the stairs. A colorful rug invited guests to cross the space toward the parlor on the right or the double parlor on the left. In days gone by, the gentlemen would have adjourned to the larger retreat after dinner to smoke and drink. Farther down the hall leading from the foyer, light spilled onto the wood floors from the windows in the back rooms. A chill settled on her shoulders. The back room on the right had been her grandmother’s sewing roo
m—her favorite spot in the entire house—and the room in which she’d died, according to Max. Meredith shook off the thought and focused instead on the condition of the house.

  She moseyed into the parlor, noting the dusty, cobwebby, overstuffed chairs and dark wood furniture. Faded and peeling, the rose-patterned wallpaper competed with the brocade drapes for attention. Above the rose marble fireplace, she spotted the relief carving of the Irish Claddagh: two hands reaching toward the center where a heart wore a royal crown. Her grandmother loved to tell stories about the Claddagh, representing bonds of love, friendship, and loyalty. She inhaled, smelling dust and cold ashes from the fireplace mingled briefly with a faint yet familiar scent she couldn’t place. She mentally shook her head. No matter.

  Scanning the room, Meredith let her gaze touch each piece of antique furniture, each grimy objet d’art, each vase of tired silk flowers. The dismal scene before her contrasted sharply with how everything once shone with loving attention. She had started debating selling the property before she even packed her suitcase, tucked Grizabella into her cat carrier, and started her car to make the two-day drive to Roseville. Back to her past. She couldn’t stay. Tennessee would never be home again. She could call an auction company to handle selling off everything, from furniture to furnishings and the property itself. That would be the easiest route. A shiver of horror set her teeth chattering. What difference did it make if the floors were dusty or the furniture saggy? If cobwebs draped over everything like cotton candy? After all, she couldn’t see keeping it.