by Sherry Lewis
An elderly woman stepped toward the window, then looked back at him. “Isn’t it unusual to have two identical houses so close together?”
“Yes, it is.” Jon made himself comfortable on the window seat. “And the story of how it came about is fascinating. Zacharias and Agatha Logan, the original owners of Summervale, had a rough marriage in the beginning and there was a time, after Agatha learned that Zacharias was unfaithful to her, that they separated for a time.
“Zacharias built Winterhill and even lived there with his sons for a brief time—about five years, according to the records. But something happened to bring them back together again. Agatha’s journals are remarkably detailed, but only after that period in their lives.”
“She forgave him.” He recognized that voice, of course, and turned to smile at Shelby, who descended the stairs to join them. She smiled at several of the women in the group. “But don’t worry. She didn’t give in until after he saw the error of his ways.”
A man on Jon’s left shifted uncomfortably. Jon pretended not to notice. “They reunited,” he explained, casting another glance at Winterhill, “and spent the rest of their lives together here in Summervale where they were, by all accounts, inseparable.”
“Zacharias died when he was in his seventies,” Shelby said. “And Agatha died shortly afterward. Upon their deaths, each of Zacharias’s sons inherited one of the houses. Their descendants live in the houses to this day. Their two youngest children—both daughters—married and lived nearby, and Agatha was never happier than when she was surrounded by her children and grandchildren.”
A young woman sighed. “How romantic.”
A woman in her forties scowled out the window. “You said Zacharias’s sons, but they were Agatha’s children, too.”
“Actually no,” Jon said, “they weren’t. The boys, Mordechai and Andrew, were both to Zacharias’s mistress but Agatha raised them as her own.”
The woman turned a warning glance on the balding man who stood behind her. “She must have been a paragon. That’s more than I’d do.”
“She was an incredible woman,” Jon assured her. “Their marriage was a real example of forgiveness in action.”
Shelby took over, as she always did at this point in the tour. “If you’ll follow me upstairs, I’ll show you Agatha’s pride and joy—the ballroom. According to her journals, she and Zacharias entertained often. She loved having people around all the time. . . ”
Her voice trailed away as the group rounded the stairs and started up to the third floor.
Jon turned back to close the curtains, letting his gaze linger once more on Winterhill before he closed them completely, then he climbed the stairs and stood beneath his favorite portrait of Zacharias and Agatha.
He’d always thought there was something familiar about her. Something in the eyes. . .
He stared up at the portrait for a moment, imagining what kind of woman she might have been. She looked high-spirited and mischievous, but most of all, she looked happy.
“Ah, Zacharias, old boy,” he said to the empty corridor. “You were a lucky, lucky man to be loved so completely.” Then, he turned resolutely away from the portrait and followed the tour group toward the ballroom.
# # #
Coming soon …
Whispers through Time
Cortez, Colorado, Present Day …
Someone was looting the ancient Anasazi ruins at Black Mesa—and it was Kurt Richards’s job to stop them. Of course, most of the damage had been done a century before, when settlers first discovered the ruins. But there was no way Kurt could change the past—until he slipped down a cliff face and into a time he had only imagined . . .
Cortez, Colorado, 1890 …
When he cannot find the modern city of Cortez, Kurt has to accept the unbelievable. But he may be able to change the future when he stumbles upon the Lazy H Ranch—where the recently widowed Olivia Hamilton struggles to hold on to her land. Without Kurt’s help, she could lose her property—and the ruins that sit on it—to a greedy banker. As their friendship blossoms into passion, Kurt is determined to prevent the loss of Olivia’s home—and the loss of his own heart to a woman who lives in another century.
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