‘A mint julep? Now?’ Olivia exclaimed.
‘Yes, now. Pieter?’ The older man’s eyes were taking on a vague, faraway look. ‘A mint julep for both of us.’ Truman’s voice was strong, almost commanding. ‘I’d like nothing better right now. I know you would, too, Pieter.’ Truman linked his arm through Pieter’s. ‘Let’s find Helen. She makes great mint juleps.’
‘All right.’ Slowly, Pieter’s faded blue eyes seemed to focus. ‘Yes, yes, I’d enjoy a mint julep. That does sound fine. Just fine,’ he repeated as he walked away, smiling at his son-in-law.
Several hours later, Pieter sighed and muttered ‘I’m exhausted’ as he sat down on the side of his bed and tried to struggle out of his right shoe without unlacing it. Kelsey kneeled and began working on his shoelaces. ‘I don’t understand it. I haven’t done anything today except stand around outside and then stand around inside with a lot of people I don’t know.’ Kelsey bit her lip. Pieter knew almost everyone who had come to Lorelei’s funeral. ‘Maybe I’m getting sick. I probably have a fever.’
‘I’ll get the thermometer.’
‘Oh, shush!’ Pieter waved away any thoughts of a thermometer. ‘Your thermometer has glowing numbers.’
‘It’s digital, Grandfather.’
‘I don’t like it. I don’t trust it,’ Pieter said querulously. ‘Ingrid can tell just by looking at me if I have a fever. She’ll be in shortly. She’s trying to make that white-haired woman leave.’
‘Olivia?’
‘Olivia. Yes. She has her sights set on Truman. Hah! As if Truman would care about any woman except Sofie. He’s only being nice to Olivia. I told her so today.’
‘You spoke to Olivia?’
‘Yes. I warned her that I know she’ll do anything to get Truman, so now she knows that I know. She hates me for it.’ He clenched his fists, looking past Kelsey as if seeing Olivia. ‘I will not allow you to cause trouble. Don’t even try coming between Truman and Sofie. I will stop you—’
A burst of ragged coughing tore through his sentence. Kelsey stood up and began helplessly patting his back until he’d coughed himself almost breathless. ‘Grandfather, I think you need to go to the hospital.’
He shook his head violently.
‘You have a bad cold. Please. We don’t want it getting worse. You’d only have to make a sudden trip to the emergency room.’
‘No!’ What was left of his voice grated from him. ‘No emergency room! It’s night.’
‘Tomorrow?’
He looked at her and she saw the weakness and confusion in his eyes. But he still had his strength of will. ‘Tomorrow, but only to make you and Ingrid happy.’
‘It will. I’m sure there’s nothing seriously wrong. You probably won’t even get a shot.’
Pieter broke into rattling laughter. ‘No shot? I won’t get a lollipop for not crying?’
‘You’ll get a lollipop even if you don’t get a shot.’
‘Good.’
She pulled off his second shoe then stood up. She was about to leave the room and ask her father to help get Pieter undressed and tucked into bed when he suddenly said, ‘That tall man who came to the funeral wasn’t Milo, the fellow who wanted to marry Ingrid. Milo was my age so the man I saw today is too young to be Milo. It was the brown curly hair that fooled me. I must have sounded very silly.’
‘You didn’t. It’s all right, Grandfather.’
‘No, no it isn’t. I don’t want to embarrass my family.’
Kelsey’s throat tightened. ‘You never embarrass your family. We’re proud of you.’
‘Maybe you used to be proud. Now …’ He shook his head as if trying to clear it, then asked, ‘Is that woman gone yet? The one who wants Truman?’
‘I’m sure she is.’
‘She shouldn’t come here … No, she shouldn’t come …’
Kelsey looked at the sagging old man she’d always thought was the strongest person in the world. She put her hands on either side of his face, turned it up toward her, and kissed him on the forehead. ‘I love you, Grandfather.’
‘I love you, too, vacker ängel.’ Kelsey smiled at him and he smiled feebly in return. ‘Please ask Lorelei to come for a goodnight kiss. I haven’t seen her all day.’
Kelsey looked around at every corner of the barn. She loved the barn her grandfather March, who’d died when she was nine, had designed for the race horses he’d owned nearly fifty years ago. The barn was always clean and filled with sunlight streaming through its many windows. Now the soft light of a crescent moon shone on the beautiful white and gold horse that belonged to Lorelei. Guinevere nickered softly at her. Kelsey walked to the stall door and reached through the bars of the top half to stroke the horse’s face.
‘Hello, Guinevere,’ she murmured. ‘You’re usually happier to see me. You can’t talk to me, but I know you miss Lorelei. Beautiful Lorelei. She’s left us, Guinevere. She didn’t want to, but she’s gone. Are you sad like me?’ The horse nickered again. ‘We’ll never see Lori again, Guinevere.’ Kelsey’s throat tightened. ‘Never.’
Suddenly, Guinevere began breathing deeply. Her hooves beat against the floor before she lifted her head and blew through her nose. Kelsey had never been able to translate the language of horses like her sister, but she could see that something upset Guinevere. ‘What’s wrong, girl?’ The horse snorted and shied away from Kelsey’s outstretched hand. ‘Guinevere?’ The horse drew back its upper lip, screamed, reared, and struck her hooves against the lower half of the wooden stall door. Kelsey cried out in shock and fell backward. Lying on the floor while the horse stamped wildly, Kelsey smelled smoke. She looked to her right and saw blinding flames licking the back wall of the barn – flames moving closer, closer …
‘Fire! Fire! Fire!’ Kelsey jerked up in bed, sweating, short of breath, terrified. A nightmare, she told herself. You nearly screamed down the house over a nightmare, like you did when you were a child! But now she knew what to do when a nightmare came – assure herself she was in the real world, not her dream world. Kelsey clasped her trembling hands, breathed deeply, and looked around her bedroom. She focused on the familiar yellow and blue butterfly Tiffany floor lamp, the oil portrait of a ballerina her mother had painted for Kelsey’s twelfth birthday, the mahogany-framed cheval mirror, the softly glowing amber stained-glass cat night light. Everything was the same as it had been at midnight.
Except that Gatsby wasn’t lying asleep on her bed. Except that her bedroom was too bright. Except that she caught a faint smell of smoke. Kelsey knew she wasn’t dreaming now. She scrambled from her bed and ran to the bedroom window she always kept half-open in spring, the window where Gatsby stood, his paws on the screen of the window that overlooked the grounds leading to the barn – the flaming barn.
Without thought, Kelsey rushed to her father’s bedroom and opened the door. His bed was empty. She called his name in case he was in the adjoining bathroom, but he didn’t answer. She went to her grandfather’s room. He was gone. She flew down the stairs on bare feet and crossed the black-and-white marble floor to find one of the double front doors open.
Outside, the air felt charged with panic and hysteria. Kelsey closed her eyes and ran through the cool, thick grass toward the barn. When she got close, she saw that the fire had consumed half the building. It wouldn’t be long until flames claimed the whole barn. Anguish washed over her as she thought of the horses. Then she heard whinnying in the pasture. Was it two horses whinnying or three? What if one of the horses had been caught in the inferno that was the barn? But how had any of them escaped?
Even a hundred yards away from the barn, Kelsey felt the heat from the fire. Beams exploded and shot brilliant flames toward the dark sky. The acrid stench of the fire filled the air, making her eyes water and her throat hurt. Blinking furiously to clear her vision, she finally saw all three horses. They were in the pasture, far enough away from the barn to be safe. They were clearly terrified – screaming, kicking at the wooden fence surrounding the pa
sture – but they didn’t seem injured. The wind was light but blowing the flames away from them. Kelsey squinted at the blazing barn. Someone must have opened the stalls and freed the horses before the fire started. Why? Why would someone who wanted to burn the barn care enough about the horses to protect them from a horrible fiery death?
‘Kelsey, what are you doing out here?’ She turned and saw her father in his robe and house slippers running toward her. ‘You need to go in the house.’
‘Why?’ She was surprised by how dull and hopeless she sounded. ‘I might as well watch the rest of the barn burn down.’
He held up his cell phone. ‘I’ve called the fire department.’ His voice was raspy from the smoke. ‘They’ll be here any minute. At least the horses are in the pasture, although I don’t know how they got there. Their stalls and the paddock’s gates were closed and bolted.’ Truman paused. ‘At least I think they were closed. So many people were here for the funeral reception. Maybe someone came down here and messed around with the gates and Charlie didn’t check closely enough this evening,’ he said, referring to the seventeen-year-old who often helped the full-time groom with the horses. ‘He’s usually so reliable, though.’
‘Where’s Grandfather?’ Kelsey asked abruptly.
‘In the house. Sleeping, I hope. He wasn’t in good shape today.’
‘He’s not sleeping. I checked his bedroom.’
Truman looked alarmed. ‘He must be somewhere in the house. I haven’t seen him. I don’t want him to see this. He loved the barn.’
The horses still whinnied, the fire still crackled, but above those noises Kelsey barely heard another noise. Her father started to say something but she held up her hand, shushing him to silence. It came again, splitting the night. A scream. A tortured human scream. A man shrieking in agony. ‘Dad, do you hear that? Do you hear that?’
Truman went stone still. Then he gasped, ‘My God! Someone’s in the barn!’
He bolted away from her with the speed and agility of a young man. Kelsey followed, ignoring the pain of stepping on small rocks and broken twigs with her bare feet. As they neared the barn, the screams grew louder and closer together until all Kelsey could hear was a continuous shrill wail of torture that no longer sounded human.
Truman stopped and grabbed Kelsey’s hand. Together they stood and stared, horrified, as a mass of flames plunged out of the barn. Burning arms flailed, blazing cloth wrapped around stumbling legs, fire licked at a face. The form staggered in a circle then dropped to its knees and raised flaming arms to the black sky.
The keening sirens of fire trucks tore through the smoky air as Kelsey watched the figure she knew was her grandfather fall face down. Her heart skipped a beat, sending a shudder through her entire body, as the man she’d loved all her life made a futile attempt to rise. He collapsed on to his side, and slowly his burning arms and legs began folding and drawing inward. He twitched twice, then went into a powerful convulsion. He’s fighting to stay alive, Kelsey thought, but it’s too late. It’s too, too late. Finally, as tears she didn’t feel began running down her face, her grandfather’s smoldering body went completely still in the sweet darkness of the May night.
SEVEN
Kelsey huddled in the heavily padded ivory-colored rocking chair near the large window in her bedroom. It was afternoon, but she’d closed the draperies against the bright, beautiful day as well as the charred remains of the barn. She wore loose jeans, a heavy blue sweatshirt over a shirt, and on her sore feet an old pair of soft pink slippers shaped like bunnies with stand-up ears. Eve let out a tiny, surprised squeak when she peered into the room and Kelsey said ‘Hi!’
‘Kelsey, I didn’t see you! It’s so dark in here.’ Eve squinted. ‘Are you holding Gatsby?’
‘I’m cuddling him. I’m freezing and he’s so warm. Aren’t you warm, Jay Gatsby?’ The cat meowed loudly. ‘See? I think he’s too hot, but he knows I need him. Come in, Eve.’
‘May I turn on a light?’
Kelsey reached up and pulled the chain on the standing Tiffany light beside her chair. Blue and gold light glowed gently in the room. ‘There. It’s pretty. And soft. I don’t want bright light.’
Eve stared at Kelsey for a moment, then went to the dresser and fumbled until she found a wooden-handled brush. ‘You didn’t use your curling iron on your hair this morning, did you?’
‘How could you tell?’ Kelsey asked dryly, lifting a handful of straight, rough hair. ‘It was all I could do to manage a shower. I couldn’t get the water hot enough, and I washed and washed but I still smell of smoke.’
‘That’s your imagination,’ Eve said as she began running the brush in soft strokes down the right side of Kelsey’s hair. ‘You smell of honey and vanilla.’
‘That’s my liquid shower soap. I even used it on my hair. I couldn’t find my shampoo and conditioner. I didn’t really look for them.’
‘Your neighbor took the horses. I met him. He said that, like your father, he has a big barn but only a few tenants. He brought men to help with the move. The horses were still nervous but the men were gentle.’
‘I’m glad the horses will be nearby. Dad will probably visit them almost every day.’ As Gatsby purred loudly and kneaded Kelsey’s thighs with his paws, Eve kept brushing Kelsey’s hair slowly, almost tenderly. ‘My mother used to brush my hair like that. Lori’s, too,’ Kelsey murmured dreamily. ‘She said it relaxed you. She was right. She was right about almost everything. She was such a kind, smart, loving woman.’
‘I didn’t know her very long but I felt I knew her well, if that makes sense.’ Eve kept running the brush through Kelsey’s hair. ‘Your mother was always so warm to me. The first time she invited me to dinner, I couldn’t believe it. She hardly knew me and you had guests. Important guests. The table setting was so beautiful – the china, the crystal, the flowers and candles, but I didn’t feel intimidated. Your family was so informal, so determined to make me feel as comfortable and special as the other guests at the table that I just had fun.’ Eve moved and began brushing the other side of Kelsey’s hair. ‘Then two years ago your mother had you bring me here supposedly to talk to one of her friends about a design job, remember? Instead, she threw me a surprise birthday party! I’d never had a birthday party in my whole life. One Sunday, you and I came here for the afternoon and she tried to get me to ride Yasmine, and Lori wanted me to ride Guinevere. I’m afraid to ride horses on merry-go-rounds, for heaven’s sake, so I said no. But both of them wanting me to ride their cherished horses – well, you can’t imagine how that made me feel. Knowing what you do about my background, you can understand that to me being treated like family by the Marches was nearly unbelievable.’
Kelsey nodded, remembering that her grandfather had been present at every occasion Eve mentioned. He’d cared deeply about the lovely enigma that was Eve Daley.
‘My parents believe that treating children with affection spoils them,’ Eve went on, smoothing the ends of Kelsey’s hair. ‘They don’t like visitors. I can’t remember anyone having dinner with us aside from my mother’s aunt, the one who left me her money when she died. Their method of child rearing – working children hard, being free with punishment and withholding affection – was difficult for me but worse for my brother. He’s more sensitive than I am. Once on one of his school papers, a teacher wrote that he had “the soul of a poet.” He was thrilled but he tore up the paper before my parents could see it, and made me promise not to tell them about the comment. They would have been horrified. The soul of a poet. That phrase definitely would have earned their severe disapproval. Can you imagine? I feel guilty because I left him behind with them.’
‘But you told me he’s older than you. You said he’d made the decision to stay on the farm with your parents.’
‘He did. But I didn’t try hard enough to convince him he deserved more of a world than that sorry little farm and the girl on the farm beside ours that my parents wanted him to marry. He told me she’d expected to become h
is wife for years, and it wouldn’t have been fair to abandon her. I left a week before the wedding. I couldn’t stand to see my beautiful, intelligent brother make that stupid, sanctimonious, intolerant young woman his bride. I know he would have contacted me during the last few years if it weren’t for her. She hated me and she was so possessive of David. That’s my brother’s name. David Joshua …’ Eve’s voice trailed off before she drew a deep, shaky breath. ‘Well, I’ve done a fine job of prattling on and on about myself. I came to help you.’
‘And you have helped me. I’m glad to know you have such a wonderful brother. Until this week, I didn’t even know you had a brother.’ Kelsey looked up at Eve’s oval face with its tender mouth and amber eyes. ‘You’ve given me a look into your life. And you’ve helped take my mind off the atrocities that have happened to us in the last few days. My family is gone. I took it for granted and now everyone is gone except Dad.’
Eve shook her head and smiled. ‘You never took your family for granted. You talked about them constantly.’
‘I did?’ Kelsey asked in surprise. ‘That must have been annoying.’
‘It was touching.’ Eve stopped brushing. ‘Kelsey, I can’t delay any longer. Detective Pike is downstairs. He wants to ask a few questions.’
‘I’ve already been questioned!’ Kelsey burst out. ‘All morning I dealt with these people and their damned questions that had to be answered even though I couldn’t stop crying!’ Gatsby stiffened and extended his claws. ‘Oh, now I’ve scared him, too!’ Gatsby jumped off her lap, whipped around, and sat down about a foot away, gazing at her. She drew a deep breath and lowered her voice. ‘I guess I have to see how many more answers I have left in me. I feel like can’t bear it. But I will. Grandfather would have done it for me.’ She looked up at Eve and smiled faintly. ‘Just stay by me, Eve.’
‘Always,’ Eve assured her.
Stuart had returned to the city after the funeral. Kelsey had urged Eve to go with him, to get away from this home devastated by Lorelei’s murder. Now Kelsey was relieved that Eve had refused, saying she’d go back with Kelsey tomorrow. Kelsey knew Eve had wanted to help put everything in order – as much as it could ever be in order. But now tragedy had struck again and with her father dazed by grief, Kelsey felt she could only count on Eve.
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