Sound of Fear

by Marta Perry

  He was instantly wary. “Where?”

  “I’ve been invited to the Winthrop house for dinner. Apparently they received the DNA report this morning. Sounds as if they mean to welcome me into the family.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  NOTHING MORE WAS discussed about it while they were in the café, but Amanda suspected Trey was only waiting until they had a bit more privacy to have his say.

  Sure enough, once the three of them were in the car and on their way back to the farm, Trey turned a frowning glance on her. “I think your first meeting with the Winthrops as relatives should be in a neutral place. My office, for instance. Not on their home turf.”

  Amanda shook her head impatiently. “I should think you’d be happy. This must mean the Winthrop family is willing to accept me as Melanie’s daughter. Just as Jacob’s family has done.” She met Jacob’s gaze in the rearview mirror, seeing again that fleeting resemblance that Sarah had recognized immediately.

  “I suppose so.” Trey was still frowning, but at the road ahead now. “I just didn’t expect it to be that easy. Not with them. And we can’t ignore those accidents of yours.”

  “There’s no proof that the family knew anything about them,” she said.

  “I don’t believe in coincidences. And unless you think Juliet’s brother has been lurking around Echo Falls incognito...”

  “As you keep reminding me, strangers stand out here. And I don’t think it’s his style, anyway.”

  “Well, then...” he began, but she cut him short.

  “I’m suspicious of the whole lot of them. And they’ll be fortunate if I don’t tell them exactly what I think of their treatment of Melanie.”

  “That’s the other thing that worries me.” He was silent for a time, probably waiting for her to argue. Then he flipped on the turn signal and slowed as he approached the lane. “A big blowup might relieve your feelings. But it wouldn’t help anyone else.”

  “Worried about your reputation?” She couldn’t help the edge in her tone.

  “I have a practice here, remember? You may be able to walk away afterward. I have obligations.” He stopped at the back door. “I’d rather not be the one who let the firm go down the drain.”

  Jacob was already getting out of the car. She sat for a moment, not sure what to say but not liking the abrupt chill between them. “Sorry,” she said finally. “I wasn’t thinking.” She got out quickly.

  Trey lifted his hand in a gesture that might have meant almost anything and drove off again.

  Amanda stood where she was for a moment, wishing she knew what it was that made her so apt to say the wrong thing to Trey at least once a day.

  She became aware of Jacob, still standing beside her. “Sorry,” she said again. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper with Trey.”

  He looked a little amused. “We are sometimes hardest on the people we care for most, ain’t so?”

  Amanda decided there was no way she could respond that wouldn’t give away the confused state of her emotions, so she just shrugged.

  Jacob seemed to accept that she wasn’t going to talk about it. “I’ll walk up to the cottage with you.”

  Sarah was looking out the kitchen window of the farmhouse, probably eager to hear all about their visit to the police. Well, she’d let Jacob handle that one. She nodded.

  “One thing I didn’t understand,” Jacob said as they started up the lane. “Trey spoke of your mother’s brother?”

  “He meant my adoptive mother, Juliet.” She frowned, trying to think how to explain the situation. “She had a brother, but they weren’t at all close. Her will left everything to me, as her daughter, but apparently if I was never legally adopted, he might have a claim. That was why I started looking into who my parents are to begin with.” The situation had quickly become so complicated that she could hardly believe it had once seemed that simple.

  Jacob was studying her face. “Is it so important to you? The money?”

  “I... I don’t know.” That was a lame answer. She’d have to do better. “Not the money as such. But there’s the house I grew up in. And her paintings—I don’t think I’d want someone who didn’t care to have control of those.”

  He nodded, seeming to understand. “The work of her hands and her heart. Yah, I see.” He hesitated. “But memories...memories live in the heart, not in a place.”

  Somehow the way he put it, so simply, resounded. With Juliet gone, the house in Boston was just a house, aside from the personal mementos she’d want to keep.

  Jacob seemed content to remain silent as long as she wanted. She roused herself, reminded of something she ought to know before meeting again with the Winthrop family.

  “Did they—Melanie’s family, I mean—ever know that you were the father of her baby?”

  “I don’t think so, but I could never be sure.” His blue eyes seemed to look into the past. “The last day we met, I thought that she planned to tell them and to say that we wished to marry. She said she would first talk to someone who would help her.”

  Someone who would help? Amanda puzzled over that for a moment. “Did she say who?”

  “No, she never did. I didn’t hear from her again until the day she passed.” Even after all these years he seemed to have trouble saying it.

  “How...how do you feel about them knowing it now? It doesn’t seem as if we can keep it quiet, since you’ve spoken to the police.”

  His solemn expression slid away when he looked at her. “I am wonderful happy that people should know you are my daughter, even if Melanie never had a chance to tell them.”

  He must be thinking of Melanie’s return. Of how that ended. Amanda’s thoughts spun onward from that day. “You never heard anything from them afterward? They never tried to contact you?”

  “No. And that is why I think they never knew. They would have wanted to make sure I’d be silent.”

  That one sentence seemed to encapsulate the gulf between the Amish farmer and the spoiled daughter of the wealthiest family in town. Romeo and Juliet, apparently—an old, sad story. If not for that, she wouldn’t be the person she was.

  “Whatever else happens, I’m glad I found you,” she said at last, and knew she meant it.

  * * *

  AMANDA LET THE knocker fall on the massive front door of the Winthrop house, wondering why she felt even more nervous this time than she had previously. That didn’t make any sense.

  Before she had a chance to analyze it, Helen Lindstrom was swinging the door open. Some of the nervousness seeped away at the warmth of the woman’s smile as she drew her in.

  “You see,” the woman whispered. “I thought all along you were our Melanie’s daughter, even though I didn’t dare say so.” She clasped Amanda’s hand for a quick squeeze.

  Mrs. Lindstrom might be able to fill in some of the blanks about Melanie’s life for her, if she could ever get her alone.

  Amanda glanced toward the parlor where she’d been received before. “How are they taking it?” she murmured.

  “Them.” The woman’s tone was tinged with contempt. “They’ll do what Mrs. Winthrop wants. She calls the tune.”

  Maybe so, but not with her. Amanda couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be before she and her great-grandmother clashed over that one.

  Mrs. Lindstrom led her to the parlor, and once again, Donald Shay had his family assembled to meet her.

  He came forward, outwardly jovial and with hands outstretched, smiling as if her arrival were the most delightful thing that had happened all day. “Amanda, welcome. Betty, dear, come and welcome our niece.”

  Great-niece, actually, not that it mattered. Clearly he’d decided to put the best face possible on the situation.

  Betty came obediently to press her cheek against Amanda’s for a brief second. �
��Welcome,” she murmured. Again she looked at Donald as if for some indication she’d done it correctly, but he was busy directing his children to greet their new cousin.

  They were both reluctant, she suspected, but they did as they were told, Carlie with a spark of rebellion in her flashing eyes and Ethan with a stammer that made him blush.

  Amanda responded to Ethan more warmly than she’d expected to, moved by his obvious shyness. He seemed so much younger than his years, and was surely an unlikely person to be groomed to take over Winthrop Enterprises. Still, maybe he showed a different side of himself at work.

  “Elizabeth will be down momentarily, and we’ll go in to dinner.” Donald moved to a mahogany sideboard bearing a tray with assorted bottles. “Meanwhile, may I fix you a cocktail?”

  She didn’t really want anything, but holding a glass would give her something to do with her hands. “A small glass of white wine, if you have it.”

  “Of course.” He poured out a glass and handed it to her before serving his wife and children. When his daughter asked for a whiskey sour he allowed himself a slight grimace before making it.

  Conversation lagged once the drinks were served, and Amanda caught several furtive glances toward the door, as if they were hopeful Elizabeth would relieve them of the responsibility of entertaining her.

  Given a choice, Amanda decided she’d prefer to try to draw out Ethan than talk to the others, so she moved to his side.

  “I understand you’re learning the business. I’m afraid I don’t know much about it.”

  Carlie, overhearing, snorted. “Neither does Ethan.” She deliberately turned her back on them and began talking to her father about something to do with the mill.

  Aware of Ethan’s flush, Amanda sought for a more acceptable topic of conversation. To her surprise, Ethan saved her the trouble.

  “Is it...is it true that your mother was Juliet Curtiss, the artist?” He sounded almost eager.

  “That’s right. Are you familiar with her work?”

  “I’ll say.” Interest brightened his eyes. “I had hoped to catch one of her shows, but I never had the opportunity.”

  “You’ll have to come to Boston to visit,” she said lightly. “I’ll give you a private view.”

  “You mean that? Her painting of a child with flowers...that was you, wasn’t it?”

  He really did know Juliet’s work, then. That was a familiar point in an unknown environment. “It was, but I can’t say I ever thought it was me when I was a child. Most eight-year-olds don’t care for impressionism, I expect.”

  “I envy you, being brought up with an appreciation for art and—”

  He was interrupted by his father before he could finish. “Ethan, don’t be bothering your cousin with prattle about art.”

  “On the contrary,” she said with deliberation. “Since my adoptive mother was an artist, I’m quite interested.”

  That left Donald a bit nonplussed, as she’d hoped it would. “Well, then...” he began, and then turned gratefully at the appearance of Elizabeth, leaning on her cane and with Mrs. Lindstrom in attendance.

  “What are you all standing around for?” she demanded. “Let’s go in to dinner before the food is ruined.”

  After that inauspicious beginning, Amanda foresaw an uncomfortable meal. But once they were seated, Elizabeth seemed determined to be a model of civilized dining. She directed the conversation into topics of general interest, ably assisted by Donald, firmly urbane, and a few timid ventures by Betty.

  Elizabeth didn’t seem to appreciate those contributions, and after a particularly pointed snub, Betty fell silent.

  Amanda, trying to keep up her part of the talk, found herself contrasting this meal with the one in Sarah’s kitchen. Sarah’s table might not boast linen and fine china, but the talk had been lively and the laughter constant.

  She smiled at the memory, only to find herself the target of Elizabeth’s piercing glance. “Tell me, Amanda, where in Boston did you receive your education?” Her tone relegated Boston to the fringes of the educational world, which would be quite an affront to the good citizens of that city.

  “I had a couple of years at a public school, but after we moved to our current house, my mother sent me to the Foster Academy.”

  Elizabeth gave a grudging nod, so apparently she’d heard of it. “Boarding student?”

  “No, day student. My mother never considered anything else until I went off to college. Then I lived in a dorm.”

  “I should think, given her career, a boarding school would have been preferable.”

  Amanda wasn’t sure whether that was a slam at artists and their supposed lifestyle or a commentary on working mothers. “My mother wanted to have me with her,” she replied. “And that’s what I wanted, as well.”

  In fact, the only time she could remember that Juliet had gone off on a trip without her had been that visit to Echo Falls. That, she decided, wasn’t something she wanted to bring up here.

  Donald steered the conversation to college education, seeming to make an effort to draw her out, and Elizabeth gradually thawed. She seemed relieved that Amanda’s education had been conducted at exemplary schools. Amused, Amanda couldn’t help wondering what she’d expected.

  The meal finally came to an end, and they all moved back into the parlor for coffee. It was there that Elizabeth introduced the subject that was surely on all their minds.

  Stirring her coffee with a firmness that must endanger the fragile china cup, Elizabeth focused on Amanda. “I suppose I should say that we are satisfied that you are Melanie’s child. Obviously, if we had known of your existence, we’d have done something about your upbringing, but Melanie took that out of our hands.”

  Amanda couldn’t help but feel relieved that her mother had entrusted her to Juliet. “I understand your feelings. But Juliet was all the family that any child could have asked for.”

  That didn’t seem to have quite the comforting effect she’d hoped for, since Elizabeth’s eyes grew icy. “You were a Winthrop, whether you were an accident or not. I didn’t see it at the time, but you should have been brought up as one, despite your questionable unknown parentage on the father’s side.” She looked as if the words left a bad taste in her mouth.

  That was nothing compared to Amanda’s reaction. Jacob and his family had been nothing but kind. Elizabeth had no right to look down—she clearly hadn’t known who the father was.

  But someone might have—that person Melanie had said she’d confide in. Amanda would give a lot to know who that was, and maybe there was a way to find out. Watching them, she spoke deliberately. “Didn’t you know? I’ve met my father. He’s Jacob Miller.”

  Her momentary satisfaction dissolved at the look on Elizabeth’s face. She grew red, and the color deepened to almost purple. “Jacob Miller? That Amish boy? How dare he? My own granddaughter...”

  She stopped, seeming to struggle for breath, and Mrs. Lindstrom instantly appeared, bending over her, murmuring softly.

  Amanda collected herself. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” She considered saying what a good person Jacob was but decided that might only add fuel to the fire.

  Her great-grandmother’s color slowly faded under Mrs. Lindstrom’s ministrations. “Not your fault,” Elizabeth said finally.

  Amanda guessed that was as close as Elizabeth would ever come to an apology.

  She nodded, not speaking, and resolved not to explode any more bombshells if she could help it. She’d been too shaken by Elizabeth’s reaction even to look at the others, so it hadn’t gained her a thing.

  “That’s all in the past,” Elizabeth said firmly. “The future is what’s important. Naturally you’ll want to get better acquainted with your family.” She sent a cold stare around the room and everyone, even Carlie, nodded. “So you may as well move in he
re now and begin. I’m sure you can deal with any business revolving around your adoptive mother’s estate from here.”

  The assumptions in that statement left Amanda speechless for a moment. Then she took a breath. If Elizabeth thought she wanted to give up her own life to move in and become as dependent on her as the rest of her family, she’d better think again.

  She opened her lips to say just that and caught a warning glance from Mrs. Lindstrom, who gestured slightly with the vial in her hand. Nitroglycerin, probably, for her heart. No one had said anything about Elizabeth’s health, but obviously there was a problem.

  Seizing control during the silence that greeted Elizabeth’s announcement, Amanda rose. “That’s very generous of you, but I think that would be better discussed another time. I’ve tired you, and I didn’t mean to. Thank you for the lovely dinner. I should be going.”

  Elizabeth looked as if she’d argue, but Mrs. Lindstrom bent over her, again saying something softly. Finally, she nodded.

  “I am rather tired,” she said regally. She rose with an effort and held out her hand to Amanda.

  Amanda took it, then impulsively leaned forward and pressed her cheek against Elizabeth’s. The elderly woman’s skin was as soft and crinkled as a rose petal.

  For an instant Elizabeth looked startled, and then she reached up and patted Amanda’s cheek. Almost before the touch had registered, Elizabeth turned away. Taking Mrs. Lindstrom’s arm, she moved out of the room, toward what Amanda now realized was an elevator in the hallway.

  Sensing the constraint in the air, Amanda said her goodbyes to the others quickly. They were polite, probably afraid Elizabeth would get to hear of any deviation from her order to accept Amanda.

  But certainly no one was eager to have her stay any longer. The door closed behind her, but not before she’d caught the unguarded malevolence in at least two of the faces turned toward her. Donald and his daughter were not reconciled to Amanda’s intrusion into their lives.

  Amanda felt a wave of relief as she made her way outside. Relatives or not, she wasn’t going to allow herself to be maneuvered into that house.