Sophie gave a deep sigh. “Wouldn’t that be nice,” she said with a note of longing in her voice. “Having something you always knew you could come back to. Something that ran before you arrived and would continue long after you left.”
Holly shifted from foot to foot. “Certainly, the former but perhaps not the latter.”
When Sophie turned to her in surprise, Holly shrugged. “Neither me nor my sister have children, so the lineage ends with us.”
“Oh, go on,” Sophie said, flapping her hand. “There’s still time, I’m sure. Besides, family doesn’t have to be just about genetics, does it? I’m sure that somebody will come along who’ll speak to you just the same way that a son or daughter would. Just because you label them an apprentice or something, doesn’t stop them being family.”
“I love that idea!” Holly brightened. “Although, it might be a bit difficult to convince an apprentice to take the family name.”
Sophie burst out laughing. Between the fresh air and the short conversation, her face had lightened considerable.
“Mommy, mommy,” Samuel cried out. Sophie jerked, startled, then ran over to join her son. He pointed into the underbrush next to the playground. “There’s an animal in there.”
“What sort of animal?” Holly asked, joining the pair. Sophie had gripped Matthew in a death grip, pulling him back against her and crossing her arms over his chest.
Matthew shrugged at the question.
“Well,” Holly said, stepping closer to the bushes. “Was it big or was it small?”
“Small but prickly.”
The bushes rustled, and Sophie took a few giant steps backward, dragging her son with her.
“There it goes,” Matthew crowed in delight, pointing. He wriggled free of his mother’s embrace to run over and examine his find.
“Matty. Be careful!” Sophie called out, a note of hysteria in her voice.
“It’s just a hedgehog,” Holly reassured the woman. “Oh, look.” She nudged Matthew and pointed at the front of the small creature. “She’s carrying her baby in her mouth.”
Matthew stood stock-still, staring wide-eyes as the mother and baby snuffled past him, returning into the undergrowth. “Don’t all the prickles hurt her?”
“No,” Holly said. “They only hurt when the little hedgehog pokes them out, apart from then they can be quite soft.”
“I saw a hedgehog, Mommy,” Matthew called out in delight, running back to Sophie. “Did you see it?”
“I saw it.” Sophie sounded out of breath, frightened. Holly supposed that her nerves were a bit raw from the spectacle still going on inside.
“We should be getting back,” she suggested just as Marshall appeared around the side of the hotel to wave at them.
“I don’t want to go back,” Matthew said.
Holly could sympathize with that.
“I suppose by now you’re wondering what’s in the envelopes,” Steven Willoughby said onscreen. “Well, before you open them I want to tell you a little story. Once upon a time, there was a man, and he was very much in love with his wife. When she became ill, he nursed her back to health until there came a time when no amount of money or medical care could prevent her from dying.”
Amber sobbed and Holly turned her face away. If she looked at people crying for too long, she’d experience the urge to cry herself. She didn’t want to do that here. It would make her feel even more of an imposter.
“Years passed, and the man thought that he would never again be happy. The love that he felt for his wife had disappeared from his heart the moment she died, and nothing could bring it back.”
Next to Amber, Samuel openly yawned. Holly couldn’t tell if the gesture was one of defiance, to show that he didn’t care, or if the man was genuinely unfeeling. Considering the attention, he’d paid to his sister earlier, Holly couldn’t believe that the latter was the case.
“Later in his life, the man found a quiet happiness with another woman. Not the same as the great passion he’d felt for his first wife—that could never be equaled—but enough to bring a smile to his face.”
With a sigh, Holly closed her eyes in order to avoid peeking at Sophie. She didn’t need to see the hurt registering on her face to know that it would be there.
What an awful man!
How bad did a person have to be to make a compliment feel so much like an insult?
“The birth of my son Matthew was an unexpected delight. I thought that my days of child-rearing were long behind me. I don’t know how old you are now, son—” Steven Willoughby leaned forward and squinted as though he could see out into the room we were seated in “—but I want you to know that you were a blessing in my old age. I’d never change a hair on your head and that’s the reason why your envelope contains a bequest to your mother to ensure that you have enough money to always be taken care of. As much as you can be happy on the day of my funeral, I want you to be.”
Sophie gave a gasp, torn between a sob and a sigh of gratitude. She hugged Matthew closer to her, smoothing the hair back from his face.
“This year, and I’m not sure what time it is that you’re living in, but I’m stuck back here in the early twenty-tens, I got into a conversation with a man in Hanmer Springs. Although I never stayed at the Statesman Hotel after Rebecca died, I did enjoy the township enough to keep coming back. Anyway, this man told me a story about a woman he once knew—the kindest and gentlest woman he’d ever known. She helped him through a rough patch after his wife died and one thing led to another. He would’ve taken it even further but found out to his great distress that she was already married.”
Steven Willoughby stared out of the screen with a distraught expression on his face. “I’m sure that you can guess where I’m going with this, but in case you can’t, here’s the rub of it. We were reminiscing about the same woman. My dead wife was the lover who’d consoled him through his grief.”
Chapter Eight
“Seriously?” Samuel stood up and turned on Marshall with a gaze of fury so raging hot that Holly was surprised he didn’t explode into flame. “We’re meant to sit here and let the candidate for worst father in the world disparage our mother?”
Amber grabbed hold of her brother’s sleeve, tugging him back into the seat beside her. “Just let the tape play out. Whatever hysterical thought was in his brain when he made this, we both know that Mom would never stoop so low.”
“We should leave.” Samuel turned and looked down the row. “Even Sophie—since you’re sorted for money now, I guess. We should walk out of here and just let him ramble on to nobody.”
Samuel’s body tensed as though he was about to stand up and make good on his suggestion. Then Amber put an arm around his shoulder and pulled him closer to her. “Just let it play. You don’t have to watch. It’ll make a great anecdote for a party one day.”
Although Samuel snorted at that suggestion, he settled back into his seat, waving at Marshall to continue. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
Marshall pressed play on the video and the tape sprang back into life. “I didn’t want to just take this man’s word for it, but I also couldn’t get the suggestion out of my head. So, I decided to do something about it.”
Marshall stopped the tape again, turning to the room. “This is the point in the ceremony where Mr. Willoughby would like you to open your envelopes. Although I haven’t read them, I do have a copy in my files of what they should contain.”
Holly waited until Samuel had begun to tear into his before she slipped her fingernail under the flap and slid it along, loosening the seal. Before she pulled out the written note inside, Samuel stood again, shaking a piece of paper in his hand.
“What’s this meant to be?”
Marshall took that as his cue to restart the recording, letting Steven Willoughby explain.
“Contained in Samuel and Amber’s envelopes are the results of a paternity test. It would have broken my heart to read them, so although I ordered them and arran
ged for DNA samples to be sent to the lab, I’ve never examined the results. Whoever can prove that I was their true father, using these tests, will inherit their fair share of my estate. If you can’t, then—” Steven Willoughby shrugged.
“This is ridiculous,” Samuel yelled, tossing the paper aside. Amber scrambled on the floor to collect it but her brother was already gone, striding down the aisle and slamming the door open to get out.
“Wait,” Amber called out, waving the paper and envelope. When she saw that it was already too late, she turned back to Marshall. “Does that mean that everything goes to the dogs now?”
“No,” Marshall said, shaking his head. “Your father just wanted everyone to check the results. That’s basically the end of his recording.” He waved his hand at the door. “You’re now free to leave.”
Amber ran down the aisle, chasing after her brother. Judging from the slam of a car door and the skid of tires on the driveway, she was far too late.
“How could he do that without them knowing?” Sophie asked, her face expressionless from shock. “Wouldn’t they have to agree to get a blood test?”
Marshall pulled the sheets of paper together on the pulpit as he shook his head. It wasn’t the only thing on his person that was shaking. “He could have taken something that had saliva or similar on it, as well. I guess he stole a cup or a utensil, but I don’t know for sure.”
Sophie nodded, then turned to her son and gave him a smile and a hug. “I guess it doesn’t matter for Matty, anyway.” She turned back to Marshall with a sharp look. “His part of the estate is assured, right?”
Marshall nodded, his skin appearing as thing and translucent as an old man. “Unless there’s some reason to doubt his paternity, too.”
At that, Sophie went very still. “What do you mean?”
Marshall ran a hand through his hair. “The written bequest to you for your son is fine unless there’s a challenge. I’m sure the family don’t want to take this any further, but if one of them fights the settlement—which they can under law—then a judge might divide up the estate differently. If the three children are all shown to have Steven Willoughby as a father, then Matthew will either inherit as per the written instruction—” Marshall nodded at the paper in Sophie’s hand “—or the judge could decide to follow the latter instruction, which would also be in line with common law and provisions under the estates act and divide the estate equally between all siblings who can prove paternity.”
Sophie continued to stare at Marshall, her back stiffening until it was ramrod straight. “And if he couldn’t prove paternity?”
“Then he would be out. The law would usually have an allowance for you as a de facto wife, but the property agreement you made with Steven—”
“How could you let this happen?” Amber shouted, storming back in through the door. Holly shrank back in her seat as the woman strode past her, shaking the envelope in her hand. “How could you let my father make a will that cut Samuel out of it?”
Sophie gasped and stood up, pulling Matthew behind her. “Are you saying that Samuel isn’t Steven’s son?”
“I’m not the one saying it.” Amber shook the papers in her hand. “These test results are doing that.”
She moved past Marshall to make her way to the casket and placed her hands on the top. “Are you happy now, you old coot? Not enough for you to die, you had to tear our entire family apart?”
“Amber, please!” Marshall moved over to take the woman by the shoulders, attempting to maneuver her away. “Don’t go back there.”
“Why not?” Amber shoved Marshall, then turned back to the casket and began banging on the lid. “What does it matter to Dad? Do you think he cares more about us now that he’s dead than he did when he was alive?”
Amber threw her arms out, to either side. “Do you think that a man who planned this sort of horrendous gathering is someone worthy of respect?”
When Marshall tried to take Amber by the shoulders again, she bunched her hand into a fist. He backed away, putting his palms out toward her.
“He thought this would be so funny. Well, let’s see if he’s got a smile on his face.”
Amber lifted the handle on the side, flipping up the top of the casket. When she looked inside she gasped and put a hand up to her mouth.
“Don’t touch it!” Marshall shouted, moving toward her just as Amber tried to shift away. Her foot caught in the trestle leg, accidentally collapsing the end.
The casket slid off the lowered side, the entire lid flapping open. Holly jumped up, seeing what would happen but too slow to do anything about it.
The casket fell onto its side, the open lid flat against the floor.
Instead of the worst thing possible happening, a deceased man rolling out onto the stage, Holly saw that it was empty.
Amber backed up, her hands flying up to her mouth, her eyes opening wide. After a second of staring, she turned, her fury escalating as she pushed Marshall back against the pulpit.
“What on earth have you done with my father?” she shouted. “Where is he? Is he even dead?”
Holly rushed forward, her legs still telling her to catch the casket before the worst could happen, her eyes telling her there was nothing to worry about. Finally, a few rows back from the stage, her body caught up with what her eyes were seeing. She skidded to a halt, staring at Marshall with the same question in her eyes.
“Well?” Amber shouted, pounding on Marshall’s shoulder when he didn’t respond. “Where is Dad? Is he holed up in some hotel in town, having a laugh at our expense?”
“No,” Marshall said, holding his arms up to ward off her blows. Even from where Holly was standing, she could see that the hits didn’t have any strength to them. When he cowered, Amber stopped, letting her arms drop limply at her sides.
“He’s definitely dead,” Sophie said, her face creasing in pain. “I was there when he passed away in hospital.”
To Amber, it seemed the statement came as an accusation. “If you’d bothered to tell the rest of us he was that ill, we would have been there, as well!”
Sophie shook her head, a frown of confusion creasing her face. Her mouth dropped open, but she either couldn’t find the words or the energy to speak.
“Where is he, then?” Amber said, brushing her fringe back from her forehead. Her voice had calmed down, though the stiffness of her body showed tension in every line.
“The police wanted to run tests,” Marshall said. He gasped for air and put a hand to his chest. For a horrified second, Holly thought that he was about to have a heart attack but then the color came back into his pale cheeks.
“When your father died, the hospital still didn’t have confirmation of what his illness was. They performed tests and took samples but are still waiting for the results. The police won’t release the body until they’re certain that your father died of natural causes.”
Amber stood stock still, staring at Marshall as though he’d grown a pair of horns. In a small voice, she squeaked, “They think Daddy was murdered?”
“It’s just a formality,” Marshall hastened to say, holding his hands out in placation. “I thought that it would be sorted by the time of the funeral and I didn’t want to worry anyone.”
“But—” Amber turned her gaze onto Sophie “—we’re his next of kin. Why should the hospital be speaking to you when we’re his family?”
Marshall again shook his head. “I don’t know why but Mr. Willoughby has had my name down as his prime contact for many years. I’ve been appointed as his power of attorney for legal and medical decisions.”
The woman took a step back, appearing more confused and concerned with each second. “But who would kill Daddy?”
“As I said, it’s just a formality.” Marshall moved over and grabbed hold of Amber’s hands, guiding her down off the stage and back into her seat. “Once they get the results back, I’m sure that everything will be sorted, and they’ll release the body, so we can cremate him, according to h
is wishes.”
“Was it you?” Amber asked, turning her blank face toward Sophie. “Did you kill him?”
Sophie held a hand up to her chest. “Of course not! I loved your father very much.”
Amber put her head down into her hands, then raised it up again, turning her stern gaze on Holly.
“What’s she doing here, then? If all of this was about Dad taking out some punishment because Mom couldn’t stand to let him near her, why on earth do we have a witness skulking in the back?”
“I’ll go,” Holly said, her face turning crimson with embarrassment. Of course, she should already have left. This was private business. She would have slipped out the back if everything hadn’t happened so fast. “I’ll leave you alone.”
“Wait,” Amber said, a frown returning to her face. “What did your letter say? Were you in contention to be his paternal child as well?”
Holly issued a short laugh at that, shaking her head. She and her dad had never gotten along, but Holly retained enough of his features to never need a reassurance of her parentage.
But that left another question unanswered.
In the excitement, Holly had only opened her envelope, she hadn’t pulled out the slip inside to read. She did so now, her eyes scanning the paper quickly, widening as she comprehended what they said.
Although she’d stood to exit, Holly sank back into her chair, her legs refusing to remain standing.
“What?” she heard Amber say but she couldn’t answer. “What is it?”
Then Marshall was there, crouching by her elbow and asking if she needed a glass of water. Holly turned her shocked eyes on him, pleading with her expression for the note to be mistaken.
She held it out to him with numb fingers. “I don’t think this is right,” she said. Certainly, her mind wasn’t capable of understanding it.
“Holly,” Marshall read aloud from the note, “if you’re here then it means your father passed away. I’d say I’m sorry for your loss but that would be a lie. If I could dance on his grave I would.”
The Sweet Baked Mystery Series - Books 1-6 Page 35