Page 6 of One Last Lie

I stiffen and hope that he doesn’t notice. It’s my own fault for mentioning her.

“Well, I’m not sure. She went missing a long time ago.”

“Did you look for her?”

This is now very unlike the conversation with his mother. My shoulders stiffen further, and there’s a note of tension in my voice when I say, “Of course I did.”

“Why did you stop?”

“Samuel.”

Isabella’s interruption is so welcome that I nearly gasp with relief. I turn to her with a grateful smile that dies on my lips when I see the venom in her expression as she stares at me.

“It’s time to go inside,” she says to her brother.

Samuel doesn’t protest. My heart sinks, but then I feel a small hand slip into mine. Samuel shakes my hand and says, “It was nice talking to you, Miss Mary.”

I shake his hand back and say, “And it was very nice talking to you, Samuel.”

Isabella pulls him away, and I remain where I am. I’ll wait until they’re inside before I follow them.

Against all odds, it seems I’ve managed to accomplish what I wanted with Samuel. As for Isabella, patience will win the day. I won’t gain anything by forcing her to open up.

What concerns me is that she doesn’t seem simply closed off. She seems to mistrust me. She acts almost as if she must protect Samuel from me. What could have happened to her to make her so afraid of others?

I look back toward the house and see her leading her brother inside. She stops on the porch to look at me. I smile and wave at her, and her eyes narrow before she walks into the house.

Give her space. She’ll come around.

I tell myself this, but I fear it will take more than patience to heal the rot corroding this family.

I sit a few minutes longer, then stand and return to the house. I am halfway there when I hear shouting from the side of the house. The voice is Cecilia’s.

I head in the direction of the voice, ignoring the voice in my head that tells me it’s none of my business and I should just leave it alone. I come across her standing in between the south wing and the garage, her phone pressed to her ear. She’s pacing back and forth and arguing with someone over the phone.

“I don’t care! That decision shouldn’t have been made without consulting me first.” A brief pause, then, “I’m not asking, Elena. I’m telling you those options are not to be sold. If they are, then you and I will have a very uncomfortable conversation. Do I need to be more specific, or am I—How dare you? Johnathan has nothing to do with this!”

Elena. That’s the same woman she argues with over coffee earlier. It’s the second time she mentions Johnathan’s name to the woman. Just who is she and what is her relationship to Johnathan?

Cecilia sighs and hangs up the phone. I turn and walk quickly away, not wanting her to know I was eavesdropping.

It’s nothing, I tell myself. Just a business conversation that is none of your business. Focus on the children. They’re your job, not Cecilia.

Still, as I climb the steps to the porch, I can’t shake the sense that I’ve very nearly discovered one of the dark secrets protected by the walls of the Ashford Estate. I can only wonder what other secrets will reveal themselves to me the longer I stay here.

CHAPTER THREE

“Isabella, have you seen Elijah?”

Isabella shrugs with the combination of nonchalance, irritation, and smugness that only teenagers can have. I purse my lips and decide it’s not worth pressing her. Soon, I’ll need to enforce some rules, but I need to make an inroad with Isabella before I can do that, or I’ll only push her to close herself even further.

“Will you take Samuel to the dining room for lunch, please?” I ask instead. “I need to find Elijah.”

Isabella rolls her eyes, but she gets up from the couch in the family room and calls for Samuel to follow her. The two of them leave, and I release a sigh. Of course, I would lose one of the children on my very first day. I expected Elijah to be old enough to manage himself, but while he may be within shouting distance of adulthood, he’s still a child who’s lost his father. This is a significant error on my part. I can’t allow myself to lose track of the children again.

I leave the family room and nearly collide with Theresa. She jumps, then looks me up and down slowly, carefully screwing up her face into a look of contempt so I can see just how little she thinks of me.

Fortunately for me, I couldn’t care in the slightest what she thinks of me. “Theresa, have you seen Elijah?”

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