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?"

She waits a while before answering, but yet again, I keep my gaze steady and wait patiently. Insecure people thrive off of making others uncomfortable. It makes them feel they have power. I don't intend to give Theresa power.

Her frown deepens, and eventually, she says, "He's probably off somewhere in the deep grounds."

"The deep grounds?"

"Yes. Past the fence. That's what Johnathan called the part of the grounds left undeveloped."

"Ah. I'll look for him there. Thank you."

"Don't bother. He'll come home when he's ready." Her face softens somewhat. She might hold me in contempt, but she has genuine affection for the family. "His mother allows it, anyhow. Says he needs to be allowed time to himself."

I study her face for a moment and decide she's telling the truth. If he hasn't returned by supper, I'll look for him. "Thank you."

The softness vanishes, and she turns away without replying. I head to the dining room and find the children sitting with their meals—sandwiches and fruit. Mine waits for me at the head of the table. I purse my lips and look at the kitchen. This is the second meal in a row that Paolo has managed to avoid meeting me. I'm of half a mind to walk in and force him to introduce himself.

"Don't bother," Isabella says. "He's already gone."

I look at her and see the same mixture of smugness and irritability I see earlier. This time, I push back very gently, but enough to make clear that she can't expect to behave this way for good. Besides, Samuel watches everything we do intently. He needs his older sister to set a good example.

"I'm sorry to hear that. I hope he doesn't think me rude for not meeting him after spending nearly an entire day in the house. I would feel horrible if a guest in my home went without meeting everyone in the household for so long."

"Well, not everyone gives a shit."

I sigh. Now I must intervene.

"Isabella, I understand that you're going through—"

"No, you don't," she snaps. "Okay? I don't give a shit that your sister died thirty years ago, or whatever. That's not the same. My Dad's dead. Is your dad dead?"

"He is. But regardless—"

"Did he die when you were a kid?"

"No, but—"

"Then you don't understand." She's standing now, and tears are streaming down her face. My heart breaks for her. "Elijah's just figuring out how to be a man, and now he has to figure it out all on his own. I'm thirteen, and now I have to go through high school with no one to talk to."

"That's not true. You have your mother, and you have—"

She laughs. "My mother? Clearly, you don't know her. She's the last person on Earth I would talk to about anything . And Samuel? He might not even remember Dad when he grows up."

"Yes, I will!" Samuel protests. "You're being a bitch!"

"Both of you, enough!"

I don't raise my voice much, but that's another trick I learn from decades teaching. When you are normally mellow and soft-spoken, even a slight sternness in your tone will provoke an intense response. The children both flinch and lower their heads. Samuel says very contritely, "Sorry, Miss Mary."

"That's all right, Samuel."

I look at Isabella, who stares at me, lips trembling. Then she says, "Screw you," and runs from the room.

"Sorry for her too," Samuel offers helpfully.

"You don't need to apologize for your sister," I tell him. "You don't need to be angry with her either. You've all suffered a terrible loss. That's not excuse for poor behavior, but there's no need to be angry."

His lower lip sticks out in a pout. He's a little too old to be making that face, but that sort of regression is also typical in grieving children. "She's usually really nice. She's just been so mean since Dad died."

"We all handle grief in different ways," I tell him. "You know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think she would appreciate a big hug right now."

Samuel smiles and runs off to find his sister. I sit for a moment and try to process my own emotions. I feel far too much anger at Isabella. It's true that my father died many years after I left childhood, and it's also true that I felt far more relief than grief at his death, but I do understand the pain she's feeling. I loved Annie. She was more than a sister to me. She was another side of my soul. Losing her was like losing a piece of myself.

At least they know what happened to their father. Annie vanished without a trace.

I have no intention of allowing myself to continue down this path, so I push those thoughts aside, stand and clear the table, then decide to try talking to Isabella again. Perhaps when she's alone, she'll be more willing to open up to me.

I head upstairs and find Isabella sitting in her room on the bed. The door's ajar. That's a good sign. If she truly wanted to be left alone, she would have shut and locked it.

I knock softly and ask, "May I come in?"

She looks at me for a moment, then nods.

I enter and smile at her. "Did Samuel come to see you?"

She offers the ghost of a smile. "Yes. He said you told him to apologize and give me a hug."

I sigh. "Well, he was supposed to do that without letting on that I told him, but yes. Where is he now?"

"He's in his room. I put a movie on for him. It's the one with the turtles. He'll stay until it's over."

Her anger has calmed. This could be my chance to get through to her. I smile and ask, "Could you show me some of your photographs?"

She frowns. "Why do you care so much about my picture?"

"Well, as I said, my sister was quite the amateur photographer herself. I never had the artistic talent for that sort of pursuit, but she had a true gift. I enjoy seeing art that reminds me of her."

She looks down at her feet for a moment, then slides off the bed. She retrieves a shoebox from her closet and brings it to the bed. When she takes the top off, I gasp in unfeigned wonder. "Oh, Isabella! These are wonderful!"

The photographs are all of wildlife. There are images of birds taking wing, fish leaping from the water, a squirrel holding an acorn in his hand, mouth open in anticipation of the bite, and various other candid scenes of nature.

She smiles slightly and says, "I always wondered what animals' lives are like: what they do and how they think and stuff. These pictures are like getting to know that a little. I like this one the best."

She pulls out a photograph of baby foxes pressed next to their mother while their father looks down on them in wonder. The mother's eyes communicate the sort of love that only a mother has and that she only has for her children. The pride in the father's face is unmistakable. It truly is fascinating how alike humans and animals are in so many ways.

"This is beautiful, Isabella, Thank you for—" I stop when I turn to her and see her crying. "Isabella! What's wrong?"

She shakes her head and rubs the tears from her eyes. Then she quickly takes the picture and puts it back in the box before replacing the lid and rushing the box back into the closet. "Umm… I think I want to be alone for now."

I hesitate. I want nothing more than to tell her that being alone is the worst thing she could do, but I know if I insist, I'll ruin the fragile trust I've built with her. I stand and offer a compassionate smile. "All right. If you need anything else, let me know. I'm always available to talk."

I start to leave, but when I reach the door, she calls after me. "Wait!" I turn around, and she presses a folded piece of paper into my hand. "I found this in Dad's room."

She rushes past me before I can ask what it is. Of course, when I unfold it the answer to that becomes clear.

It also becomes clear why she ran off before we could talk.

The paper is a handwritten note, I assume, from Johnathan. It reads, Elena attempt four imminent. She may go farther this time.

I frown. To say this has raised more questions would be an understatement.

Who is Elena? What will she attempt? How far will she go?

And why did Isabella entrust me with this information?

I need to talk to Isabella about this, but I think if I push any farther right now, I'll only push her back into a shell. I put the note in my dresser drawer and retrieve my coat.

As I descend the stairs, I hear Cecilia talking with a stranger. The stranger is a woman around Cecilia's age. Her brusque manner and assertive tone suggest that she holds a position of power and is used to getting her way.

"The board will hold a vote next week to determine the company's future," the stranger says, "I understand that Johnathan and I have been rivals at times, but—"

"Enemies," Cecilia interrupts. "There's no sense in not calling it what it is."

After a slight pause, the stranger says, "Yes. Enemies. However, our… conflict… was purely business. I hold no ill will to you or the children. If you agree to abstain from your inherited vote, I promise that I will ensure that your pension continues at its current rate."

"And if I exercise my right to vote, you almost certainly lose, and I can ensure myself that my pension continues at its current rate."

I know I shouldn't eavesdrop, but something tells me I shouldn't interrupt this conversation. Something else tells me I need to hear what's being said.

The stranger sighs and says, "There's no need for us to be enemies, Cecilia. My issue with Johnathan has nothing to do with you. Besides, most of your income comes from Johnathan's personal estate. Let's say I really am the bitch he says I am. Do you really stand to lose that much?"

Cecilia laughs. It's not at all the reaction I expect, and I recoil slightly in surprise.

"I guess not," she says, "but I don't like being threatened, Elena. Even when it's a veiled threat."

My eyes widen. Elena. Is this her fourth attempt? But attempt at what? Could she be attempting to take Johnathan's spot as head of Ashford Capital?

Elena's voice is tense when she speaks again. I can't tell if it's frustration or fear. Perhaps both. "I'm not threatening you. I'm just trying to do what's best for the company."

"If you and I are going to have this conversation, then we need to be honest with each other."

"All right. Then you be honest with me. How did—"

"What are you doing?"

I jump and spin around to see Theresa frowning at me. I can feel heat climb my cheeks because she has every right to wonder what I'm doing. The answer to the question, of course, is that I'm eavesdropping, and she's caught me red handed.

Well, there's no point in trying to hide it.

"Who's that talking with Cecilia?"

Theresa's frown deepens into a glare. "Who Mrs. Ashford talks to is none of your business. Where are the children?"

"Samuel is watching a movie in his room. I'm on my way to look for Elijah now. As for Isabella—"

"Here," she says, passing us with a cheeky wave and bounding down the steps. "Mom! Sammy wants to know if we can have pizza for dinner!"

I hear Cecilia sigh and say, "I don't know. Ask Miss Mary."

Isabella walks to the foot of the stairs and calls, "Mary! Can we have pizza for dinner?"

I should tell her to ask politely and to come up the stairs to talk to me rather than shouting, but I'm too discomfited to think of that, so instead, I call back, "I must talk to Chef Paolo first, but if he's all right with it, then yes."

"It's fine, Mary!" Cecilia calls irritably.

Well, it's my fault everyone's shouting through the house. I had a chance to stop that.

Theresa keeps her frown on me a moment longer, then said, "I told you that Mrs. Ashford allows him his time to himself. You should, too."

She walks away, and I sigh and head downstairs. Cecilia stands near a severe looking woman who, as I suspect, is near her in age. The woman—Elena, I presume—frowns at me. That appears to be the standard greeting for strangers here.

Before I can introduce myself, Elena turns back to Cecilia. "I'll call you later. Please think about my offer."

"I will."

The two separate, and I smile apologetically. "I apologize for that. I should have—"

"It's fine," Cecilia says dismissively. "Here, I'll get you a credit card for the pizza."

She brushes past me, and I call after her. "Is everything all right?"

"Fine!"

I don't have to be a former psychology student to know that's a lie.

I look out the window and see Elena get into a late-model German sedan and drive back toward the gate.

She may go farther this time .

An unnerving thought strikes me. Might she go far enough to kill Johnathan Ashford?

My coat is a thick woolen garment designed for the harshness of the New England Winter.

But still, I shiver as I watch Elena drive past the open gate and accelerate onto the road. Have I just looked into the eyes of a killer?

No, that's rubbish. It's a business dispute, nothing more. The business world is cutthroat, but surely not so evil as to be murderous. I've let my imagination run away with me. That's all.

Still, as Elena's car disappears from view, I feel myself sinking deeper into the mystery of the Ashford Estate.

And if Johnathan was murdered. What then?

It's none of my business. My job is to care for the children. Nothing more.

I tell myself this, but even as I convince myself to ignore Elena, I know I can stay away for only so long before I am pulled against my will into the web of mystery that surrounds this family.