Page 14 of Unpacking Secrets

“Good morning,” I called back as I strode toward him. “I wondered if I could ask you where to find the places in some of the paintings around the inn, especially from the dining room?”

His smile widened. “Absolutely. I’ll make you a list, would that suit?”

“That’d be great, thank you.”

“We’d love to hang some of your artwork in the inn, you know,” he said softly.

The words lodged hard in my chest. No matter what happened, I was part of the inn’s history now. That knowledge turned into a leaden ball in my stomach, but I managed to force a smile and a nod.

“Sure. I’m heading home, but have a good afternoon, Gerard.”

The older man smiled and lifted a hand in farewell. He didn’t say a single word about Henry, fortunately for us both.

On Friday morning, just a few hours before my appointment with the lawyer, Gerard appeared in the garden where I was playing with oil pastels, trying to capture the beautiful chaos of color that surrounded me. He passed me a handwritten list.

“Here you are,” he said with a friendly smile. “They’re all local landmarks. I jotted down some basic directions for each one, but ask anyone in town and they’ll help you if you need it.”

“Thank you so much, Gerard. This is perfect.”

I accepted the piece of paper with a rush of gratitude. A knowing look came across his face and I wondered if he was already aware of what had transpired the other day. It seemed unlikely that Henry would confess his sins so readily, but I wasn’t going to tattle to the man’s grandfather about his rude behavior.

“Of course, my dear. Don’t be a stranger at the inn, hmm?”

“Sure.”

The lie slipped easily enough from my tongue, though it filled me with guilt. I smiled as benignly as I could to cover it up.

Gerard went on his way and I studied the list. Hiking through the woods and painting for the next few months sounded infinitely better than studying accounting ledgers under the tutelage of the town jerk.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, I packed up my supplies and walked back to the cottage, breathing in the sweet perfume of the flowers. It wasn’t until I came through the front door that my stomach began tying itself in knots.

Though I didn’t think there was anything to be anxious about, I couldn’t quell the butterflies. I tucked the painted daisy rock in my purse for good luck, then headed out to the lawyer’s office to face my future.

The address wasn't far from the grocery store, so I spent the first portion of the drive imagining the area was all part of an enchanted wood.

What a beautiful place Spruce Hill would've been to grow up in.

The thought made me wonder if people like Henry Walker took it all for granted, but I scowled and forced the image of him out of my mind. I would not allow him to darken my mood.

I reached the office with several minutes to spare. With a deep, steadying breath, I unbuckled my seatbelt and went inside. A smiling secretary greeted me and told me to have a seat. I'd barely settled into the chair when a handsome middle-aged man in a pristine suit appeared in the doorway.

“Miss Morrison, I presume? I’m Daniel Escobar, your grandmother’s attorney,” he said with a smile.

His voice was like velvet, rich and soothing against my fraying nerves. I stood quickly and shook his hand.

“Yes, thank you for meeting with me.”

He gestured toward his office and we entered. I sat in an absurdly overstuffed chair in front of the huge desk as Mr. Escobar slid a red file folder toward me.

“I’m sure this is all very unsettling for you, Miss Morrison. Learning you had a family member you knew nothing about is surprising enough, but inheriting such an estate is doubly so.”

“That’s for sure,” I replied with a short laugh, “and please, call me Juliet.”

“Nanette Montgomery was like a grandmother to everyone around Spruce Hill. You’ve inherited a legacy that reaches far beyond the inn, as I’m sure you’ll learn.” He smiled warmly at me.

“Oh, I’m beginning to see that,” I said dryly, and the lawyer laughed. “What I don’t understand is why I’d never heard of her before a few weeks ago?”

His dark eyes filled with regret. “Nan never stopped searching for your mother. They parted on bad terms. Melissa succeeded admirably in cutting every tie to her mother and to Spruce Hill when she left town. Nan hired private investigators, one after another, and nothing much came of it. She'd all but given up years ago.”

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