Page 30 of Share with Me

Chapter Ten

In the foyer, Brinley’s head spun. There were Christmas trees everywhere, tall and fake, and twinkling pine trees rising some five, ten, twenty feet into the air, and backing up against the walls, million-dollar paintings, and the grand staircase. It looked like a forest in there. And smelled like it too, as much pine scent as Brinley’s nose could bear.

Brinley hadn’t seen it earlier this evening when she had arrived from the airport because the chauffeur had dropped her off in the basement garage and she’d taken the elevator directly to her room on the second floor of the family cottage. Then it was a quick jaunt from the upstairs balcony, around the pool, through the gate and backyard to the guest cottage.

Between two Christmas trees in giant urns trimmed with birds, nests, and Swarovski eggs, the front door with its Italian stained glass looked strangely nondescript even though the custom-made glass had cost her parents a pretty penny.

It was signature Rose Brooks. In previous years, it wasn’t uncommon for Mom to drop fifty thousand or more in decorations, mostly going to high-priced interior decorators for their gaudy labor. A small price to pay for the praise of Mom’s guests.

If it were up to Brinley, she’d give that money to the local homeless shelter or some poor senior citizen living in a dilapidated old home with rotting porch floorboards.

But that wasn’t Mom.

Brinley tapped a few times on the security panel near the front door. It came to life, but she didn’t like what she saw on screen. The front door camera framed an officer and one of the security staff members. Sure, police always made her feel safe, but at this time of night, it could only mean trouble.

She pressed a button.

“What’s up, Chaz?” Brinley braced for the worst.

“I’m here with some officers from the GCPD and Aunt Ella.”

What does the Glynn County Police Department—

“Did you say Aunt Ella?”

Brinley couldn’t unlock the front door fast enough, but it was bolted down five ways to Fort Knox and then some. It seemed silly since the back terrace door had been unlocked. The reason for the heavy security was Grandpa Brooks’s art and music collection in the basement. The vault, as they all called it.

When she finally yanked open the front door, Brinley gasped. Standing behind two stout officers and wrapped in a blanket was someone she had never expected to see in that condition. Her hair was matted, her mascara smudged on her cheekbones, lipstick on her chin. She was wearing only one slipper.

“Aunt Ella! What happened to you?”

Aunt Ella pushed past Brinley. That was when Brinley saw a sprig of something sticking out of Aunt Ella’s disheveled hair. She quickly removed it. Aunt Ella didn’t seem to notice.

“Would you like to come in, Chaz, officers? It’s chilly out.” Brinley stepped aside.

“Thank you, ma’am.” They entered the foyer into Mom’s winter wonderland.

Brinley thought they were trying not to laugh out loud, but it might just be her imagination.

“They found Aunt Ella loitering on Sea Island Drive.” Everybody called her Aunt Ella, even Brooks employees.

“Loitering?” Brinley’s knees went weak. “As in wandering around?”

“Yes, ma’am. Someone called in. Said she was trying to use their yard as her bathroom.”

Brinley’s cheeks flushed. Her head snapped toward Aunt Ella quailing by the Christmas trees, hanging on to flimsy ornaments. Those were probably made of real gold filigrees.

She rushed to her. “What were you doing out there, Aunt Ella?”

Sheepishly she began to speak. “I was looking for my old bed.”

“Your old bed?”

“I don’t want to sleep in the guest cottage. Willard gave me a bedroom to put my old bed. Where is the big house and where is my old bed?”

What?

“This is the big house,” Brinley reminded her.

---