Page 27 of Saltwater Secrets
Just yesterday, Renée had called to say she’d decided to come to the estate this week to “check on” Hilary’s progress and see the old place for the first time in nearly thirty years. Hilary should have expected this, but it irritated her that she had to mentally prepare herself for Renée rather than continue with the interior design project that had fully taken over her life.
Although a full week had passed since they’d met, Hilary still didn’t know what to make of Renée Wagner. But to her, and to Aria, Renée seemed like a ticking time bomb, one with the capacity to make things difficult for them. If she wanted to.
Now that Hilary had the estate mostly to herself, save for the valet slash gardener and maids who maintained the old place (presumably because they’d been asked to in Dorothy’s will), Hilary was having everything of value moved to a storagefacility. The idea was to see the shell of the mansion so that she could truly visualize what would come next. It had been a part of the plan from the beginning, something Dorothy had been excited about, saying, “It’ll be remarkable to see this place without any sense that I’ve been living here all this time.”
But what Hilary hadn’t accounted for, in this redesign process, was the library.
After her brief outdoor break, Hilary returned to the library with a renewed purpose. She hadn’t spent much time in the space but found it astounding, with its thick curtains protecting the books from the harsh sunlight and its mahogany shelves and its perhaps two thousand books. It was clear that Dorothy had been a big reader through the years, and that was how she’d spent the majority of her time alone. It wasn’t hard to find the books Dorothy had read and reread, as many of them were dog-eared or stacked on one of the writing desks in the ornate space. It looked like Dorothy had liked all kinds of genres, from literary to action-adventure to romance. She’d also read about history a great deal, stuff about World War II and the Civil War that made Hilary’s brain hurt.
It was clear that Dorothy had been a very intelligent woman. But Hilary had known that already, just by speaking with her, just by seeing the light in her eyes.
How she wished she could speak with her again!
Suddenly, she heard her name. “Hilary?” It echoed through the hallways and erupted into the library.
Hilary sprang into action, hurrying down the hall to find Marc in the foyer, removing his shoes and wearing a big smile. He’d made record time from the Boston airport, surprising her. Hilary threw her arms around him and covered his face with kisses. He’d left Nantucket Island for San Francisco what felt like months ago, but really hadn’t been much longer than a week. So much had happened.
“How are you?” Hilary demanded. “How was your flight?”
Marc said it was fine. He beamed at her, tracing her head with his hand. The swelling in her heart told her how essential this love was to the story of her life.
Hilary led him into the kitchen to pour him a glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade. Together, they sat back on the veranda, watching the seagulls swoop and talking about their time apart. Marc’s trip to San Francisco had been mildly successful, but he’d probably have to head back West soon. “I hate leaving you alone like this.” He winced. “With all this talk of Philip Wagner, it makes me feel like I’m like him. Leaving Dorothy alone in this big estate.”
Hilary guffawed. “You’re nothing like Philip Wagner!”
Marc smiled.
“You’re just fishing for compliments,” Hilary teased, taking his hand.
“Never! But tell me,” Marc said. “What’s been going on here? Aria’s still in New York? Renée’s coming to make sure you’re doing your job?”
Hilary wrinkled her nose. “Renée isn’t exactly my favorite person.”
“I got that sense over the phone,” Marc said with a laugh.
“She’s mostly kept to herself in Manhattan, apparently. Upstairs in her bedroom alone while Aria cleans out the first floor and starts the redesign,” Hilary recounted what Aria had told her. “But it’s strange, the two of them in that brownstone together. Aria’s still trying to figure out what went wrong in Renée’s relationship, who she was dating, and why she has nowhere else to go. But Renée isn’t sharing many details.”
“And she doesn’t have any money, I guess?”
“Not until she does whatever it is Dorothy told her to in her will,” Hilary said.
“And one of her jobs is watching you?” Marc asked.
“I guess so?” Hilary groaned. “I can’t help but think Dorothy just wanted to make her daughter leap through a few hoops. There’s a lot of darkness between them. That doesn’t just go away when someone passes, I don’t think.”
Marc wanted a tour of the estate, so Hilary led him through what she’d cleared: the parlor, the kitchen, the upstairs bedrooms, the dining room. Now that all the rooms were emptied and the windows were open to bring in fresh air, the space felt entirely different than it had with Dorothy in it.
“Imagine locking yourself away for twenty-five years,” Marc said, looking miffed. And then he wagged his eyebrows. “Okay. Now I have to ask it. Do you think she had anything to do with Philip’s death?”
“What? No!” Hilary cried, slapping him lightly on the shoulder. “Dorothy was a wonderful and kindhearted woman. She wouldn’t have hurt a fly.”
They reached the library. “It might be my favorite room,” Hilary confessed. “But I think it needs the most work.” She showed Marc her vision for the space: dark green walls and more ornate woodwork for the shelves, Turkish rugs, and better curtains.
“Are you going to get rid of some of these books?” Marc asked. “It looks like some of them are crumbling and moldy.” He reached for one on a top shelf and stopped when it looked like the pages were going to come out of it.
“It doesn’t feel right to throw out her enormous collection,” Hilary said. “She spent all her life collecting these books. In a way, I think they were her friends.”
Marc chuckled. “You’re a softy.”
