Holly Read online

  Even though Holly said that she needed to get back to work, the truth was she was afraid to open a book. She was afraid of the solitude that reading required. If she had solitude, she was afraid she’d think, and that’s what she didn’t want to do. She didn’t want to think about why Laurence Beaumont had murdered Taylor. Holly was afraid that if she thought about it, she’d see that, somehow, it was her fault. If she hadn’t wanted Belle Chere so much, if she hadn’t wanted to marry the owner, if she hadn’t—

  Holly walked away from the dining room windows. Returning to Spring Hill was worse than she’d thought it would be.

  The truth was that guilt ate at her because what the house made her remember most was Nick. Not her sister, who’d been her best friend, but Nick.

  For a moment Holly stood in the empty kitchen and looked out through the garden toward the caretaker’s cottage—the house where Nick had lived. She was to sleep there tonight and she didn’t know how she was going to be able to do it. How could she live with the memories of her and Nick that that house held?

  Turning away from the window, she went into the living room.

  For six months she’d returned to being a little girl and had allowed her father to deal with all the reporters and investigators. Holly had answered some questions, but she truthfully knew of no reason why Laurence Beaumont would kill Taylor and Charles Maitland. She knew of no connection among the three of them.

  But no matter how she tried to avoid it, in odd moments, Holly had speculated. Had Taylor died because she’d been protecting her sister? Had Taylor found out what kind of man Laurence really was? Had she threatened to tell on him and that’s why Taylor had been killed?

  Every time Holly thought, she accepted another invitation. She didn’t want time to think.

  But, finally, the horror had caught up with them. Her father’s attorneys had informed them that Holly was needed to testify at the trial. She had to tell what she knew about Laurence Beaumont III, who was claiming insanity as a defense. They were saying that because he’d shot Taylor and Charles in front of half a dozen witnesses, this was proof that he was insane.

  “Like his ancestor,” Holly’s father said. “Like that Arthur Beaumont. Laurence Beaumont is a blood relative of that man and I should have realized when he told that story what he was capable of.”

  Neither Holly nor Marguerite had the energy to try to dissuade him of this absurd theory. Since neither James nor Marguerite had spent much time with Laurence, it was Holly who was asked to return to the U.S. to testify.

  On the plane back to the States, Holly tried to plan her testimony, but since she didn’t know what she’d be asked she couldn’t formulate her reply. She tried to read on the plane, tried to watch the movie, but she couldn’t keep her mind on either of them. Nick, she kept thinking. Nick.

  Where was he? What had happened to him?

  Three weeks after they’d left, she’d casually asked her father what had happened to the gardener at Spring Hill.

  “Quit or left, I don’t know. I sent checks which he never cashed, but somebody else sent a bill for mowing so I guess it’s being done. I put the house up for sale.”

  “Yes, of course,” Holly had murmured and asked no more. As she’d always known he was, Nick had been temporary. He had been a guy to have a few weeks of great sex with, then discard. Nick Taggert was the type of man you have an affair with, but you married men like…

  “Like Laurence Beaumont,” she’d said aloud.

  Somewhere in the six months they were away, Holly had seen what a mistake she’d made. She’d always thought that she judged people by what they were, not by their externals, yet, with nothing to base it on, she’d judged Nick to be…. Actually, she couldn’t figure out what she’d decided he was, but she knew she’d misjudged him.

  She kept remembering how he’d taken charge on the day Taylor had been killed. He’d given Holly words of comfort even before he’d known what had happened. During the rest of that day and night and into the next morning, she’d heard repeatedly from the many law officials who wandered through their house that Nick Taggert was being a great help to them.

  She’d wanted to stay and see Nick again, at least to say good-bye, but Marguerite had not been well. The doctor and her father had been insistent that they take her away as soon as possible.

  In the end, all Holly could do was leave Nick a note and hope he’d understand.

  She came back to the present and went upstairs. She had to see Taylor’s room.

  Her father’s former assistant, a man who could arrange anything, had flown to Edenton to oversee the packing of the house. Part of Holly had wanted to do it, but she couldn’t bring herself to say so. One look at the haunted eyes of her parents and she knew she couldn’t leave them.

  Taylor’s bedroom was empty and had been freshly painted pink. The color made Holly smile. How Taylor would have hated it. Too frilly, too childish.

  Sniffing, Holly straightened her back. She was done with tears. The new owners had a baby girl and Taylor’s room was to be the nursery.

  Holly went through the bathroom to her old bedroom and, immediately, memories flooded her mind. Smiling, she remembered all the underwear she’d bought to wear for Nick, and how she’d hidden it away so Taylor wouldn’t be jealous.

  Jealous! Holly thought. Where had that come from? She’d hidden the underwear to keep Taylor from teasing her.

  For a moment Holly put her hands to her temples. In the last six months, odd thoughts had run through her mind. She’d be dancing with some handsome young man and, suddenly, she’d look for Taylor’s angry face, angry because she’d say that Holly was making a fool of herself again, that she was “showing off,” trying to draw attention to herself.

  Holly took a deep breath and tried to get control of herself. On occasion she hated herself because, sometimes, she felt as though her life was better now that Taylor was gone. A couple of times she’d thought that it hadn’t been her father’s disapproval that had made her run from Nick, but a fear of Taylor’s sneers and put-downs.

  Ridiculous! she’d told herself each time the thought crossed her mind. She’d broken off with Nick because she’d known it wouldn’t work between them.

  And it had broken up because Nick was so different from her. She’d always smiled whenever she thought that. “Different” was the last word to describe Nick Taggert. He’d helped her with her research. Every other boyfriend she’d had had complained that she spent too much time working. Only Nick had become involved with her work.

  Even Lorrie, she thought, breaking her taboo against the nickname, had decreed that they not talk about her work, though her work was Belle Chere.

  Holly looked out the window. She couldn’t see it, but she knew that Belle Chere was through the trees.

  And Belle Chere was to be sold at auction tomorrow, on Christmas Day.

  It was true that Holly had returned to the U.S. to testify at the Beaumont trial, but that wasn’t scheduled until the third of January. She would have stayed in Europe for Christmas, could have been with her family on Christmas Day, except for a letter sent from one of her father’s attorneys.

  In order to pay his legal fees, Laurence Beaumont was putting Belle Chere up for sale. Notices had been sent to preservationists and society people all over the world; a huge crowd was expected to attend the auction.

  Holly had been eating breakfast when her father entered the room, the letter in his hand. She’d taken one look at him and known something was wrong.

  Silently, he handed her the letter, then sat down.

  She read it, and tossed it onto the table.

  “I want you to buy the place,” her father said.

  “I don’t want anything to do with anything that has the Beaumont name attached to it,” she said.

  When her father didn’t reply, she looked at him and saw all the misery of the past months in his eyes. He’d aged horribly.

  “I don’t know that man well,” he said and sh