Two

“This was a soul that knew sorrow.” The priest addressed the small gathering of mourners from the pulpit. “This was a heart that knew heartbreak. But the soul never surrendered, and the heart had faith enough to heal. Olivia never gave in to the sadness, and never permitted the pain to put out the light of her beautiful being.”

Nina shifted uneasily in her seat. She hoped the priest wasn’t going with this where she thought he was going.

“Olivia was a gallant soul, a generous soul. She was quick to offer a helping hand to those less fortunate than she, quick to offer a shoulder to cry on to the lonely, to the betrayed, to the abandoned. Because she herself knew what it was like to be lonely, to be abandoned, to be betrayed . . .”

Nina stared at the back of the head of the woman who sat directly in front of her. If she looked anywhere else, she’d see the others staring at her, and she wasn’t in the mood to deal with that today.

“. . . and earned her a place in heaven. To you, Olivia,” the priest turned to address the closed coffin, “we say, Godspeed. For you, we pray, and we ask God our heavenly Father to give you the peace in death you could not find in life.”

There was some restless shuffling behind her, and several weighty sighs from the end of her row, but Nina’s eyes never wavered. When she’d entered the church, she’d seen Olivia’s sister, Roseanne, directing her husband, three grown children, and their spouses into the pew behind the one in which Nina sat. Roseanne, who’d never seemed to care much for Nina’s father before he was arrested, had made it plain by her loud, exasperated sighs that she and her family—or anyone other than Nina—should have been sitting in the pew directly behind Kyle and his wife, Marcie, their two children, and Marcie’s parents. Nina wished she had the nerve to turn around and tell Roseanne that the seating arrangement hadn’t been her doing. Kyle had led her up the aisle and guided her into the pew. Moments later she was joined by several of his cousins whom she’d never met before, and who, she assumed—judging by their warm smiles—had no idea who she was.

Nina bit the inside of her lower lip and tried to ignore the whispers behind her. She’d been uncomfortable from the moment she arrived and realized the sedan she’d parked next to in the lot carried several once-familiar faces. She recognized two members of St. Ansel’s faculty in the backseat, though she could not recall their names. She’d smiled weakly when she’d met the eyes of the sedan’s driver, Professor Overbeck, who’d been an up-and-comer in the American lit department. She tried to remember something her father had said about him back then, but couldn’t quite recall what it had been. Something about Overbeck having his eye on the chair that her father occupied. She wondered if he ever attained it. And wasn’t that Professor Toomey—Jacqueline Toomey, once known on campus for her wonderful lectures on Shakespearean comedies—in the front passenger seat?

Whatever, she shrugged. It hardly mattered now. While they all stared as she got out of the car— Overbeck had even raised a hand in a sort of startled wave—none made any effort to speak to her.

Just as well, she thought as she’d walked briskly toward the church. What the hell would we talk about?

So, what have you been doing with yourself since your dad’s conviction?

The gruesome nature of the murders aside, her father had brought infinite shame to the college. She wondered if they still talked about it, there at St. Ansel’s.

She knew one thing for certain. They’d all be talking about it today.

* * *

“Nina, wait up,” Kyle called to her as she started out of the driveway.

The service had ended minutes ago, but Nina had not waited to follow the coffin before slipping out of her pew and heading for the parking lot. She’d paid her respects to the woman who had once been her father’s wife, she’d prayed for her eternal happiness, and now she wanted out and away from here. She felt edgy and conspicuous and the small church had become claustrophobic after a while. She’d been grateful when Father Whelan, a longtime friend from St. Ansel’s, had finally concluded the service with his heartfelt comments to Kyle and his family and the pallbearers rose to accompany the coffin out of the church. She’d had almost a full minute to leave by the far end of the pew and slip out a side door while the priest was waiting for the altar boys. She’d gone straight to her car, hoping to escape unseen, but the buses for the parish school across the street blocked her way. The bottleneck was just about to break free when Kyle jogged toward her, calling her name.

Dammit.

“Hey, you’re not sneaking out before the luncheon, are you?” He gestured to her to roll down her driver’s side window. “And were you skipping the cemetery, too?”

“Actually, I was.” She debated which excuse to use, then decided to go with the truth. “I’m really uncomfortable here, Kyle. I know your mother’s family must have been shocked, seeing me in the church. And I don’t blame them. My father caused your mother a great deal of pain.” She smiled wryly. “As Father Whelan reminded us.”

Kyle patted her arm, which rested where the window had been. “Father Whelan was a very close friend of my mother’s. He stood by her through everything, all those years. He was a good friend, right to the end of her life. I think we have to forgive him if he lost sight of the fact that there was more to my mother than the fact that she was Stephen Madden’s widow.” Kyle squeezed her arm. “Sorry, I don’t mean to sound insensitive. But it seems that that’s how my mother was known, these last years. As Stephen Madden’s widow.”

A grimace marred Kyle’s handsome face. “Why she stayed here in Stone River, why she didn’t leave and move on with her life . . .” He shook his head. “I tried to convince her to move to Delaware with Marce and me, but she did not want to leave that house. For the life of me, I’ll never understand her attachment to it. It was as if she just couldn’t let go of that part of her life.”

“Kyle, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say to you.”

“Say you’ll come to the luncheon with us, say the hell with the rest of them. You were her stepdaughter. She cared about you.” He smiled benignly. “You were the daughter she never had.”

Nina wisely chose not to debate that particular point with him. Olivia had never given her the warm fuzzies. Most of the time, she tolerated her. No need to get into that with Kyle, though. Perhaps his memory of those years differed from hers. After all, he was already in college when Nina came to live with her father and his new family. Perhaps his mother hadn’t shared with him the animosity she’d directed toward Nina.

That was okay. He’d been gracious to her since her arrival this morning, and was going out of his way to make her feel less of a pariah. If his memory of one happy family didn’t quite match Nina’s, he was welcome to it, as far as she was concerned.

“Kyle, I appreciate your invitation, I really do. But I think it’s best that your mother’s family have this time with you and Marcie and your children.” She looked up at him. “I have an author who lives nearby. I’d planned on seeing her while I was in the area.”

“But you’re not going back to New York right away, are you? Not without coming by Mom’s house.”

“I’ll be in the area for a few days. I have a room at the Cloisters through at least tomorrow night, so I’ll be around.”

“I don’t know if I trust you not to sneak back to New York while I’m wining and dining the relatives.”

“Hey, I promised I’d help out with the house. I wouldn’t go back on that.” He’d leaned into the window, and she patted his arm.

“Good, good. There’s a lot of furniture in that house that belonged to your dad, you know? My mom moved into his house, not the other way around.”

“If there’s anything there you and Marcie can use, please feel free to take it. I don’t have room for another stick in my little apartment, so if you want anything . . .”

“I don’t know if I’ll pass that on to Marce or not. I want to think on that.” He rubbed his chin. “I hate to complicate things right now.”

“I’m not following you.”

“Oh. Of course. You’d have no way of knowing.” He laughed to cover his embarrassment. “Marcie and I are separated. She’s here today with me because, well, because of the kids, mostly. She and my mother weren’t that close. Not like you and Mom were, back then.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Kyle. Are you trying to work things out?”

He held one hand out, palm down, and wiggled it side to side.

“Touch and go,” he told her. “We’re putting that on the back burner for now. I told her I couldn’t deal with that until we got past Mom’s funeral and disposing of her things.”

“Do you have to do that all right now? Can’t you just close up the house for a while, wait until things settle down a bit, then go back and do what you have to do?”

“Well, I’d thought you’d be wanting us to get her things out of your way as soon as possible,” he said.

“I don’t understand. Your mother’s things aren’t in my way.”

“They would be if you wanted to sell the house right away.”

She stared at him, not comprehending.

“Hasn’t Mr. Wexler, the attorney, been in touch with you?” Kyle frowned. “The house belonged to your father. He never added my mother’s name to the deed. Under the terms of his will, the house was to pass to you upon her death. Didn’t you know?”

Speechless, Nina shook her head from side to side.

He dug in his pocket, and pulled out a single key. He handed it to her, saying, “That’s why I was in such a hurry to get Mom’s things out of your way. The house belongs to you now, Nina. I thought you knew. It’s all yours . . .”