Chapter Eighteen

“You might want to do some updating. The foyer is a bit nineteenth century.”

The amusement in his voice echoed in the huge space. The hammering in her chest wouldn’t let up enough for her to catch her breath. A group of twenty-five strangers stood in said foyer, waiting for her to say something.

The foyer, heavily paneled in dark wood, was enormous enough to fit her now destroyed office, the small fishing boat, and her cottage—with room to spare. Gilded-framed portraits hung everywhere, and she even saw a painting of a golden retriever. She had stumbled into fantasy land. A thought popped into her head and, instead of addressing the staff as she should, she spoke it aloud. “It looks like the Haunted Mansion ride at Disney. I half expect the room to start stretching.”

Finn laughed, as did the staff. Her mother was less amused. “Beverly Regina Winslow start as you mean to go on, young lady. You aren’t rude…usually.”

“Apparently I am.” She faced the staff. “I apologize. This is all a little overwhelming. I’m Beverly. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

A silver-haired man in a black suit stepped forward. “I am Conroy, Miss Winslow.”

“Please call me Bev.”

Conroy eyes widened at the suggestion. “I-I…” he stammered.

Reggie stepped in. “Sweetheart, Conroy will feel more comfortable calling you Miss Winslow, for the time being.”

Faux pas number two. Now she had alienated this guy. Who else would she offend before the day was through?

Conroy bowed a little. “Thank you, Miss Regina. We welcome you home as well as the new owner, your daughter. We haven’t forgotten you.”

Her mother’s eyes glistened. Conroy loudly cleared his throat. Reggie sniffed and straightened, smoothed her blouse.

“Thank you, Conroy, that is lovely to hear. I won’t worry about my daughter, with you taking care of her. Why don’t you tell her how things are done here?”

Conroy gave Bev a dour look she was sure he’d learned when he was seven years old in butler school and began. “We are pleased to welcome you to your new home. We are your inside staff. The outside staff is subcontracted, and that is handled by Marina.” He gestured to a sturdy-looking woman with iron-gray hair and wearing a blue housekeeper’s uniform. She half-dipped in an awkward curtsy. As Bev smiled at the woman, Conroy spoke again. “I am the head of the household. If you need anything or would like anything changed, it is proper for you to contact me first. Marina is here if I am not available. As per your grandfather’s wishes, we follow a traditional British system.” He pointed to a woman with sandy-blond hair who was wearing a white chef’s jacket. “This is Cook.”

She tried really hard not to roll her eyes. The woman wasn’t allowed a first name? She wasn’t sure she could do this. Undaunted, Conroy pressed on. “If you need anything from the kitchen or are having guests or something hasn’t been prepared to your liking, please alert Marina. She will notify Cook.” Conroy moved slightly down the line of people. “If you would like, I will introduce you to the rest of the staff.”

“Sure, that would be great.” Her head reeled as each name was rattled off. Would she ever remember them? Would she ever actually see them? She didn’t plan on spending a lot of time here.

“Shall we expect your input for the Maine Children’s Hospital Charity Ball?” Conroy asked.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Ms. Serena was handling the details. Your grandfather always held it here on the lawns. It is in two weeks. Shall we continue conferring with Ms. Serena, or will you see to the details? Perhaps Ms. Serena should continue to be consulted until Miss Winslow is ready for such a task?”

She had no clue how to plan a charity ball, and she didn’t have anything to wear to one. Apparently, Conroy was fully aware of her ineptitude and didn’t want to sully the charity ball’s reputation.

Reggie came to stand next to her. “Miss Winslow will be overseeing everything. Ms. Serena has been relieved of her duties to the Winslow Foundation.”

She couldn’t be sure, but it seemed as if the staff—all except Conroy—let out a collective sigh with this news. She didn’t blame them for being relieved. Serena was a bitch to her own family. Bev could only imagine how awful she’d be to the household staff.

As the staff discreetly exited, she turned on her mother. “How the hell am I supposed to plan a charity ball? I haven’t even planned a birthday party.”

“You actually aren’t alone in this.” Her mother said. “Unless of course you’d like Serena’s help?”

“I’d rather jump naked into the Atlantic in the middle of December.”

“Exactly.”

“Doesn’t solve the problem, though.”

“I can help,” Reggie said. “I’ve actually done this before.”

She didn’t like that idea. It put her mother too close to the Winslows and in danger of losing herself again. “But I need you at Atlantic Charters.”

Before her mother could answer, Finn stepped forward. “I have a sister, a mother, and a personal assistant with experience in this sort of thing.”

She didn’t love that idea much more than her mother helping. That meant meeting his family, and they were out of her league, just like him. But she was down to her last options. Plus she’d look ungrateful and petty if she said no. “Thanks. I appreciate the offer.”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Reggie clapped her hands together. “Now I can help Joe with rebuilding the Atlantic Charters offices, and Bevie can concentrate on being president and CEO.”

Her phone pinged a reminder. “Speaking of, I’m taking a call in one hour from Winslow Holdings offices in San Francisco. So why don’t we let Conroy show us around, and then Finn can sign off on this part—me taking over the house. After that, I’ll take the call.” Bev turned to him. “Is there anything else you need me to do so you can make things legal?”

“Yes, but I’ll wait until after the tour and your call. I’ve cleared the day for you, but while you’re doing your call I can catch up on some case files I’ve brought. I’ll show you the safe and some other things. But like I said, I’ll keep myself busy.”

“I own a safe?” She snorted. “Of course I do. Why am I surprised?”

Her mother rolled her eyes. “You’ll get used to it. If it still contains the same things it always did, there are some old coins and my mother’s wedding band. Nothing crazy for Reginald.” Reggie faced Conroy, who had surreptitiously returned. “Miss Winslow is ready for the tour.”

“Yes, Miss Regina. Before we begin, I took the liberty of preparing the conference room for your call, Miss Winslow. Also, bedrooms are prepared for yourself, Miss Regina, and Mr. Callahan.”

Bev whipped her head toward Finn and then back to the butler. “I don’t think Mr. Callahan had plans of staying.”

He didn’t conceal his grin. “Actually, on your schedule is a meeting with your personal banker here tomorrow at seven A.M. I’d prefer not to make the drive back to Boston tonight. I thought Ms. Garrett had informed you?”

“No, but in her defense, I’m supposed to look at my schedule more. It seems to change constantly. I’ll figure it out eventually.”

Reggie and Finn were escorted to their rooms to freshen up, and she was left with the butler. She turned to Conroy. “Thank you for seeing to all of this. We can begin when you’re ready.”

“Yes, Miss Winslow. Perhaps we shall begin here in the Great Hall.” He pointed to one of the portraits on the wall. “This is Josiah Winslow, the first Winslow to arrive in America. He was rumored to associate with witches. That should appeal to Miss Winslow, as she lives in that most historic city of Salem.”

She smiled at Conroy, who didn’t return the smile. He wasn’t exactly a warm man. But he would only be her butler for a year. Who cares if he liked her? She followed his eyes when he pointed to an unfamiliar face in the portrait. She knew little about the Winslow name. “But my grandfather was self-made. He grew up on the wrong side of South Boston. Why did he commission these? It makes it seem like the Winslows had generations of wealth and influence.”

“In fact, Miss Winslow is partially correct. The circumstances of your grandfather’s birth were beyond his control, obviously. However, your lineage can be traced to the Mayflower landing and farther. Master Reginald believed in honoring his heritage.” Conroy pointed to a blank space on the wall. “This is where Miss Winslow’s portrait shall hang, if you are the Winslow to fulfill the destiny of that lineage.”

“No pressure there at all, Conroy.”

His mouth hardened into a grim line. “Yes, Miss Winslow.”

“Indeed.” She followed the butler up the staircase.

****

“Yes, Miss Winslow,” she muttered the words to herself as she got ready for bed. She looked around the room and shook her head. She hated it. It was dark and depressing. Miss Winslow didn’t want this. Clearly Conroy wasn’t sure she could handle it all either.

The tour of the house had been astounding. Too many rooms to remember or count, each one with heavy, depressing décor. They had horses. They had two hundred acres of pristine oceanfront property complete with a sandy beach, a cruising yacht, a dedicated forest for hunting, and a man named Stew who she could call if she felt like fresh venison.

How could she wrap her mind around something like this? A month ago, she was eating tacos three nights a week. Tonight, she’d tasted the best roast lamb she had ever had. Better than her mother’s—and that was saying something.

During her meeting with Finn, after seeing a summary of all her holdings, she learned Reginald had bought land up and down the coast of Maine to be used strictly for conservation efforts, her heart nearly leaped out of her chest. The man had negotiated with local politicians on behalf of the Winslow Foundation, using a heavy hand in creating and shaping state and local charities to benefit children. He funded the first aquarium in Maine which used sustainable resources. This was a side of the Reginald she’d never heard of in the press or from her mother.

Over the past three nights, she’d prepared herself for her new job by poring over reports and organizational analyses, spending time learning how to use her new gadgets and finally figuring out to block time for herself on her schedule.

Additionally, she made a study of Reginald, focusing on his business acumen. Shrewd but fair, his one major flaw came when he disowned her mother. She wondered if he’d regretted it, then immediately hated herself for asking the question. She shouldn’t care if he’d regretted it. It was done. He could have fixed that mistake any time in the last thirty years, but he didn’t. She couldn’t forgive him for that.

None of the thoughts swirling in her head changed the one thing she really couldn’t face. Before, when it was just keeping her mother safe, she’d told herself she could handle the year of charity balls, board meetings, and roast lamb. Then she could chuck it all.

Now she felt sucked into a vortex that included charming attorneys and hateful aunts. She couldn’t keep up with the all the stop and go. On top of it all, someone wanted her out of the picture. Nothing could prepare a person for all of this crazy. She missed Atlantic Charters and the simple life she’d created for herself.

She’d just needed to figure out a way to make it all work and keep the promises she had made to herself. As the thoughts swirled, she drifted to sleep.

****

Rapping on the door woke her. She winced as pain shot down her neck. Served her right for falling asleep in the chair instead of the bed, but she really hated the idea of sleeping in her grandfather’s old room. She glanced at the clock and saw it was only ten P.M. She hadn’t been asleep for long. Bev shook herself awake fully. “Come in.”

Conroy opened the door with one hand. The other carried a silver tray. “I’ve brought you a glass of milk.”

“How’d you know?”

“It is my job.”

“Silly me. Obviously, you read minds.”

The butler ignored this. “Your light was on, so I thought you might be awake.”

She rose to grab the glass from him. “I hadn’t settled. I was dozing.”

“The room isn’t to your liking?”

She didn’t want to hurt the butler’s feelings—if he had them—but she might as well tell him. She didn’t want to live in this room for a year, even if it was only on the weekends. Bev didn’t normally hold back, so she shouldn’t start now.

“The room is lovely, and I am sure it suited my grandfather quite well. It isn’t really me.”

He sniffed. “I shall have your bag moved to the Blue Room.”

“Don’t go to the trouble. I’m here only one more night and then I move to the apartment in Boston.”

“You don’t wish to live here?”

She pushed a strand of hair off her face. She took a drink from the glass. “I’m not allowed to live here, only on the weekends.”

“A person in your position needs a place of rest and serenity for her weekends. I shall have the Blue Room made ready at once.” The butler turned to leave and then abruptly stopped. “When it is a convenient time for you, perhaps we can redecorate to suit your taste instead of Master Reginald’s?”

She nodded, unsure if the man was concerned about her comfort or his almost robotic need to do his job. Either way, redecorating wasn’t a bad idea.

“Thank you, Conroy. I’d like that.”

“Yes, Miss Winslow.”