Christmas Awakening Read online

  “May I have them? Or at least the keys to his quarters?”

  “You don’t need keys. Isabella can assist you.”

  Marie pressed her lips together. She didn’t want someone looking over her shoulder. “I can handle it myself.”

  “You’ll need help. Your father lived here a long time. Cleaning out his quarters is going to be a big job.”

  She was sure it would be. Especially since she intended to do a little snooping while she was here. “Really, I’d rather be alone. You understand.”

  Shelley Zachary didn’t look as though she understood at all, but she nodded all the same. “Fine. But before I give you keys, I’ll have to clear it with Mr. Brandon.”

  The name zapped along Marie’s nerves like an electric charge. “No, that’s not necessary.”

  Shelley frowned. “Excuse me? He’s the master of the house. He certainly has a say in who can and cannot have keys to his property.”

  There she went again, speaking without thinking, making enemies where a little tact might have made her an ally. Marie held up her hands, palms out. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just that I know he’s busy. And I hear he’s not taking many visitors lately.”

  The severe line to Shelley’s mouth softened slightly. “No, he’s not. Not since he lost his Charlotte.”

  A pang registered in Marie’s chest at the sound of Brandon’s wife’s name…even after all these years.

  “He never minds a visit from me.” Isabella tossed Marie a smug smile. “I’ll ask him.”

  “Ask me what?”

  Marie’s heart stuttered. She looked to the dark doorway leading to the dining room for the source of the deep voice.

  Brandon Drake emerged from the dining room shadow. His shoulders filled the doorway. The dying rays of the sun streamed sideways from the kitchen windows and fell on his face.

  Marie gasped.

  A scar ran from his temple to the corner of his mouth, slick, red skin slashing across his cheek. He stepped forward, leaning on a brass and teak cane. “Hello, Marie.”

  Chapter Two

  Brandon could see Marie stifle a gasp as she took in his face, his limp. The thought of her seeing his weakness hurt more than the burns themselves. He tore his eyes from her, not wanting to witness more, and focused on Isabella. “What were you going to ask me?”

  The little vixen didn’t answer. Instead, Shelley piped up. “Miss Leonard is here to clear out her father’s things. She asked for keys to the butler’s quarters.”

  “Give her the keys.”

  “You’re hurt.” Marie’s voice was almost a whisper, as if she was murmuring her thoughts aloud, not intending for the rest of them to hear.

  He kept his gaze on Shelley, careful not to look in Marie’s direction. Her hair was a little shorter than it had been ten years ago, only jaw length now, and her face had lost its teenage roundness. But she was still Marie. He couldn’t take seeing horror on her face as she scrutinized his injuries. Or worse, pity. “Where are those keys, Shelley?”

  “I’ll get them, sir.” Shelley bustled off into the pantry.

  Marie stepped toward him. She raised her hand.

  Brandon wasn’t sure what she intended to do. Touch him? Soothe him? Heal him? He stepped back, removing himself from her reach. “It’s nothing, Marie. I’m fine. Charlotte was the one who was hurt.”

  Pink suffused Marie’s cheeks. She dropped her hand to her side and clutched a fistful of her black skirt. “I know. I mean, I’m sorry about your wife’s death.”

  Guilt dug into his gut. He was such an ass. Sure he had to keep his distance from Marie. He owed Edwin that much. Just as he owed Charlotte. And when it came right down to it, he owed Marie. But he could have kept away from her without slapping her down. Just one more bit of proof that he didn’t belong anywhere near someone as decent as Marie Leonard.

  “My father didn’t tell me you were hurt as well.”

  “Like I said, it’s nothing.” He glanced at the pantry. Where was Shelley with those keys?

  “It’s not nothing. If I’d known, I would have come…I would have—” She let her words hang as if she suddenly recognized the inappropriateness of what she was saying. She dipped her chin, looking down at his hand gripping the cane, at the wedding ring still on his finger. “Anyway, I’m sorry.”

  He nodded, hoping she was finished. “You don’t have to put yourself through all this, Marie. Isabella can pack up Edwin’s things and send them to you.”

  “No. I want to do it myself. It will…it will make me feel closer to him.”

  Brandon gripped the head of his cane until his fingers ached. The thought of Marie spending time in Drake House threatened to unhinge him. Even two floors up and in another wing, he’d be aware of every move she made. But what could he say? That she couldn’t pack her father’s things? That he refused to let her into the house where she’d grown up? That would make him more of an SOB than he already was. He forced his head to bob in a nod. “Take all the time you need.”

  “Thanks. You won’t even know I’m here.”

  Fat chance of that.

  Silence stretched between them, each second feeling like a minute. From outside he heard waves slap the shore and a yacht hum on Jenkins Creek, probably his uncle taking advantage of the unusually warm December.

  Weather. That would get his mind off Marie. Sure. Where in the hell was Shelley?

  Brandon cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about Edwin. He was a good man. I don’t know what I’m going to do without him.”

  Tears glistened in Marie’s eyes, but they didn’t fall. “Thank you.”

  A car door slammed outside.

  Isabella looked up from the tea service she was buffing.

  Brandon held up a hand. “I’ll get it.” He headed for the kitchen door, trying not to lean too heavily on his cane. He was sure the maid was wondering what was going on. Since Charlotte died, he’d refused visitors whenever possible. But right now he had to get out of the cramped kitchen. He had to get away from Marie.

  How on earth was he going to handle having her in his house the next few days?

  IN THE PAST TEN YEARS, Marie had imagined countless times what it might be like to see Brandon again. But even in her worst nightmares, she’d never pictured things going so badly.

  “All right. Here you go.” Shelley Zachary emerged from the pantry with a set of keys jangling in her hand. “There’s a key for this kitchen door and one for the butler suite. That should be all you need.”

  Marie nodded. She was hoping for her father’s set, which held keys for everything on the estate, just in case she needed to follow up on anything she found. But she didn’t see how she could ask for that without raising more than a few eyebrows. She’d just have to figure out another way to snoop. “Thank you.”

  “Where is Mr. Brandon?”

  “Talking to Doug Heller.” A tray with the tea service in her hands, Isabella nodded in the direction of the kitchen door, then disappeared through the arched hall to the dining room.

  Marie peered through the windows to the porch. His back to her, Brandon was talking to a man dressed in jeans, work boots and a rough canvas coat. The name sounded familiar to her, as if her father might have mentioned it at some point. “Who is Doug Heller?”

  As if sensing her scrutiny, the man talking to Brandon raised his weather-beaten face and stared at her through watery blue eyes.

  A chill raced over her skin.

  Shelley crossed the kitchen. “He works for Drake Enterprises. Operations manager.”

  “I thought Brandon was running the foundation. Is he back working for the company?”

  Shelley plopped the keys into Marie’s hand. “No, no. Brandon’s uncle is still running Drake Enterprises. Mr. Brandon has his hands full with the foundation.”

  “Then why is the operations manager here?”

  “Oh, I’m betting he’s not here about Drake Enterprises. It’s probably about that developer again. Ned Perry.
He’s trying to buy up waterfront property. More tenacious than a terrier.”

  “Developer? Brandon isn’t thinking of…” She couldn’t finish. The thought was too abhorrent.

  “Selling Drake House? Turning it into condos?” Shelley laughed. “Mr. Brandon would rather die.”

  A morbid thought, but one that inspired relief. At least he still loved the historic old mansion. And though it might not feel like home without her father here, Marie had to admit being inside these walls made her feel grounded for the first time since Chief Hammer had called to break the news of her father’s death. “I’m glad to hear he’s not selling. It’s just when I saw no Christmas decorations and then you mentioned a developer…”

  “Mr. Brandon has canceled the Christmas Ball, I’m afraid.”

  Marie frowned. The annual Christmas Ball and charity auction was an institution in Jenkins Cove. “That’s too bad.”

  “He said there’s no point without Charlotte here. Oh, and your father. He doesn’t even feel like celebrating Christmas.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Marie was. Brandon had always embraced Christmas, especially since the annual ball and auction brought in a lot of money the foundation could distribute to people in need. Brandon had always believed in spreading his good fortune to others. It was the reason he’d devoted his life to the foundation instead of taking his spot at the head of his family’s company. It was one of the many things she’d admired about him.

  Marie shook her head. She couldn’t afford to nurse good feelings about Brandon and Drake House. Not unless she wanted to forget herself the way she had when she’d first seen his scarred face. She had to remember things were different than they were the summer before she’d gone to college. And even then, things between her and Brandon weren’t really the way she’d imagined them to be.

  Marie let out a heavy sigh. Her father had always said the old-money Drakes were different from working people. That even though she grew up in Drake House, she didn’t belong in their world. That summer after high school graduation, when Brandon had given his mother’s diamond ring to Charlotte instead of her, she’d finally realized her father was right.

  “…to Sophie Caldwell.”

  Marie snapped her attention back to Shelley. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  The woman blew a derisive breath through her nose. “I said, you should talk to Sophie Caldwell.”

  It took a second for her to process the name. “The woman who runs the bed-and-breakfast down by the harbor?”

  Shelley nodded. “The House of the Seven Gables. Word was Sophie and Edwin were quite the item.”

  Her father? Seeing a woman? “He never said anything to me.”

  “That might not be something a father tells a daughter.”

  Marie didn’t appreciate the woman’s gossipy tone, but this time she managed to hold her tongue. As unlikable as she found Shelley Zachary, the woman was the best source of information she had when it came to her father and the goings-on at Drake House. “I wish he’d told me. I always worried he’d been lonely.”

  “He didn’t have time to be lonely. Just ask Josef.”

  “Josef?”

  “Our chauffeur. Josef Novak. Poor Josef. Another man who lost his love. She died in the hospital. An illness, just like the way your mother went. He used to drive Edwin to the Seven Gables several times a week. He doesn’t talk much, but he probably understood your father better than anyone, except Sophie, of course.”

  Of course. Marie pictured the man who’d been buffing the car outside, the man who’d waved to her and had attended her father’s funeral. Josef. She couldn’t imagine her father having many heart-to-hearts with the quiet chauffeur, no matter how much they had in common. Better to go straight to the source, Sophie Caldwell.

  She glanced at Brandon through the kitchen windows. The manager, Doug Heller, was still stealing glances at her that gave her the creeps, but judging from the men’s body language, their conversation was drawing to a close.

  And that meant Brandon would be returning to the kitchen.

  “I think I’ll run over to talk to Sophie Caldwell right now. Will you pass my thanks to Brandon for the keys? I’m parked out front, so I’ll just scurry out through the foyer.”

  “Fine.” Shelley looked pleased to be rid of her. Maybe that was her intent all along.

  “I’ll be back later tonight to start on my father’s things.”

  “Fine. Don’t park near the kitchen. This is a busy house.”

  Late at night? Marie doubted it, but miraculously held her tongue. The decision to leave and come back later was looking better all the time. Later, after the servants were gone. And after Brandon had retired to his third-floor suite.

  When she could be alone.

  Chapter Three

  It didn’t take long for Marie to drive into the town of Jenkins Cove and wind her way through its quaint little streets. She parked in a lot off Royal Oak Street and walked the rest of the way to the bed-and-breakfast.

  Connected to the harbor area by a narrow, concrete bridge, the House of the Seven Gables perched on the edge of the water. Masts of sailboats jutted into the twilight sky. A few yachts docked at a seafood restaurant nearby, and the scent of crab cakes teased the air. Christmas music mixed with the lap of the waves.

  Unlike Drake House, the bed-and-breakfast was already decked out for the season. Wreaths adorned every door. Ropes of holly wrapped the porch posts and draped the balcony above. Marie climbed the steps to the front and rang the bell.

  Footfalls approached, creaking across a wood floor. The door swung inward and a pleasantly plump, gray-haired woman peered out. A broad smile stretched across her Cupid’s bow lips and crinkled the corners of her eyes. “Merry Christmas. Please, come in.” She wiped her hands on her apron and gestured Marie inside with a sweep of her arm.

  Marie couldn’t help but return the woman’s smile. She looked familiar, and Marie was fairly certain she’d seen her at the funeral.

  “Are you interested in a room? We have one left overlooking the harbor.”

  “No, thanks.” Was this the woman her father had been seeing? She hoped so. The woman seemed so gregarious and kind. Marie would like to think her father had someone like this caring about him and sharing his life in his final months. “I’m Marie Leonard.”

  “Of course. Edwin’s daughter. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you right away.” She opened her arms and engulfed Marie in a soft hug. When she finally released her grip, the woman had tears in her eyes. “I’m so happy to meet you, dear. I wanted to talk to you at your father’s funeral today, but I…” She fanned her face, unable to go on.

  A stinging sensation burned the back of Marie’s eyes. She blinked. Getting her emotions under control, she met the woman’s blue gaze. “I need to ask you some questions about my father, Ms…”

  “Sophie. Please, call me Sophie.” She took Marie’s coat and led her into a parlor with windows gazing out onto the garden and the water beyond. She gestured to the corner of the room where an easel propped up an artist’s canvas. The scent of paint thinner tinged the air. “And this is my niece, Chelsea.”

  Marie started. She hadn’t even noticed someone else was in the room. She looked beyond the canvas and into the beautifully haunting face of a blue-eyed blonde. “Nice to meet you.”

  The young woman nodded. Quietly, she set down her paintbrush and glanced out the window as if her thoughts were far away.

  Marie couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something about her…something disconcerting. As if when Chelsea looked out over the water, she could see things Marie couldn’t even imagine.

  Sophie ushered her to a grouping of white wicker near the canvas. “Please, sit down and feel free to ask me whatever is on your mind, honey.”

  Marie lowered herself into a chair across from Sophie. Staring at the cameo necklace around Sophie’s neck, Marie searched for the right words to lead into her questions. “About my father…yo
u two were close?”

  The woman nodded her gray head. “Your father was a light in my life.” Again, her eyes filled with tears.

  Marie fought her own surge of emotion. Silence filled the room, making her feel the need to break it. She wanted to ask if Sophie knew who would murder her father, but how was she supposed to do that? The woman was obviously as grief-stricken as she herself. Throwing around suspicions of murder might send Sophie over the edge. Tact. Marie needed to use some sort of tact. To tread carefully for once in her life. “How did the two of you meet?”

  Sophie smiled. “We met through your mother, in a way.”

  Marie looked askance at the woman. “My mother? My mother died of cancer when I was eight.”

  Sophie nodded as if she was perfectly aware of that fact. “And your father missed her horribly.”

  “She was the world to him. Well, along with me and Drake House. I was worried about him being lonely after I left for college.” She’d mostly been worried about him devoting every waking moment to the Drakes, exactly what he hadn’t wanted for her. She wished he would have told her he’d met a woman. It would have made her feel so much more at ease. “But I still don’t understand how the two of you met through my mother.”

  Sophie and Chelsea exchanged looks.

  “What is it?”

  Chelsea shrugged to her aunt and let out a resigned sigh. “You might as well tell her.”

  “Your father came to me because he believed I could help him communicate with your mother.”

  “Communicate?” The ground seemed to shift under Marie’s feet. “What are you? Some kind of medium?”

  “No. Not me. Chelsea has more talent in that area than I have.”

  Chelsea shot her a warning look. “We don’t need to go into that. She’s here to learn about her father.”

  “Yes, your father. He wanted to use a room I have upstairs.”

  “For what?”

  “As a portal to reach your mother.”

  “A séance?” Marie wasn’t buying any of this. Not one word. She couldn’t imagine her father holding some sort of séance. If Chelsea wasn’t here, looking so serious and grim, she’d chalk up Sophie as a bit of a kook.