Starfish Island (5 page)

“I doubt it. Caroline had her heart set on leaving her property to her only surviving grandchild. She loved your father very much, and she wanted you to have everything. She would’ve left trustees in place if she’d had any doubt about you, and she didn’t. But she did want to be sure you were worthy of the trust she was placing in you. An estate this size is a great responsibility.”

“Thank you for reminding me,” she retorted. “I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since finding out that I inherited all this property. And from a woman I never knew. You assumed a lot of responsibility for me. Is this where I tell you what wonderful perception you have?”

“Don’t bother trying to antagonize me, Miss Alexander. Caroline made me promise to be your friend and advisor, and I always keep my word. She feared that a lot of problems would arise and you’d need someone trustworthy in your corner.”

“You’re ridiculous. I’m quite capable of looking after myself. I’ve been doing it for a good number of years. She might as well have left me a husb—” She swallowed the second syllable hurriedly. “Apparently, I owe all this to you. I don’t like to be so indebted.”

“There’s a lot to admire about you. You’re warm and funny; you have a great laugh. Did I mention I have a soft spot for redheads?” He ran his fingers up and down Nicole’s arms, then down her sides. She fought to keep her eyes open and not push her body against his. “You’re not indebted to me. You owe it all to being who you are. But for your sake, as well as others’, I’m asking you again to get in touch with me if anything out of the ordinary happens. You’ll find out that I’m a great problem solver.”

This time Nicole met his eyes. “I will.”

“Good,” he said briskly. “My sister, Cecilia, and possibly my brother, Jake, will come by tomorrow to see if they can offer any assistance. I think you’ll like Cecilia, but be very careful or she’ll have you volunteering on one of her favorite charitable projects. As for Jake, if he comes around too much, just send him home. I have to leave now.” He headed for the door. “Perhaps Caroline did leave you a husband.” He winked and laughed. “Good night.”

He left before she could reply. What did he mean by his last remark?

She listened to the diminishing sound of his footsteps on the travertine floor leading to the entrance and experienced a letdown when she heard the front door close. Now what? She looked at her watch and smiled. Michael would be late if he was meeting the blonde in the sports car. For reasons she didn’t want to examine, the thought provoked twinges of jealousy. She liked the idea of getting to know her neighbor a whole lot better.

She leaned against the balcony’s railing, a gentle wind ruffling her hair, and reminisced about another time, not that long ago: a man and woman entwined in each other’s arms. She’d been so fascinated with Gregory—his intelligence, his charm, and his attentiveness to her. Then one morning, she awoke and realized it had all been one-sided and she’d been deceived. She’d welcomed coming to Florida and leaving those unpleasant memories behind. But they wouldn’t leave her entirely.

She remembered his brown eyes, always laughing, in on the joke. She’d known instinctively that fidelity would be difficult—if not impossible—for him, but had pushed those worries away. She’d believed her love would reform him. Then she’d seen his infidelity with her own eyes, heard the woman laughing with him about his other conquests. Nicole had only embarrassed herself by lapping up his attention while filled with nagging doubts that she’d tried repeatedly to chase away. Was that why she’d held him at arm’s length, failing to make a complete commitment? In the end, she realized she’d held herself back because she couldn’t get past the fact that she didn’t trust him. He’d been furious when she confronted him that last evening and told him she never wanted to see him again.

Now here she stood, considering hopping back on the emotional roller coaster, torn once again between attraction and distrust. Instant hot sparks never seemed to have a happy ending. Perhaps she’d overreacted, this being her first night in a strange house.

Determined, Nicole tore her thoughts from the past. Why think back? Grandmother had entrusted her with a big responsibility, and she wasn’t going to let her down. All the changes were already overwhelming—and then throw in a man. She didn’t want trouble and confusion; she wanted to live and work here as normally as possible.

She walked back into the library and sank into her down-filled chair, where she relaxed enough to clear some of the confusion from her mind. She was resting there with her eyes closed when she heard a knock, then Chester opening the front door with such speed that it seemed as if he’d been standing there waiting.

“Miss Alexander is not receiving guests this evening, sir.”

She could hear the further murmur of voices, and then the outer door closed firmly. “Chester?”

He came to the door of the library, his face impassive.

“Who was that?”

“Mr. Gregory Templeton.”

Nicole sucked in a breath. It was as though she’d summoned Greg here with her thoughts.
What is he doing here, all the way from Santa Fe? How did he know where to find me?

“I knew you wouldn’t want to see anyone this evening,” Chester went on coolly.

I don’t want to see Greg Templeton ever
, she thought,
but I have no intention of letting you make my decisions for me.
“From now on,” she said crisply, “I will make my own decisions about who I see and when I will see them. Good night, Chester.”

As she walked across the entryway and up the staircase to her bedroom, she wondered if it had been Greg behind the wheel of the Escalade. It had to be; she didn’t believe in coincidence. Well, she wouldn’t allow herself to think about him anymore tonight.

“Or ever again,” she murmured as she got into bed and snapped off the light. Chester would be the buffer to keep out unwanted guests. What a day—the end of a cross-country drive culminating in the beginning of a new adventure. Even with so much to think about, her lashes soon fluttered against her cheek, and she fell asleep.

“Get out of here!”

Nicole jumped, wide awake, forgetting where she was for a moment. Had she dreamed that loud, harsh voice?

“You’ll hurry if you know what’s good for you,”
the voice hissed.

She lay rigid, her eyes focused on the ceiling, fingers clenched in the sheet, waiting in the ominous silence. Someone was in the room. She was filled with fear, afraid to even move, let alone turn on the light. When she was getting ready for bed, she hadn’t noticed if there was any way to summon Chester from her room.

No sound. Perhaps she’d dreamed up the voice because of Michael’s earlier warning.

“Get out!”
The voice, low and harsh, seemed to be coming from beside the bed.

Half-expecting her body to be enveloped in an icy grip, Nicole snapped up in bed and flicked on the bedside lamp.      

“Who’s there?” she demanded, looking around. A light breeze drifted through the lace curtains at the open window. Nothing else moved.

She slipped out of bed, holding her breath, and opened the closet—nothing! From there, it looked clear beneath the bed, so she quietly turned the lock on the bedroom door. Her fears calmed somewhat, she slid back under the sheets, turned off the light, and lay back, tense, listening.

Had she imagined the voice? 

If no one had been standing by her bed saying
“Get out!”
in such a cold, menacing voice, then where had it come from?
 

Chapter Four

NICOLE RAN UP the front steps of her house, her heart pounding with excitement despite the fact that she’d just returned from Ellis Sadler’s office after spending the day having her head stuffed with numbers. There’d been lists of Grandmother’s stocks and bonds, real estate holdings in various parts of South Florida and the rest of the state, other investments, quite a few mortgages—some with notes to “Never Foreclose”—a considerable list of Grandmother’s charities, each with detailed notes about amounts and years she contributed, and quite a lot of breathtaking jewelry in the safe deposit box. In addition, a sizeable amount of money had been transferred to her newly opened account by the smiling bank manager.

“A lot for one person to control,” she murmured softly.

As she waited for Chester to open the massive front door, Nicole realized she needed to get a key to her own house. She turned her back and looked out over the water; beyond the wide green lawn was an awe-inspiring view of Biscayne Bay. She particularly liked how the sun glistened through the old oak and willow trees that bent gracefully all around the property.

It was such a beautiful day, quite crisp, and as the sun had begun to go down and the temperature dropped, she’d found she needed a light sweater. She wore a black pencil skirt that molded to her hips and a green silk blouse that showed off her curves along with a flash of black-lace chemise.

She looked at the quiet winding road that ran in front of her house and continued around the island, wondering if she’d see a neighbor out walking a dog, or perhaps jogging, in the not-too-distant future. The sense of unbearable responsibility she’d felt since arriving had abated somewhat, and she’d convinced herself that the startling voice from the previous night had been nothing more than a nightmare.

She filled her lungs with ocean air. “I refuse to let my dreams make me afraid.”

Chester opened the door. “Did you speak to me, miss?”

“No, Chester, just giving the woman who lives here a pep talk.”

He looked confused as she passed him and entered the house, walking up the thickly carpeted stairs to the landing with Chester close on her heels. Nicole glanced quickly down the hall, noting the closed doors to rooms she had yet to explore. She placed her briefcase on a beautiful mirrored library table and looked down into the living and dining rooms.

“It’s a magnificent house, Miss Alexander,” Chester declared aggressively, as though he sensed her critical appraisal.

“It is, Chester. I can’t wait to give a party, invite friends, and see it full of happy, laughing people. What’s behind those closed doors on the opposite side of the hall?”

“Guest bedrooms, bathrooms, Mrs. Alexander’s office. Not all the rooms were finished to Mrs. Alexander’s satisfaction because she wasn’t given the time.”

“Did Grandmother entertain a lot?”

“Yes, she gave some beautiful parties in her day. I’m sure you’ll do the same.”

“Time will tell,” she said. It would be a while, as she didn’t have any local friends, but after a few gallery showings would be the perfect time to hold a party.

“There are two messages for you,” Chester said.

She stopped and looked into his stern, lined face, which even the muted lighting did nothing to soften. The vein in his temple throbbed, and she forced herself not to take a step back.

“The gentleman who came by last evening called. And Miss Cecilia, Mr. Edwards’ sister, telephoned. She asked if you would care to see her this afternoon. I told her you would. I will serve refreshments in the garden room.”

Chester had officially become a nuisance; he was determined to be the one who controlled what went on in this house.

He must have seen the exasperation on her face. “Mrs. Alexander loved Miss Cecilia, and they were good friends despite the age difference.” The butler paused, then continued reluctantly, clearly seeing that his high-handed behavior was not forgiven. “Miss Cecilia has lived here her entire life. She became widowed after a brief marriage. Her husband, a racecar driver, got killed in a Grand Prix event.”

"I certainly look forward to meeting another neighbor, especially one who was such a good friend to my grandmother. However, I would appreciate it if next time you cleared any visitors with me before extending an invitation."  

She resisted the urge to ask questions about Michael. Turning, she stopped at the door of a nearby room and, after a moment’s hesitation, went in. Ava, the day maid, had informed her earlier that it had been her grandmother’s bedroom. It was large, with a set of French doors that opened onto a terrace with a spectacular view of the water. The room was freshly painted, but the heavy drapes gave it a gloomy feel. Grandmother had already begun decorating her bedroom, and the new furniture now sat, covered with sheets, in the middle of the space. Nicole pulled a sheet back and found that she didn’t care for the dark woods, which were too heavy for the space. A smaller adjoining room, which looked as though it had been used as a sitting room, was surprisingly bright and cheerful. There were no window coverings over the single French door to block the view.

Nicole turned again and was surprised to see that Chester had disappeared. She touched a button on the wall, and after a few minutes, Ava came in. The dark-haired older woman looked around nervously.

“I’ve decided to move into these rooms and use the smaller one as my studio. I’d like all the furniture and drapes removed and the rooms cleaned. We’ll transfer Grandmother’s things into the bedroom I occupied last night. After I’ve made decisions about what furniture goes in here, I’ll have my things moved.”

Ava’s eyes went round with fright. “Have you asked Mr. Grey if you can? He’ll be terribly upset.”

“This is my house, and I don’t need anyone’s permission.” Nicole softened her tone. “Who used to occupy the room I used last night?”

“Mrs. Alexander’s nurse.”

Nicole tried opening the closet door.

“The closet is locked, miss,” Ava said. “All of Mrs. Alexander’s clothes and a few personal items that got boxed up were locked in there the day she died. The trustee has the key. Mr. Grey told me that Mrs. Alexander left all her clothes to his wife. Please don’t tell him I told you all this.”

Nicole took her cell phone out of her pocket and called Ellis’s office. “Nicole Alexander speaking. I forgot to ask whether or not my grandmother had any specific instructions about the disposal of her clothes.”

After a brief pause, Ellis said, “Legally, they are yours. She did mention that she wanted Rena Grey to receive them. However, if you want them yourself, that is up to you. The key is with Michael Edwards.”