Chapter One
Victoria Rose Lovelock brushed back a strand of hair from her eyes as she scanned the beautifully handwritten letter from her beloved Aunt Lily. The words toward the top of the first page—“I find that I’m slowing down these days”—made Victoria stop and start the letter over, reading carefully instead of simply skimming through it.
The letter was addressed to Victoria and her sisters, but her aunt’s neat script included a personalized note to Victoria at the bottom of the second page. Victoria had no doubt each of her sisters had received a similar note. That was just like Aunt Lily, wanting to personalize each letter she sent out to her brother’s daughters.
Yes, Victoria was in a hurry, but not so much so she couldn’t spare time to read what Aunt Lily had so carefully penned. She took a minute to sit down in a chair at the kitchen table in her small New York apartment. She focused on the letter from her favorite relative that had been hand-delivered by an actual messenger, of all things.
Lily Lovelock was the only sister, and sole remaining sibling, of her late father, Horatio Lovelock. She was also the only long time maternal figure Victoria had since the death of her mother, Isabella. Her father’s third wife, Sunshine, would likely have done her best to mother Victoria, but their time together had been even more fleeting than Horatio’s marriage to the woman.
Victoria’s memories of her mother were few and treasured. Whenever she cast her memory back to that time in her young life, all she could recall was her mother’s smiling face, the scent of jasmine and a general feeling of warmth and security.
She hadn’t yet turned four years old when she lost her mother and Victoria regretted she couldn’t remember her better. At this point, she wasn’t even sure which of her memories were true ones and which her mind had made up based on things she’d been told about Isabella over the years.
There were, of course several pictures of Victoria with Isabella, both of them smiling, but Victoria’s memories were different, more than mere images could convey. Innate, somehow. She knew in her heart that her mother had loved her dearly. And she had loved her mother above anyone else.
The memories she had of her father, on the other hand, were drastically different. It was as though the father she knew as a very young child was a different person from the one she knew later. After her mother was gone.
It was difficult for Victoria to reconcile the feelings she carried for him now versus the ones formed when she’d been a small child. Before her mother had been taken away from them.
Victoria remembered clearly that her father had been very sad. His always firm tone of voice had faltered when he told Victoria her mother had gone away.
“But when will Mommy come back?” Victoria had asked, her lips quivering as hot, fat tears spilled down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry, Victoria. She isn’t…coming back.”
He had hugged Victoria tight against him, pressing her face into his chest. She had listened to his heartbeats thrum strong and steady, even as she worried about whether he would be leaving her next. Just like her mother had.
It was child logic, of course. It didn’t make the memory less powerful. While she didn’t doubt that, at the time, her father had been completely sincere in what she believed to be his affection for her younger self, he had changed so much it was difficult to remember how he’d been when she was little.
Perhaps that had been her first lesson in trust—or lack of it. Young Victoria couldn’t trust the world anymore. Who had taken her mother? Why had she gone? Where? And what if someone took her father, too? At almost four, Victoria didn’t know what to believe. All she knew was she was very sad and very scared.
When she was old enough to understand the why of her mother’s sudden departure from her world, Victoria quickly found a new enemy to shift the blame to.
Her father.
And blame him she did.
He’d been responsible for her mother’s passing from this world to the next. Or his vanity was to blame. While he had never been physically violent with her mother, to Victoria’s mind, he had caused her death all the same.
In the forty-five years she had lived without Isabella, Victoria had hardened her heart to any explanations or excuses from Horatio about why her mother had died.
Not that he’d offered any.
He seemed to feel perfectly justified in what he’d done. What he’d driven her mother to do. The repeated and dangerous failed pregnancies that, ultimately, ended her life.
Horatio Lovelock had cost Victoria a life with her cherished mother because he desperately, egotistically wanted a son to carry on the Lovelock name.
It was still difficult for her not to be furious with him out of sheer habit. Victoria knew she needed to forgive Horatio and that any animosity she felt only put stress on her. It wasn’t like it bothered him when he was alive. It was even more pointless now that he was gone.
Once her own daughter, Angelica, was grown and living her own life, Victoria had caved enough to let go of a small portion of her anger at Horatio. Enough that she’d spoken with and visited her father several times in the years before his death.
They weren’t best buddies by any stretch of the imagination, but letting go of her fury allowed them to be civil when they were in the same room. She kept their renewed relationship surface level, never letting him know how she felt or what her life was like.
She believed it was the best way to handle a man who hadn’t expressed much interest in anything or anyone that wasn’t related to one of his many business ventures.
Victoria was grateful she hadn’t carried her rage to his gravesite, so to speak.
She and her father had built a quiet, respectful, short-distance relationship. She lived in New York, and had done so for fifteen years. Her father maintained his elaborate mansion in Philadelphia—just one of the cities where he had a residence—and made it his full-time home a couple of years before his death.
They weren’t too far apart in miles, but were definitely galaxies apart in what they thought about life, how it should be lived and what was most important about it.
Even so, whenever she was in the Philadelphia area, Victoria stopped by the mansion that had been in the Lovelock family for over a century to see her father. She did it to be a better person and do what she could to give up the lifelong anger that resided deep inside her. She felt it lessen the more time they spent together.
The two things Victoria and Horatio had in common were, first, an acute love for Aunt Lily and, second, their fond memories of Isabella.
Victoria knew her father had truly loved her mother. However, she had to do quite a few mental calisthenics when they spoke to not bring up her bafflement over why it had been so important for Horatio to have a son to leave the family business to. Why couldn’t a daughter run the show?
His unrelenting quest for a son only led to disagreeable zero-sum-game arguments.
So, Victoria avoided that topic. She was, after all, trying to be a better person and not rehash and re-argue past disagreements.
Often when she stopped by the mansion unannounced, she only saw her father’s right-hand man, Miles Lang. Horatio was either busy, pretending to be busy or out of the house. After a couple of years of that dance, she decided that was okay.
Besides, she really liked Miles. A lot. He was probably as close as Horatio would get to the son he had always wanted but never sired.
With Horatio Lovelock gone from this world, it was long past time to completely let her anger go. Victoria knew it. She should be an adult about it instead of a frightened almost-four-year-old harboring feelings of betrayal and vowing to carry them for a lifetime.
Despite her best intentions, the grudge she’d held in her heart wasn’t easily put away after she’d fed the beast for so many years.
Just because the object of her fury was no longer on this Earth didn’t mean she couldn’t keep being angry about the loss of her mother. Again endeavoring to be a better person, Victoria decided she needed to work harder on turning over a new leaf.
The phone rang, jarring her from her difficult memories of her mother and father. The paper of the letter rustled in her hand, reminding her that she should have been reading, not lost in thought. The phone rang a second time. Seeing Angelica’s name on the caller ID, she answered with a smile.
“Hello, love.”
“Hi, Mom. How have you been?”
She put the letter on the table in front of her and settled back in her chair for a chat with the person she loved most in all the world. “I’m fine, honey. How are you doing? How is life in the Northwest?”
“I’m good. The job is good, too. It’s a bit chilly here right now, but the weather is clear.”
“Excellent.” Victoria loved her daughter very much and had missed her deeply since she’d gone off on her own after college. For a long time, it had been just the two of them. Now, Angelica had her college sweetheart, Ryan Moore, her career and was settling into life as an independent adult. The idea of her daughter calling with a weather report from Oregon was suspect, though. “Why did you really call? Are you checking up on your old mom?”
“First of all, you aren’t old. And second of all, of course I’m checking up on you. I hadn’t heard from you in a little while and figured I’d better check in. I know you have that reading of your father’s will coming up in Florida. I wanted to make sure and call you before you left. I wish I could go with you, and not just because I wouldn’t mind seeing golden sand a few palm trees. When is that again?”
“Not for a few weeks yet.” Wryly, Victoria added, “And thanks for saying I’m not old.”
Angelic laughed. “It’s the truth. Are you dreading the trip to Valentine Key?”
“Yes and no. I’m anxious to see Aunt Lily, of course, but not looking forward to the reading of the will or seeing a bunch of people who are basically strangers, even though they are my half-sisters. I also wish you were going with me.”
Victoria knew it wasn’t kind, but she couldn’t help but see her five younger half-sisters as proof that her father’s desire for a male child continued long after he’d put her mother in the grave.
She’d only met her half-sisters a few times during her childhood, mainly at a smattering of family gatherings at Christmas.
Those few times only happened when she couldn’t be shuttled off to her Aunt Lily’s place in Valentine Key. Or when whatever boarding school she’d been exiled to couldn’t accommodate her over the winter holidays.
Victoria hadn’t seen her half-sisters once they’d gotten older. But that was about to change. They would all be attending the reading of the will at the Lovelock Inn.
Angelica said, “Well, as a fellow only child, I can understand your sense of concern about who you will be attending the reading of the will with. Maybe you can sit next to Aunt Lily and hold her hand.”
Victoria laughed. “Yes. I’ll make sure and do that.”
“If I could swing the time away from work, I would, but this is our busy time of year.”
“I know, love. I know you would come with me if you could.” Victoria looked up at the clock and realized she needed to get going. She had an interpreting job to get to. She’d paused to read her aunt’s letter and gotten sidetracked with her musings. “Listen, honey, I’ve got to get going or I’ll be late to an appointment. But we’ll talk again soon.”
“Okay. Love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too, Angelica.”
As she disconnected the call, her eyes fell on the letter on the table in front of her and she frowned. Aunt Lily outlined in broad strokes a few concerns Victoria hadn’t known about, such as the fact that the Lovelock Inn, her aunt’s business for over forty-five years, wasn’t doing as well these days.
Aunt Lily hoped to discuss that with her nieces when they arrived. She didn’t give any details, but Victoria knew her aunt was not a complainer. She wouldn’t even have mentioned bad news unless things were dire. Victoria hoped that wasn’t the case this time.
Victoria didn’t know what she could do to help with the inn, but if there was anything, she’d do it in a heartbeat.
In Victoria’s nearly fifty-year lifespan, she’d never thought about Aunt Lily without also picturing the Lovelock Inn. Her aunt said that when she’d envisioned the inn, she wanted it to look like a place where rich people with “old money” went to stay on vacation. The Italian villa-styled building certainly made that wish come true.
Aunt Lily had been the proprietress of the Lovelock Inn from the beginning. She’d watched the place being built from the ground up, had a successful grand opening and had run the inn at a profit for many years, despite the sometimes up-and-down nature of the tourist industry. Victoria had always found Aunt Lily’s independence and gentle business savvy inspiring.
According to Aunt Lily’s letter, which didn’t really spell it out, it sounded like business at the inn might not be as profitable as it had been. Of course, profit was in the eye of the beholder. Victoria hoped the situation wasn’t as dire as she thought her aunt might be saying. She could be completely misreading between the lines.
Aunt Lily had lived on Valentine Key and made the Lovelock Inn her home for most of her adult life. Victoria didn’t even know if her aunt had ever taken a vacation in all that time. The inn was her life. She didn’t know what it would do to her aunt if something happened to it.
She couldn’t picture the older woman without feeling the warmth of her love. Seeing her aunt during her trip to Valentine Key for the reading of Horatio’s will was the only thing Victoria was looking forward to.
Well, the main thing she was looking forward to. A secondary thing she was looking forward to was seeing Miles Lang, who was serving as executor of the will. She wouldn’t mind hanging out with him for the short time she expected to be in Florida.
Without her semi-regular visits to visit Horatio in Philadelphia, it felt like it had been forever since she’d seen Miles.
She’d attend the reading of the will, expect nothing at all from her father, see her adult half-sisters, hug Aunt Lily every chance she got while she was there, exchange a few pleasantries with Miles and then happily head back to the Big Apple, hopefully no worse for wear.
She couldn’t wait to sit down with Aunt Lily and page through the albums she had that showcased all the pictures known to exist of Victoria’s mother. They would look at the photos and Aunt Lily would tell Victoria stories about her best friend and also how much Isabella had loved her only daughter.
Victoria would forever imagine her mother as young and beautiful, as she was in the photos, because she’d died in her twenties. Way too young.
She closed her eyes and tried not to cry. That was a useless endeavor, so Victoria let herself have a moment of tears for the mother she’d lost because of her father’s unyielding zeal for a son. Let it go. It doesn’t hurt him, only you.
Victoria put all her sad memories away and placed her aunt’s letter back in the envelope to reread later. She needed to go, but soon, she’d be wrapped in her aunt’s loving arms once more.
And, hopefully, she’d be able to get better closure after her father’s will was read. That was the only thing Victoria expected. It was a duty, pure and simple. She’d go to Valentine Key and listen to Horatio’s final wishes, knowing that while he may have tolerated her as his eldest daughter and the child born to a woman he’d once professed to love dearly, it wouldn’t make any difference.
The son he’d so desperately wanted had never materialized, but that didn’t mean he’d fork over the business that had been in his family for generations to any of his daughters. No. She would never expect that and she hoped none of her half-sisters were waiting for that fantasy to come true.
Perhaps Horatio Beauregard Lovelock was leaving everything to Miles Lang, the son he wished he’d had. Wouldn’t that be a kick in the head?
Then again, Victoria was certain Miles had earned it while working for a cantankerous old man, ever bitter about the life he’d been handed, which had not included a flesh-and-blood son he could have raised up to run his precious family business.
Victoria did appreciate Miles and his long service. He’d been very kind to her, once upon a time, especially when her father had been at his most difficult.
The first time she’d spoken to Miles was a decade ago, when he valiantly tried to be the voice of reason after her father yelled at Victoria for having the audacity to give birth to a daughter instead of a son. Never mind that Angelica was fifteen when Horatio found out about her existence.
For quite a while after that blowup, Victoria received correspondence from her father only through Miles. He always put a short note of his own on the cover page of whatever her father thought she should read or be aware of in the financial world.
Miles was the single reason Victoria hadn’t set fire to all of letters that came from her sire. That was before she decided to try to let go of her anger for her father.
While Victoria looked forward to seeing Miles and Aunt Lily on Valentine Key, she was apprehensive about meeting her half-sisters after all this time.
What would they think of her and the life she’d led? What would she think about them and their lives? Would they even talk?
Victoria hoped so, in spite of her nervousness. Whatever else happened, she had no doubt that her trip to Valentine Key would be very interesting.