Chapter 41
FORTY-ONE
Blackwood Estate
The Victorian
The front door swung open, and Anne stopped cold.
The house looked exactly the same.
The wide staircase still curved beneath the crystal chandelier. The grandfather clock stood guard in the corner. The antique table beneath the front window sat exactly where it always had.
It even smelled the same.
Old wood. Furniture polish. Fresh flowers.
Home.
Anne swallowed hard and hated herself for it.
"Well."
Aubrey turned toward her.
Anne slowly turned in a circle.
"The old witch didn't change a thing."
Her gaze landed on a brass lamp in the corner.
She narrowed her eyes.
"Actually, she moved that lamp."
Bennett followed her gaze.
"Did she?"
"She did."
"How can you tell?"
"Because I hated it in 1988 and I still hate it."
Bennett glanced back at the lamp.
"She liked it."
Anne's expression softened for the briefest second.
"Of course she did. Mabel always had terrible taste in lamps."
The silence that followed felt strangely full.
As if Mabel herself still occupied every room.
Anne broke the silence first.
"So," she said briskly, dropping her purse onto the foyer table. "Which room is Aubrey's?"
Anne's attention drifted to Bennett.
One eyebrow lifted.
"Oh."
Aubrey felt her face heat.
"No."
Anne pointed.
"That face means yes."
"It does not."
"It absolutely does."
"Aubrey's staying at my house," Bennett said calmly.
Anne blinked.
Then slowly shifted toward Aubrey.
"You’ve been staying at his house?”
"It's temporary. Just until it was safe to come back here."
"Mm-hmm."
"Anne."
"I'm not judging."
"You are absolutely judging."
"I'm evaluating."
Aubrey groaned.
Anne ignored her.
Instead, she studied Bennett. Really studied him.
The rugged face. The calm eyes. The body of a man who'd never missed a day's work.
The way he seemed completely unbothered by her scrutiny.
Finally, Anne folded her arms.
"How long have you known my daughter?"
“Not long.”
"And she's staying with you."
"Anne."
"What?"
"When they discovered Mabel had been murdered and we had a prowler running around the property, Sheriff Burke told me I shouldn't stay here alone."
Anne's eyebrows lifted.
"A prowler?"
"Someone was on the property," Aubrey said. "Burke thought it was best if I stayed somewhere else, and Bennett offered."
Anne stared at her.
"Someone was creeping around this house after Mabel was murdered, and you never told me?"
"There wasn't anything you could've done from Florida."
"That's not the point."
"Burke released the house this morning, but Bennett thought I'd be safer staying with him a little longer."
Anne's gaze shifted to Bennett.
"You've been looking after her."
"I wasn't going to let her stay here alone."
Anne looked back at Aubrey.
"And when were you planning to mention any of this?"
"When I thought you wouldn't overreact."
"I'm your mother. I don't like finding things out after the fact."
The line was pure Anne.
Part concern.
Part performance.
Aubrey could never quite tell where one ended and the other began.
Anne looked back at Bennett.
The man didn't so much as blink.
Anne noticed that too.
"Do you trust him?"
The question landed so abruptly that Aubrey blinked.
"Why?"
"Do you trust him?"
For once, Anne wasn't teasing.
Aubrey glanced at Bennett.
Then back at her mother.
Aubrey didn't even have to think about it.
"Yes."
Anne held her gaze for a moment.
Then nodded.
"Good."
Her attention shifted to Bennett.
"You're the one who found Mabel."
"Yes."
No hesitation.
"And you're the other beneficiary."
Aubrey closed her eyes.
"Anne."
"What?"
"You know exactly what."
Anne never took her eyes off Bennett.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then Bennett said quietly, "If you have a question, Ms. Langford, ask it."
Anne's eyebrows rose slightly.
Steel threaded through his calm voice.
Finally, she shook her head.
"No."
Her gaze softened almost imperceptibly.
"I don't think you killed my sister."
Aubrey released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
Anne continued.
"But people do strange things when money gets involved. I've seen it my entire life."
"Fair enough," Bennett said.
Something passed between them.
Neither willing to blink first.
Anne finally looked away.
"Look, baby."
Aubrey knew she wasn't going to like whatever came next.
"You don't owe Mabel Blackwood anything."
"Anne—"
"No."
Anne waved a hand toward the windows and the vineyard beyond.
"The winery is beautiful."
She glanced around the foyer.
"The house is beautiful."
Then she shrugged. "But it's still a winery."
Aubrey stiffened.
“You had a life before this.” Anne pointed at her.
"You had a career, baby."
"You don't have to spend a year proving something to a dead woman."
Aubrey didn’t look away. “Maybe that’s not what I’m doing.” There was a new edge in her eyes that made Anne pause.
Resistance.
And suddenly Anne felt uneasy.
Because Aubrey wasn't looking at Blackwood the way she was.
Not at all.
"Come on," Anne said. "Let's get settled."
Anne headed toward the staircase.
Halfway up she glanced over the railing at the sprawling vineyard beyond the windows.
Row after row of vines stretched across the mountainside.
Beautiful.
Complicated.
Exactly the kind of thing that had consumed Mabel's entire life.
Anne shook her head.
"One year," she muttered.
Aubrey glanced up.
“Did you say something?”
"Nothing."
Anne continued climbing.
One year.
Anne ran her hand lightly along the polished banister.
Even now...
Mabel was still calling the shots.
Still telling Aubrey where to live. How long she had to stay.
Anne's jaw tightened.
Typical Mabel.
Always believing she knew what was best for everyone else.
Well...
Not this time.
One way or another, Aubrey was going to get her inheritance.
Without spending the next year letting Mabel Blackwood run her life from the grave.
Anne continued up the stairs.
The thought should have satisfied her.
Instead, it reminded her that Mabel Blackwood always expected to have the last word.
Anne had never been very good at letting that happen.