Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Victoria inhaled deeply, then slowly exhaled as she pulled into the driveway of her next client.
She braked in front of the wrought iron gate that blocked entry into Thomas Briscoe’s estate. An intercom and button to buzz for entry stood to the left of her window, but she opened her door instead of using them and got out.
Though it was later in the day than she usually came, already noon now, Thomas likely still wanted her to retrieve his mail.
A cold wind bit her cheeks as she walked to the cranberry red, ornate mailbox at the side of the road.
Her foot slipped. She lifted her hands out from her sides for balance.
Her pulse spiked, but she managed to stay upright, reaching for the mailbox to ensure she stayed that way.
She glanced down to see the reason for her suddenly poor traction.
Of course. A thin layer of ice coated the end of the driveway by the mailbox, likely a result of the recent snowmelt and refreeze they’d had. The joys of winter.
Good thing Thomas always asked her or Judy Kline to retrieve his mail. The housekeeper disliked the task enough, especially in winter, that Victoria was happy to bring in the mail during her twice-weekly visits.
She’d have to ask Ned Parker about applying salt to melt the ice, if she saw the reclusive groundskeeper today.
She removed a few envelopes and a flier from the box. Keeping an eye on the slippery pavement, she went to the keypad next to the intercom and entered the access code.
The gate clicked and slowly retracted, giving her enough time to return to her car and drive through before it closed behind her.
Tension stood her nerves on end as she followed the driveway to the front of the Victorian mansion that was slightly larger than the house in which she had been raised.
Breathe. It wouldn’t do to enter her client’s home with frazzled nerves and unease she could spread to others. She wished she could blame the hostage situation—the second she had survived—for her tender emotional state. Perhaps that explanation would make for an interesting story.
But she knew better.
The memory of Cillian’s handsome face escaped her efforts to keep it at bay, partially obscuring her view as she followed the curve of the driveway. The dark stubble lining his jawline, the deeper furrows on his brow that only increased the intensity he’d always had. And those eyes.
A shiver skidded through her. If only the sensation was merely a delayed reaction to stepping into the cold by the mailbox.
She sighed as she pulled her car to a halt in the parking area past the portico. She shouldn’t let him get to her so much.
But he was working at CareFull Home Health now. At her workplace. And he’d done so because she worked there.
Had he returned to expose her secret? The one only he knew.
But why would he? Why after all these years? If he’d wanted revenge, he could’ve told her father what he knew then, right after she had said she wouldn’t see—
She pinched her lips together, halting the spiraling thoughts. It didn’t matter. Not right now. She needed to do as she always did while working—set aside her personal life and concerns to serve the client one hundred percent.
And she was already late, in this case, though she had called Thomas to explain and ask if she should still come at a later time. She’d been relieved he’d said yes.
She needed the excuse to avoid meeting with Cillian until she could order her thoughts and regain control of her emotions. She could also use the distraction of seeing one of her favorite clients.
Pushing open her door, she left the car to greet the frigid air once again.
Two cars were already parked next to hers. Brenda and Ryan must be visiting. Thomas would not be in a good mood with his niece and nephew at the house. But their presence would also mean he’d be even more pleased than usual to see Victoria.
She walked under the stone portico and took the four steps to the grand double-door entrance that was framed by pillars.
Seemed odd that an edifice with such a classic, historic grandeur would have an electronic keypad alongside the heavy wooden doors.
But Thomas Briscoe was surprising in several respects, including the complete trust he’d placed in Victoria soon after she had begun physical therapy for his recovery from hip replacement surgery.
She entered the passcode, and the lock clicked as it released. Pulling open one heavy door, she slipped inside, scanning the foyer for any of the visitors evidenced by the cars outside.
The foyer appeared empty and quiet, the brown and cherry wood and intricately patterned encaustic tiles gleaming from Judy’s conscientious care.
“Stop your hovering, woman.” Thomas’s irritated voice carried to the foyer.
Victoria smiled as she followed the sound.
“I’m not an invalid, and I never will be, no matter how much you and that brother of yours would love it if I was.”
Victoria’s smile transitioned to a wince as she neared the open doors of the library. Sounded like she would have her work cut out for her today if his relatives were getting on his nerves that much.
Footsteps clinked across the library’s parquet-patterned hardwood floor toward the doorway, and Brenda appeared, muttering under her breath as she glared ahead. Until her gaze landed on Victoria.
The transformation was quick and smooth as Brenda stopped in front of Victoria, a polite smile shaping her red-lipstick-covered lips. “Ms. Weston. So glad you could make it after all. Uncle was so disappointed when you missed your appointment.”
As always, Brenda’s apparent friendliness was undergirded by barely disguised criticism.
Victoria smiled. “No more than I was, I’m sure. But I won’t keep him waiting any longer.” She watched Brenda, hoping the woman would take the hint and step out of the way.
Victoria could go around her. But such an action would only irritate Brenda and make any peacemaking efforts Victoria might need to attempt all the harder.
Brenda’s mouth tightened at the corners as if she was tempted to say something more.
“Did you need anything before I go in?” Victoria delivered the question in a professional tone.
“No, of course not.” Brenda moved aside and extended her hand toward the library. “Please.”
Victoria let out a quiet breath as she entered the room, inhaling the scent of old books as she took in the floor-to-ceiling shelves packed with early editions and favorites she and Thomas shared.
“So, you finally decided to show up.”
Victoria laughed and crossed the room to the distinguished gentleman who sat in an armchair in front of the grand fireplace, facing away from her. His tone assured her his remark was the opposite of Brenda’s—critical words that disguised fondness, welcome, and humor.
She rounded the chair and gazed upon the client she’d come to think of as a friend.
His gray beard and hair refused to thin with his eighty-four years, though his slight body, shrinking stature, and pale, milky skin tone made him hard to recognize in the portrait of the young, strapping shipping magnate that hung above the mantle.
But his eyes twinkled through his glasses with more merriment and kindness than the serious, cold young man he appeared to have been when the painting had been completed.
“Yes, I did. Despite the welcome I knew I would receive.” Victoria gave him a smile.
A single laugh burst from Thomas, and he slapped the leather arm of his chair. “About time somebody with some wit arrived. I’ve been having to put up with these imbeciles and their simpering all day.”
Victoria cast a glance beyond the chair.
Brenda still lingered at the library door, looking in their direction. She could probably hear every word her uncle said.
“I believe Brenda can hear you.” Victoria lowered her voice as she set the mail on the nearby end table, then placed a pad under her bag beside the letters.
“I hope she can.” Thomas raised his volume louder. “Maybe then she and her brother will stop their sickening patronizing and find something to do instead of waiting around for me to die.”
A predictable response from Thomas. But Victoria still frowned as Brenda turned away and left, disappearing from sight. Knowing Brenda, she was likely going to remain somewhere within hearing range.
“Perhaps she has better intentions than you think.” Victoria returned her attention to Thomas.
He harumphed. “The only intentions she and Ryan have are to see me dead within the year so they can get their hands on my fortune. They might even want to help it along if either of them was smart enough to think of how to do it.”
“Thomas.” Victoria stared at him. He often criticized his niece and nephew, but he’d never suggested they would do anything to harm him, beyond pestering him to death. “You don’t mean that.”
“Don’t I?” He placed both hands on the arms of the chair and leaned forward. “You are the only one I can trust, Victoria.” His voice lowered to a secretive tone she hadn’t heard him use before.
She had never seen such urgency shape his features either. Her chest pinched, and she took a step closer. “What do you mean?”
“Are they watching? Listening?”
She checked the doorway. “I don’t see anyone.”
“Come closer.” His voice dropped in volume even more as he beckoned her near with his fingers.
She crouched in front of his chair. “Thomas, what is it? Are you all right?”
“No.” He glanced to the side, then locked his gaze on hers. “Well, I may not be. I can’t trust anyone. They’re all after money, and they’ll do anything to get it. Anything.” He hissed the last word.
Had someone threatened him? It was hard to believe his own niece and nephew, practically Chicago royalty in their standing among the wealthy families, would engage in anything sinister or criminal.
Perhaps Thomas was simply being dramatic.
It had to be difficult that his two heirs only pretended to care about him.