whispers following her as she hurried down the stairs from her bedroom to the warmth of the kitchen and adjoining breakfast room at the back of the house.
Her grandmother’s excitement about bringing back the people who had lived there off and on for the last hundred years failed to strike a positive note with Robyn. She pretended an interest in the weird idea that she didn’t feel.
Robyn was on spring break from her teaching duties at a private women’s college in Portland, Maine. They were sitting on the terrace of her grandmother’s winter home in Florida, and Robyn was enjoying the brush of warm, tanning sun upon her winter-pale skin. Hot-pink shorts were a delightful change from her professional wardrobe of tailored suits in subdued shades of green and beige, which toned down the fiery shades of her chestnut hair. They’d been talking about the family mansion, Stoneview, when her grandmother excitedly revealed her latest brainstorm.
“We’ll invite members of the families who have lived in the mansion since it was built in 1905. I’ve already begun the process of tracking down addresses.”
Robyn silently sighed. Lynette Valcourt’s years as the wife of a foreign diplomat had trained her well. When Robyn’s grandfather died shortly after they had retired to Stoneview, Lynette’s social life had been sharply curtailed. The vibrant, vivacious woman had been put out to pasture much too early, and it was clear to Robyn that her grandmother had already eagerly begun organizing the whole affair. Her silver-white hair, professionally styled, enhanced her strong features and highlighted dark blue eyes. Lynette’s energy level was that of a much younger person, and her tendency to dominate everyone and everything had not faltered during the years.
“We’ll try to contact a living descendent of each family, and send out invitations for a centennial birthday celebration,” she told Robyn.
“Do you think there will be enough guests to make it all worthwhile?” Robyn asked, playing devil’s advocate.
Lynette gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “We’ll include special people in the area who have been connected with the estate through the years. Stoneview has been the setting for a good many community projects, you know. People can wander around the place and see what changes have been made to the house and grounds. We can have the affair catered, and arrange for something special like a fireworks display on the lake for the evening.
“We’ll ask everyone to bring memorabilia, photos and stories to share,” she continued. “Maybe we could even think about writing a history of Stoneview Estate.”
The use of the pronoun “we” made it clear Lynette expected her granddaughter to devote time and energy in carrying out the preparations for the affair.
Robyn felt as if she’d been thrust on a runaway train with no way to stop it—or get off! A chill touched her body despite the warm Florida sunshine. Maybe stirring up the past wasn’t such a great idea. She remembered how the malicious murmuring of high school classmates had ruined the newly decorated bedroom her grandmother had prepared for her arrival.
Her first day, she’d been sitting in the cafeteria with three other girls.
“Really, Robyn, I don’t know how you can live in that place after what happened,” one of them said with a grimace.
“Doesn’t it give you the shivers?” asked another.
“You couldn’t pay me enough to have a sleepover there,” one girl agreed.
Robyn had looked blankly at the three of them. “What are you talking about?”
Instead of answering, they’d just groaned and rolled their eyes.
When Robyn repeated what they had said to her grandmother, Lynette dismissed the matter in her usual dogmatic manner.
“This lovely house had four families living in it before your grandfather and I bought it. I’m sure lots of happenings have taken place under this roof, good and bad. The past is past,” she had said firmly. “I don’t want to hear any more nonsense about it.”
Lynette didn’t know her granddaughter if she thought that put an end to the matter. As soon as Robyn had the chance, she went to the Chataqua town library. As she scanned the computers of the local Chataqua Sentinel, her search paid off. She found what she was looking for.
“Kidnapping and Murder at Stoneview Mansion.”
Robyn’s breath caught as the headline leaped out at her from the front page. Her heartbeat quickened as she read the account. An adopted infant girl of Darrel and Sybil Sheldon had been snatched from the nursery on the second floor of the Stoneview mansion. After a large ransom had been paid, the baby was left on the doorstep of a local doctor, James Donovan, but that same night, Heather Fox, the nursemaid of the baby, was found murdered on the lawn of the estate. She’d been strangled.
Robyn stared at the photo of a fair-haired young woman, Heather Fox, smiling as she held up a baby for the camera. Robyn could tell from the background that the nursemaid had been standing in front of the garden gazebo, not far from where her body had been discovered. Robyn had shivered as if a cold draft had touched her skin, and wondered if she’d ever be able to pass by that spot again without being reminded of a strangled woman lying there.
“The tragedy has nothing to do with you,” Lynette had lectured when Robyn confronted her with the newspaper account. “It’s over and done with!”
Robyn had wanted to believe her grandmother, but when they’d stripped the old wallpaper from her bedroom and discovered her room had once been the nursery, the nightmares began. She’d jerk awake in the middle of the night, hearing sounds of a baby crying. Robyn would stare into the shadows, every nerve ending vibrating with an awareness that danger still lurked there. Once, she’d run from the room, trembling, but her grandmother had dismissed her behavior as childish. As a result, Robyn suffered her torment in silence. More than anything she wanted to please her grandmother.
Robyn knew her grandmother’s habitual strong Scotch “nightcap” insured her an uneventful, peaceful night’s sleep. Although Robin wasn’t into drinking as a teenager, one time she’d secretly fixed herself a similar bedtime drink. Her hopes that the liquor would knock her out were foiled even before she consumed half of the glassful. Terribly sick, she’d spent the night in the bathroom, and the next morning had to lie to Lynette about her bedraggled appearance.
Later, when Robyn went away to college and eventually became a professor of romance languages, she was too embarrassed to tell her grandmother that she’d like to change bedrooms when she came back for visits.
Even now, a twenty-six-year-old adult, she hesitated to express any disapproval of her grandmother’s ideas. Appearing to be anything but a confident woman in charge of her own life was out of the question for Robyn. Her parents had expected it—her grandmother demanded it!
“We need to get the invitations sent as soon as possible,” Lynette declared, either unaware or totally ignoring her granddaughter’s lack of enthusiasm. “By the time I return to Stoneview in June, we should know which families will be staying in the mansion. We can arrange for lodging in Chataqua for the remainder of the guests.” She paused. “I think the first week in July would be a perfect time for the celebration, don’t you?”
Robyn knew the question was purely rhetorical. As far as her grandmother was concerned the matter was settled. The possibility that she might not be ready and willing to drop all her summer plans and help carry out the festivities wasn’t worthy of consideration.
Robyn
