The Lebrus Stone (4 page)

"Darling, forgive me for not meeting you at the airport. I had double booked with my accountant. I am afraid it could not be rectified."

"It's fine, Isobel, really," I said, relieved to see her dramatic self.

Syd smiled somewhat sadly and swept out of the room.

"Come and take a seat," Isobel said, guiding me to a small chair.

We sat opposite each other, much like we had at our first meeting. Isobel also remained just as ram rod straight as she held my hands, warming them in an instant. My tense lips wobbled into a smile.

"You must have gotten to know Milton a little on the way here," she said.

"I did. And you were right. He's nice. I can't wait to see his handy work." It was true.

"How about Sydney?"

"She seems just as nice." I didn't add how odd she'd acted.

"And the flight? It was pleasant I hope."

"It wasn't as bad as expected."

"And how are things at the apartment?"

"Everything's running smoothly so far. My new roommate is...chatty."

Isobel laughed in that elegant ways of hers. "I'm sure it must be a relief to have found a place of your own. How about work? They have taken your absence well, I assume?"

"They were a little concerned at first. But Jared has T.J. and the books aren't exactly selling like hot cakes since the winter sale."

Isobel nodded as if she'd had years of experience in book selling. Maybe she had. I'd never thought to ask what she did for a living before marrying Theodore. I assumed she never had to lift a finger after inheriting Thorncrest Manor.

"Still, you're a Delgado," she said. "And Delgados are known for their hard work. I'm sure you'll be missed, especially by Jared."

I didn't mention how I was already missing him and the hustle and bustle of Salt Lake City. Isobel hadn't exaggerated when she described Blacksville as a quiet and desolate town.

Thunder clapped, and I flinched again. Isobel remained composed like it was a regular occurrence.

"I'm afraid Gal has opted to visit the gym," she explained, somewhat apprehensively. "Cray is away on holiday with some friends and will be returning tonight. Zella has gone into town for a little shopping."

My heart sank. The rest of the Lockes weren't in a rush to meet me. Then again, we were worlds apart. It was understandable they had better things to do. I just needed to be pleased I was gaining second cousins, even if we weren't blood related.

Syd returned with sweet tea and a cherry cake, suggesting that I have it before my main lunch. It was delicious and still warm from the oven.

Afterwards Isobel offered to give me a small tour of the house. The lower level mainly, since the upper two were mostly bedroom.

The dining room we entered was unsurprisingly large, with two windows and drawn deep blue velvet curtains. In the center, a rectangular oak table seated twenty or so chairs; a bunch of lilies in a glass vase was the only decorative piece. The three chandeliers didn't sparkle. And the oil paintings lining the walls were of landscapes or portraits of cherub faced women, posed for as if they were of major importance.

"We dine here at six pm sharp," Isobel chirped, continuing to the kitchen and library where she went into detail about certain heirlooms, including the title of each painting.

The drawing room we visited next was mostly empty, with the same dark wood paneling. It had some nice features, though: claret couches, velvet taupe curtains and a grand piano. Isobel sat at it and played a short composition, asking me to join her on the bench. I was in the middle of prodding the high notes when she placed her arm around me. "Darling, I am aware how difficult it must have been to come all this way all alone. You'll be taken care of. I want you to feel assured of that."

I played a flat note. "What did I have to lose?"

"Oh, plenty."

My jaw dropped.

"Such as never knowing who you really are," she continued. "But give it time, Crystal. Together we can work through talking about Sophia and Alex a lot more thoroughly."

She returned to playing the piano, even closed her eyes.

I bit back my need to remind her I was only staying for a few weeks, and said, "If you think that's best, Isobel."

She nodded, effortlessly playing a piece by Bach.

Thunder boomed again. This time rattling the house.

I really hoped it wasn't a bad omen.

My bedroom was huge and the color of magnolias, and included was a four poster bed and furniture lined a mint green. I was afraid to touch anything in case I ruined it, especially since the smell of fresh paint warned me Isobel must have had it recently redecorated.

It was the brightest room in the manor. I even had my own bathroom with a bathtub/Jacuzzi and shower cubicle. From my balcony there was an amazing view of the Appalachian Mountains. Thankfully, the thunder and lightning had stopped. Yet the afternoon still appeared gray and dull, the manor somehow all the more frigid.

I chose to pull on some sweaters I'd brought along before calling Jared to let him know I'd arrived safely. I was relieved T hadn't answered, although miffed Jared talked briefly, claiming they had too much to get back to.

I sensed he was avoiding me, holding back his need to complain like he had in the car.

I couldn't let myself get agitated, so headed downstairs for dinner, a time of day that was important, maybe even compulsory. The Lockes considered them as vital as Christmas and Thanksgiving.

Since I'd never had either with real family, I couldn't wait to join in.

At the table Gal and Zella were already seated at either side of Isobel. I decided to sit next to Zella on her right when Gal grunted as a way of hello. He was wide and bulky, like a typical gym enthusiast. His hair was a thick, sandy brown, and his eyes were small and watchful like a crafty fox. His nose was slightly crooked.

As for Zella she was cute, sweet and attentive for a fifteen-year-old, with hair a reddish brown and braided into two pony tails that framed her puppy fat cheeks. Her white summer dress had daisies around the neckline and was too tight around her waist. On her feet were pink Jelly Bean sandals. I liked the way she greeted me with a big toothy grin.

Within minutes, Syd appeared from a side entrance, announcing she was serving the West Virginia state fish—a whole brook trout with mashed potatoes and Swiss cheese, which she happily explained was made nearby in Helvetia.

"Your ring!" Zella shrieked as I helped myself to a spoonful of mashed potato.

"Oh, it was my Aunt Lorraine's," I said when she grabbed my hand to inspect it.

Isobel stopped fussing with her cutlery to take a look. Gal continued eating.

"It was found on a necklace that was around my neck," I told Zella. It's one of the few things I had with me after the fire."

There were many reasons why I might have needed to wear it—in memory, to feel closer to my aunt at a time when I needed her most, or just to be able to fit in with the rare sophistication of my dinner companions. Yet somehow, saying those words out loud made me feel all the more lonely than I wanted to.

"It's a stunning piece," Isobel remarked before busying herself with her silverware.

"Is it real?" Zella asked.

"It's twenty-karat gold. I'm not sure if the rubies are real."

Zella scrunched up her nose and slurped on her apple juice, unimpressed.

I turned my focus elsewhere, too. There were things I needed to ask Isobel, things that back home felt rude to broach. "Isobel, how was it that Grandfather—William—came into so much money?"

"Your grandfather came from a line of successful bankers," she answered, rubbing her knife with a napkin vigorously, even checking her reflection in it.

"So, it wasn't from farming the land?" I asked, disappointed it was something as boring as finance.

"Do you mean slaveholding?" Zella asked.

"What else?" Gal said with a grunt.

"No, Thorncrest was never a plantation," Isobel answered curtly.

The room fell deathly silent. I swallowed the rest of my questions niggling at me and began to eat. Talking was probably frowned upon at meal times.

"You might have something in common with Cray," Zella said moments later, contradicting that thought.

"Really? Like what?" I helped myself to another slice of fish.

"He's an art student like you."

"What kind of art?"

Isobel had never mentioned it. But my attention was more on the conversation than the food. If Cray was the only person around my age I was to have something in common with, it had to be a bonus to my trip.

"Architecture, as you are well aware," Isobel said. "As well as a variety of other things," she added less approvingly.

I wondered what the other things could be for her to not have mentioned it.

"He's studying to be an actor," Zella confided.

Isobel winced, as if revolted by the mere idea. Either that or she had swallowed a fish bone. "He has many other talents," Isobel concurred.

"Great. Has he performed anywhere yet?" I asked, highly impressed. I had never met an aspiring actor.

I noticed Gal's hand ball into a fist.

"Not yet," Zella said with a giggle. "He has to get into practice first. Then he'll be in movie theaters all over the world."

So Zella was supportive. Maybe even a little deluded. But I began to image Cray's face again, everything about him, down to the muscles in his fingers. I had to admit I did it plenty. It was automatic. He had a presence even without being present. Every time his name was uttered, I went in a sedated mental state before coming back to my senses. It was unnerving.

Everyone was staring at me.

"You can ask him more about it when he arrives," Isobel offered. "I'm sure he will be delighted."

"Now let's just get on with dinner," Gal griped, sniffing at the steaming blueberry cobbler being carried into the room.

Once served, I prodded at my dessert, hoping day two would be more welcoming, and that Cray Locke wouldn't be as big a jerk as Gal.

~ * ~

After dinner Isobel took Zella to her piano lessons, Gal left without a word to anyone, and Syd washed the pots.

Since Milton was still planting flowers in the incoming dusk and in a garden that looked more like a state park, I chose to pay him a visit.

I ended up weeding a flowerbed and spreading mulch between the plants as we briefly talked. I learned Milton didn't live at the house, but at the other side of the woods, a few yards from the estate.

"That's it, you have to press with your knuckles," Milton advised me as I kneaded what smelled like horse manure. "Now spread with your fingers."

I did, squishing a worm in the process. I didn't squeal, not out loud. For some reason, I didn't want him to think I couldn't handle a bit of slime with my training.

"Right, then, we should leave it to rest," he said, brushing his hands together.

Working up a sweat planting flowers was kind of rejuvenating, I thought.

"So, how you finding things so far?" Milton asked.

"Good, thanks."

He gave me a sideways glance. Could he sense my occasional unease? My concerns?

"Eventually," I added.

"Oh?" He raised his bushy eyebrows and took a plant from the wheelbarrow to place it in the bed.

Maybe I should have said yes.

"Are you not settling in?" he asked, concerned.

I definitely should have said yes.

"I'm settling in just fine, thanks, Milton."

"Are you sure you're not uncomfortable?"

Was he referring to the cold conditions?

Something told me it was best not to complain about it. I seemed to be the only person who felt it.

"Everything's just perfect," was my overstatement.

Milton nodded and began clearing his things, becoming distant and less talkative like he had in the car. "I should head home," he said, getting to his feet and brushing down his pants.

I did the same, wincing from a cramp in my left foot.

"Crystal," Syd called from the kitchen doorway. "Crystal, Isobel's back! She wants to see to you!"

Milton smiled like he found it difficult. "You better go see what she wants." He patted my arm and walked away with his tool bag.

Did he live alone? Or did he have a wife waiting for him?

I felt the need to ask. I needed to be sure he would be okay and that he wasn't heading home to an empty house to sit alone in the dark. For some reason, I felt sorry for him.

He turned and waved. "See you tomorrow, Cr—" He frowned. "Crystal."

Was he about to shorten my name, but found it inappropriate?

With another wave, he exited the gate behind the drained, kidney-shaped pool. I tried not to feel concerned about him. We'd only just met.

Once inside, Syd insisted I went to the study to speak to Isobel before taking a shower. I had to take my shoes off since they were caked with dirt.

As I walked barefoot into the derelict hallway, I shivered from the cold hitting me like a slab of ice. The fine hairs on my arms stood on end.

What was with this place?

As for Isobel, I had to prepare myself to have another one-on-one conversation. It wasn't that I wasn't fond of her anymore. I just didn't fully understand her sudden reluctance to talk more freely about my parents. I hoped she hadn't brought me here under false pretenses.

"Is that you, Crystal?" Isobel called out.

I didn't reply, just stepped out from the shield of the door to give her a waning smile before I sat in the small chair opposite her at the desk.

She was writing something into a notebook, her hand poised like a classical poet's.

"How are you finding your stay, dear? Is there anything I can help you with?"

She'd been acting erratic and unlike herself since I'd arrived. I wanted to ask what was wrong, but couldn't find the courage.

"I'm okay," I said, forcing another smile.

"Did you enjoy the gardening with Milton?" She placed her fountain pen into a black and gold stand, her eyes monitoring me.

"I did, thanks."

"Darling, tell me the truth. Has my absence this evening bothered you?"

"No," I said, confused by the blunt question.

Why would it? Why was I unsure how to answer her?

Isobel's smile grew suspicious rather than joyous. "Well I shall try and limit my commitments to a degree that suits you. For now, I am afraid that some of them cannot be avoided due to the length of time I have spent visiting you in Utah."

She retrieved her fountain pen and continued writing. She sounded tired and even annoyed at me, yet I didn't understand why.

She stopped writing to look searchingly at my face. "Crystal, again, I do apologize for not wanting to discuss..." She cleared her throat, "...your parents."

I had a feeling the way she kept her mouth open, she wasn't yet finished.

"In Utah it was fine, but here it is somewhat unbearable. I know this may come as a disappointment, but I am afraid I am going to need more time." Her voice broke on the last sentence.

"You've told me plenty so far," I assured her. "And I'm here for quite awhile. There'll be plenty of time to talk about them."

She let out a long, weary sigh and sat back. She was quiet for a moment, just inhaling and exhaling deeply. When she looked at me, her eyes were wet and set to break my happy façade.

"I can reassure you of one thing," she rasped. "You are indeed much like Sophia. Remarkable, unquestionable."

"Thanks," I muttered, wanting to fill the awful silence.

"No, thank you, Crystal." She smiled, bringing back some color to her cheeks. "Thank you for, in a way, bringing Sophia back to Thorncrest. Thank you for coming home."