Yours Again (River City Series)

Chapter 1

Boston—1885

“Who
invited him?” Samantha James directed her aunt’s attention to a thin, well-dressed
man who’d just stepped into the parlor of their Bostonian brownstone.

Mattie
Eliot huffed an annoyed sigh. “I sure didn’t, my dear.”

John
Lawson nodded in their direction, his smarmy gaze flitting over Samantha as if
appraising a prize cow. It left her feeling filthy in a way even a good
scrubbing in a big tub couldn’t change.

“Do
you think he suspects?” Aunt Mattie whispered, her small form ensconced in this
season’s latest fashion: a dark brown silk that set off pale green eyes to
their best advantage. Even at the age of fifty-two she still turned heads,
though none had turned hers since her late husband’s death ten years ago.

“No,
I made it clear to Gerald Farnsworth at the bank that John’s access to our accounts
and investments had been withdrawn but that he was not to say anything until I
met with John tomorrow.”

“Good,
I’m not sure what he’s up to,” she whispered, “but I’d guess he’s going to make
another attempt to jump your knickers, the slimy bastard.”

Samantha
smiled. Mattie did have a way with words that would probably shock the other matriarchs
of Boston society, but Mattie really didn’t care what anyone thought and
Samantha loved that about her. John had tried his best to get on Samantha’s
good side, but she found absolutely nothing to like about the man.

In
his early thirties, John Lawson had worked in his father’s investment firm for
the past ten years. There was something about him that unnerved her. She
couldn’t really put a finger on it, and in reality it was probably a
combination of things: the way he appraised every person he talked to as if
assigning them a dollar value or how he constantly fidgeted with his clothing
as if trying to hide something. Perhaps it was the lack of warmth he exuded from
his eyes or the condescending way he spoke. The man had a coldness about him
almost as if he weren’t really human at all.

In
contrast, his father was one of Mattie’s oldest confidants and one of the
warmest, kindest men Samantha had ever met. Ty Lawson had managed Mattie’s investments
both before and after her husband’s death and had been very successful as
they’d grown exponentially. He’d also managed the small inheritance Samantha
received from her parent’s death, and it, too, had grown to a substantial
amount. She hadn’t even known about the inheritance until three years ago, but
knowing it was there relieved any pressure she felt to get married. She never
wanted to be a stone around anyone’s neck, especially Mattie’s.

But
everything changed a short two weeks ago. They got word of Ty’s sudden death
from John—the day after the funeral. It was extremely strange as Ty had been in
his mid-fifties and in very good health. John had passed the hushed nature of
the event off as family wanting privacy. But John was the only family and the
fact that he hadn’t told anyone or allowed them to pay their respects was very
suspicious. Rumors had immediately flown all around Boston, and many families
that trusted Ty with their investments weren’t about to give John the same
level of trust. Mattie and Samantha included.

The
party was a relatively informal affair, which Mattie had for her close friends at
the beginning of September every year before the official society season began.
Many of the attendees were true Boston Brahmins who traced their families’ lineage
back to their arrival on the Mayflower, and even though Mattie had married into
their circle and wasn’t really one of them, she was very well liked. It
certainly helped that her husband’s death had also left her an extremely
wealthy woman who was still beautiful enough to be mistaken for someone in her
early forties.

The
fact that John had shown up unannounced and uninvited to Mattie’s party was
just more proof to Samantha that he was after something—and that something
probably included her. He’d made it very clear that he wanted his future
attached to hers, but she had known from the beginning that he just wanted her
money, and eventually Mattie’s, since Samantha was her only heir.

While
they both did their best over the next hour to avoid John, eventually he caught
them boxed in by people where they couldn’t discreetly get away. He sauntered
up to Mattie, a glass of wine in each hand, “I thought you might be in need of refreshment,
Mattie.”

John
held out a glass and Mattie had to take it to avoid a scene, “Thank you, John” He
stared boldly at Samantha while she pretended to watch something across the
room. He refused to move away and stood in front of them, awkwardly blocking
their escape.

Mattie
took a sip and said, “I’m surprised to see you here, John.” He knew he hadn’t
been invited, and hopefully pointing it out would at least produce some
embarrassment or explanation on his part.

“Well,
I’m sure the lack of invitation was just an oversight,” he said smoothly. “I’m
sure it’s hard to remember everyone once memory issues set in.”

Mattie’s
face turned bright red and Samantha could almost count the seconds before John
would be wearing that wine.

“I
do not have any memory problems, John Lawson, and you damn well know it.”

His
condescending smile raked over both women, “Of course you do. Don’t you recall
discussing that fact with my father and that our firm would be exercising power
of attorney over your investments?”

“What?”
Samantha spat.

“We’ll
discuss this in the morning, Samantha, and know that I look forward to it.” He
gave a slight bow and strode from the parlor, still smiling. They heard the
front door close a moment later.

Mattie
fumed, “That greedy little piss ant! He wouldn’t dare.”

Samantha
tried her best to calm her aunt, “He probably would, but he’s not getting away
with anything.”

Mattie
glowered at the door John had just exited and gulped the wine. “How that, that
thing
sprang from Ty Lawson’s loins I’ll never know.” She fanned her face with one
hand. “I’m so angry I could just melt.”

Samantha
glanced at her aunt just as Mattie’s eyes rolled back in her head. She slid to
the floor in a pile of brown silk and the party immediately descended into
chaos.

An
hour later Samantha glanced over at Mattie, lying peacefully in the large four
poster bed. The doctor said she would be fine, but Mattie Eliot’s collapse had
surprised all the guests. Mattie was as vibrant as most women half her age,
including Samantha. In the nine years since Samantha had come to live with Mattie
she’d rarely seen the woman ill, let alone in a full swoon.

It
was a mild early fall day, so heat didn’t seem to be a factor, and even though Mattie
had been more embarrassed than anything it was still highly unusual. Upon
hearing that Mattie would be fine the guests discretely departed and the household
settled into the familiar quiet that Samantha loved.

The
four-story brownstone on Newbury Street in the Back Bay neighborhood had been a
sanctuary for an awkward fourteen-year-old girl who had lost both parents. Mattie
and her sister Clair, Samantha’s mother, were very close, but where Mattie had
done the expected thing and married a wealthy Boston businessman almost twenty
years her senior, Samantha’s mother had followed her heart and married Sam
James, a man who dreamed of striking it rich in the New Mexico Territory.

Though
these days Samantha was the perfect example of an aloof, restrained, and
educated young woman of good breeding from Boston, her childhood had been spent
wild and free in the northern mountains of the New Mexico Territory. It seemed
the last couple of years those carefree days crossed her mind much more often
and lingered as a wistful longing. As one suitor after another attempted to
impress her, she’d become more and more stoic. Samantha just wasn’t interested
in any of them—or anything else of late. A strange restlessness had settled in
her heart and refused to budge.

Paul
Creswell, Mattie’s butler and the newest addition to her staff, fussed fluffing
pillows and straightening the beautiful Baltimore quilt that covered Mattie’s
petite form. Boston society had recently become enamored of English butlers, so
of course Mattie had to have one. Paul had more than twenty years experience serving
as a butler in the great manor houses of England, but had only been in her aunt’s
employ for a few weeks. Samantha would guess him to be in his late fifties or
early sixties with a full head of salt-and-pepper hair and steel blue eyes that
were quick and lively. She had to admit Paul’s formal dress and clipped British
accent had certainly added something interesting to the household. Samantha saw
his eyes twinkle when Mattie laughed, which was often, hard as he might try to
hide it.

“Madam,”
he said addressing Samantha formally, “Should you need anything I’ll be right
outside.”

“Thanks
so much Paul.” She had to admit she already had a soft spot for the man. Mattie’s
whims weren’t the easiest to deal with sometimes, but he’d been quite the sport—so
far at least.

“Tea
will be up shortly.” He offered a curt bow, slid a worried glance toward the
bed and then exited.

“That
British accent still rolls over me like melted butter,” Mattie’s eyes popped
open.

Samantha
smiled and shook her head. “You know he was really worried about you.” She sat
on the edge of the huge bed, which made Mattie look that much smaller.

Her
aunt scrunched up her nose, and rolled the covers down across her pink
nightgown, “I know. I hope I didn’t embarrass myself too much.” Mattie squirmed
into a sitting position and placed a pillow behind her head.

“No
one thought anything about it,” Samantha lied.

“Well,
what are we going to do about John?” She asked.

Samantha
sighed, “I think we should let your lawyer know what is going on immediately
and even contact the police.”

“Do
you think he’d really try to enforce a fake power of attorney?”

“Well,
he might, and I have to wonder if tonight’s episode is part of something bigger,”
Samantha’s suspicions had been immediately aroused when Mattie fainted so
quickly after drinking the wine John gave her. It didn’t take a genius to
connect the dots.

“Surely
he isn’t that stupid,” Mattie said.

“No.
Whatever he is, he isn’t stupid. I’m just wondering if he was sending some sort
of message before tomorrow’s meeting.”

“What
kind of message?”

“I
have my suspicions, but let’s cross that bridge when we get there. In the mean
time, I think we should ensure all our assets are safe.”

“Agreed.
Do you think you should go see him alone?”

Samantha
shrugged, “I can’t imagine he’d try something in front of an office full of
people, and he might be reluctant to reveal his true intentions if someone
unexpected showed up.”

Mattie
stewed for a minute, then watched Samantha closely, “I noticed that you weren’t
really enjoying yourself much at the party even before John arrived.”

Samantha
shrugged. No she hadn’t been.
At all
. There were no conversations that
held her attention. The last things she cared about were what was playing at
the opera house this season and who was doing what to whom. Most of the women
her age had young families and talked constantly about babies and husbands. At
twenty three she was considered something of a spinster and the only other
women her age who didn’t have families were so wrapped up in shopping and
voyages to Europe it was hard to get a word in. Not that she cared to.

“What
is it dear?” Her aunt’s pale green eyes pleaded. Mattie always knew when something
wasn’t right.

“I
don’t know. I just don’t seem to be interested in anything anymore. It’s like
I’m waiting for something that never appears.” The feeling had been growing for
some time, and the worse it got the more annoyed Samantha became with everyone
and everything in her life. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Mattie
spoke softly, “It’s not something you are waiting on Samantha. It’s someone.”

She
scoffed at the ridiculous idea and walked to the window. Though it had cooled some
from the sweltering heat of August, it would still be a while before the leaves
brought out their fall colors. Stately carriages rolled down Newbury Street, and
she suddenly had the urge to jump into one and go. Where, she didn’t know.

“Scoff
if you will my dear, but I know what you are waiting on.”

Samantha
smiled, “And what would that be?”

“A
tall, dark, handsome man to whisk you off your feet.” Mattie grinned and
bounced her eyebrows at Samantha.

She
laughed, “Why is everything about finding me a man?”

“Well,
not everything my dear.” She thought a moment, “Of course if he had an amazing
accent, that would be different as I honestly don’t know how you’d help
yourself.”

Samantha
laughed and shook her head, the woman was relentless, but she knew Mattie just
wanted her to be happy—whatever that meant. “Well, don’t worry about the
appointment with John tomorrow. I can handle it.”