ShadowsintheMist by Maureen McMahon Read Free Book Online Page A

but she interrupted and her voice was
almost a whisper. I shuddered, imagining her coaxing fingers stroking his
shirtfront.
    I chose the momentary lapse in conversation to hurry from my
hiding place. I didn’t want to hear any more. I was sickened by the inferences
of the conversation and stunned Grant would consider trying to talk me into
going along with a farcical marriage. It seemed they were all playing games and
my father was the mastermind behind them all. I wondered if Leo knew about
Alicia’s involvement with Grant. Now, I could understand why Colin was so
remote. Alicia too transparent to hide her flirtations, seemed to savor the
excitement of a juicy scandal, especially when she was in the spotlight. My
already shaky respect for Grant plummeted. It made me ill to think he could
give in to her shallow seductions.
    I hurried through the darkened paths and came out on the
sweep of lawn at the other side of the garden. The grass was soft underfoot and
damp from the automatic sprinklers, just turned off. I didn’t glance back
toward the patio where I knew they were. I didn’t want to know if Grant had
succumbed to Alicia’s pathetic pleas and gone with her to the gazebo.
    I always knew he had no scruples. But somewhere deep inside,
I felt a hollow disappointment as another childish dream dissolved and
bitterness hardened like a stone in my heart.
    I crept in through the servants’ entrance at the side of the
house and climbed the narrow stairs to the second floor. A round, stained glass
window dropped moonlit colors onto the landing but I was oblivious, running on
to open the door to the hall and eventually gaining the blessed sanctuary of my
own room.
    According to the clock on the bureau, it was nine-thirty. I
sank onto the bed, refusing to give in to my curiosity by peering out the
window. I would not let Beacon and its ill-played melodramas interfere with my
life.
    With renewed purpose, I went to the desk and pulled my
laptop onto it. Ideas for my new novel were beginning to form in my head and I
set to work, grateful for the distraction.
    * * * * *
    I awoke late the next morning, refreshed. When I opened my
eyes, the sun was streaming through the windows and the smell of fresh coffee
filled the room.
    “I thought you might like some breakfast.” Martha bustled
about, uncovering dishes on the table near my bed.
    “I haven’t had breakfast in bed since the time I had the
measles,” I exclaimed, propping myself up on the pillows and pushing a stray
lock of hair out of my eyes. “What’s the occasion?”
    She smiled and lay the tray across my lap. “No occasion. It’s
just so nice to have you home again. We’ve missed you here.”
    I was touched and grateful for this one friendly face. After
my mother’s death, Martha had ministered to most of my needs. I couldn’t
imagine Beacon without her and often wondered how she managed the extensive
supervision needed here as well as the additional demands of Spindrift.
    For its size, Beacon had a meager staff. There was Lottie
Wilson, the ponderous cook, who worked Wednesday through Sunday and since the
death of her husband a few years before, lived alone in a small cottage some
five miles away. Rudy Coleman, besides his gardening and handyman duties,
doubled as a chauffeur on the odd occasion Leo needed to make a public
appearance on this side of the lake.
    Martha ran the entire house with the help of just one
part-time maid, a position that constantly changed as the girls came and went
from an agency in Ludington. At the moment, the position was vacant since
Polly, an eighteen-year-old from Scottville, went away to college. The agency
was having trouble locating anyone willing to move to the relative isolation of
Beacon.
    By providing servants’ quarters in the house itself, Leo
outdid himself. There were enough rooms on the third floor to house a staff of
twelve but aside from Martha, who lived alone in a small corner room, the rest
were vacant. It was a