“There are steps that can be taken,” she says, patting Helena’s hand reassuringly.
The strands of Kitty’s dream loosen, releasing her to drift free for a time, then settle into a more peaceful sleep.
The peace won’t last, but then, nothing does.
13
TESSA
How long can it last, this tentative truce the sisters have settled into?
Tessa is afraid to wonder, as if a mere question, not even spoken aloud, is enough to blow down the fragile web of connection.
And perhaps it is. As the two of them walk up the cobbled downtown sidewalk toward the lawyer’s office, a brittle silence descends between them.
A smartly dressed receptionist asks their names and instructs them to have a seat, but Jackson Smith steps out of his office before they’ve lowered themselves into chairs.
“Right this way, ladies.” He holds the door, and the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly as he gives them a subdued smile.
Tessa reminds herself her bags are packed and waiting. All she needs to do is get through this. Whatever this is.
“First off, I’d like to offer my condolences once again on the loss of your mother. A fine woman,” he says as he settles himself behind the large mahogany desk.
Tessa swallows back a sigh. Not that the words aren’t sincere. But there’s only so much sympathy a person can absorb before it starts to feel as if you’re drowning.
“Thank you,” Margot murmurs.
Jackson must sense their desire to move things along, but still he hesitates. “Before we begin, I should warn you, some of this information may come as a shock.”
Margot’s brows shoot up, and she meets Tessa’s confused glance with one of her own.
“Jackson, you’re starting to worry me,” Margot says. “Mom wasn’t the type to keep secrets.”
The lawyer leans back in his chair, and his face becomes cloudy, hard to read.
“I wish Jane had spoken with you two about this. I advised her to, many times. She just . . . she thought she had time.”
The words are delivered with a melancholy air that reminds Tessa this man has suffered a loss as well. How deep a loss is difficult to know.
But that fact alone is enough to remind Tessa that Jane had a life of her own, one that Tessa, at least, wasn’t always privy to.
“Maybe it would be best if you cut right to it, Jackson,” Margot says.
Still, he stalls. “There’s no easy way to say this.”
“Then say it the hard way.” Margot adds a smile to punctuate the statement, but it’s an afterthought and does little to hide her growing impatience.
Jackson takes a deep breath and places both hands flat on the desk in front of him.
“You mother wasn’t who you thought she was.”
Tessa meets Margot’s eyes and, immediately, they’re on the same team again. Because Jackson Smith is clearly deluded.
“Mr. Smith—” Margot begins. Tessa doesn’t miss the way she takes two steps back from his first name.
“I know how it sounds, so bear with me while I explain,” he says, cutting her off.
“I think you should get on with it, then.”
“You’ve only ever known your mother as Jane Shepherd. Jane Ashwood, before that, daughter of William and Beth Ashwood. And for most her life, that’s all she knew as well. But as it happens, Jane was adopted.”
There’s a pause as the words sink in, but they don’t come with any clarity.
“Adopted?” Tessa asks flatly.
“Yes.”
Margot sits up straighter and scoots forward in her chair. “I’m sorry, Jackson,” she says, though she doesn’t sound sorry. Not at all. “But that’s completely ridiculous. There’s absolutely no way Mom was adopted and never told us.” She looks to Tessa. “Am I wrong?”
Tessa shakes her head. “I agree.”
But Jackson doesn’t back down from the statement. “I know it’s a lot to take in. Believe me, Jane was just as shaken to learn the truth.”
“And when was that?” Margot pushes.
“Just before I met her,” Jackson says. “That’s what brought her to me, as a matter of fact. It was right after her father passed away.”
“What?” Tessa exclaims. “But that was . . .” She studies her sister questioningly.
“Nearly twenty years ago?” Margot fills in. “Our mother never would have kept something like that a secret for this long. It’s not possible.”
“I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m afraid it’s true.”
There’s silence as the two of them try to come to terms with all the implications of what he’s saying.
“But why?” Tessa asks finally. “It’s a surprise, sure, but there’s no shame in being adopted. Why would she hide it all this time?”
And here they come to the heart of the matter.
“It . . . it’s complicated.”
At that, Margot leans back in her seat and crosses her arms, even as Tessa leans forward to take the reins.
“Mr. Smith, maybe it would be best if you stop yanking our chains. Clearly it’s complicated or we wouldn’t be here. Now say what you have to say or we’re leaving. It’s as simple as that.”
He has the grace to look embarrassed. There’s a small amount of satisfaction in that. Tessa almost feels sorry for him.
“I’m making a mess of this,” he says with a frown. When he gets no argument, he continues. “After your grandfather passed away, Jane came to me for help sorting through the tangle of arrangements he’d left behind. As you know, William Ashwood was a wealthy man. His wife had died several years before, and Jane was his only heir. She was overwhelmed by the scope of the estate.”
As he speaks, the past glimmers into focus. Overwhelmed is an apt description of their mom during those years. A more subdued version of the woman she’d been before she lost both her husband and her parents in such a short time.
For a while, Jane’s edges had blurred, her colors faded. In time, they’d sharpened again. The heart is a formidable thing, and time a slow but powerful healer. It’s easy to forget those days when Jane carried a quiet hurt she tried hard to hide.
“I helped her sort through and sell off much of the property he owned, though she retained a good deal of stocks and bonds. She invested most of the proceeds, and everything on that front is well in hand. It comes to the two of you, split evenly down the middle, along with the cabin on Lake Cormere and the farmhouse. The information for your mother’s broker is in the packet of paperwork I’m sending with you. You should contact him as soon as you can.”
Jackson passes two manila envelopes across the desk, but neither woman moves to take them.
“None of this is a surprise,” Margot says. “How does an adoption have anything to do with . . . with anything? Why even tell us?”
“Because the inheritance from your grandfather is only part of the story. The rest is less straightforward.”
“The rest?” Tessa prompts.
“When your grandfather died, his attorney was in possession of both his last will and testament and a letter he’d written to Jane, to be opened upon his death. The original letter is in a safe deposit box along with stock certificates, deeds, and other financial documents, but I’ve included copies here for you.