With their much-photographed faces alight, they opened the bags, then looked up at the lawyer in consternation. “What are these?”
Ash dumped the contents of her bag into the palm of her hand. There were about twenty small black objects, some of which had been emerald cut, some in the round diamond shape. “What are they? I’ve never seen stones like these before.”
“Are they black diamonds?” Bell asked.
“In a way, they are,” Mr. Johnson said, then, still smiling, he started for the door, but he paused with his hand on the knob. Turning just a bit, he gave Jocelyn a wink, then he left the room.
Joce had to work to keep a straight face. The “black diamonds” that Miss Edi had left for the stepsisters were actually pieces of coal.
She didn’t say a word as they left the offices. She sat in the back of the car on the drive home and listened as Bell and Ash, sitting beside her, held the pieces of coal up to the light and exclaimed over their beauty and discussed how they were going to have them set.
Joce looked out the window to hide her smile. The joke that Miss Edi had left her jealous, greedy stepsisters lumps of coal made her miss her friend with a painful longing. Miss Edi had been mother, grandmother, friend, and mentor all in one.
Joce glanced up and saw her father frowning at her in the rearview mirror. She could see that he knew what the “stones” were and he was dreading the coming fury when the Steps found out. But she didn’t mind. She planned to be gone long before the Steps discovered what the black stones were. Her bags were packed and in the back of her car, and as soon as they got home, she was going back to her job at the university.
Only when Jocelyn was back at school and in her tiny apartment did she open the packet that contained Miss Edi’s will. She’d tried to steel herself for what she’d find, but nothing prepared her to see an envelope with that beloved handwriting on it. TO MY JOCELYN it said on the envelope.
With trembling hands, she opened it, pulled out the letter, and began to read.
My dear, dear Jocelyn,
I promise I won’t be maudlin. I don’t know if it’s been days or months since my demise, but knowing your soft heart, you’re probably still grieving. I know all too well what it is to lose people you love. I’ve had to stand by and watch most of the people I loved die. I was very nearly the last one left.
Now, to business. The house in Boca is not mine, nor is most of the furniture. By now I’m sure the contents have been moved out and put up for auction. But don’t worry, my dear, the best of what I owned, meaning everything that I took from Edilean Manor, will go back to where it came from.
Jocelyn put the letter down. “Edilean Manor?” she said aloud. She’d never heard of the place. After her initial confusion, a feeling of betrayal ran through her. She’d spent a great deal of her life with Miss Edi, had traveled with her, met many people from her past, and had heard hundreds of stories about her time with Dr. Brenner. But Miss Edi had never mentioned Edilean Manor. It must have been important, as it was named for Miss Edi—or she was named for it.
Jocelyn looked back at the letter.
I know, dear, you’re angry and hurt. I can see that frown of yours. I told you so much about my life, but I never mentioned Edilean, Virginia. As you can guess from the unusual name, the town “belonged” to my family—or at least we thought it did. Centuries ago, my ancestor came from Scotland with an elegant wife and a wagonload of gold. He bought a thousand acres outside Williamsburg, Virginia, laid out a town square, then named the place after his young wife. The legend in my family is that his wife was of a much higher class than he was, but when her father refused to let his daughter marry the stable lad, he ran off with the girl and a great deal of her father’s money. No one ever knew if she was abducted or if she went willingly.
I’m sure the truth is much less romantic than that, but Angus Harcourt did build a big brick house in about 1770, and my family lived in it until I broke the tradition. My father left the house to me alone because my brother, Bertrand, couldn’t manage money. If he had a dime, he’d buy something that cost a quarter.
I grew up sure that I’d live in Edilean Manor with David Aldredge, the man I was engaged to, and raise a strong, healthy, handsome family. But, alas, fate has a way of changing our lives. In this case, it was a war that changed everything and everyone. When I left Edilean, I let my brother live in the house, but I kept strict watch over him. Bertrand died a long time ago, and for years now the house has been empty.
Dear Jocelyn, I’m leaving you a house you’ve never heard of in a town I carefully never mentioned.
Jocelyn put the letter down and stared into space for a moment. A house built in 1770? And outside beautiful Williamsburg? She looked around her drab little apartment. It had been the best she could afford on her tiny salary. But an entire house! An old one!
She looked back down at the letter.
There’s something else I want to tell you. Remember how good I was at knowing who at church would make a good couple and who wouldn’t last six months? If you’ll remember, I was always right. I’m sure you also remember that I learned from experience not to interfere in your personal life—after you were old enough to have one, that is. But now I can no longer see your wrath, so I’m going to tell you something. The perfect man for you lives in Edilean. He’s the grandson of two friends with whom I went to high school, Alex and Lissie McDowell. They’re gone now, but their grandson looks so much like Alex that I thought he’d never aged. On one of my trips to Edilean—yes, dear, I went in secret—I told Alex that, and he laughed hard. It was good to see him laugh again, as there were days in the past when he found nothing to amuse him. His wife, Lissie, was a saint for what she did. I look forward to seeing them both again in a Better Place.
Jocelyn looked up. A man for her? The thought made her want to smile and cry at the same time. Twice, Miss Edi had tried to match her up with young men from church, but both times she’d refused to so much as go out to dinner with them. They were boring young men, and she doubted if either of them had ever had a creative thought in his life. She hadn’t given her reasons for turning the men down, but Miss Edi had known what was going on. “Beer drinking does not qualify as an Olympic sport,” she’d said quietly, then walked away. Joce’s face had turned three shades of red. Two weeks before, Miss Edi had driven by Jocelyn’s house when she’d been standing outside with two young men on motorcycles and downing a can of beer. For all that Joce loved the ballet, she was sometimes drawn to the life her family led.
“Like my mother,” she said aloud, then looked back down at the letter.
His name is Ramsey McDowell and he’s an attorney. But I can assure you that he’s more than that. My last request of you is that you give the young man a chance to show you that he’s right for you. And, remember: I am never wrong about these things.
As for the house, there’s some furniture in it, but not much, and there are some tenants in the wings. They are both young women from families I’ve known for many years. Sara grew up in Edilean, so she can help you find whatever you need. Tess is new to the area, but I knew her grandmother better than I wanted to.
That’s all, my dear. I know you’ll make the best of all that I leave you. I apologize that my housekeeper won’t be there, but the poor dear was older than I am. I have a gardener, so maybe he can help you with whatever else you need.
I wish you all the luck in the world, and please remember that I’ll be watching over you every minute of your life.
It took Jocelyn the rest of the evening to recover from the letter. It sounded so much like Miss Edi that it was almost as though she were in the room with her. She slept with the letter curled up in her hands.
The next morning, her mind was so full of all that she’d learned in the last twenty-four hours that she could barely concentrate. Her job as teaching assistant had become uncomfortable because she’d had a year-long affair with one of the other assistants. When they had to work together, he sco
wled at her across the table and she found it very unpleasant.
He’d been the third man in a row who had been perfectly suitable for her, but in the end, she’d not wanted to go on with any of them. Jocelyn knew it was all Miss Edi’s fault. She’d told Jocelyn about the man she’d been in love with who’d been killed in World War II—a true love, and that’s what Joce wanted.
“He was my all to me,” Miss Edi said in the voice that she used only when she spoke of him. She had only one small photo of him in his uniform, which was inside a folding picture frame she kept by her bed. He was an extraordinarily good-looking young man, with dark blond hair, and a strong chin. The frame was oval, and on the other side was a photo of Miss Edi in her army uniform. She was so young, so beautiful. Beneath David’s photo was a tiny braid of hair, her dark intertwined with his blond. Miss Edi would hold the frame, say, “David,” then her eyes would glaze over.
Over the years, Joce had pressed her for details, but Miss Edi would just say he was a young man from her war experience—which had been brutal and she had the scars to prove it.
But at last Jocelyn had found out something about him. His name was David Aldredge, and he and Miss Edi had been engaged to be married in Edilean, Virginia. But David’s death in the war had ended that.
“No wonder she couldn’t bear to mention Edilean,” Jocelyn whispered.
To Jocelyn, Miss Edi’s love for the man had become a legend. It epitomized the love that she wanted. But so far, Joce hadn’t been able to find it. Miss Edi never knew it, but Joce had twice lived with young men, and she’d been quite happy with the arrangement. It was nice to have someone to go home to, to tell about her day, and to laugh with about what had gone on. But when the men started talking about rings and mortgages and babies, Jocelyn ran. She didn’t know what it was that was missing from her relationships, but it wasn’t there—and she was going to hold out until it was.
And now Miss Edi had given her a way to change everything. That evening, she looked through the legal papers, read them carefully, and held the key that was in the package. All the legal work was being handled by the firm of McDowell, Aldredge, and Welsch in Edilean, Virginia.
The name of “Aldredge” made her pause for a moment before she could go on. Did descendants of Miss Edi’s David still live there?
A letter was included saying that when she got to Edilean, she should stop by the office and she’d be told about the financial arrangements. The letter was signed by Ramsey McDowell.
Jocelyn shook her head at Miss Edi’s letter. “You never give up, do you?” she said, her eyes raised upward. But the truth was that Miss Edi was always right about the couples at church. Many times Jocelyn had caught Miss Edi staring at a young couple who were more interested in each other than what the pastor had to say. Afterward, she’d tell Jocelyn—and only her—what she thought of them. “True love,” she’d sometimes say, but not very often. “Pure sex,” she said once and made Joce laugh. She was right both times.
“Ramsey McDowell,” Jocelyn said, then looked back at the letter. He’d put his home phone number on there. It was only seven. On impulse, she picked up her cell, called him, and he answered on the third ring.
“Hello?”
His voice was nice, deep and smooth. Like chocolate, she thought. “Is this Mr. McDowell?”
“I think of that as being my father, but I guess I qualify. Is this Miss Minton?”
She hesitated. How had he known that? “Caller ID.”
“Can’t live without it,” he said. “You know how we lawyers are. We must fight off the masses because of our underhanded dealings. Are you going to be here soon?”
“I don’t know,” Joce said, smiling at his sense of humor. “This is all quite new to me. I’d never heard of Edilean, Virginia, until I saw the will, so I’m still in a bit of shock.”
“Never heard of us? I’ll have you know we’re the biggest small town in Virginia. Or is that the smallest big town? I never can remember what our mayor says we are. Ask me what you need to know and I’ll tell you everything. Oh! Wait! I need to fasten a diaper. There, that’s done. Now, what can I tell you about us?”
“Diaper? You’re married?” Her shocked tone told too much, and when he hesitated before answering, she grimaced.
“Nephew. I have a very fertile sister who pops them out like corn over a grill. She just stuck her tongue out at me, but then the baby kicked. The one inside her, that is. And the one on her hip. Excuse me, Miss Minton, but I have to take the phone to another room before my sister throws something at me.”
Joce was smiling as she waited, hearing footsteps, then a door close and, finally, quiet.
“There now, I’m in what passes for a library in my house and I’m all yours. Figuratively speaking that is. Now tell me what I can do for you.”
“I don’t really know. I didn’t know Miss Edi owned a house, much less a town.”
“Actually, she had to give us our freedom in 1864, and—”
“Three,” Joce said before she thought, then wished she hadn’t. “Sorry, you were saying?”
“I see…1863. Emancipation Proclamation. Can you tell me the day?”
“January the first,” she said cautiously, not sure if this would get her labeled as a know-it-all or worse.
“January the first, 1863. Well, Miss Minton, I can see that you and I are going to get along quite well.” There was a change in his voice as he went from teasing banter to more serious. “What can I tell you?”
“I don’t know where to begin. I want to know about the house, the town, about the people. Everything.”
“It would take much too much time to talk about all of this over the phone,” he said. “My suggestion is that you come here to Edilean and we sit down and talk about everything in person. How about if we have dinner and discuss this at length? Shall we say Saturday next at eight?”
She drew in her breath. That was just eight days away. “I don’t know if I can get there by then.”
“Shall I send a car?”
“I, uh, no, that won’t be necessary. I have a car. How do I keep the roof repaired?” she blurted.
“A practical woman,” Ramsey said. “I like that. I’m not at liberty to say the exact extent of what Miss Edi left you, but I can assure you that you’ll be able to keep the roof in great repair.”
She smiled at that. She didn’t relish the idea of having the responsibility of the care of a very old house and no way to support it.
“Miss Minton, what is your hesitation? The beautiful town of Edilean is awaiting you, plus a magnificent old house, and Colonial Williamsburg is right next door. What more could you want?”
She started to say “Time,” but didn’t. Suddenly, she had one of those moments that rarely happen in a lifetime. In an instant, she knew what she was going to do: She was going to change her life. Since Miss Edi’s death, Jocelyn hadn’t made a single change. She had the same job she no longer liked, the same routine, the same dull, dark apartment. Her friends now looked at her with sadness because Joce was no longer part of a couple. They were already talking about fixing her up with blind dates. The real difference in Jocelyn’s life was that her best friend was gone. Now, if she went “home” it was to her father’s house, to motorcycles outside, NASCAR on the TV inside, and the pitying looks of her stepmother. Poor Jocelyn, she had nothing and no one.
This was Friday, and if she quit her job tomorrow morning, then she’d have days to sort out all the things she needed to do, like turn off the water, and—
“Could I wire you some money?” he asked, seeming to think her silence had to do with expenses. “No, wait, that’s no good. You’d have to give me your bank account numbers and you shouldn’t do that. For all you know I’m a…” He hesitated.
“A lawyer?”
“That’s right. Scum of the earth. We spend years in school learning how to rip people off. How about if I overnight you a check?”
“I have enough to do what I need to,” sh
e said. “It’s just that this is a big step.”
“If you know the date of the Emancipation Proclamation, then you love history. So how can you wait to see a house that was built in the eighteenth century? No velvet ropes anywhere. You can explore all you want. Did you know that the stables were recently rebuilt? And there’s a cellar that’s intact. And I believe the attic is full of trunks of old clothes and diaries.”
“Mr. McDowell, I think you missed your calling. You should be traveling around the country on a covered wagon and selling snake oil.”
“No, no snake oil. I sell Miss Edi’s Golden Elixir. It’s made from rainbows and flecked with gold dust from the leprechauns’ pots. Guaranteed to cure anything that ails you. You have a boyfriend?”
“And what will the elixir do to him?” she asked, smiling.
“No,” he said, seriously, “do you have a boyfriend?”
“Not since he asked me to marry him and I ran away screaming.”
“Ah,” he said.
Joce wished she could take back her comment. “I mean, it wasn’t actually like that. He’s very nice and I’m not adverse to marriage, but—”
“No explanation needed. My last girlfriend led me into a jewelry store and they had to take me away in an ambulance.”
“A kindred soul.”
“Sounds like it. Now, what about dinner?”
“Maybe you shouldn’t make reservations yet,” she said cautiously. “In case I don’t make it out of here in time.”
“Who said anything about reservations? I was thinking about wine and pasta served on a tablecloth on the floor of your new eighteenth-century house. By candlelight. With strawberries dipped in warm chocolate for dessert.”
“Oh, my goodness,” she said. “You are going to be a problem, aren’t you?”
“I hope so. I like a girl who knows her history. And I like this photo of you that Miss Edi sent me last year. You still have this red bikini?”
Jocelyn couldn’t contain her laugh. “She passed that thing around to half the men at our church. When I had my twenty-sixth birthday and still wasn’t married, I thought she was going to staple it to the trees and leave a phone number.”