Page 1 of Revere: A Legacy Novel

“It’s Catherine, right? Catherine Marcello.”

The click-clack of heels on hardwood floor echoed to Catherine’s spot on the floor of the sitting room. She continued her staring contest with the ceiling. It seemed to be the only thing lately that wasn’t constantly hovering, asking questions, or demanding answers.

“You were aware I was coming to chat with you today, weren’t you?”

Catherine’s gaze slid to the side, but the rest of her didn’t move an inch. It was just enough for her to discern a tall woman, likely in her mid-forties or slightly older, with wild red curls and warm blue eyes. She was dressed in black skinny jeans, sky-high heels, and a flowy red blouse. The woman must have been who Catherine’s father meant when he said they would have a guest, and she should get her ass up off the floor.

Clearly, Catherine didn’t follow that advice.

“Aren’t people like you required to wear … I don’t know, pant suits or something?”

The woman glanced down at her attire. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“Doesn’t seem very therapist-ish to me in skinny jeans and stiletto heels, that’s all.”

“Ah, I see.” She smiled lightly, and took a seat on the end of the chaise near Catherine’s head. “Well, I wouldn’t call this dressing down, but since you’re a special case, I figured I could dress how I was comfortable.”

“Is that what we’re going to call this? A special case?”

“What would you call it, Catherine?”

“My father thinks I’m crazy, and here you are.”

“Okay, let’s start with that, for one. Your father doesn’t think you’re crazy. He’s very concerned about you, and for good reason, considering what he told me.”

“You know I’m not going to talk about what happened, right?” Catherine asked.

The woman looked at her watch. “That’s a shame because I’ve got the next two hours cleared to sit here and chat with you. Your house is empty. I asked your parents to leave, and it doesn’t seem like you have anything else better to do except stare at the ceiling. That’s a bore, by the way, but if that’s what you want to do this session, we’ll do it.”

Catherine’s gaze narrowed. “This session.”

“Expect there to be a few more.”

Awesome.

“You actually got them to leave?” Catherine dared to ask.

The woman’s lips quirked up at the edges, and she nodded. “I don’t think they’ve gone far, likely for a walk around the property. It’s a beautiful home. Next time, pick a new room for me to see.”

Again with the more sessions thing.

“They have this house on lockdown,” Catherine pointed out. “I’m not allowed to leave. You can see why I would be surprised that they actually left while you are here, even if it is just to walk around the property.”

“What would you do if you could leave?”

“Is that your thing? You ignore what I say, except for one thing, latch onto it, and shoot me a question based on that?”

“My name is Cara Guzzi. Your father asked me to come speak with you for several reasons. Would you like to know what they are?”

“I’m eighteen, Cara. Can we speak like adults, and not like one adult talking to a child?”

Cara lifted a single brow. “Perhaps if one of us wasn’t lounging on a ten thousand dollar rug, staring at the ceiling, and ignoring the very expensive therapist their father called in for them, we could absolutely do that, Catherine.”

Damn.

Catherine liked this woman. She was kind of bitchy, and Catherine tended to like that in a person. That was bad. She preferred it when she didn’t have to talk at all lately.

“How do you know this rug costs ten thousand dollars?” Catherine asked.