Page 48 of One Last Gift

Like the law against murdering people, do you mean? That kind of thing?

Cassie felt her lips pulling into a smile. Yes, that’s the kind of legal stuff that probably isn’t stupid, I’ll admit.

Or, for instance, the law against eating mince pies on Christmas Day.

Cassie snorted out loud. That’s not a law.

It was in 1644.

You’re having me on.

I’m not—Christmas Day fell on a legally mandated fasting day that year.

That’s the kind of thing they teach you in law school, is it?

Sure—we have to learn every single law that ever was by heart.

You googled it, didn’t you?

Guilty as charged.

Cassie laughed as Linda got back into the car.

Linda frowned. “What?”

“Nothing,” Cassie said, a little quickly. “Right—next stop Wales?”

Linda settled her purse on her lap. “Indeed. Wales, here we come.”

—

“This must be it,” Cassie said, as she followed the GPS and turned right up a winding tarmac drive. A sign that read Of Pubs and Men was barely visible by the side, the black lettering on the wooden sign fading, the “Pub” half rubbed away. It wasn’t really a pub, either, from what Cassie had gleaned on the internet. It was more of a B&B, but apparently there had used to be a pub here, and they hadn’t bothered changing the name.

The driveway gave way to an epic house—the photos on the website really didn’t do it justice. It was Victorian in style and brilliantly bright green, a beautiful veranda on one side of it and an old oak tree on the other. There was only one other car—an old, slightly rusty-looking Fiat, parked outside. Like the car, the house had a slightly run-down look to it, but in a way that suited it. Cassie couldn’t help wondering what it must have been like, back in the day, to live somewhere like this. There were cottages down the driveway to the right, presumably for the workers who had once lived here, and Cassie assumed the drive also led to a separate servants’ entrance around the back of the house.

She and Linda got out of the car, and Cassie took a deep breath of the fresh, clean air. The day was glorious—bright blue sky spanning out across the fields—far from the cold and wet picture Tom had painted. There were sheep, though—Cassie could see them in the fields below, with little lambs skipping around after their mothers. It made her smile, and she surprised herself by how instantly she felt content here, out in the rural countryside.

Linda smiled over at Cassie. “You look a picture with that backdrop.” She indicated the rolling hills.

Cassie grinned. “I have to say, I kind of love it here.” She felt she could breathe, somehow, now that she was out of London, away from the hectic nature of it, away from Robert watching her every move at the hotel.

“You’ve been to Wales before, haven’t you? I remember Claire taking you when you were little.”

Cassie nodded absentmindedly. It had been the summer holidays, and Claire had booked a week in Snowdonia. Cassie had been excited about going on holiday for the first time in ages—and about spending time with Tom, just the two of them. At the last minute, though, Sam had ended up coming too. He was supposed to be going on holiday to Greece or somewhere, but his dad had canceled with no notice and his mum had been all panicked, so Claire had invited him along with them.

Cassie grabbed her small rucksack from the trunk of the car. “Hey, Linda. Did you know Tom got into Oxford?”

If Linda was surprised by the abrupt change of subject, she didn’t show it. “I didn’t,” she said, and her voice was a little careful. “You mean, to university there?”

Cassie only nodded. It had been playing on her mind since she’d gotten the last clue, the fact that Tom could have kept something like that from her. It made it better, maybe, that she wasn’t the only one who had been in the dark. Had Sam known? she wondered. Would she ever be in the same room with him again, to ask him? They’d only ever been brought together because of Tom, really, and she couldn’t imagine just bumping into him, given she’d decided to try to cut him from her life. For the first time, though, she felt a pang of sadness at that. Not for Sam, but for the memories he held of Tom, the bits of her brother he carried with him.

She and Linda walked to the front door. There was no doorbell, so Cassie banged the big brass knocker.

“It’s open!” came a voice from inside. Cassie looked over at Linda, who shrugged, then twisted the doorknob. They stepped inside a little porch area, a line of coats hanging to the right and at least four umbrellas leaning against the wall to the left. Tentatively, Cassie stepped through the porch, pushed open another door, and saw a grand entrance hall, red-carpeted steps opening up to a majestic fireplace, a candle chandelier hanging in the middle of the room.

“Welcome, welcome!” An old woman, white-gray hair set in curls atop her head, rushed into the room, beaming at them both. She wore a dress of velvet blue and bright red lipstick, more appropriate for a cocktail party than hosting a B&B, Cassie thought. “Come in, come in, come in.” She gestured all the way inside. “You’re Cassie Rivers and Linda Hill, is that right?” She had a soft, lilting Welsh accent. “Wonderful. We’ve got the best rooms in the house set up for you. Though, as you’re the only two guests here today, you’d expect that, wouldn’t you?” She gave a tinkling laugh.

“Now,” she said, taking both Linda’s and Cassie’s bags with surprisingly toned arms, “I’ve put a brochure on the things to do in the local area in your rooms—though come to think of it, you’re only staying one night, is that right?”