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“Hiding them in your luggage, are you?”
“You know it.”
“You wouldn’t also be hiding, like, a few…less colorful…wardrobe pieces, would you?” I teased. “If the plan was for you to blend in, you’re not doing a very good job.”
“Actually, the plan was to be my authentic self. At least from here on out. And speaking of that, I—”
A knock sounded on the back door. I glanced at the mantel clock above the fireplace. It was a little after seven in the morning—too early for visitors. Had Eugenia forgotten her key?
“Be right back,” I said to Wade, hurrying through the pantry to the door and cracking it open, but there was no one there.
Through the partially opened door, I saw Oren’s Mercedes SUV parked next to the house. I slid out onto the back steps once I noticed him sitting in the driver’s seat, looking at the single sheet of paper he held in his hand. I smiled when our eyes met and picked my way out to the car.
“I apologize,” he said sheepishly, opening the door and stepping out once I closed the distance. “I realized what time it was and was going to kill some time before knocking again. I didn’t want to wake you.”
“You didn’t wake me,” I said kindly. “I’m entertaining a house guest, actually.”
“It was good of Jace to stay the night with you,” Oren said, ending with an indulgent smile. “It doesn’t surprise me in the least that he won’t let you out of his sight.”
“It’s…it’s not Jace,” I sputtered out, suddenly aware of how this might look to Oren. Or Eugenia. Or Jace. “I can explain. Just come inside and meet him.”
Oren quirked an eyebrow but followed me into the house, doing his best to squeeze through the opening I’d made.
“Oren,” I said excitedly when we reached the dining room, “this is Wade. We worked together in Shreveport and…he’s a friend. A good friend. He’s come to visit and is going to be staying with me at Richmond House for a while.”
“Just a few days,” Wade piped up. He’d finished his cereal and walked around the table to greet Oren. “I’m sorry I didn’t mention it before,” he said to me, “but I only took a few days off.”
I nodded. I’d deal with that piece of information later.
“Nice to meet you, Wade,” Oren said. The men shook hands, Oren still holding the paper in his left.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“I’m afraid my visit this morning isn’t personal, though I have the added bonus of checking in on you to see how you’re faring.”
“You have business with Eugenia?”
“With you, I’m afraid, Greer.”
“What? What business?”
“In my hand is a letter informing me, as the executor of Sterling Richmond’s estate, that there’s been a challenge to the will.”
“The will? Who would challenge Sterling’s will?”
The question flew out of my mouth, but of course, I knew. Eugenia. Who else? That’s why she’d spent the past day elsewhere. She knew news would travel fast. She got the money, and now she wanted the house. In the parlor, the phone rang, echoing throughout the main hall, but I dismissed it with a wave, urging Oren to go on.
“It’s Anna.” Oren paused, his expression apologetic. “Ms. Anna Denise Meade…has filed paperwork asserting that she is the rightful owner of Richmond House, as she is—ahem—Sterling Richmond’s rightful heir.”
I stood, stunned, processing what Oren had just said. Anna. The last time I’d seen her, she’d encouraged me to go after Jace, setting everything in motion. Except that wasn’t the last time I’d seen her. I’d seen her at Richmond House on the night of the séance, climbing out the window and somehow—somehow—climbing down the exterior and disappearing into the woods without a backward glance. Or had her apparition just been an Ecstasy-fueled nightmare?
“What am I supposed to do now, Oren? Am I allowed to be in the house still?”
“Right now, Richmond House is still your house, Greer,” he said emphatically. “But the fact that Sterling never specifically named you in the will—that the house went to you by default as next of kin— doesn’t bode well.”
“But do we know for sure that Anna is his daughter? I mean, we know, but was there ever a paternity test done? Do we have Sterling’s DNA if we wanted confirmation now?”
“Those are questions I don’t know the answer to,” Oren said.
Wade rested his big hand on my shoulder. Not for the first time today, I was so glad he’d come.
“Why is she doing this, Oren? And why didn’t she talk to me about it? Why didn’t Eugenia—she must know, right?”
“You know as much as I do at this point,” Oren soothed. “The first thing you’ll need to do is decide if you even want to fight for the house.”
“If I do, I’ll need a lawyer,” I mused.
“Yes. And I believe there’s one in town you know quite well, indeed.”
