prejudiced.”
“Will!” Marguerite exclaimed.
“Well, it’s true, isn’t it?” Will demanded.
“Even if it is, this isn’t the time or the place to be saying such things,” Marguerite protested. Leaving Kevin and Hempstead alone together, she made her way across the lawn, her right hand pressed against her hip, her limp more pronounced than usual. Will Hempstead watched her go, his eyes taking on a faraway look.
“Still carrying a torch for her?” Kevin finally asked, and the police chief flushed deeply, but nodded.
“Guess I always will,” he said. “And now that Miss Helena’s gone—” He cut off his words abruptly, clearly embarrassed.
“Now that Mother’s dead, you can come around again?” Kevin finished. Before Will could say anything, Kevin went on. “I wonder what she’ll do now? Living with mother all these years—I have a feeling things might be rough for her for a while.”
Hempstead shook his head. “She’ll be all right. There isn’t a soul in town who isn’t crazy about Marguerite, even in spite of the old lady. All she has to do is ask, and folks’ll flock around.” Then his eyes pointedly met Kevin’s. “ ’Course it would help if her brother flocked around a bit, too, if you know what I mean. You’re all the family she’s got left, and she’s going to need you. In fact,” he added, “the whole town’s going to need you. Or at least know what your intentions are.”
Kevin shifted uncomfortably. “I know what you’re saying, Will. And I intend to get Mother’s affairs straightened out. But that shouldn’t take too long, and once it’s done, I’ll be gone.”
A third man joined the group. It was Sam Waterman, a white-haired lawyer who had looked after Helena Devereaux’s affairs for nearly half a century. Kevin was not surprised to see that even today, despite the occasion, Waterman was dressed in his habitual white suit. “Did I hear you say you’re leaving?” he asked Kevin, his voice sharp.
Kevin repeated what he’d told Will Hempstead, and the old lawyer listened in silence. But when Kevin was done, he shook his head.
“I wouldn’t count on that,” he said softly.
Kevin frowned. What could the lawyer be talking about? “I beg your pardon?” he asked.
“I wouldn’t count on leaving,” the lawyer repeated. “In fact, I wouldn’t even think about it until tomorrow, when I’ll be bringing the will out. And after that, you might just be changing your mind.” Then, smiling genially, he turned and stepped into another conversation a few yards away.
Kevin stared after him for a moment, wondering what on earth the lawyer could have been talking about. Unbidden, the words Ruby had spoken the first night he was back at Sea Oaks came back to his mind.
“You
are
a Devereaux, Mr. Kevin, and you
will
stay at Sea Oaks.”
Despite the shimmering heat of the afternoon, a chill passed through him.
Kevin was unable to sleep that night. Not only had Sam Waterman’s words stayed in his mind, but after dinner Anne had told him of her cryptic conversation with Julie after the funeral. When she was done, he’d nodded. “It’s the leases,” he’d said, helping himself to a bourbon and water from the bar in the small library in the east wing. “No one in Devereaux owns the land his house or business is on.”
Anne had blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“Leases,” Kevin had explained. “My family have always been fanatics about land. So when things got real bad at the end of the last century, they didn’t sell land, they leased it—ninety-nine-year leases, which start running out in the next few years. Which means, legally, that every building in Devereaux, along with the land, reverts to us. That’s why,” he’d added, as shock began to register on Anne’s face, “the town looks the way it does. Who’s going to waste money fixing up a bunch of buildings that don’t belong to them?Nobody in town’s broke, Anne. They just don’t know
“Will!” Marguerite exclaimed.
“Well, it’s true, isn’t it?” Will demanded.
“Even if it is, this isn’t the time or the place to be saying such things,” Marguerite protested. Leaving Kevin and Hempstead alone together, she made her way across the lawn, her right hand pressed against her hip, her limp more pronounced than usual. Will Hempstead watched her go, his eyes taking on a faraway look.
“Still carrying a torch for her?” Kevin finally asked, and the police chief flushed deeply, but nodded.
“Guess I always will,” he said. “And now that Miss Helena’s gone—” He cut off his words abruptly, clearly embarrassed.
“Now that Mother’s dead, you can come around again?” Kevin finished. Before Will could say anything, Kevin went on. “I wonder what she’ll do now? Living with mother all these years—I have a feeling things might be rough for her for a while.”
Hempstead shook his head. “She’ll be all right. There isn’t a soul in town who isn’t crazy about Marguerite, even in spite of the old lady. All she has to do is ask, and folks’ll flock around.” Then his eyes pointedly met Kevin’s. “ ’Course it would help if her brother flocked around a bit, too, if you know what I mean. You’re all the family she’s got left, and she’s going to need you. In fact,” he added, “the whole town’s going to need you. Or at least know what your intentions are.”
Kevin shifted uncomfortably. “I know what you’re saying, Will. And I intend to get Mother’s affairs straightened out. But that shouldn’t take too long, and once it’s done, I’ll be gone.”
A third man joined the group. It was Sam Waterman, a white-haired lawyer who had looked after Helena Devereaux’s affairs for nearly half a century. Kevin was not surprised to see that even today, despite the occasion, Waterman was dressed in his habitual white suit. “Did I hear you say you’re leaving?” he asked Kevin, his voice sharp.
Kevin repeated what he’d told Will Hempstead, and the old lawyer listened in silence. But when Kevin was done, he shook his head.
“I wouldn’t count on that,” he said softly.
Kevin frowned. What could the lawyer be talking about? “I beg your pardon?” he asked.
“I wouldn’t count on leaving,” the lawyer repeated. “In fact, I wouldn’t even think about it until tomorrow, when I’ll be bringing the will out. And after that, you might just be changing your mind.” Then, smiling genially, he turned and stepped into another conversation a few yards away.
Kevin stared after him for a moment, wondering what on earth the lawyer could have been talking about. Unbidden, the words Ruby had spoken the first night he was back at Sea Oaks came back to his mind.
“You
are
a Devereaux, Mr. Kevin, and you
will
stay at Sea Oaks.”
Despite the shimmering heat of the afternoon, a chill passed through him.
Kevin was unable to sleep that night. Not only had Sam Waterman’s words stayed in his mind, but after dinner Anne had told him of her cryptic conversation with Julie after the funeral. When she was done, he’d nodded. “It’s the leases,” he’d said, helping himself to a bourbon and water from the bar in the small library in the east wing. “No one in Devereaux owns the land his house or business is on.”
Anne had blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“Leases,” Kevin had explained. “My family have always been fanatics about land. So when things got real bad at the end of the last century, they didn’t sell land, they leased it—ninety-nine-year leases, which start running out in the next few years. Which means, legally, that every building in Devereaux, along with the land, reverts to us. That’s why,” he’d added, as shock began to register on Anne’s face, “the town looks the way it does. Who’s going to waste money fixing up a bunch of buildings that don’t belong to them?Nobody in town’s broke, Anne. They just don’t know
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