Finding Julian (6 page)

Chapter Seven

I had breakfast with Aunt Bev the
next morning
, afterwards she took me for a walk down
on the beach. Seven hadn’t come out to eat and somehow, that worried me.

Strolling along the ocean with Aunt Bev,
my thoughts irresistibly drifted to Seven and I found myself asking, “Does he
usually sleep in?”

Aunt Bev looked at me in wonder. “Well,
now and then he will.” She pulled up her summer dress and tied it at her knees,
so it wouldn’t get wet. “Don’t worry too much about last night, dear. Trust me,
that wasn’t the first time Anthony Monroe’s been slapped for his foul mouth.”

I chuckled. “Have you slapped him as
well?”

A mischievous grin appeared on her face
as she towed on my elbow, leading me further away from the water. “Forget about
that. Just enjoy the morning.”

It was hard to forget about anything.
Mr. Cornwell was going to stop by later upon my request, and I still hadn’t
come up with any ideas as to what I was going to do with this so-called
inheritance.

“Tell me something,” Aunt Bev broke
through my thoughts. She sat down on the sand and eyed the spot next to her.

I settled down and pulled the loose hair
through a rubber band, securing it at the nape of my neck.

“What?” I asked.  

Aunt Bev laid back on her elbows. “Why
do you think you have no right to this place and only Mackenzie does? You are a
Vanderson as well.”

“Because,” I gazed out at the water and
cupped some sand into the palm of my hand, “she’s his wife’s daughter and—”

“And you’re the lover’s, blah, blah,
blah,” she waved me off. “He didn’t love Marlene, not the way he loved Sarah.”
Her remark was of pure knowledge, not a guess.

I was beyond curious now. “What? What do
you mean?” All this time I believed I was a product of a fling. Not that my
mother had placed the thought in my head. She’d never really spoken about her
relationship with my father, and I never probed her for details. She always
seemed sad whenever I tried to bring him up.

“Their marriage was arranged by their
parents. It’s all complicated and I can’t really explain it to you, Julian. My
brother was the kind of man who always put his own desires last. That’s why he
was never truly happy, even here at the estate. He gave up too much to please
others.”

She got to her feet and reached her hand
out for me.

“If he was sad living here, then why
give it to me?” I asked.

Aunt Bev clutched my hand and we started
walking back towards the guesthouse. “Because,” she sighed, “he wanted you to
be here, in the place where he was. Maybe, you’ll begin to understand him more
by staying.”

I doubted my being here would help me
understand anything about my father, now that he was dead.

When we came up from the beach,
Mackenzie was lounging by the pool on the deck of the main house. She was
wearing a barely there bikini and humungous shades that hid her piercing eyes.
Still, I knew she’d been watching me all along.

I ignored her and continued walking behind
Aunt Bev towards the guesthouse, deciding to wait in the living room for Mr.
Cornwell, when Mackenzie called out, “We need to talk.”

Aunt Bev and I both stopped and glanced
over at her. Mackenzie got up from the chair and walked to the edge of the railing
surrounding the deck.

Then she clarified, in the rudest way
possible, “Not you, Beverly. You’re excused. I mean
her
.”

Snorting, I folded my arms and asked,
“What is it? If this is about our father’s money and the house, don’t worry. I’m
going to talk to Mr. Cornwell about handing it all over to you.”

She released a sarcastic laugh. “Don’t
be stupid. Cornwell will never give anything to me.” Mackenzie took off her
shades and leaned over the railing. “Beverly, I asked to speak with her
alone
.”

This girl was a piece of work.

I peered over at Aunt Bev and gave her
an apologetic look. She patted me on my shoulder then whispered, “Don’t fall
for anything she says.”

  
Aunt Bev entered the guesthouse, leaving us alone. Mackenzie nodded me over to
the deck. I obliged, curious as to what she had to say.

The moment I joined her by the railing,
she turned and faced me fully. “My uncle found a lawyer willing to look into
the will,” she said sharply.

“So it can be contested then?”

“Of course,” she snorted. “Only, he’s
doing things in my mother’s favor.”

I folded my arms and leaned on one foot.
“Therefore?”

“Therefore, he’s trying to find a way
for her to get the estate. Not me.”

Shaking my head, I said firmly, “No. I’m
not turning it over to your mother.”

“Good. Hold on to that thought when they
present papers to you.”

Mackenzie lingered her gaze on me for a
few seconds, taking in my features. I felt edgy.

“I guess we’re finish here,” I said,
turning to step down from the deck and head back to the guesthouse.

She hissed behind, “Stupid bitch,”
stopping me in my tracks.

I spun around fast, furious by her
insult, then went back up to the deck to give her a piece of my mind. “What did
you say?”

She rolled her eyes and glanced over at
the ocean.

I growled, “The only stupid bitch here
is you.”

“You don’t even get it,” she barked at
me.

My hands flared. “Get what? Apparently
I’m stupid so enlighten me.”

She straightened and inched closer to my
face. “You were the one he wanted all these years even though I was right here
with him. I had to work so hard for his love, but you,” she paused and shook
her head slowly, her eyes welling up with tears. “You have no idea how high he
held you in his heart. He loved you more. He never wanted me.”

My anger started to whither a bit.
Strangely, I wanted to make her feel better. “That’s not true. He loved you. He
let
me
go.”

Mackenzie sneered. Her lips trembled as
she spoke. “Really? Why’d you think he left it all to
you
then?”

I tensed at her words. How could our
father love me over Mackenzie? She was the one who had him while growing up.
Why didn’t he leave it all to her?

“He sent my mom away,” I reminded. “He
turned his back on us.”

“Is that what you think?” Mackenzie
lifted her head to the sky and let out a sarcastic laugh. “You have absolutely
no idea what happened that day.”

She dipped her head to look me dead in
the eye again, appearing more irritated than ever.

Feeling uneasy, I tried to leave, but
Mackenzie gripped my elbow and stopped me.

She gritted her teeth and warned, “You
better not give it to my mother, or else.”

I yanked my elbow away. “Or else what?”
my words were sturdy. Maybe she thought she could intimidate me but she had
another thing coming.

Dropping my hands on my hips, I urged
her on, “Well, what are you gonna do if I don’t?”

Mackenzie strutted past me, snatched up
her towel from the lounge chair and walked towards the screen door of the main
house.

“I’m not afraid of you!” I called out to
her.

She slowed and spoke over her shoulder,
“You should be.” She hurried inside the main house. Her words left me with
chills in the warm weather.

*

Later that day, Mr. Cornwell arrived at
the guesthouse to offer me some legal advice. I poured him a glass of orange
juice, and we both sat around the table in the nook.

“So, you’ve decided to stay?” he asked,
sounding hopeful.

I drank some juice and relaxed back on
the seat, then clarified, “Only until we find a way to turn it over.”

Mr. Cornwell braced forward. He seemed
more laid-back today than he did when he was reading the will, wearing a short
sleeve shirt, jeans and loafers.

“Ms. Rowell,” his dark brown eyes met
mine, there were fine lines around them, “I hope you’re not thinking about
giving it all to Mackenzie? There’s a reason why Cole decided not to.”

“That’s exactly what I want to do.”

His brows shot up. “She’s an
inconsiderate, spoiled brat who needs to learn that she can’t have everything
she wants.”

I wasn’t surprised. Still… “She grew up
here. She deserves all of this,” I gestured with my hand.

“Is that so?” Mr. Cornwell smirked then
fell back on the chair. “Did she tell you she told her father to burn it down,
sell it, or leave it to rot for all she cared? Trust me, Ms. Rowell, Mackenzie
doesn’t want this place. She’s only upset he left it to you. And don’t let me
get started on that mother of hers.” He paused to have a drink. “Aside from
being greedy, Marlene can be rather frightening as well,” he mumbled to
himself.

I was still stuck on his remarks about
Mackenzie. “I thought…she seemed really upset, even asked me not to turn it
over to her mother in case her uncle’s lawyer presented me with papers.”

His eyes expanded. “No, don’t do that
either. In fact, don’t do anything at this point. No one can be trusted.”

Mr. Cornwell slouched, staring emptily
at the marble-covered table. He was lost in some serious contemplation.

“What do you mean?” I pressed him to go
on.

Meeting my gaze again, he continued, “I
didn’t want to say anything, at least, not until I was completely sure…and
certainly not to you, Ms. Rowell.”

“Sure about what?” I rested my elbows on
top of the table.

Mr. Cornwell looked around to see if
anyone was in the house. Then he took his glasses off. “Ms. Rowell…Julian, I
think your father was murdered.”

“Murdered!” I yelped, quickly slapping a
hand over my mouth right after.

“Yes. Murdered,” he whispered. “Cole was
a healthy man. He was very strict about dieting and exercise. Before he got
sick, he’d just had his annual check-up.”

“And?” I muttered, nearly breathless.

“
And
he was as healthy as a
horse. Listen to me, you can’t tell anyone. Not until I have proof.”

I nodded sheepishly, not sure how to
take all of this. The thought of my father being killed had never occurred to
me. Now that Mr. Cornwell had mentioned it, the idea didn’t sound so
far-fetched. He was a wealthy man. There’d been cases on the news of people
killing people for money. But if he really was murdered, who did it?

“Ms. Rowell?” Mr. Cornwell nudged my
hand. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, just wondering if it’s really
true.”

Getting up, he plucked his glasses from
the table. “Well, for your sake, I hope it’s not, because the will certainly
wouldn’t make the culprit very happy.”

I gulped. He certainly wasn’t making me
feel better about sticking around.

“So, what do I do about the estate?” was
all I could mutter.

He paused by the living room sofa and
turned slightly to say, “Don’t turn it over to
any
of them, Ms. Rowell.
They don’t deserve it. Please keep your inheritance. I know it’s hard because
you didn’t get the chance to know him, but he wanted you to have it all. I’m
sure there's a reason for it.”

Mr. Cornwell continued towards the front
door. I sat in contemplation until he left the guesthouse.

With all that he’d said to me, I didn’t
want to stay in Narragansett another second, trying to figure out why my father
left me his estate, much less how to give it to Mackenzie. Right now, I wanted
to go back to New York and away from all this craziness.

Chapter Eight

I wasn’t able to leave the next day
as
planned, because bright and early Monday morning, Aunt Bev dragged me out of
bed and off with her to the Vanderson Publishing office in Newport. I’d read
that the company was worth millions, even making Forbes top twenty most
innovative list.

Vanderson Publishing was home to three
magazines. Their most successful was
Travel Narragansett
, a favorite for
people visiting the town, particularly in summer.

Arriving on Thames Street, Aunt Bev
parked in her reserved spot then we entered the office from the back door.

The place was much bigger than it
appeared on the outside. The light blue walls were warm and inviting with
pictures of my father and business associates taken at various landmarks.

As we walked further inside, the
employees came into view. Everyone turned their heads instantly and stared at
us. Some regarded Aunt Bev with empathy, while others were preoccupied with me.
They creased their foreheads, trying to decipher who I was.

Aunt Bev stopped in the middle of the
office and called for their attention, “Everyone, listen up.” I stood at her
side, nervous. “This is my niece, Julian. She’ll be working with me for the
time being.”

Hearing her announcement, I swallowed a
huge lump in my throat. I never agreed to working at Vanderson Publishing. Up
until two hours ago, I was just about ready to leave.

“Aunt Bev,” I whispered, tight-lipped.
“I didn’t say—”

She nudged my arm for me to be quiet
then continued, “I hope you will make her feel welcome.”

They all smiled approvingly at me as
Aunt Bev proceeded on her way to her office around the corner, towing me behind
her down the hall.

When we got to her office, she walked
around her desk and turned on her computer. I closed the door and moved closer
to the leather chairs facing her.

“Aunt Bev, I never said I was going to
work here.” My words were steely.

She looked up from her computer and
frowned. “But you said you’d stay and try to figure things out.”

“Yes,” I sat down in one of the chairs.
“Only a day—”

“But you’re still here, Julian,” she
reminded, a sly smile on her face as she walked over to a file cabinet by the
window. “I thought you could use the experience, being that you have a
certificate in Marketing.”

I didn’t remember telling her that.
“Just how often do you and my mom talk?”

Aunt Bev ignored my question, going back
to her desk to sit down. She handed me a folder. “Here are some suggestions
that I’ve collected from a few of our readers in the past five months. I’d like
for you to help me on a little project, Julian.”

Unexpectedly, I felt intrigued by the
idea of working with Aunt Bev, and it suppressed my initial thoughts of
leaving.

“What kind of project?” I asked.

She smiled. “There’s going to be a
re-launch of our entertainment magazine in a few weeks. We’ve already worked on
design and a majority of other contents, but I’d like to make some improvements
on getting more reader interaction, find a way to make it more appealing, not
only to the younger generation but to the older crowd as well.”

I listened as Aunt Bev relayed to me her
ideas. Her enthusiasm intrigued me. Shortly after explaining some things to me,
she turned back to her computer and her fingers glided across the keyboard
effortlessly. She was so focused, so poised. I remembered how sad she was two
days ago, sobbing at the funeral. Shouldn’t she have taken a few more days off to
mourn her brother? Yet, observing her now, Aunt Bev seemed so put-together and
excited about work.

Could she have killed my father?

No. There was no way she could have done
such a thing, if that truly did happen like Mr. Cornwell assumed. Whatever the
case, Aunt Bev was too kindhearted. She didn’t seem like she had it in her to
even hurt a fly.

I released a frustrated moan and peered
up from the papers to see Aunt Bev looking at me with worry. My eyes broadened,
utterly surprised at myself for considering she was a murderer, as those
loving, hazel eyes relaxed and smiled at me.

The door pushed open. I turned in the
chair to see who it was. A man, about the same age as Aunt Bev, with jet black,
low-cut hair and bright brown eyes looked in.

Seeing she was inside her office, he
entered. “Beverly, I can’t believe you’re back, working,” he said solemnly. His
concerned voice sounded wrapped up with something else—something far beyond
friendship.

Raising an eyebrow, I turned and
regarded my aunt. Her face turned sad, a vacant look in her eyes. She stood and
walked from her desk towards the man.

“I had to get away from the house, from
everything. If I drown myself in work I don’t have to think about him being
gone,” she said, placing her delicate fingers inside his outreached hand.

Oh yeah. They were definitely more than
friends
. The way he held Aunt Bev’s hand was just too
intimate.

He embraced her, wrapping his arms
around her petite body. She closed her eyes and pressed further into his chest.
Then he began to stroke the back of her head, comforting her. The scene was too
passionate for me. I cleared my throat so they’d remember I was there.

Aunt Bev eased out of his arms and
smiled innocently. “Oh, yes, I almost forgot.” She collected herself. “David,
this is Julian, my niece. Julian, this is David. He’s our photographer and…”
she trailed, looking into his eyes, “We’re…dating.”

I jumped up to shake his hand. A nervous
laugh came out as I said, “Nice to meet you.”

David gave me a once over as he shook my
hand. “You look just like…” his eyes shot back to Aunt Bev. “Well, it’s nice to
meet you, Julian.”

“You didn’t come,” Aunt Bev said softly.
There was an awkward silence.

After a minute, I realized what she
meant. David wasn’t at my father’s funeral.

I kept my eyes on his face as he
answered, not sure what I was searching for.

“Beverly, you know I would’ve gone, but
your brother hated me.”

Hated
? His remark
somehow unnerved me.

“How could I attend his funeral, knowing
how he felt about me when he was alive?” David added.

He had no idea how much he presented
himself as a suspect to me right now.

Aunt Bev dropped her eyes, deliberating.
She stood quietly for a split second then her head shot up. “It doesn’t matter
anymore. He’s gone. And I have to do my best to keep his work going.” She
looked over at me. “Julian, do you mind grabbing that folder and giving me and
David a few minutes alone?”

I nodded and did as she asked. Once
outside of the office, I closed the door and walked down the hall, clutching the
folder to my chest. As I reached the end where it arched around to the
entrance, I spotted a familiar tousled, brown-haired guy standing by the water
cooler.

Inching closer, I saw it was indeed
Seven. He closed his eyes as he drank some water. I stood there, watching him.
He looked especially handsome today in a white dress shirt and dark pants.

Seven finished drinking his water,
tossing the plastic cup into the trash. He turned to make his way down the
hall, where I still stood, watching him. As his eyes glanced up and made
contact with mine, a broad grin stretched across his face.

“Julian, what are you doing here?” he
asked, stopping in front of me.

I snapped out of whatever odd spell I
was under. “Hmm? Oh…Aunt Bev brought me here to help her with something.”

“That was fast,” he said, looking
pleased.

I narrowed my brows. “Fast?”

“You decided to stay and work with the
company.” There was something in his voice that made him sound hopeful.

“Actually,” I clarified, “I’m not staying
past today. I have to leave tonight.”

“Have to?” Seven’s smile turned into a
frown and his emerald eyes drooped. “Why? Did you decide what you’re going to
do with the house and the money? Is someone forcing you to leave?”

I shook my head. “No…but…I don’t think I
should stay here. It’s just…” I didn’t know how to explain it. I only knew I
didn’t belonged at the house or in their lives.

Looking away to the side, he stared into
space. Then he brought his eyes back to mine and smiled sympathetically. “Okay.
But, before you leave, let me show you the paintings.”

I nodded and he walked past me, brushing
my arm lightly. Once again, the connection was brief yet strangely intense.
Whether or not he was intentionally doing it, his touch stirred something inside
and made me shudder.

I watched Seven, continuing down the
hall. But then, as I was about to turn around and head for the exit, a tall,
beautiful brunette of model physique came around the corner, walking right into
him. They both laughed it off flirtatiously. I felt irritated, seeing them
together. She clearly had a thing for Seven, with that uncanny ‘I want to eat
you up’ expression all over her flawless face. And the way she lightly rubbed
his arm with her long skeletal fingers was more than enough proof.

There was a terrible feeling creeping
around my stomach. Was I jealous?

Irrepressibly, I stood there watching
them. Her eyes caught mine and her smile ceased, replaced with curiosity.
Screwing up her face, she nudged Seven in my direction and mouthed something to
him I couldn’t make out.

I spun immediately before his gaze
caught mine, heading towards the exit of the office. Not sure where I was
going, I simply wanted to get out of there, fast.