The Blackstone Chronicles

Chapter 1

Elizabeth McGuire was worried. It had now been nearly twenty-four hours since her husband had gotten the call from Jules Hartwick. Though the banker told Bill that the “small problem” that had come up about the Blackstone Center wasn’t particularly serious, Bill had been brooding ever since. All through yesterday afternoon his agitation had grown worse. By dinnertime even Megan, who in the six short years of her life had rarely failed to bring a smile to her father’s face, was unable to extract anything more than a grunt from him.
Bill spent most of the night pacing the house, finally coming to bed only when Elizabeth had come downstairs, rubbing her distended belly, and informed him that not only was she lonely, but their soon-to-be-born baby was too. That had at least brought Bill to bed, but she was aware that he hadn’t really slept. By dawn he was already dressed and downstairs, getting in Mrs. Goodrich’s way.
Worse, when Megan came down ten minutes ago, the first thing she wanted to know was if her daddy was sick. Elizabeth assured the little girl that her father was all right, but Megan wasn’t convinced, and volunteered to take care of her daddy if he was sick. Only when Bill himself had given her a hug and declared that he was fine had she gone off to the kitchen to help Mrs. Goodrich with the breakfast dishes.
Now, as she poured Bill a second cup of coffee, Elizabeth tried to reassure him one more time. “If Jules Hartwick said it’s nothing serious, I don’t see why you don’t believe him.”
Bill sighed heavily. “I wish it were that simple. But everything was all set. I mean, everything, right down to the wrecking ball day before yesterday—”
“Which was mostly ceremonial,” Elizabeth reminded him. “It’s not like you’re tearing the whole building down. You told me yourself the ball was mostly for show.”
“It was still the beginning,” Bill groused. “I’m telling you, Elizabeth, I just have a bad feeling about this.”
“Well, you’ll know in another twenty minutes,” Elizabeth told him, glancing at the clock. “It’ll be all right, I know it.” She heaved herself up from the table, suppressing a groan. “This has to be the heaviest baby in history. It feels like it weighs forty pounds.”
Bill slipped an arm around her, and together they walked to the front door. “See you in an hour or so,” he said. He kissed her distractedly and was just reaching for the doorknob when the bell rang. He opened the door to the mailman, standing on the porch, holding a large package. “Another present, Charlie?” he asked. “Is this one for Christmas, or the new baby?”
The mailman smiled. “Hard to say. Christmas is only a couple of weeks away, and the package just says McGuire. Take your pick, I guess. Don’t weigh too much, for whatever that’s worth.”
“It means I can take it,” Elizabeth said, reaching for the package as Bill started down the steps. “Thank you, Charlie.”
“Just doing my job.”
The mailman touched his cap almost as if saluting, and Elizabeth had to resist the urge to return the salute. Contenting herself with a wave, she called a good-bye to her husband and went back into the house, quickly closing the door against the early December chill.
Taking the package back to the dining room with her, she stared at it, puzzled. Just as Charlie had said, it bore no other name but McGuire, and their address, written in neat, block letters.
There was no return address.
“ ‘Curiouser and curiouser,’ ” she quoted softly as she tore away the brown paper that enclosed the parcel. She was just opening the box itself when Megan came in.
“What’s that, Mommy? Is it for me?”
Elizabeth peered into the box, then lifted out a doll.
A beautiful, antique doll with blue glass eyes and long blond hair.
Save for the doll, the box was empty.
Her eyes went once more to the empty spot where the sender’s name should have been. “How strange,” Elizabeth said.