And walked into the hum of an office.
The requisite fireplace crackled with light, and the generous windows offered more.
They kept it homey, she supposed, yet dignified with the dark millwork, a waiting area with chairs upholstered in burgundy and navy. A woman somewhere in her fifties sat at a desk. From just a few days at the manor, Sonya thought she recognized it as an antique.
The woman had a short cap of steel-gray hair, a sharp-jawed face, and cheaters perched on her nose.
The fingers flying—no other word for it—over a keyboard paused. “Good afternoon.”
And there, Sonya thought, was the down east accent she’d wanted to hear.
“Hi. I’m Sonya MacTavish. I have a three o’clock with Mr. Doyle. The second Mr. Doyle.”
“You’ve got the look of him. Poole green eyes. Could use a little more meat you don’t want to get blown off in a nor’easter. Have a seat, I’ll let Deuce know you’re here.”
“Thanks.”
Sonya chose a chair, noted another desk—currently empty—sat across the room.
“Collin’s niece is here. Ayah,” the woman said so Sonya had to bite back a smile.
She hung up the phone, and when she rose, Sonya assumed she’d sat on cushions, as she barely topped five feet.
“I’ll take you back.”
“Thanks. Did you know my uncle?”
“Of course I did. Went to school together, didn’t we?”
She led the way down a wide hallway, paused at a set of pocket doors.
“First boy I kissed. No spark on either side, but you don’t know till you know.” She opened the doors.
“You don’t get coffee unless you drank that tea I made you. And I’ll know if you lie.”
Deuce pushed his glasses back up his nose.
“I drank it, Sadie, and it’s every bit as nasty as I remember from last time.”
She stood in the doorway, eyeing him. Then nodded. “All right then, I’ll get you coffee. How do you take yours?” she asked Sonya.
“Actually, I just had coffee at the bookstore, so—”
“Water then. Keep hydrated.”
Deuce rose as Sadie marched off. “Sadie runs my life here; my wife runs it at home. What I need is a hunting cabin.” He crossed the room to take both her hands. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to welcome you to the manor.”
“I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“Just a cold, but between the two women running my life, you’d think I had the plague. Sit, come sit. Tell me how you are.”
He took one of the two wing chairs facing the desk.
“I’m told you’re working up something for Anna.”
“Yes, I sent her some options before I came into the village. I want to thank you, your family, for everything you’ve done.”
“Collin would’ve done the same for mine. What do you think of the manor?”
“It’s a cliché, but truth. The pictures don’t do it justice. My father’s painting…”
Now he reached over, laid a hand over hers.
“I honestly didn’t realize it was your father’s work, and don’t know how that slipped by me. I assumed Collin had painted it.”
“Their styles were similar.”
“I wish I could tell you how and when Collin acquired it, but I don’t know. We were in our twenties when Collin moved into the manor. Honestly, I don’t remember that painting not being in his office once he set it up.”
Sadie came in with a mug of coffee and a glass of water.
“Sadie, Collin, and I went to school together.”
“I tried them both out. No spark. Turned out I like girls.”
She went out, closed the door.
Deuce shook his head. “She marches to her own—and drums you right along with her. I couldn’t manage without her. She and Maureen have been together nearly thirty years, I’d say. They’d be among the few who spent any real time with Collin the last four or five years, so may be able to fill in some blanks if you need them filled.”
“She’s a little scary, but I may risk it.”
“Oh, she’s a lot scary.” He said it with a laugh. “And she was fond of Collin. So. Trey gave you information on the local banks, doctors, and all of that. Do you need any guidance there?”
“I’ll open an account this week. I should’ve done that today, but I wanted to just … look around. I decided I’ll use the bank my uncle used. It seems simpler.”
“I think that’s a good choice. You set up your office in the library! Another good choice. It’s a marvelous room.”
“It is. Everything is. I don’t know how to handle it. What I mean is, I didn’t expect to love it. And I do, and at the same time it’s so intimidating.”
“That sounds like how I feel about Sadie. Are you worried about being up there alone?”
“Not exactly. I like the quiet, and being alone will help me focus on getting my business running, hopefully expanding. I did want to ask about the Pooles—the cousins—if there’s any problem with them—with me—the inheritance. It’s not just the house, which is a lot, but the money.”
“Collin left them all but the five percent of his share of the business, and it’s substantial. None of them, or their attorneys, have questioned the terms of the will. Owen—I know him very well, as he and Trey are friends—runs the business here. The hands-on business, you’d say. Believe me, I’d know if he had any issues. His cousin—and yours—handles the PR, and another the business of the business, another the design, and yet another lives in London and handles that end.
“Your share in Poole Shipbuilding is minimal, Sonya, and changes nothing for any of them.”
“All right. I don’t want any resentments. I think I should know more about the history—the family history.”
“I can certainly help with that. I made Collin a book—that’s in his office. And there should be a digital copy of the family tree on his computer. Also a family Bible, in the library, but it’s not completely accurate.” He gestured toward her. “As you prove by being here.”
“Why would they have done it? Separated the brothers?”
“Patricia Youngsboro married Michael Poole, and like some converts became a fanatic regarding the Poole name. Though she refused to live in the manor.”
“Really?”
“To my knowledge, she never stepped foot in it. She was a hard woman, Sonya. I expect she took Collin, placed him with her daughter simply to keep the line intact. She had no reason to keep both children, not in her mind.”
“But there had to be people who knew.”
“Money can obfuscate very well. The story put out, and one Collin spent the first decades of his life believing, was he was born out of wedlock, and his father died in Vietnam before he and his mother could marry. Gretta was a dutiful mother.”
“Dutiful.”
“Cowed by an overbearing mother. She never married. Collin was raised in his grandmother’s house, where he and his mother lived. His grandfather had little interest in the business, but Patricia more than made up for that. Michael spent his time traveling, indulging in what did interest him. Women, drink, adventure. He flew planes—and jumped out of them—raced boats, scuba dived, climbed mountains. He died at fifty-eight, in a climb of Denali in Alaska.”
“Mr. Doyle—”