User:Ashleykicks

Chapter 1: Melody Weeps This is going to be perfect, Marie thought stubbornly for the hundredth time as she let the cool sea breeze brush against her face. Dolphins chattered and leapt at the side of the small ferry that traversed the strait between the island of Melody Weeps and the rest of the world once daily. She smiled and waved at them as they darted through the water, thinking they looked like they were making the running stitch through the waves. Cheered, she allowed herself the indulgence of the slightest hope that, just as she'd been trying to convince herself for the past hour, past week, her new life on Melody Weeps would be a better than the one she'd just left. Then she laughed at herself. A week ago, she had been living in a dinghy old apartment with a rampaging vermin problem, no air conditioning to speak of, and a manager who had persistently offered to lower her rent if she let him get into her skirts. A week ago, she had been working double shift as a waitress - a job she detested and was terrible at - just to pay the bills and put food in her belly. She'd had no family that she knew of but for a smattering of her mother's cousins, who never acknowledged any relation to her anyway. And here she was, proud owner of a tidy little house and lot on the tidy little island of Melody Weeps. She'd sold all her furniture and anything she didn't care to keep for a tidy little sum, enough to buy herself a tidy little laptop she was quite delighted with. Of course life was going to be better. If only she could believe it. If only everything weren't just a little too tidy. Maybe that's the problem, Marie told herself, nibbling on a lock of her shoulder-length brown hair. As a writer - or an aspiring writer, anyway - she knew enough about stories and, she thought, life, to know that things didn't just fix themselves, that characters in a rut and a breath away from being broke didn't just have hitherto-unheard-of great-aunt Delius who left them houses (with provisions for upkeep) on hitherto-unheard-of islands. But Mary-Nicole Lawson, poor, struggling, very nearly desperate, had. And Delia Amberville-Waters, rich, eccentric, deceased, had left in her will one of her many properties, the dearest of her many properties; to a great-niece she had never met, with as little regard for the outrage of many of her closest relations as she always had. Or so Paxton Amberville, arrogant, insufferable, and oh-so-hot great-nephew of Marie’s Great-Aunt Delia, the executor of her will, had told her just a week ago. Marie turned to look at her "cousin," who had insisted on accompanying her to Melody Weeps. He seemed determined not to be cheered by the charming ferry trip and the dolphins. He seemed perfectly happy to ignore her in favor of frowning at the island that drew ever-nearer. Marie, in turn, was just as happy to ignore him as she gazed at her new home. As the ferry pulled into the pier, she squinted at the large sign gaily painted red and yellow. It read, "Welcome to Melody Weeps. Population about 400 or so. As long as you're glad to be here, we're glad to have you." Oh yes, Marie thought with a grin, truly optimistic for the first time. This is going to be perfect. "Uh-um," Paxton cleared his throat, forcefully reminding Marie of his presence. Her grin faded a tad, but she smiled at him as she turned, determined that he would not ruin this moment entirely. "They're waiting for us to leave," he said, pointedly glancing towards where her car stood first in line for the off-ramp. Feeling her cheeks turning pink, she nodded, and headed for the car. Paxton opened the door to the sleek BMW parked behind her own bucket of rust and slid in. Fumbling with the car keys, she could feel herself turning sunburn red as the eyes of the other passengers watched her finally insert the correct key into the lock, and pull the door open by force. It had a tendency to stick. Like super glue. Getting the door shut once more was another painfully hard task, but then she was putting the key in the ignition, and... Nothing. A horn blared behind her as someone finally lost their patience. "Hurry it up, would you?" Someone yelled, and she couldn't help but glance back to make certain it was not her "cousin." Paxton sat quite relaxed in his leather upholstered seat, watching her calmly, and she found it suddenly very irritating. Giving the key a vicious turn, she heard the car cough, sputter, and then dies. Only one thing for it, then, she told herself. Get them to help push your car out of the way. Still, she turned the key a bit gentler, in the hopes that this third would indeed be a charm. Again nothing. Force worked better it seemed, but she gave the car a small pat on the dashboard and a couple of words of encouragement just in case they might help. The honking was sporadically increasing, and she knew that any moment someone would be asking if she needed a push. Gripping the key, she twisted it jerkily, and stared in amazement as half of the metal top now resided in her palm, quite separated from the portion still in the ignition. Just then someone tapped on her window, making her jump. Instead of trying to roll it down, she opened the door. "It's not going to start," she said, her hand closing around on the key. "I'm not surprised," Paxton said drolly, and motioned to several other men who seemed to have congregated around her car as if sensing the need. The sudden motion surprised her, and she jerked the door closed hastily. Down the ramp, and then over onto the side of the road she aimed her car towards a bit of grass that would put her out of everyone's way. With her car out of their path, the rest of the vehicles streamed by, all giving her a long curious stare. Paxton pulled up behind her. "Get in; we'll have someone tow your car later." Taking a deep breath, Marie summoned all of the graciousness she could manage and smiled. "Thank you Paxton," she said, and slid into the cool luxury of the BMW. So it's not starting out exactly perfect, she thought to herself. Life is not exactly a perfect painting or movie. Besides, no matter how you arrive, today you shall view the beginning of your new life. Car or no car, nothing can mar that. Not today.

• * *

As they drove through the town, Marnie looked around her with interest. She wasn't sure just what she'd expected, really, but the coziness of the Melody Weeps Main Street did not disappoint. There were quite a few shops: a diner, a couple of boutiques, a cafe/bookstore she made a note to check out, a hair salon and barbershop with the traditional candy swirl of red, white and blue. It was a very by-the-book picture of small-town America, she thought, delighted when she spotted the general store next to the post office. "McDonald's hasn't hit Melody Weeps just yet," Paxton said suddenly, making her jump, "but there's Sam's Diner. Samantha Trent runs it, and if you don't mind the greasiness of the fries and the dripping burgers, you can't do better." She turned to stare at him; he shrugged and set his eyes back on the road. "Doesn't look like you need to watch your weight anyhow." "Thank you." If she were writing this scene, she thought, she'd have said something less asinine. But for the moment, she could think of nothing else to say. "The general store delivers, they'll be happy enough to accommodate you if you don't want to go into town, especially if you tell them you're Great-aunt Delia's great-niece. The house is equipped with a phone; I'll leave you the numbers of the general store and the town's only pizza parlor. If you're looking for a job, you might want to try Pages, that's the cafe/bookstore we just passed; they're looking for someone to help out in the kitchen if you can cook." A bag-laden couple strolling on the sidewalk waved at the passing car; Paxton waved back. Now Marnie was really staring. In the week they'd been together, this was the longest speech she'd heard out of him since he had floored her with his legalese regarding Great-Aunt Delia's will. "If you don't mind me asking, um, why are you being so nice?" He didn't answer as the car began an uphill climb; that there was only a slight increase in its steady murmur was a testament to its engine. Marie’s jaw dropped at the sight of a vast expanse of blue-gray Ocean. "To your right, you have the Atlantic," he said dryly. Then, as they rounded a curve, "And to your left, a bit more of the Atlantic between us and mainland America." Marnie shifted on her seat, by turns awed and excited by the view and the idea that she, Marnie Lawson, would be living near such splendor, living in such splendor. She felt like a kid in candy land. "And up ahead, your new home." They had driven up to a wrought iron gate, and as Paxton punched a code into the security system, Marnie craned her head to see the plaque she had caught a glimpse of on the brick wall. It read, simply, "The Summer House." Marnie didn't realize she'd read it aloud until he glanced at her and gave a small twist of the mouth that might have been a smile. "It was Great-Aunt Delia's summer house, so she called it The Summer House. And to answer your question," he paused just long enough for Marnie to wonder what question he was talking about, "I'm not being nice. I'm being neighborly. My vacation house is further down the lane." With that, he drove the car through the gates and up the drive. Another time, Marnie might have stopped to wonder about having him as a neighbor, but any thoughts on that or any other subject were quickly eclipsed by her first view of the house. Or a villa? Maybe a chateau. Certainly nothing as maudlin as a house, or as modest as the cottage Marnie had originally thought it. As she got out of the car, there was really only one thing she could say. "Wow." Chapter 2: The Summer House Her brown eyes were huge as Marnie took in the tall windows set in the brownstone of the house. There were windows on all sides, she realized, and they would let in the sunset on one side, the sunrise on the other. The house was large, much, much larger than she had expected. Much grander than she had expected. She was tempted to pinch herself, and yet if this was a dream, she didn't really want to wake up. "If you're done gawking," a curt voice from the entryway had her nearly jumping again, "I'd like to get you settled and go home before dark." Paxton had stepped into the foyer, and was depositing her ratty overnight bag and her beloved laptop on a convenient bureau. "I - I thought the ferry only went back and forth once a day," Marnie said falteringly. "And surely it's too late to be driving to New York?" He'd told her he lived and practiced in New York some days before. "I have a house down the road," he reminded her. She blushed. "Anyway, I'm tired, so let's make this quick. You shouldn't need anything tonight; Beth Cowper was hired on some years ago to do general housecleaning every other day except Sunday. I had her stock the fridge yesterday when I confirmed we'd be arriving today or tomorrow. She should be here in the morning, and she'll take you on a more detailed tour than I'll be able to give you." He studied her darting, delighted eyes, realized she was only half-listening to him. Taking her hand, he dropped the keys into it. "Though I'm sure you'll do a fair bit of exploring yourself before then. Beth also does most of the gardening, so you won't have to worry about whether or not you've got a green thumb. "Kitchen's through there," he said, indicating a doorway to the right as they veered down the hall to the left. "There's a stove, oven, anything you could need if you cook at all. There's also a phone if you don't care to." She followed him into the living room, cozy with its dark wood tables and shelves, its cream-colored carpets, and tan seats. It belongs on a magazine spread, Marnie thought, like Interior Living or Luxury Homes or something like that. She made a slow spin around the room. It was, quite simply, beautiful. It faced the west, and must be breathtaking at sunset. Paxton had seated himself and was scribbling on a pad he'd pulled from his jacket pocket. Marnie wondered if his suits ever dared to crease, and thought he looked more at home here than she did in her sweater, jeans, and sneakers. "The dining rooms between the living room and kitchen. The den is through there," he jerked his chin toward a door to her left. "There's a big screen TV with satellite feed. The library is next to it." He ripped out the page he'd been writing on. "This is a list of numbers. You'll find the general store, the garage, the police stations, and the pizza parlor's numbers on it. Oh, and mine and Beth's. I've left both the number of my vacation house and my cell phone, in case you need anything." He started writing on a fresh sheet. "Three bedrooms upstairs and a study. Unless you're a not a morning person, I suggest taking the white room. It's the only one with a balcony and walk-in closet. Phones in the study, all the bedrooms, the kitchen, the den, and in here, this one with an answering machine." He nodded at the table beside the sofa; Marnie turned and saw the phone. He ripped out the second page. "This contains the security codes for the house and gate. You and I are the only ones with the codes, so you'll have to buzz people in. There are intercoms in the upstairs hall, kitchen, and foyer. Got that?" "Err, I think so," Marnie said. "Thank you." He gave her another one of those mouth-quirks. "It's my job." Getting up, he said, "I'll be going now, but I'll be back before lunch tomorrow. I'll arrange to have your car towed tonight, and get your stuff in the morning." "Thank you," Marnie said as she followed him down the hall. Would she ever give up having to thank him? She rather hoped so. "All right, call if you need anything. Oh, and welcome to Melody Weeps, Cousin." Within minutes he was down the drive and through the gates, which swung closed behind him without so much as a squeak. "Well," Marnie said to herself. "What now?" She knew what, of course, and went to explore her new home, scarcely believing it was her new home. The kitchen was big enough and efficient enough to daunt her just a little bit - it seemed the type that required a French chef with an artistic temperament. As Paxton had promised, the fridge was fully stocked; she probably wouldn't need anything for at least a week. The dining room was all elegance in dark mahogany. The study had a PC, but Marnie didn't intend to use it much. And, damn him, he was right about the bedrooms upstairs. The white room (there was a blue room and a green room, as well) was by far the best, its balcony opening up to the east. There were white gauze curtains, white bedclothes, and a white carpet. There was an anteroom where Marnie thought she could work well, and she was amused that her brand new iMac would fit perfectly in these surroundings. The bathroom, with its adjoining vanity room and walk-in closet, was heaven. She had an insane urge to laugh hysterically at the sight of the luxurious Jacuzzi-tub. "No way is this real," Marie told herself as she made her way downstairs. "There's got to be a catch somewhere." She had saved the library for last. The den was cool and modern with its gadgets and ideal movie-marathon TV, but she did little more than glance at it. When she opened the door to the library, she was sure this was all a dream. There were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, the kind with sliding ladders that she had fantasized about since watching Walt Disney's Beauty and the Beast as a kid. She climbed up, and was delighted to find a leather-bound volume of Pride and Prejudice. She clambered back down and had almost plopped herself into one of the handy couches when a movement caught her eye. She turned and looked out the window. Sure enough, there was a girl, probably about her own age, on the lawn. Later, Marnie would remember that the girl's dress, a pale blue number that looked nearly translucent, was torn. But for the moment all she could see was that the girl was crying. Marnie dropped the book on the couch, and hurried to the front door. "Hello? Do you need hel-?" Marnie let herself out onto the porch. But the lawn was empty. Slightly disturbed, Marnie slowly went back inside, closing the door behind her after a second glance at the lawn. Heading back to the library, she suddenly changed direction and went upstairs to her room, out the glass doors and onto the balcony. Scanning the grounds, she looked for any sign of movement, but unless the girl was hiding there was no person anywhere about. Confused, Marnie retreated back to her bedroom and lay down. Before she could put any kind of logic to what had just occurred a sudden buzzing brought her quickly to her feet. Looking about wildly, she ran into the hall and stared at a panel with a brightly pulsing red light. "Hello, is anyone there?" The voice seemed to come out of nowhere, making Marnie jump. Looking at the buttons more closely she hit one marked intercom. "Yes?" she asked tentatively. "Thank the Lord, I was starting to think no one was there, and I don't want to take this back home with me." Marnie stared at the panel blankly. "I'm sorry, but what exactly do you have?" she asked. "Miss I have your car here, if you would kindly buzz me in." "Oh!" Searching the buttons she finally pressed one marked open, and the flashing red light turned green. Flying down the stairs, she was waiting for the tow truck when it appeared. To her surprise it was not in actuality a tow truck. Her heap of green and rust was chained to a large pickup that looked as if it could easily haul an entire house away. It pulled to a stop and out jumped a female in dirty overalls and short hair. "Hello, you must be Mary! It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Hope Leonard, but most people here call me Bob..." Marnie blinked and Bob snorted. "Bob Hope you know," she said and shrugged. "That's interesting..." Marnie said, completely forgetting to correct the woman as to her own name. "No, really it's not," Bob said. "My dad thought it was funny, but if you're uncomfortable with it you're welcome to call me Bobbie or even Hope, though the name has never fit me." Marnie nodded, and then glanced at her car. "Oh, let me just get her unchained, and then she's all yours," Bob-Hope said. Nodding without paying attention, Marnie was wondering if a combination of the two names might be nice, but could only come up with 'Bop,' which was just silly. "Ok, there you go. It was nice meeting you Miss Lawson, you have a good evening," Bobbie said, and Marnie watched as she drove away. The gates opened promptly, allowing the truck free, and belatedly Marnie remembered that she had forgotten to correct her name. The whole island would be calling her Mary! Marnie sighed. "Well," she told herself, "there's nothing I can do about it today. I'll just correct anyone who calls me Mary." Wandering into the house, her stomach gave a rumble, reminding her that she'd skipped breakfast and had nothing but a cheese sandwich for lunch. Raiding the kitchen seemed a good idea, so Marnie made a beeline to the fridge. I ought to have a salad, she thought, rummaging through the refrigerator's contents. It's healthy, and the first defense against fat cells, and - she opened the freezer door - and humans were not meant to be herbivores. Pulling out the steak she'd found there, she stuck it in the microwave and set it to thaw, then went about locating the griller and the salt and pepper. Humming to herself, she went back to the fridge. She had just finished making herself enough potato salad to last her a couple of days and had started peppering her steak when the phone rang. Marnie answered it, wondering who would be calling her. Maybe it's Paxton, she thought. "Hello?" "Are you her?" The voice on the other end was female, clipped, and dripping with contempt. "Her?" "Mary-Nicole Lawson." "Um, yes, I'm Marnie Lawson." "Well, Marnie, I'm just here to give you a message from your loving family. You may be living in The Summer House now, but it won't be for long, so I suggest you enjoy your stay." "Who are you?" Marnie asked, but the woman had already hung up. She stared at the phone blankly. Shaking her head, she dug into her pocket for the list of phone numbers, and dialed Paxton's. "Amberville." "Paxton? It's Marnie, Marnie Lawson?" "Having spent the entire day with you, you shouldn't worry that I've forgotten you already. How can I help you?" "Well, I was making dinner and got a phone call from one of the... err... disgruntled relatives." He sighed. "I'll be right over." Marnie cursed herself for being relieved. "Thanks." "Oh, and Marnie? "Yes?" "I hope you made enough for two." Hanging up, Marnie looked at the steak she'd been peppering, then went to the fridge and took out another one to thaw. She went back to work, but this time she didn't feel like humming anymore. Chapter 3: Family Values There was a chime and Marnie looked around, her eyes drawn to the small box. A green light was blinking, and she left the steak for a moment to peer at the screen. "Authorized Entry," she read, and then realized the system was warning her that Paxton was on his way. The steak was pretty much done, so she stuck it on a plate, washed her hands and went to meet her cousin at the door. "Hello, hope your drive wasn't too long," she said in greeting, but he barely said hello before brushing past her. Deciding something must be upon his mind, she followed him to the kitchen where he raised his eyebrows at the steaks. "Looks good," he said, sitting down at the table. "Yeah, look, what's all this about? I mean, yeah the family's upset an absolute stranger inherited, but I am technically family..." Trailing off awkwardly, she waited for him to speak. "You are family, of course, but some feel the house should have gone to someone closer in relation. Then there's a few who feel as if Aunt Delia did this specifically to put one over on us." Taking a bite of the steak, he stopped to chew, so Marnie followed his example. "But that's not my fault. She left it to me, what am I supposed to do? Just give it up to them because they feel they deserve it?" Marnie asked when he failed to continue. "The truth is that Aunt Delia was a bit... eccentric. She all but promised the place to my sister once, and then in the very same evening said she was leaving it to me. A few family members seemed to have been assured that they would be inheriting, and worked hard to stay in my aunt's good graces... Unfortunately it seems they believed her promises, despite the fact that everyone knew she'd promised it to everyone else." Shaking his head, he went back to the steak. "Still, it's not my fault, why are they angry with me?" Marnie asked, beginning to wonder if there really was a reason. Paxton shrugged. "You have it, they want it, and they feel you don't deserve it. What else do you need? They're angry of course, and you're the only one around to be angry at seeing as Aunt Delia managed to escape their grasps." He scooped up a bit of potato salad. "Mmmm, quite good," he said. "Did Beth make this?" "What? No, I did," Marnie said. "Really? This is good," he said, sounding surprised. Marnie resisted the urge to ask why he didn't think she could cook. "Glad you enjoy it, now tell me what's going to happen. It's not going to end with the phone call is it? Are they going to try to contest the will?" Paxton put down his fork. "Oh, they've already begun the process for that. One of their problems is that there are three of them and they can't decide which should have it. I think they've about decided to share it." "So I may not be here for long then," Marnie said, looking around the beautiful kitchen wistfully. "The laws on your side, Marnie, as well as Aunt Delia's lawyer. You have nothing to worry about." "Thanks Paxton," Marnie said, but learning that she could lose the house when she was just starting to like it... She was not optimistic on her chances. "Easy come, easy go," she muttered to herself. "Hey," he said, looking up from his steak. "I happen to be the lawyer in question, and Aunt Dee was no lightweight either. She made sure her will was airtight, for all she promised The Summer House to so many people." "Why did she?" Marnie asked. Aunt Dee? "What was she like, anyway? Was she really as batty as you make her seem?" Paxton scowled. "Brilliant and eccentric, but never batty. The family never squabbled like this when Delia Amberville-Waters ruled it - and she did rule it, make no mistake. Even before she married Uncle Ellie. That's Ellison Waters." "Of Bright Waters Shipping." Paxton gave her a look, and Marnie straightened her spine. "I do read the newspaper now and then. And I do watch CNN. He passed away, what, three or four years ago? Made a mess in family circles by leaving the company to his wife's nephew instead of his blood rel- oh." In that instant, Marnie was sure she looked like a landed fish. The nephew's name was Paxton Amberville. "Yes," Paxton smiled. Marnie didn't think it a very nice smile. "Oh." "And now Great-Aunt, erm, Dee is making a mess in family circles by leaving this house to me." "Yep, and you a relation on the Waters side." Marnie blew out an exasperated breath. "Why are they making all this trouble?" "Well," Paxton said, forking up the last bite of steak, "it has to do with why she told everyone she was leaving this place to them. Aunt Dee and Uncle Ellie didn't have much use for their families. If you want to know, the Waters side is just as bad as the Amberville side. So they tended to twit their relatives a lot." "Leaving me with a house no one wants me to have." Paxton shrugged. "Essentially. What's for dessert?" "I hadn't thought that far ahead, but I think there's ice cream in the freezer." "Great." He pulled a couple of bowls out of a cupboard with the ease of someone who'd visited a lot, Marnie noted. "Paxton?" "Yeah?" He'd pulled out a half-gallon of vanilla ice cream, and was scooping it into one of the bowls. "Chocolate or vanilla?" "Chocolate." He grunted, and pulled the chocolate ice cream out of the freezer. "So? What?" "I just want to say, it's a hell of a family we've got." Paxton threw his head back and laughed. "Yeah," he said after a while, "It's a hell of a family." Taking her bowl, Marnie ate her ice cream quietly, her mind full. She trusted Paxton as a lawyer or at least she had no reason not to, certainly, but it bothered her that people she did not know wanted to take everything away from her. And the Summer House was all she had left. Without it she could go back to the city, maybe beg a few nights or a week stay in a friend's house, but she'd spent just about every last dime to get out here, and she wouldn't have a job. Pushing the depressing image of herself in a shelter from her mind, she took another bite of ice cream, and sighed. "What's wrong?" Paxton asked, looking up, spoon in mid-motion. "Do you think if I met with them, that-" "No, Marnie. Not without a lawyer present, do you understand?" "But maybe if I just talked to-" "Marnie, you are so naive," Paxton said, amusement in his voice. "These relatives of ours don't care if you're blood or not, and they don't care who you are or what kind of person you might be. Nothing you say to them can change the fact that they're still going to want the Summer House." Marnie started to open her mouth, then closed it, and nodded. After all he was only trying to protect her, but maybe he didn't know everything, she thought to herself. His eyes narrowed on her face. "I mean it," he said. "You're not to speak to them without me there. If," he added mildly as she opened her mouth to deliver a snappy retort, "you're uncomfortable with me as your lawyer, we'll find you another one, and even then you're not to talk to any of the family without him." "They can't be that bad," Marnie said, her chin rising stubbornly as she crossed her arms over her chest in frustration. "And if they try anything, I can handle myself just fine, thank you." He raised an eyebrow at her combative tone, and his lips spread slowly into an amused smile that only infuriated her further. "Little girl," he said, the laughter clear in his voice, "They would eat you alive." Obviously figuring he'd explained as much as he needed to, Paxton took her bowl and his to the sink and started washing up, ignoring her offers to help. She rolled her eyes at his back. "Well," she said irritably, "you never know. Maybe I'll end up taking a bite out of them." He laughed outright at that, as he rinsed out the dishes and stuck them in the dish rack. "I'd pay good money to see that." To which Marnie merely "humphed" indignantly. "So what kind of book are you writing?" he asked. The abrupt change in subject had Marnie blinking. "How did you know I was writing a book?" she asked, surprised. "You mentioned it on the drive down here." "Oh." There wasn't really anything Marnie could think to say to that. She'd chattered endlessly on the drive because the silence on his side of the car had made her nervous. She hadn't really thought he was listening. "So?" "So what? Oh. Um. I'm writing a fantasy story for young adults, but really it's a coming-of-age novel." "I hope to read it sometime, when you've finished it." "Really?" His back was still turned to her, so he couldn't see that her eyes were huge in astonishment. "Really." He turned back to her, and smiled. "Who knows? Maybe I'll like it so much I'll offer to be your agent." Marnie didn't know what to say, so it was fortunate he noticed the time and said he had to be getting back. She saw him out to the front door, and watched as his car disappeared down the drive. Frowning slightly, she shook her head, wondering if she would ever figure him out. As she did, she caught a glimpse of something in the corner of her eye, but when she turned to look, it was gone. "It's probably just a bug," she told herself as she went back inside. "Or a bat." Still, she knew she would be leaving the lights on when she went to sleep that night. Chapter 4: Melody "Melody," someone said, and Marnie looked up to see a woman sitting in a chair by the window. Warm, golden light fell, blinding her. Moving closer, she blinked as her eyes adjusted, yet the woman was still unclear. The light fell over her like water, obscuring her face as it illuminated the familiar wallpaper and carpeting of her nursery. "Melody dear, come sit with me," she said, patting her lap. Suddenly Marnie was very young and the woman was lifting her up. Leaning back she breathed in the familiar scent of her mother, a perfume of flour, vanilla, and cinnamon, from her time in the kitchen. "Now dear, let me tell you a story, shall I?" the woman asked, all but her smile obscured by the odd light. "Yes, mommy," she said obediently. "Once there was a little girl who grew up on an island called Qubric. Her parents loved her very much, and her childhood was lovely. She had everything a young girl could want. Or at least she was not lacking in anything she missed. Then one day her father did not come back from a fishing trip. Her mother waited and watched anxiously, but the ship was never seen again. Her mother never stopped waiting, turning more morose and taciturn as the days progressed until the young girl felt as if her own mother was gone. "There were no more happy days for the little girl. She managed to find some contentment in taking care of her mother, who grew year after year more inclined towards sitting and watching out the window, still waiting for her husband to arrive. Finally the expense of a mother who had quit working and a father gone weighed upon her, and she was forced to find employment." Mother turned towards her, a smile and a book in her hands. "Would you like to see a picture of Melody?" Marnie nodded and craned her head when the album was opened. The light tried to obscure it, but she found that when she cocked her head at just the right angle... "No!" Marnie gasped, sitting up in bed. Panting, she clutched the covers, and then lay back down but it was no use. Her mind was awake. Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was 5:48. "Might as well get an early start," she muttered, and got out of bed. Rummaging through her bag, she found some clothes that she deemed suitable for an interview, and then jumped in the shower. Out and feeling better, she pulled shoes on before going downstairs. The kitchen waited for her, all gleaming chrome and brilliant white. Eggs, bacon and toast were easy to find, along with the bottle of orange juice she had noticed in the fridge the night before. The coffee maker looked intimidating, so she decided to buy a cup in town. Humming, she was almost out the door, keys in hand, when a steady beep beep beep caught her attention. The box on the wall was beeping, she realized, and she gazed at it in consternation. Bringing her face up close, she saw the message, "Authorized Entry," and blinked. The sound of a car pulling up swung her back around towards the door. She hadn't authorized any entry! Suddenly realizing that it might be her cousin, she smiled and went to open the door. She had expected to see Paxton, blond, trim, and all that cutthroat Wall Street polish, as well as that country club elegance you couldn't fake anywhere. So it was a jolt of surprise to see a heavy-set woman smiling megawatts with yellowed teeth and wary eyes. The apparition looked to be in her fifties by Marie's conservative guess, though her wavy bob was shocking peroxide red. Marnie suppressed the inclination to gape like a fish, but only barely.

"Um," was as far as she got.

"I'm Beth Cowper," the woman said, her voice like a trumpet. "You can call me Mrs. Cowper, 'til I like you enough to let you call me Beth. You'd be Mary-Nicole Lawson. Little Bob told her mama how you were a nice little thing, but I figured I'd just see for myself. It's Mary, right? I don't hold with those damned hoity-toity two-word names."

"It's Marnie, actually," she managed in a timid voice. With a different person she might have scolded herself for being cowed, but she'd never seen or heard anyone quite like Beth Cowper.

Mrs. Cowper nodded approvingly. "Marnie, then. Suits you. Don't hold with those damned two-word names, and your cousin Patty can tell me to call her Ann-Patricia 'til she's blue in the face, for all I care." She brayed at that, though Marnie couldn't see why. Then again, she'd never heard of her 'Cousin' Patty/Ann-Patricia. "Well, girl, are you going to let me in, or do you reckon the house will clean itself?"

Belatedly, Marnie remembered Paxton had mentioned something about house cleaning the night before, and stepped aside to let her in. "W-would you like some coffee? I-I was just about to make some," she stammered, lying valiantly.

Apparently it was the right thing to say, as she was treated to another display of yellowed teeth. "Why, thank you, dear, that would be wonderful." She clucked disapprovingly. "But you'd better pull the regular coffee maker out of the third cupboard from the left. That genuine cappuccino/espresso monstrosity your cousin Jillian brought over from France or maybe Italy - or wherever the hell in Europe she married her fourth husband - and had installed there isn’t good for much but gathering dust."

Wordlessly, Marnie turned into the kitchen, relieved to find that, true to Mrs. Cowper's word, a regular coffee maker was tucked neatly into one of the cupboards. Digging around, she found a nice Moroccan blend of coffee, and set about making it. Waiting for the coffee to be ready was stupid, but she hemmed and hawed, not sure if she should - or could - chat it up with the pariah who'd come to clean her house.

"You don't mind if I turn on the music, do you?" This from the living room.

Gathering up her courage and her dignity, she walked over, surprised to find that Beth Cowper had pulled cleaning supplies from a closet tucked into one of the walls she hadn't noticed the day before.

"No, I don't mind," she said with a Waverly smile. Mrs. Cowper turned the living room stereo to a teeny-bopper station, set it on low, and had Marie’s smile broadening at the incongruity of it all. Beth Cowper would be a great character for a novel, she thought. No doubt about it. "I like to have it on when I clean, too. Um, is there anything I can do? It's an awfully big house."

The look she got in response to that was considering, then approving. "None of your cousins would've bothered to offer," Mrs. Cowper said. "Except maybe Paxton, but you can't trust cleaning to a man, they just find places to hide the muck instead of get rid of it. Why don't you just sit here and chat with me a while? I've got my own system for this house, and thins will go faster if I stick to it."

Nervous again, Marnie stuttered. "Um, right. Okay."

"Tell me about yourself, where you're from, why you haven't come warbling around your Aunt Dee before like any of your cousins and God knows how many other relatives, eh? Black sheep?" That piercing, considering gaze trained on her once more had Marnie all but squirming.

"No," she managed. "At least, I don't think so. I didn't even know I had a Great-Aunt, er, Dee, until Paxton came to tell me she'd, um, left me the house."

"Well," Mrs. Cowper said, "your Aunt Dee was a good woman. The best there is, for all the Waters and the Amberville are a lot of squawking geese." She seemed to catch herself at that. "Well, 'cept for Paxton, though that boy's a bad 'un, when he wants to be. And maybe now you, if she left the Summer House to you. She wouldn't leave it to just anyone, you know."

Could've fooled me, Marnie thought, but aloud she said only, "Tell me about her." That earned her another considering look from the old woman, so she added, "Please?"

Plugging in the vacuum cleaner, Beth Cowper grunted. Then, as the the vacuum cleaner began to hum, she started to tell Marnie about the woman who had owned the Summer House for nearly forty years. "Your Great-Aunt Dee was a card of a woman. It's no wonder the family never understood her. They have no sense of humor whatsoever. She would say the most outrageous things and they would eat it up. Once..." Beth stopped and gave Marnie a stern look. "Now you didn't hear this from me, you understand?" "Y-yes," Marnie squeaked. Mrs. Cowper went back to cleaning, shaking her head with a bemused look. "Once she told your cousins that the Victorian look was in and for a week Ann-Patricia and Molly-May went about in long sleeved velvet dresses with full bustles, bone corsets, and hats with long peacock feathers!" Mrs. Cowper couldn't hold back a full-throated laugh, shaking her head as her whole body shook with the force of her mirth. "And this was in the height of summer!" "Velvet in... summer?" Marnie asked a smile of her own tugging at the corner of her lips. "Black velvet," Mrs. Cowper said seriously, "and they would have kept at it, too, if Dee hadn't given in and told them. Could've had a heat-stroke!"