“Marcus isn’t here,” she told them.
“That’s fine,” Kat said. “This is my cousin Gabrielle. If it’s okay, we’d like to talk to you.” But the woman didn’t speak or move. “Please, Marianne. We think that maybe Marcus is right. And we think maybe you’re not the only one who was affected.”
Kat watched her weigh the words, consider her options, then slowly push the door open and gesture for them to follow.
Kat and Gabrielle sat on the floral sofa while Marianne went to the kitchen and made tea. It was a simple house, but lovely. And Kat imagined that within those twelve hundred square feet, the brother and sister could pretend they’d never really left England.
“I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” Marianne said when she returned. She placed the tray on a low table in the center of the room. From where Kat sat, she couldn’t see a single hair out of place on the woman’s head, but Marianne patted at them just the same. “I’ve worked every day since I was fourteen. I’m not quite myself without a job to do.”
Kat nodded. “I know the feeling.”
“Yes, miss,” Marianne said. “I don’t doubt it.”
“Where is Marcus?” Gabrielle asked.
“He’s back with young Mr. Hale today. Marcus offered to stay with me, but I told him that he should go. That boy will be needing Marcus now more than ever.”
“So you know…” Kat said.
“That young Mr. Hale inherited the company?” the woman filled in. “Yes. I heard.” She smiled. “I was very happy to hear that. His grandmother loved him so.”
“Did that surprise you, Marianne?” Kat asked.
“Oh, I suppose I had just assumed it was going to be divided among her children, but…” She trailed off and brought a hand to her lips. “I just don’t know. He’s so young.”
Kat nodded. “There will have to be a trustee to oversee things until he turns twenty-five.”
The woman furrowed her brow and asked, “Who?”
“Garrett. The lawyer.”
Try as she might, Kat couldn’t quite decipher the look that crossed Marianne’s face. There was something there, though—a flash so fleeting that a normal person would have never seen it—and Kat thought for a moment that Marianne might have made a most excellent grifter.
“What is it, Marianne?” Kat asked.
“Nothing,” she said, pulling her shawl more tightly around her shoulders.
“Oh, I think there’s something,” Gabrielle said, her voice cold.
“Gab,” Kat warned, but Gabrielle had her sights set on the woman.
“Marianne, you worked for Hazel for half a century, and now you know something. Don’t try to deny it. You know something, don’t you?” Gabrielle asked. But the woman didn’t answer.
“Marianne?” Kat asked softly. “What is it?”
Marianne recoiled and shook her head. “It’s nothing. A crazy notion. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
Kat and Gabrielle leaned closer and, in unison, said, “Try us.”
“I just can’t imagine that Mrs. Hale would name Garrett as the trustee. That’s all.”
“Didn’t she like him?” Gabrielle asked.
“No.” Marianne laughed. “Hazel wasn’t one to gossip, but I could tell she couldn’t stand the man. In fact, I thought she was going to fire him.”
“Then why didn’t she?” Gabrielle asked.
Marianne’s eyes grew moist. When she spoke again, her voice was almost a whisper. “She died.”