PROLOGUE
PRESENT TIME
Willow
I married a man who has secrets.
In truth, I hardly know Jack. We’ve just arrived at the airport after a very romantic honeymoon and he guides me toward a new Porsche—yes, that’s right—a glossy red Porsche—and I realize that his first secret is his wealth—but that’s not all. The longer I’m with him the more secrets unfold. Why did I marry him? It’s simple—I love him.
You may ask how I’m in this crazy situation. Well, many things in my life have come about by being in the right place at the right time. I just happened to be in LA at the auditions for a commercial for Jack Hunter’s company and he’d taken one look at me and swept me off my feet. I went to lunch with him and we talked for hours, right up to dinner and then way into the night. We had what you might call a whirlwind romance, and I married him just three weeks later. Charismatic, handsome, with deep blue eyes to dive into, Jack is twelve years older than me but you’d never guess it; he’s tanned and fit with only a couple of laugh lines on his face. I often wonder why he chose me; he could have just about anyone.
During our first date, he explained that he’d been married previously and has two children: Ava, nine, and Noah, eight. His wife died in an accident at sea seven years previously and, after going through the arduous task of pronouncing her dead through the courts, he’d decided that life must go on. Although he has this goal in life, I find it very strange that he speaks about Laura as if she’s still alive. It’s spooky—I mean it’s been seven years. During our honeymoon, he made comments like “Laura would love this place”, when we dined at a restaurant or whatever, and it made me feel like a third wheel. I guess as time goes by, he’ll accept the fact she’s gone.
I must admit, my life has changed dramatically. Wealth is intimidating and so are the people who surround my husband but Jack brushes my worries aside, assuring me when I get to the house I’ll find my feet. I haven’t met the children yet, which I figure is a little unusual. I can’t imagine how they’ll react to being told that I’m their stepmother. I’ve seen photos and Jack has told me stories about them but he doesn’t seem to spend too much time with them at all. His life revolves around work and the Newport Yacht Club. I know nothing about sailing and googled the marina and discovered it’s a historic and well-regarded yacht club located in the heart of Newport Harbor. We’re heading into Newport now and the ocean comes into view. I adjust my sunglasses to avoid the glare of sunshine glistening on the waves and move my attention to the majestic houses of the rich and famous. “This place is amazing.”
“I’ll take Ocean Drive to the house. It’s the scenic route.” The engine of Jack’s Porsche roars as we fly along the blacktop. “Beauford Manor is your home now. I hope you’ll enjoy living here as much as I do. Laura loved it.”
I look at him and sigh.Laura again, as if she’ll be there to meet us. Why does he do that?
I shake off the feeling of being second best because every moment with him, I need to pinch myself to believe it’s not a dream. I’ve never lived like this before, and being able to buy whatever I want is surreal. Money has a power that could easily get out of hand. I look at Jack. His company builds hotels, skyscrapers and upmarket housing. He gave me a brief idea of what he does in the company but insisted it’s nothing for me to worry about. I lean back and enjoy the scenery but now we’re heading along a driveway. Large wrought-iron gates slide open as we arrive and before me is a mansion. My mouth hangs open. It’s old with windows everywhere and it has that sinister vibe you see in horror movies, or is my overactive imagination conjuring secret hallways and dark cellars with chains attached to the walls?
The surrounding land is impressive. I’m seeing manicured lawns and perfectly trimmed hedges. Vibrant garden beds fill the air with floral scents as we sweep along the winding driveway. For a few seconds the house is obscured by two massive oak trees, their puzzle-piece leaves spreading giraffe-pattern shapes across the driveway. My eyes widen at the sight of the grand entrance with marble steps and towering columns. It’s intimidating, dominating the landscape like a medieval castle. I suck in a deep breath to steady my nerves. It didn’t look so big from the front gate.
“This house is a testament to Newport’s Gilded Age. That was a time long ago when wealthy New Yorkers built extravagant homes to live here.” Jack grins at me. “Laura knew the family who owned it; she played here as a child and claimed to know all its secrets. I purchased it for our first wedding anniversary.” He winks. “It makes a statement, doesn’t it?”
I nod, though wonder why he believes he needs to prove himself worthy of his neighbors and bite my tongue. I’ve always been frugal, having to work hard for every cent means Iappreciate the little things in life—but this? How much money does he need? This house is screaming overindulgence to me. Keeping it clean must be a nightmare. The gardens alone would take an army. Intimidated, I swallow hard. Suddenly wishing he’d brought me here before asking me to marry him. The huge house and the responsibility for two children I haven’t even met weigh heavy on my shoulders.
We stop on a wide gravel driveway and the scent of roses drifts toward me. I can’t resist and step from the car, turning to Jack. “Give me a few moments to explore the garden. It’s so beautiful.”
“Go right ahead.” He indicates to a gray-haired man trimming a hedge. “That’s Bill; he’s been here forever. If you want to bring some of the roses inside, ask him to cut them for you.”
I walk back along the driveway, turn and stare at the grand façade. Panes of glass stare back at me like the eyes of a giant fly and, in one of the windows, a pale face looks out at me. I wave and the face vanishes. I turn away and head toward Bill, who is watching me intently. “You must be Bill. I’m Willow Hunter. The gardens are spectacular.”
“Thank you, but I can’t take all the credit. I do have help these days.” Bill’s weather-beaten face wrinkles into a smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”
I indicate to the house. “It’s not what I expected. It’s very intimidating from the outside.”
“Who were you waving at?” Bill rubs his chin, his eyes never leaving my face.
I look back at the house. “I assume it was one of the staff. I believe the children are away until tomorrow.”
“No, it’s not one of the staff; they’ll be downstairs waiting to see Mr. Hunter. That window is only for show. It can’t be seen from the inside of the house. The other Mrs. Hunter spent hourstrying to find that window because she insisted she saw a face peering out.” Bill rubs a handkerchief over the back of his neck. “It’s probably a trick of the light is all. That window was bricked up on the inside during the renovations some years back. So, nobody can be up there.”
The shivers sliding down my back stop as I turn to look at the windows, but this time I see nothing. “Does anyone else see a face at the window?”
“No, only you and the late Mrs. Hunter.” He gives me a long considering look and lowers his voice. “Don’t you go searching the house like she did. Strange things happen in the left wing. No one can explain them. It’s not haunted, it’s just weird. I figure the noises and suchlike drove the last Mrs. Hunter close to having a breakdown.”
I stare at him, unease seeping into my bones. “How so?”
“It’s not for me to say.” His lips flatten into a thin line. “She just changed is all. The next thing I know, she died.”
Footsteps come from behind me. I clear my throat. “I love the roses. I’ll come and see you when I’m settled and I’ll grab a bunch for inside.”
“You have the rest of your life to tour the gardens, Willow.” Jack comes up behind me and his arms circle my waist. “I’m anxious to show you the house.”
Pushing the warning to the back of my mind, I smile. “It was nice to meet you, Bill.” I turn in Jack’s arms. “Okay, show me the way.”
Before we climb the steps, a man comes dashing out of the front door. He’s wearing a dark suit, with his gray thinning hair carefully combed. His face has a worried expression, and his pencil moustache twitches as he stares at me. His eyes are cold as if I’m an intruder he doesn’t want to deal with. My heart sinks. Will all the staff have the same attitude toward me? The manstands to one side to allow us to pass and his attention moves to Jack.
