Though her own life was technically in tatters, the sale of the house stood to provide more than the trust if Mr. Togers were to be believed, and she needed that money badly. Her eyes crept across the room. She would do what she had to in order to protect Mrs. Robichaud and pay off John’s debts, but she couldn’t take up residence here forever. She’d stay just long enough to sort the estate, get what they came for, and maybe learn a thing or two about their mother in the process.
Eustace shrugged, evading her eyes as she glided into the parlor. “Businesses can be moved. They can be closed. They can be sold. New ones can be started. I’m just saying I think it would behoove us to stay fluid right now. To be open.”
Cordelia followed her sister, frowning. “After all the work you’ve done? You would abandon your plants, that strain you’ve been working on? What about your employees? Their livelihoods, their families? This doesn’t sound like the Eustace I know at all.”
Her sister leaned her elbows on her knees, face calm but unyielding. “It’s been five years, Cordy. Maybe I’ve changed.” She sounded tired, as if her vim had deserted her. “This house is theonly family we have left. By all means, contact an attorney, get that second opinion. But don’t presume to speak for me. I make my own decisions last I checked, and I haven’t made up my mind about this place yet.”
Cordelia knew only one person on the planet who could be more stubborn than her and their mother combined, and that was her sister. It was easy, after so many years of Eustace’s carefree, permissive lifestyle, to forget that when she wanted to, she could be the most bullheaded of them all.
“Of course you do,” Cordelia told her, softening her voice. “You surprised me, that’s all. I didn’t realize you cared about this place so much.”
“There are a lot of things you don’t realize,” Eustace said without meeting Cordelia’s eyes.
Cordelia took a breath. She’d carried her own secrets here, but she could see now that if she didn’t confide in her sister, she wouldn’t be able to get the help that she needed. “Speaking of which, there’s something I didn’t tell you about John.”
Her sister leaned back, listening.
Cordelia felt the tears rise as the whole ugly truth spilled out of her—the debts she’d only started to see once he’d left, the credit accounts he’d opened in her name over the years, the call from Mr. Mazzello. The shame was almost more than she could bear, as if they were her sins, her crimes, and not his. Finally, she told Eustace about the text message she’d received in Mr. Togers’ presence.
“And you’re sure this guy is connected to the mob?” Eustace asked.
Cordelia sniffed. “I don’t thinkBusyis a very common name for bankers, do you?”
“Fair point.” Her sister frowned. “I hate to think how he got that name. What was hebusydoing?”
“If I don’t come up with the money in twenty-seven days, I don’t know what they’ll do. But if we don’t sell, how will I get it? The inheritance is minimal at best, and it’s bound to a trust which Mr. Togers has control over.” Cordelia forced herself to stop sniffling. “I know it’s a lot to ask, and I haven’t been the best sister over the last few years, but maybe you could lend me just enough to pay off Mr. Mazzello? You can take it out of my half of the equity when we sell this place. I’ll come up with the rest on my own.”
Eustace stood and began pacing the long parlor. “Ifwe sell this place,” she corrected.
Cordelia’s mouth hung open. “Eustace, did you hear what I said? They are threatening tokillme. And my neighbor.”
“I knew John was dirty, but this is foul even for him,” her sister muttered.
“Eustace—”
“Just let me think!”
As far as Cordelia could see, there was nothing to think about. She would have given her sister the money in a heartbeat if she had it, and she wasn’t half as generous as Eustace had been growing up. Something about her sister’s reluctance didn’t add up.
“I’m going to take a shower,” Eustace announced out of the blue. Before she left the room, she met her sister’s eyes. “We’ll figure this out, I promise.”
Cordelia watched her head toward the staircase. Once she could no longer hear footfalls on the stairs, she sunk onto the settee in defeat and bewilderment. It had taken courage for her to ask her sister for the money, but she’d never considered that Eustace would sayno.“What was that?” she asked the empty room as if it could answer.
In response, she heard the water kick on, rushing through ancient pipelines in the walls, loud as a herd of cattle. Cordeliarolled her eyes. Who knew when the plumbing was last checked? That alone could cost enough to sink them. She could understand the allure of Bone Hill perhaps, but this estate was a monstrous responsibility whatever one’s means, and it was crawling with family secrets. Maybe her sister was having a midlife crisis.
They had no choice at the moment, however. If they left with papers unsigned, that could be seen as forfeiting their stake in the trust. Cordelia tried to comfort herself with the reminder that they could find another lawyer and make another legal arrangement. Once they established a divide between money and property, they could make their own choices. If Eustace wanted Bone Hill that much, she could buy Cordelia out of her share. That should be enough to pay the worst of John’s debts.
She sent Molly a quick text asking for the contact info of an estate attorney she’d worked with. One positive thing to come from Mr. Togers’ visit—the WiFi password.
Stomach growling, she made her way to the kitchen to poke around in the basket he’d left behind. She sampled several packs of crackers and a wedge of expensive cheese but sadly found no coffee to speak of. Refusing to give up, she raided the cabinets for a coffeemaker or a tin of Folgers. What she found was more like an enamel teapot with a lid and a strainer. It didn’t even have a cord, for pity’s sake. It would either be the best or the worst cup of coffee she ever made, but she would need to get some grounds first. Her head was already starting to pinch.
Cordelia heard the water shut off and the pipes rattle in response, followed by a bang so loud it made her flinch.
“Eustace!” she called to the ceiling, imagining her sister tripping over the edge of the claw-foot tub and cracking her skull on the tile. “Is everything okay?”
She didn’t respond.
Pursing her lips, Cordelia dashed up the stairs and knocked on the door.
