Chapter Two
My house was beautiful, there was no other way to put it, and so very different from the house I'd just run away from.
My grandmother had lived here. As had my mother before she'd met my father, got herself with child and then disowned.
When Thomas had read my grandmother's will to me I'd been stunned by all she'd left me. Stunned and really, extremely, ungrateful. She'd left me money. So much money that I wouldn't be able to spend it in ten lifetimes even if I tried. She'd further left me this house and a house in Aspen. Neither of which I had wanted. The old lady had so much money and if she hadn't disowned my mother when she'd gotten pregnant with me my mother might still be alive today. And, I might not have had to live through the horrors I'd been forced to endure.
Needless to say, I had been angry, snotty and downright rude to poor Thomas Grine who'd been tasked with delivering my grandmother's will and letter.
When he'd left, he'd left me with the papers, the unopened letter from a woman whom I had never met and a card with his personal phone numbers on it. He'd told me to call him any time.
I'd had no intention of ever calling him.
The day after my eighteenth birthday, the day after I'd been booted out of the girl's home, I called him. I had slept on a bench outside of a bus station, my stomach wouldn't stop rumbling at me and I was in desperate need of a shower.
So I'd swallowed my anger and my pride down, found a payphone and I had called Mr. Grine. Collect, no less, because I hadn't had any money of my own at the time.
If the old lady had left me as much money as he claimed and she was dead so I would never actually have to deal with her, I would have been an absolute moron not to have picked up the phone and made that call. Being homeless and hungry, I would have ended up doing unspeakable things simply for food and shelter. I know myself, I know where my strengths and weaknesses lie. And I'm telling you, I would have done unspeakable things to not have to sleep in the gutter and put food in my belly.
Thomas had come to pick me up and that had been that. Me and my meager belongings (a whole backpack stuffed full of shit) had moved into my mother's childhood home that day and I haven't moved out since. I haven't been able to get rid of Thomas either. Not even firing him seemed to work. For which I ended up being thankful for... Some days, that is.
Today wasn't one of those days.
Thomas Grine was a man in his late eighty's. He had shockingly white hair and an even more shocking hairline that had yet to recede. His eyes were not, nor could they ever be described as, warm or gentle. They were dark brown and cold as ice. He was a tall man, over six foot and as thin as a rail. He'd likely never been handsome and his body was too willowy for my tastes when it came to men.
His age had no effect whatsoever on his mind. He was incredibly smart, downright ruthless at times and I had never seen him show kindness to another human being outside of myself.
He was the one who'd looked into Harmond House for me. He was the one to tell me about Catherine's death. He'd been keeping tabs on her for years. And he had people looking for the twins for years. With no luck, mind you. He didn't understand why it was so important for me to find them. He didn't understand why Harmond House terrified me so much. He didn't understand any of it because no one knew the vile things that had taken place there.
And I wasn't about to explain it to him.
This did not make Thomas happy. He didn't like being kept in the dark on anything, and it was worse if it had to deal with me.
