Dee S. Knight
Somebody likes it hot.
I'm somebody!
Somebody likes it hot.
I'm somebody!
Sensible, very modern Margaret Amis-Hollings inherited an historic home in Virginia. After losing her job, she retreats to River Peace where she's startled to discover she's not the only resident. There's something felt. Then something seen. Is it possible the place is inhabited by a ghost? A ghost who knows how to please a woman?
Aaron Belton meets Margaret when she first arrives in Virginia. He's an expert in historic architecture who's familiar with many of the old houses in the area, but he has a special place in his heart for River Peace. He and his family believe the property should belong to them. In fact, they've been known to do almost anything to make that happen.
When Aaron meets Margaret, his passion for the house changes to a passion for the house's owner. Can he gain control of River Peace? To do so, he'll have to face a spectral being.
And his own destiny.
"...all I can say is WOW! That was by far the best book I have read in quite a while. It was sexy, steamy, lovely and down right addictive. I finished it in 2 afternoons. I absolutely loved it." - Vicky, a reader
"Passionate Destiny is a marvelous tale in which a belief in destiny brings two people together as they experience an amazing erotic and emotional connection that neither can deny. Intriguing and captivating are just two of the many adjectives that describe a book that is impossible to put down, especially when the romance reaches such an amazing level of emotional depth." -- Robin Taylor for RT Book Club
"Dee Knight does it again! As one of my favorite authors, I always expect good, and she always delivers great. Once again she has surpassed my expectations in this delightful tale. Ghosts add a mystical quality to any story, and Dee has added an erotic twist that compels you through the story. Truly a must read." - 4.5, Rae Douglas, Romance Junkies
"I have to agree with another reader who said that Passionate Destiny is now one of her all time favorite books. Passionate Destiny is a timeless romance story you don't want to miss! Even if you're not normally a paranormal romance fan, you'll love this book." - Pam P. a reader
"Passionate Destiny is not a book to miss! Dee S. Knight has out done herself with an exceptional tale of mystery and love ... If you read one book this summer, you will want it to be Passionate Destiny by Dee S. Knight. For her wonderful story telling abilities and her imagination, Passionate Destiny is well worth its 5 Angel Rating!" - 5 Angels, JoAnn, Fallen Angel Reviews
"The story was wonderful it is on the list of my all time favorite romance books. Of course I love books that have ghosts in them especially ones that get kinky with people. Once I started reading this book I could not stop." - Veronica, a reader
"Passionate Destiny is a beautiful story of an enduring love, new love, and two people finding what they really want from life ... Ms. Knight is an awesome writer and one I make a point not miss. Her portrayal of Southerners with all the romance, the charm and gallantry is heart-warming … Throw in the intriguing secondary characters and you have a must read novel." - Sharyn McGinty, In the Library Reviews "Dee S. Knight brings us a wonderfully penned paranormal romance in Passionate Destiny. With three romances for the price of one, this book is so full of love! … Another must read by an auto buy author for me! Get it, I know that you will fall in love with the characters as I have." - 4.5 Hearts, Vikky Bertling, A Romance Review
"Ms. Knight writes a deeply emotional tale that held me spellbound from the first page ... With the fiery love scenes, vividly drawn characters and a mesmerizing plot, Passionate Destiny is [a] moving love story which can be savored again and again." - Amelia, a reader "Dee S. Knight is taking no prisoners with her latest tale, which sweeps a reader right off their feet. PASSIONATE DESTINY is pure romance and the title is self-explanatory. When reading this tale, one can feel the energies floating through the pages that hold them riveted. Ms. Knight depicts the past with the present masterfully and shows the reader, as well as Margaret, that true love does exist, destiny plays a part in all our lives and that everyone's soulmate is out there. ... the story and characters are unforgettable, Ms. Knight has what I think, is an outstanding hit to add to her resume.
Be prepared to be swept into this story from the very beginning, believe in love and to remember everything about this tale and characters for days when it's all over. Dee S. Knight has found her own PASSIONATE DESTINY with her writing.she weaves a true romantic tale like few can." 5 Flames, Reviewer's Choice, Tracey West, Sizzling Romances
"This reviewer found this was a wonderful book filled with the many twists and turns that keep a reader captivated and enthralled throughout the book. Ms. Knight writes an exceptional love story that is passionate, tender, loving and multidimensional. The characters grab the reader's attention from the beginning and the reader is transported to another world, where a ghost is able to heal a broken heart and direct her to the man of her dreams. The storyline was well-rounded and flowed smoothly. The plot was just phenomenal in the way it was written. The characters themselves had many facets of personality and they were able to appeal on all levels to the reader. This book was able to pull this reviewers heart into the plot and Ms. Knight shows she has the talent to write a wonderful love story that you want to read again and again. This reviewer highly recommends this sensual and brilliant book to anyone wanting a dose of paranormal romance." - 4 1/2 hearts, Dawn, Love Romances
"This is a love story which is not bound by time. ... If you are a fan of paranormal stories, then this is absolutely the perfect book to read. ... [Margaret and Aaron's] torrid love scenes are heated to the fire level. Margaret and Aaron will capture your heart, and their story will weigh on your mind long after the book is finished. Ms Knight has written a story that will satisfy readers who love the element of paranormal intertwined with the romance." - 4 1/2 stars, Amelia, eCataRomance Reviews
"An exciting book that will get you interested right from the beginning. The author mixes the paranormal with a little romance and comes up with a great read." - 4 Cups, Lisa, Book Review Cafe "Ms. Knight weaves a wonderful ghostly tale with Passionate Destiny. She proves that love can and will transcend time. The love between Civil War Aaron and Maggie is just as apparent as the love between present day Aaron and Maggie. The passion is clearly seen thru Aaron’s eyes and who wouldn’t want a man who can talk dirty and make you feel so damn sexy??!! Don’t get me wrong this story is more than just hot sex and ghosts; it has history and an underlying mystery regarding the spirits of Civil War Aaron and Maggie that is truly gripping. There are twists and turns and wonderful sub plots in this book that Ms. Knight does a wonderful job bringing to life. I am hoping for a sequel to this book now that Mike and Jackson have gotten together. If you are looking for a feel good book with a happy ending then curl up and enjoy Passionate Destiny. " - 4 stars, Faith Jaobs, JERR
"An exciting, story of romance and mystery that is everything a classic romance should be. I enjoyed the story. I feel readers will feel the some way when they read it." - 5 hearts, Louise Riveiro-Mitchell, The Romance Studio
"It’s no secret that I’m a Dee S. Knight fan. Her latest release, PASSIONATE DESTINY, is perhaps her best book yet. I could hardly stop reading this story of powerful love. Put on a pot of coffee because you’re going to be reading this one well past bedtime!
On the heels of losing her husband and her job, Margaret moves to her inherited house with plans to renovate and sell. She needs the money and she needs the time and solitude to write. Aaron has his own agenda when he offers to help. Add in a sexy ghost and a 150 year-old mystery, mix with a cast of charming small-town characters and a visiting ex-husband, and you’ll be staying awake to finish reading, too. This is no predictable ghost story. Oh, and did I mention the sex? This book is hot, hot, hot!" - Vanessa Hart, author of Hay Fever
This is Dee S. Knight's first novel in close to a year (she's contributed stories to three LSB anthologies during the past several months), and it's well worth the wait. Ms. Knight's strength is in creating characters the reader can relate to, laugh with and sympathize with, as well as plots and relationships that keep the pages turning. This skill is what made It's All Relative, Impatient Passion and Man of her Dreams so wonderful. Fortunately for readers, Ms. Knight uses this talent again with Passionate Destiny.
The attraction -- physical, emotional and spiritual -- between Aaron and Margaret is real, honest and touching, and sizzles to the point where this reader was ready to slap Professor Amis-Hollings for ever doubting Aaron's feelings for her. But that's real life; sometimes people don't think straight when it comes to love.
Best of all, Ms. Knight ties past and present together beautifully, marvelously presenting two romantic stories in one novel and resolving them both in a very memorable and moving final chapter. In all, Passionate Destiny kindles a belief in soul mates and pre-ordained love, and does so in a way that can't help but touch and deeply move the reader." - Reviewed by Erica DeQuaya, Author of Backstage Affair and Power Play (from Liquid Silver Books) and Double Mitzvah (coming soon from Amber Quill Press)
"Ms KNIGHT wrote an enthralling, sensual romance with an intriguing mystery that didn’t distract from the overall romance of the book. I found Passionate Destiny to be not only a relaxing but sensual read as well…with a very satisfying ending. I look forward to reading more of MS. KNIGHT'S wonderful books." - 3 Flames, Reviewer's Choice, Kimber Rowe, The Word Museum
"If you only have time to read one book, Passionate Destiny is it. Dee S. Knight is a very talented author, one you don't want to skip over, and it shows in every page in her recent release. Passionate Destiny takes you back in time as well as the present. You'll feel Margaret and Aaron's joy and pain as if you're standing right next to them as the story unfolds. Passionate Destiny is one superb read! It's all around one-hundred percent 'the perfect love story.'" - Kimberly, a reader
"Once again, Ms. Knight carefully weaves an enthralling plot, instantly drawing the reader into the story. I certainly recommend it to all erotic romance lovers, particularly if you like contemporaries and paranormals in a contemporary setting." - Mireya Orsini, Road to Romance
"Dee S. Knight's Passionate Destiny is an intelligent, insightful look into the mystery we call love--and the type that never dies." - Cyndi Redding, author of Queen of Hearts
"What?! What do you mean I'm being cut?" Dr. Margaret Amis-Hollings, professor of women's studies in the sociology department at Hardis College, shot out of her chair and stared at the dean, Sally Smith, who remained seated.
"Calm down, Margaret."
"Calm down? Calm down, how? You just told me that I've lost my job." Pacing, she raked her hand through the tangle of auburn hair that never seemed to stay contained in barrettes. A million things went through her mind, not the least of which was how she would make her rent, her car payment, buy food. "Oh my God, how am I going to live?" Collapsing in the chair she'd just vaulted out of, she turned to face her friend and boss. Her expression was half despair, half anger, all shock.
"I'm so sorry, Margaret. The board has ordered more budget cuts. It hasn't been easy; you know how we've had to scrimp for the past few years. Now we even have to cull courses we think aren't serving the full interests of the students."
"But-but…" Eyes filling with tears, she couldn't at first finish her sentence. "But the women's studies classes? They're vital."
In fact, she had thought the reason for meeting with Sally was to discuss the addition of a new offering: Women Villains. She'd been so proud of the catchy and intriguing title and even had the hook for the course description. What makes "Jane the Ripper," and how do her contributing factors differ from Jack's? She'd anticipated sharing the materials she'd already prepared, and hearing Sally's happy response when she revealed the number of students who'd already indicated an interest.
She'd planned for questions of course, but anticipated support and excitement from Sally. The last thing she imagined was being let go.
In a rush she continued, not believing that she wouldn't somehow come up with the argument that would save everything. "What's more pertinent to young women than women's studies? Or even to men, for that matter. Knowing who we are, where we come from as a gender-"
"In an ideal situation, I would agree with you. But what do those classes do to prepare young people for jobs? For the real world? In the sociology department we need courses like demographics, polling, statistics, as well as the humanities like human interaction. Women's studies can be woven into many of them, but the reverse isn't as true. I have to stretch every dollar I have as far as I can."
Sally stopped as though trying to decide the best way to express her next thought. "Still, I might have saved some of the women's curriculum if you had been publishing, and you haven't. The last article you wrote for a professional journal appeared years ago. Every other person in the department has done better than that. You know the old "publish or perish" slogan. It's true."
Margaret stood again, twisting her hands and marching the length of the Oriental rug centered on the floor. "But I've been studying during the summers, designing different courses, developing relationships with women in the field. Doesn't that count for something?"
"Not enough, I'm afraid."
For several minutes neither woman spoke. Sally sat, her hands at rest in her lap; Margaret continued her frenetic pacing, her mind in a jumble.
"Does Harry know?" Harry Boland, the chair of the sociology department, had hired Margaret and been a staunch supporter of women's studies.
"I told him this afternoon. He didn't know before then. I asked him to let me tell you, a task he gladly relinquished. He's as upset as I am by this. He's losing other courses too, in the cutbacks."
"But no other faculty," Margaret said softly.
"No, no other faculty." Finally, Margaret fell into the chair, boneless, suddenly almost too tired to hold her head upright.
"When?"
"When you turn your grades in for this semester you'll officially be on leave without pay." Margaret snapped her head toward Sally, trying to hide her anxiety but knowing that she wasn't succeeding.
"So soon?"
"That's one concession I got for you, Margaret. You're on leave until the end of the school year. The severance will be reviewed then. I couldn't get salary, but I got a stay of execution, so to speak. Use the time to write. I mean write. Get commitments for articles, approach publishers about contracting for a book. Just get me something I can use in your defense at the end of the year and we'll see if we can't fit you in to teach something. Things might change by then, you never know. But if you're in the same place then that you are now, I'm afraid there's nothing I'll be able to do."
"I see." Margaret took a deep, cleansing breath, the way she'd been taught to do in the Emotions Management class she attended before filing for divorce. "Well, I guess there's no need to discuss the outline for the new class, is there?" She laughed and then wondered if it sounded as frantic to Sally as it did to her. She stood to leave.
"Margaret, there's one other thing. I hate to bring it up on top of everything else, but I've heard that you have a big paper due on Monday."
Warily, Margaret turned to stare at Sally. In fact, just before her meeting, one of her students had approached her to ask for an extension. An extension she had seen no reason to grant. The assignment had been made weeks ago, but now that the school was involved in a big football game the Saturday before the due date, some procrastinators wanted to play instead of work. An extension would put her against the wall trying to grade papers as well as exams before grades were due at the end of the semester.
"I can't believe it," she said on a gasp, her blue eyes flashing. "Surely you're not going to tell me I have to give those lazy, spoiled kids an extension on their work. That assignment was made weeks ago."
Sally stiffened in her chair, avoiding Margaret's eyes. "Yes, well, I understand that. And I rarely interfere with something that's in the instructor's purview. But I've decided to make an exception in this case. The playoff game is something special. You know that football brings in a lot of money and attention to the school. I hope you'll be reasonable and extend the deadline for the paper."
"I can't. It gives me no time to do justice to grading the papers and the exams."
Sally looked at Margaret, a frown puckering her brows. "Oh, Margaret, you're not even coming back next semester." She stopped at Margaret's flinch, and softened her voice when she continued. "I'm sorry. But give yourself a break. You know generally what to expect from each of the students in your class. Grade the paper fast, and along the lines of what you know they'll do anyway. Then grade the exam as you normally would. Don't make it harder for me to get you back next year."
Margaret's mouth fell open in disbelief. When she recovered, she silently picked up her things and walked to the door. "I'm amazed you could suggest that, Sally. I'll do my usual job of grading, even if it kills me, and I'll have my grades in on time. I assume that since I'm officially on leave and not fired, I don't have to empty my office immediately?"
Sally nodded.
There seemed no opening to say anything else. "All right, then." She pulled the door open and left the office.
By habit, she turned to the right and descended the stairs, hardly knowing where she was going. It wasn't until she was out on the sidewalk and halfway to her building that she realized she was freezing, and that she had automatically headed toward her office instead of to her car. Shaking, she dropped her briefcase and donned her coat. Then, with a brisk stride, she walked to the faculty parking lot and fumbled the key into the lock of her BMW Z4 roadster. She started the vehicle immediately and turned the heater to its highest setting, even knowing that the tremors now making her hands almost uncontrollable were due to more than the cold.
Taking deep breaths, which didn't help, she leaned her head against the steering wheel trying to comprehend what had just happened to her and what she was going to do next. She jumped as a tap sounded at her window. Harry Boland peered in at her. Margaret squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and then reluctantly rolled down the window. "Hello, Harry. Have you been waiting for me?"
"Yes, I have. I wanted to be sure you were all right."
Margaret smiled wanly at the little man who led her department. Close to sixty years old, he was short, balding, and pudgy, with crooked teeth and thick glasses, but he had always treated her fairly and, almost paternally, had helped her in any way he could. A good department chair and a good man. She knew that he would have prevented this from happening if there had been any way.
"I will be as soon as I have time to assimilate it. Oh, Harry. I just don't know what to do. I can't spend the whole winter and spring with no income. Yet I can't stay here in town and wait tables, can I?" She felt tears spring to her eyes but she blinked them back.
He reached a hand through the window and awkwardly patted her shoulder. "It will work out, Margaret. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that things that seem like upsets often turn out to be great opportunities. I know that sounds clichéd, but there's some truth in all clichés. Is there anything I can do right now? Would you like to come home and have dinner with Myra and me?"
She smiled at him again, this time more warmly. "No, thanks. I've got to meet my mother. But I appreciate the offer. You're a good friend."
"Look, Margaret, Dean Smith told me that not being published enough was part of the problem. I've put together a list of publishers I know. I'll be willing to call them for you when you've come up with a plan of action. I don't want to lose you." He thrust a paper through the window. A cursory glance showed two columns of names and addresses.
Tears that hadn't come when Sally gave her the news, threatened with Harry's kindness.
He smiled at her and patted her shoulder again. "Go on home. Things will look better after the weekend. Something will come through for you, I feel it. Let's talk on Monday, okay?"
"Sure. Thanks again." She rolled the window up, shutting out the piercing wind. Shifting into reverse, she backed out of the parking space, wondering whether she'd be able to continue making car payments without her monthly salary. With a half-hearted wave to Harry, she pointed the little car toward home.
* * * *
The shrill ring of the phone woke her Sunday. Pulling the covers over her head to shut out the noise didn't work. Whoever it was knew the meaning of the word persistence. She didn't want to talk to anyone, but after eight rings she threw the covers back and grabbed the receiver. "Yes?" she demanded sharply.
"Babe? What's going on? I couldn't have gotten you out of bed, it's almost two in the afternoon."
Margaret recognized the smooth voice of her husband. Ex-, she reminded herself, ex-husband.
"Oh, hi, Jackson. Yes, I'm afraid you caught me out." She settled back on the pillow, pulling the covers up to her chin. "It's been a hard weekend. You do know that you don't have to worry about what time I get out of bed anymore, don't you? The papers should be here any day making me your former wife, officially."
"A piece of paper can't end what you and I had together, babe. In my heart you're still my wife. I can't believe you even went through with that divorce." His voice held a tsk-tsk in it. "But that's not why I'm calling. I wanted to ask you out to dinner."
"Why?" Suspicion colored her tone.
Hearing his voice was nice, silky, soothing on her nerves. He'd always been able to get her to do what he wanted when he used the right voice on her. Well, almost always. He hadn't gotten her to stop divorce proceedings. But now, when she was vulnerable, she knew she needed to exercise caution.
"Just to be nice? To have the chance to remind you of how sweet and nice and funny you are. And for me to enjoy it again." It rolled over her, the persuasive charm that was Jackson. She braced herself.
"Not that I don't appreciate it, and believe me I remember that you can be nice. Let me rephrase my question. Why today? I might think of you now as a friend instead of a son of a bitch, but let's face it, you haven't called in months except when it was necessary."
He was quiet for several moments. "I heard what happened and I thought you could use a little cheering up."
"Oh." Unbidden, tears sprung to her eyes. "Oh," she repeated, knowing a sob could be heard in her voice.
"Ah, babe," Jackson whispered. "Tell you what. I'll go by that little Chinese place and bring over some of that chicken stuff you like so much. And fried rice and won tons and all of your favorites. How does that sound?"
Actually, it sounded good. Margaret hadn't eaten much since dinner with her mother Friday night. "I don't know…"
"I think it would do you good. Then we can talk." His voice dropped an octave and got even softer. Warning bell's went off in Margaret's head as he added, "Then we can sit in front of the fire and I'll rub your shoulders. You'll feel better after some food and a backrub. Whadaya say?"
For a brief moment, she was tempted. To have Jackson's strong arms hold her and even to feel his touch as they had sex would be very comforting right now. Then
Margaret laughed softly. "And then what? You almost had me, Jackson."
"What do you mean?"
She had to hand it to him, he honestly did sound perplexed by her hesitation.
"We always were good together, Margaret, you know that. I'd like nothing better than to be with you again, and I'll bet you feel the same. It will relax you."
"No doubt. You always did know just what to do to get my mind off my worries." She could hear his hum of agreement over the lines. "But we're divorced now.
Where's Candi or Randi or whatever her name is?"
"Sandi. She's visiting her parents."
"Oh. Didn't she invite you to go along?"
He hesitated. It was slight, but noticeable. "Actually, she wanted me to go. I didn't want to. I thought I would stay here and see what I could do for you."
Understanding dawned. "I see. Don't want to meet the parents, huh?" At his grunt, she laughed again. "Jackson, I appreciate the offer of food and the backrub, and even of the other. I don't think it would be a good idea, but I'm very glad you called. I sure hope we'll stay friends. You've made me laugh a little, and now I think I can face getting up. Thanks."
"Margaret, no matter what those lawyers say, you're still my wife, and I'm here for you. Just call if you want someone to talk to."
When she hung up, bed no longer held any attraction for her. After one final stretch, she kicked the covers off and padded into the bathroom where she spent a moment examining herself in the mirror. Dark circles shadowed her deep, blue eyes, eyes that normally sparkled with life. Her five foot six inch frame had gotten slimmer in the year she'd been on her own, but through exercise, not pining for Jackson, so she felt and looked fit. Consciously, she straightened her shoulders and held her head high, adding a world of confidence to her posture in those simple movements.
Her hair… Well, there was no help for that. Natural curl, the bane of her childhood, lent her auburn mane a wild, carefree look. Her face was softly rounded, with no sharp angles. Curling tendrils of shoulder length hair, escaped from barrettes, braids, buns or whatever she used to try to tame it. It definitely had a mind of its own.
With a sigh, she pulled her hair off her neck and secured it with a clip. Leaning on the edge of the sink, she considered her hair. She attempted to exert control, it unerringly escaped to frame her eyes or jaw line. In light of recent events, it served as an analogy. Maybe she should give in. Let it fall free and be what it wanted to be.
Maybe she… No. That wasn't who she was.
Turning on the shower and stepped in, she let the stinging spray shock her body into awareness.
She thought back over the previous two days and the conversation with her mother Friday night. Choosing not to confide about her upcoming layoff, she listened instead, as her mother talked about the man in her life and what the members of her bridge club were doing.
Margaret went to bed shortly after arriving home, and only got up for a few hours on Saturday. Instead of spending her Saturday gathering inner strength by reading and listening to classical music, she had sat around in her pajamas and robe, watching old movies and eating junk food. Now here it was, Sunday afternoon, and she was just rousing herself. Pity time is over.
Several minutes later, she dried off, pinned her hair up and put on old sweat pants and a sweatshirt, worn soft over the years. With heavy socks on her feet, she wandered into the kitchen to make coffee and find some "real" food.
Sitting at her kitchen table with an omelet, toast and coffee, she scribbled figures on a yellow pad as she reviewed her options. She had enough money in her savings account to pay rent until the end of the school year, and the car payment and rest of her bills for half of that time. Finding work immediately wasn't a necessity, but within three months she had better have income or get used to being car-less, not an option in New Jersey.
Sadly, she discovered, no matter how she juggled the figures, by next June, even with a job, her savings would be severely depleted. Unless… Unless she had a nice advance on a book.
There's a thought. Articles first, to get my teaching position back, and then maybe a book would be interesting.
Looking at the figures again, she felt panic. What if she didn't get an article published? What if something happened and she couldn't keep up rent and car and…whatever else came up in her life? What if? What if?
With great reluctance, she wrote Mother in very small print at the bottom of the sheet. It wasn't that she didn't love her mother, but the thought of having to get financial help or-heaven forbid!-go home to live, well, it would be awful, that's all. She had to make something work.
Now, half depressed but fully determined, she thought about what kind of work there was in the area. Truthfully, not much for someone with a Ph.D in sociology. She could apply at the nearby community college, but with the demands made in teaching she wouldn't have time to write, and getting her position back on the Hardis faculty had to be her main focus. Drawing a line through Community College, her thoughts trailed off to what might be a sure-fire topic to get an article printed.
With a second cup of coffee in front of her, Margaret pulled her briefcase over to find the list of contacts Harry had given her. Along with the list, her hand grasped the mail and other papers she had swept off her desk and into the briefcase before leaving for Sally's office Friday afternoon.
Among the standard collegiate notices and envelopes she found two official looking envelopes. Both had been signed for by the department secretary. Using her letter opener, she cut a slit along the flap of the official-looking brown envelope marked Personal and Confidential
The letter she pulled out was notification that the papers making her divorce from Jackson Hollings final and official, sanctioned and approved by the state of New Jersey, were ready for her to sign. Funny, she had just commented to him a few minutes ago that the papers were due any day, and they had been sitting in her briefcase, waiting for discovery.
Although she had initiated the proceedings and had fully expected the paperwork any day, actually seeing the words in black and white caused her stomach to drop and tears to come to her eyes. For six years she and Jackson had shared their lives. But for her eye-opening visit to his office one afternoon last fall they might still be. He was basically a good man, although not a particularly faithful one, and at one time she had loved him fiercely. But now she needed to move on with her life.
She put the letter aside and picked up the second envelope. It was addressed using her full name. Very formal. She glanced at the return address: Ronald Gibson, Esquire, Palmyra, Virginia.
Wrinkling her brow, she tried to figure out who she knew in Virginia. She slid her thumb under the flap and slipped the sheets of paper out. Her eyes widened as she read that she had been named sole beneficiary in the will of one Maude Rawling. Margaret looked at the second page of the notification. She had apparently inherited an antebellum house with all furnishings and one hundred fifty-three acres, in Virginia.
Images of Gone With the Wind sprung to mind. She pictured a large, columned home commanding an expanse of lawn edged with azaleas and magnolias, and a circular drive around which carriages drove to discharge hoop-skirted passengers. With a grin, she shook her head to dismiss the illusion.
Mr. Gibson urged her to contact him as soon as possible to discuss disposition of the property. Whether she planned to sell or live in the house, he advised, repairs had to be made. He recommended a contractor named Aaron Belton for the work, both for his expertise and knowledge of authentic reconstruction. Margaret re-read the letter, wondering who Maude Rawling was, and why she would leave anything to her. She almost wished Jackson had come over after all, to sort through this with her.
Picking up the phone, she dialed her mother.
Patricia Ackerman, a vivacious, beautiful woman, was a most unconventional mother. Only eighteen years older than Margaret, she had just turned fifty-one at the end of the previous month. Married three times, although never to Margaret's father, Patricia had shared their various homes with several lovers. Living what she laughingly called an eclectic lifestyle, she'd built up quite a large bank account, as well as a strong network of friends. Although she was currently unmarried, even now she had a man firmly in the palm of her hand, and Margaret fully expected to be invited to another wedding in the near future.
When she promised to love Jackson until death, Margaret had tried to keep the specter of her mother's love life out of mind. Then, after the separation, she had hoped more than anything that the inability to have a truly loving relationship wasn't a part of her genetic makeup. Or at least that the inability to find a true man wasn't. But she somehow thought it was. She'd never had a relationship last. Jackson had been it, the longest, the one she'd committed to, and still she'd been disappointed in love.
"Mother," Margaret started, after exchanging opening pleasantries, "do you know a Maude Rawling?"
"No, who's she?"
"I don't know. But she lived in Virginia and she's left me a house and property in her will. I've never heard of her. Are you sure you don't know anything about her?"
"Hmm. Let me think." There was silence at the other end of the line. "Virginia, you say?"
"Yes. Some town called Palmyra. Do you know of her?"
"There was a branch of the family that lived in Virginia. They were on my mother's side. Mother was a Howell, but of course that would have been her father's name. We had very little to do with them, and they lived so far away." She was quiet a few more seconds. "But it does seem that one of my great-aunts was called Maude. If that's the case, do you mean that she just died? She must have been ancient."
"I never heard anything about family in Virginia. That might have been interesting to know about, Mother."
"Oh, I rather doubt it, dear. We had enough to do keeping up with the family and friends we knew about." Her mother chuckled. "Who told you about this?"
"A lawyer in that town, Palmyra. I'll talk to him tomorrow and see what it's all about, and make sure there's no mistake. Will you call grandma and ask her if she knows anything about this?"
"Sure. I'll let you know tomorrow. Well, that's an exciting way to start a new week, isn't it?"
"It's been an exciting week all around." Taking a breath, Margaret told her about having to schedule a time to sign the divorce papers officially ending her marriage, and the pending layoff at work.
"But Margaret, that's wonderful," her mother said about the layoff.
"Wonderful? Mother, I won't have any income for six months. More if I consider not being paid until after the school year starts."
"But darling, now you'll have time to write. I'm sure it's what you should have been doing all along. You'll be wonderful at it, just wait and see. Without teaching, you'll have no more excuses. And while I'm very sorry about your divorce being final, having a change of scenery and overseeing renovation of that house in Virginia will help you get through it."
Her mother sighed. "You know all I've ever wanted was for you to find your one true love and settle down. I always liked Jackson-"
Yes, with your taste in men you would. Margaret had the thought, then mentally slapped herself at her unkindness.
"-but if he wasn't the right man, then you need time to get yourself together and move on. I've always heard that Virginia is a beautiful state. Being away from here will be good for you. Of course you know that if I can help in any way I will, but I have a feeling you're going to be just fine."
"But, Mother, I can't…" She stopped mid-sentence, letting what Patricia said sink in. Leave it to her mother to find the most adventurous angle in any situation. Why not go to Virginia? She could oversee the repairs, do some writing in a peaceful, perhaps genteel environment, sell the place and come back rejuvenated, ready to fight for her job. If she could sublet her apartment for the spring semester, she would have more money left in the bank, too. Maybe she should let go a little, take a chance on something new.
"That's actually a very interesting idea. I think I'll put up a notice about subletting the apartment. I mean, how bad can the house down there be?"
"That's the spirit! Besides, Virginia will be a warmer place to spend the winter. They hardly get any snow, I understand. I'm planning to go away for awhile myself-if I can get Lionel to pop the question, that is."
That brought a full laugh to Margaret.
Her mother chuckled, too. "I know what you think, Margaret, but I believe Lionel is really the one."
"My money's on you, Mother. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
