The Secret Gift Read Free Page A

softness embrace her, staring at the ornamental trim on the ceiling as through the open windows she heard the sea tide break softly on the shore beneath the house. Instead of comforting her, however, the sound only made her realize how silent the house now stood.
    Libby clicked the bedside lamp on, taking up the teacup for a quiet sip as she eased back against the feather-filled pillows. She had changed earlier that evening out of her black suit into her favorite flannel lounging pants and oversized Boston College sweatshirt. She had pulled her hair up into an unruly knot of a ponytail and had removed her contact lenses from eyes that were red and irritated from crying, wearing her wire-framed eyeglasses instead.
    She could imagine her mother at that very moment, sitting at Heaven’s tea table, shaking her head in dismay. Libby had a dresser drawer full of crisp linen nightgowns that her mother had given her every Christmas, but somehow they had always been too pretty, too pristine for her to wear. Libby vowed that as soon as she returned to her apartment she would start to wear them.
    She finished the tea, poured another cup, but she wasn’t tired. She should be exhausted, having slept so little in the past week as she’d made the arrangements for her mother’s funeral service and burial, and then met with the family lawyer, John Dugan, to discuss the details of the estate.
    Even he had suggested she might sell the house, thinking it would make a fine B and B. The truth was, Libby didn’t know what she was going to do with it. It was a big place, with some five acres of land that ran down to its own private stretch of shore. Her father had bought it for her mother as a wedding gift, to replace the home she’d left behind in Scotland, and Matilde had loved the house, even naming it in the old Scottish tradition, Thar Muir—Across the Sea. If Libby sold the place, the land might be broken into lots, divided up, and developed. A boat jetty with kayaks and sailboards would overtake the shoreline. Condominiums would replace the grand oaks and maples whose leaves now blazed with fall color.
    Restless now from the conflict of emotions that came with her thoughts, Libby reached for the drawer in the nightstand in search of something to read. Her mother had always kept whatever book she was reading there, and Libby smiled to herself as she recognized the weathered leather cover of one of Scott’s Waverley tales tucked away inside.
    It was from a set that Libby had given her mother for her birthday just a few years earlier, a complete centenary edition collection that Libby had found at a Hudson River estate sale. This particular title was
Castle Dangerous,
one of her personal favorites, and Libby opened the book, looking for the usual ribbon that marked Matilde’s reading place.
    But it wasn’t a ribbon pressed between the heavy vellum pages. It was an envelope ...
    ... an envelope addressed to Libby, written in her mother’s hand.
     
    My dearest Isabella,
began the letter she found inside,
if you are reading this then I am well and truly gone. I have felt it coming some time now, not in my physical health, just a sense of knowing, which is why you find this letter here, waiting for you. Please don’t despair over my passing. I have had a full and wonderful life, blessed with so much joy. My dearest joy, my daughter, has been in having you.
     
    The page began to blur, clouded by Libby’s tears. She blinked, took a breath, read on.
     
    With my passing, the time has come for me to tell you something of a family secret. Do not be angry that I did not choose to share this with you before now. In time, you will understand. If you will look underneath the lamp on my nightstand, you will find a key. The box that the key will open is contained in my armoire, on the very bottom, behind my slippers. It is my gift to you. Look closely at what it holds, and I promise everything will become clear to you. Just know that I love you