The Secret of Stavewood (Stavewood Saga Book 4) Read Free Page B

head and held onto her luggage.
          “I’m a mystery writer.”
          “Oh. Like Sherlock Holmes.” His face opened in a broad smile.
           Louisa felt the warmth of his grin. “Well, actually that would be Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, but yes, like that.” She returned his smile.
          “I’ve read some of his tales. Are you any good?” He pushed the toe of his boot into the dirt absentmindedly.
          Louisa found his friendly smile and hint of shyness interesting. “I do alright. Maybe you should read one and decide for yourself.”
          “I might,” he looked her in the eye. “If there’s any loose ends I could tell you about them afterwards.”
          Louisa’s laugher floated lightly in the crisp morning air. “It’s been nice meeting you, Luc, and I do apologize, but I hope to catch my father before the entire household is awake, and I ought to go. Good luck making your maps.” She nodded and turned from him and resumed her walk along the path.
          “Sure,” he called to her. “I’ll get myself one of your books then. Do you use a pen name?”
          “Nope!” she said, back over her shoulder. “Why would I with a name like Elgerson?”
          “Louisa Elgerson,” he called out. “I’ll look forward to seeing you again!”

 
     
    Four

                       I n the soft mist of the early morning light Louisa stepped from the tree-lined path into the vast yards of Stavewood. She could see the first rays of the rising sun reflected in each facet of the third floor windows, sparkling as if to welcome her home. She took a deep breath, admitting to herself how much she had missed it all. Suddenly she felt a lump in her throat and she fought back an unexpected tear. Home, she thought to herself. She was home. Louisa turned and looked back up the pathway, pausing a moment to see if Luc had followed her, or if he was watching from the path. He was not and so she turned back towards the house. She had the feeling that something had changed, not with Stavewood, but with her. She looked down at her hands clutching her luggage and her typewriter case and then strode towards the kitchen door with determination.
     
          The faceted porcelain knob on the back door turned easily. She knew it was never locked. She stepped into the kitchen and in the soft light she waited for her eyes to adjust. Her father was there, standing beside the stove filling his favorite mug. With his back to her, he stopped mid-pour and set down the big cup. He turned slowly and she watched a warm smile spread across his gentle face. His golden mane of hair was streaked with silver now, neatly combed back from his tanned face and he stood as strikingly tall and upright as ever.
          “You’re early, Louisa,” he said, his voice vibrating low and deep in the big room.
          “Good morning, Daddy.” Louisa chuckled and set down her cases onto the polished wooden floor and ran to him.
           Timothy Elgerson’s strong arms encircled her and he pulled her to his chest. He wasn’t certain but he thought for a moment he felt her sob, silently as though it was something she didn’t want to share with him. Louisa was his only daughter and the child that most knew his mind. They were very much alike and shared the same, strong willed temperament. He understood without discussion how and why she oftentimes hid her deepest emotions.
          “You knew I would be early, didn’t you?” Louisa laughed self-consciously into her father’s broad shoulder. He smelled to her of soft soap and newly cut pine, his freshly laundered shirt soft against her cheek. When he responded to her the vibration of his deep voice was soothing and familiar.
          “Of course,” he laughed low.
          Louisa looked up into her father’s eyes and saw the lines in his face as it crinkled into a knowing smile. “I sure could use a cup of