The Seductive Impostor Read Free

locked away in this self-imposed prison of mediocre existence. You’re as great an architect as your father was. And what have you done for the last three years? You check out books at the library, collect ten-cent late fees, and read stories to toddlers with runny noses.”
    â€œIt’s rewarding.”
    â€œNo, Rachel. It’s safe. And it’s a terrible waste.”
    â€œThank you for bringing me the box.” She kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you again soon.”
    Realizing his petition was falling on deaf ears, Wendell reluctantly stepped onto the porch, but stopped and turned back to her. “I love you,” he said gruffly.
    â€œI know, Wendell. I love you, too.”
    He started to turn, but hesitated. “You’ll not let the news of Thadd’s heir being found upset you,” he instructed, his voice thick with emotion. “And you’ll be a good neighbor to Keenan Oakes when he arrives.”
    Rachel shot him a crooked smile. “Afraid I’ll fabricate a few ghosts and goblins to scare him off?”
    Instead of returning her smile, Wendell narrowed his eyes. “That possibility did occur to me,” he admitted. “Give the man a chance, will you? Don’t condemn him for having the questionable luck of being a Lakeman. The article said he is Thadd’s great-nephew twice removed. That’s falling a fair distance from the tree. Keenan Oakes just might be one of the good guys.”
    Rachel placed her hand over her heart. “I’ll be nothing but graciousness personified.”
    Wendell gave her a quelling look. “Just as long as you know it’s not gracious to flood the man’s basement with seawater or short out his electrical system.”
    â€œThat won’t happen, because I have no intention of ever setting foot on that property again.”
    â€œBut you can’t expect him to reopen Sub Rosa alone. You’re the only one who knows the mechanics of that house. He’s going to need your help.”
    â€œHe’s not getting it,” she said, alarmed at what he was suggesting. “He can talk to the company that’s been overseeing it for the last three years. They have all the schematics and blueprints.”
    â€œHell, Rachel. It took them over a week just to figure out how to close the storm shutters. And another three weeks to drain the tidal reservoir and get the place on line with the public power company. And that was the easiest part of securing the house. The climate sensors kept going off at least once a month for the first year, before a company was found who could handle the problem. And do you know who they called every time that damn alarm went off? Me,” he said, thumping his chest. “What in hell do I know about climate control systems?”
    â€œWhy did they call you?”
    â€œBecause I’m the only contact Thadd’s lawyers have here in Maine.”
    â€œYou never told me Sub Rosa was causing you fits. Why didn’t you call if you were having so much trouble?”
    Wendell’s eyes softened, and he blew out a calming breath before he answered. “Because I couldn’t ask that of you,” he told her gently. “Not after what you had found the last time you were there.”
    Rachel’s chest tightened again. No, she wouldn’t have helped him then. Three years ago she wouldn’t have cared if Sub Rosa had burned to the ground.
    Now, she was just indifferent. Or so she had thought. But Wendell’s reminder of the intricate and sometimes contrary workings of Sub Rosa made her homesick for it. She had loved all the bells and whistles and ingenious innovations she and her father had built into the mansion.
    Sub Rosa ran on electricity generated by tidal power. The climate control system rivaled the International Space Station. And everything—from the lights to the storm shutters, the lawn sprinklers to the security alarms—ran