Wait Until Dark Read Free Page B

listened to the crunching sound of tires on gravel, and then her car driving away. His smile faded, his lips tightening into a grim line.
    Lindsey Hall was going to be a problem.

3
    BY THE TIME IRENE HALL GOT HOME from work the next night, Lindsey had just finished preparing a chicken casserole and popped it into the oven.
    "Hi," she greeted her mother, tugging off her oven mitts and tossing them to the counter. She walked out of the tiny kitchen, giving her mother a tired smile.
    Petite and slight of build, Irene appeared much younger than her fifty-one years - at least at first glance. It was only when one looked closer that one could see her chapped, overworked hands and the world-weariness in her eyes. Still, with her diminutive size, flaxen hair, and cornflower blue eyes, she looked all the world like a china doll - one that had been dragged around rather than allowed to sit on a shelf and be admired.
    "You look exhausted," Lindsey said gently, walking over to give her mother a hug. "Sit down and relax. Dinner will be ready in less than an hour."
    Irene smoothed a strand of pale hair off her forehead and studied her daughter, her fine features tightening with concern. "An hour" she repeated quietly. "Good. That gives us a chance to talk."
    Lindsey averted her gaze. "There's not that much to talk about. I can recap the past day in about five minutes."
    "I beg to differ with you. There's a lot to talk about. And I don't only mean the past day. I mean the past twenty-six years. This talk is long overdue." Irene's firm tone surprised Lindsey. Her mother was always soft-spoken and gentle, her personality as delicate as her appearance. Now she sounded adamant.
    "Lindsey, I was here when Mr. Masters called and asked you to come to Providence. I might not be aware of the specifics, but I am aware of what, or rather who, prompted the call. I'm also aware that you purposely got back here this morning with just enough time to shower, change, and rush off to work. You didn't want to talk then, and you don't want to talk now. Well, that's not going to fly. Not this time. I realize you're trying to protect me. But I don't need protection. I'm not some fragile piece of glass that's going to shatter if you mention Harlan's name." She broke off, a troubled expression darting across her face. "Quite the opposite, in fact. We need to have this talk - for more reasons than one. I should have insisted on it years ago."
    She pointed at the cozy alcove that was their living room. "So let's both sit. Tell me what Mr. Masters said. Obviously, Harlan made provisions that involve you. What are they?"
    Lindsey shot her a startled look. "Why would you assume that? I never even met the man."
    "I'm right, though, aren't I?" her mother returned, a statement rather than a question.
    "Yes. You're right" Lindsey walked over and settled herself on the sofa, waiting for her mother to follow suit. "The whole situation is pretty cut and dried," she went on to report. "The official reading of the will took place days ago. This was a post-reading arrangement made in advance by Harlan Falkner." She inclined her head, gazed quizzically at her mother. "Did you know he had a manor in Newport?"
    A nostalgic smile. "I remember it, yes."
    "Well, he left it to me. That and a huge chunk of cash. That's what Mr. Masters announced at our meeting." A bitter edge crept into Lindsey's voice. "I guess it was Mr. Falkner's way of rewarding me - sort of a payoff for not causing a family scandal."
    "Is that what you think?"
    Lindsey gave an exasperated sigh, letting her head fell forward and massaging the back of her neck. "What else is there to think? I could have shown up on his doorstep years ago, DNA evidence in hand, and announced that he was my father. I didn't. I guess that impressed him. It certainly relieved him of a lot of embarrassment and explanations. According to Mr. Masters, he followed my life and my career. He knew I loved restoring old homes. So, he left me