"Close the door, Beatrice," their mother ordered. "I don't want anyone happening upon us."
Rosalind exchanged another look with her sister before sitting down.
Jacqueline paced in front of the unlit fireplace, fidgeting with her wedding rings. Then she faced them and said, "Your father's will is missing."
Bea waved her hand dismissively. "The will is a formality that makes the transfer of assets easier and faster, but in this case, as his spouse, you'd inherit everything anyway. You don't need to worry. I'll handle everything until the estate is in your name."
"So competent, Beatrice," their mother murmured, her gaze soft. But then she shook her head. "I'm afraid he may have left everything to Tabitha Welles."
"What?" Bea sat up, alert.
Jacqueline began to pace again, twisting her rings. "They were together for a long time, and-"
"You knew?" Rosalind asked, incredulous.
Her mother shot her an irritated look. "Of course, I knew. The wife always does."
She glanced at her sister, who shook her head inconspicuously. Bea faced their mother. "You know how father revered the Summerhill heritage. It seems unlikely that he'd leave everything to an outsider."
"You know how he felt about the American."
Everyone knew how Reginald Summerhill felt about their distant cousin in New York. As the next male heir, he inherited the title, though the estate stayed within the immediate family.
Unless her father gave it to his mistress.
"In any case," their mother continued, "Barrows, Reginald's solicitor, claims he changed the will before the accident. Only Barrows can't find the original; he said Reginald brought a copy to keep at home."
"And we need to find it before someone else does," Bea said. "Have you looked in his safe?"
"Of course. It's not there." Jacqueline faced Rosalind. "You need to stay to help."
She opened her mouth to protest, but Bea shook her head again. She pressed her lips together, firmly.
"We'll take care of it," her sister assured their mother. "Why don't you go see to your guests now? Rosalind and I will figure this out."
"I knew I could count on you two." The corners of her mouth curved into a sad smile. On her way out, she paused and glanced over her shoulder. "We haven't had money in a long time, thanks to Reginald's poor decisions, but if I have control over everything else, the last laugh is mine, and that's something, isn't it?"
Biting her lip, Rosalind watched her mother stride out, her dignity rigid in the line of her back. If her father weren't already dead, she'd kill him again.
But one thing was certain. "I'm not sure I'd be any help, Bea. Can't you-"
"I'm going to Japan on business tomorrow." Her sister frowned. "I can't reschedule, and I'm not certain how quickly I can return. We need to find the will before someone else does, Ros. You understand that, don't you? Without a will, the estate will be intestate and go to Mother."
"I got that, but isn't it better lost?"
"Yes, which is why you'll find it and destroy it so there's no possibility of it surfacing, in case he did leave everything to his mistress."
"Not that that's illegal or anything, right?"
"You haven't committed a crime until you're caught."
She stared at her oldest sister with a combination of awe and horror. "You're frightening."
"I'm thorough."
"Viola and Portia are here. Can't they search for it?"
"Portia?" Bea laughed. "Portia thought Father walked on water. If she found the will, she'd probably make sure his wishes were carried out. Portia takes the family crest more seriously than anyone."
That was true. Rosalind turned and looked at the moulding above the library door. It was etched above every doorway in the house along with the family motto. Honour and Family.
She'd always thought it was a farce, but never more so than now. Resentment left a bitter taste in her mouth, made stronger by the anger she felt toward Reginald Summerhill. He was always so disapproving of her and her sisters, but look at what he did.
Now wasn't the time to dwell on that. She shook her head. "Then what about Viola?"
Bea frowned. "Something's amiss with Vi. I'm hesitant to burden her with this yet, not when she seems so brittle."
Rosalind remembered the tight look around Vi's eyes and couldn't disagree. She rubbed her neck, feeling the responsibility like a noose. "I don't know."
"Ros, what do you think will happen to Mother without money from the sale of the estate's assets?" Before she could answer, Bea continued. "One of us will have to take her in. It's not going to Viola, Portia, or Titania. None of them could support her. So it'll be up to me, you, and Imogen. How do you feel about a part-time roommate?"
"Mother?" She tried to picture her mother living in her San Francisco loft and winced. "That's not going to work."
"Exactly."
She sighed. "How long do you think this is going to take?"
"I'll be gone for a week, maybe a touch longer. I'll take over once I get back."
"I have a life and business in San Francisco, Bea."
"I know, but the sooner we have the will, the sooner we can make sure Mother's future is secure. And it'd be nice for Mother to have you here, Rosalind." Her sister looked at her. "You were closest to her."
Only because they shared a love for clothing. Their mother wasn't a warm individual-she didn't think anyone could claim to be close to her.
"Finding the will shouldn't be difficult. If it's not in his safe, it has to be in his study. It's where he spent most of his time. Let me know what you decide," Bea said as she left the room, but her tone suggested there was only one answer she'd accept.
Rosalind turned and glanced up at the moulding above the door.
Honour and Family.
Reginald Summerhill had forsaken both. Rosalind wasn't sure she could follow in his footsteps.
