Chapter 1 - The Wedding That Stopped)
Twenty-three minutes before Claire opened the locket, she had believed the worst thing that could happen that afternoon was rain.
She had stood before a tall mirror in the bridal suite of Whitmore Hall while her maid of honor adjusted the last folds of her ivory lace gown.
Outside the windows, the August sky stretched clear and blue over the estate.
No rain.
No wind.
No disaster.
Everything looked perfect.
That should have made Claire happy.
Instead, she had been unable to shake a strange pressure in her chest.
Whitmore Hall had that effect on her.
The mansion had belonged to her father's family for nearly a century. It was beautiful in the way old wealth often was, with white columns, limestone terraces, cream-colored halls, antique mirrors, sweeping staircases and gardens designed to look effortless even though six people worked on them full-time.
As a child, Claire had believed it was the safest place in the world.
After her mother died, it became something else.
A museum of missing things.
Her mother's piano remained in the east sitting room.
Her mother's books still filled one shelf in the library.
Her mother's perfume bottles had stayed on the bedroom vanity for years until Richard finally ordered the room renovated.
But photographs of Evelyn disappeared almost immediately.
Her father said they were too painful to look at.
Claire had accepted that explanation when she was nine.
She had accepted many things when she was nine.
"You're doing it again," said Rachel Mercer.
Claire looked at her maid of honor through the mirror.
"Doing what?"
"Looking like you're about to run."
Claire gave a nervous laugh.
"I'm not running."
Rachel lifted an eyebrow.
"You've looked at the door eight times."
"I counted four."
"That means you know I'm right."
Claire turned away from the mirror.
"I'm marrying Daniel. I'm not afraid of that."
Rachel softened.
"Then what are you afraid of?"
Claire glanced toward the window.
"The house."
Rachel did not laugh.
She had known Claire since college and understood that Whitmore Hall came with subjects that were rarely discussed.
"Because of your mother?"
Claire nodded.
"I dreamed about her last night."
"What happened?"
"Nothing. She was just standing by the lake."
Rachel waited.
Claire continued.
"She was wearing that blue coat she had when I was little. The one with the gold buttons. I kept calling to her, but she wouldn't turn around."
Rachel rested a hand on Claire's shoulder.
"Wedding nerves make people dream strange things."
"Probably."
But Claire did not believe it.
She had dreamed about Evelyn hundreds of times.
The dreams were usually fragments.
A laugh in another room.
The smell of lavender.
Hands brushing Claire's hair.
Sometimes the final morning.
Her mother standing in the front hall wearing a dark coat.
Her father arguing with her in a voice he thought Claire could not hear.
Then the sound of a car leaving.
That afternoon, according to Richard, Evelyn drove toward Boston to meet an attorney.
Her car went off a mountain road during heavy rain.
The vehicle burned.
The police said the body was badly damaged.
Richard identified her belongings.
Claire never saw the body.
At nine years old, she never thought to question why.
A knock sounded at the door.
Daniel's voice came from the hallway.
"Are brides legally allowed to speak to grooms before the ceremony?"
Rachel smiled.
"Absolutely not."
"Then tell Claire I'm starving."
Claire laughed despite herself.
"Tell him he has forty minutes."
"He says he may not survive."
"He'll survive."
Rachel opened the door only a few inches.
Claire heard whispered conversation.
Then another voice.
A child's voice.
Rachel opened the door wider.
Lily Hale stood in the hallway.
She was supposed to be arranging flower baskets downstairs with the wedding coordinator.
Instead, she stood alone, pale and crying.
Claire immediately crossed the room.
"Lily?"
The little girl wiped her cheek.
"I'm sorry."
"What happened?"
Lily looked down.
"I think I did something bad."
Claire knelt carefully despite the wedding gown.
Lily's mother, Anna Hale, had worked at Whitmore Hall for nearly five years as part of the household staff.
Anna had died six months earlier after a sudden illness.
Since then Lily had lived with her aunt, Margaret, who also worked for the Whitmore family.
Claire had insisted Lily be part of the wedding.
She had felt guilty for not knowing Anna better.
Now she took the child's hands.
"What happened?"
Lily reached under the neckline of her flower-girl dress.
She pulled out a dark-gold chain.
An oval bronze locket hung from it.
Claire's entire body went still.
She recognized it.
The carved border.
The tiny rose engraved on the front.
The shallow dent near the hinge.
Her mother used to wear it.
Claire had once fallen asleep holding it while Evelyn read to her.
After the accident, the locket disappeared.
Claire reached toward it.
"Where did you get this?"
Lily backed away.
"My mom gave it to me."
Claire felt a rush of anger she did not understand.
"Anna had this?"
Lily nodded.
"When?"
"Before she got sick."
Claire stood.
Rachel stared at the locket.
"Claire, what is it?"
"It belonged to my mother."
Daniel had apparently heard the change in Claire's voice because he stepped around the half-open door.
His expression changed immediately.
"What's wrong?"
Claire barely looked at him.
She reached for the locket.
Lily instinctively protected it.
Claire's suspicion sharpened.
"Lily, give me that."
The girl began to cry.
"My mom said it was mine."
"It isn't."
"Claire," Daniel said carefully.
But Claire's grief had suddenly become twenty years younger.
She saw her mother's hands.
Her mother's smile.
The empty bedroom.
The coffin.
She took the chain gently but firmly from Lily's neck.
Daniel leaned closer.
"What are you doing?"
Claire raised the locket.
"She stole it. It was my mother's."
Lily shook her head.
"I didn't steal it."
"Then how did you get it?"
"She gave it to me."
Claire stared at her.
"Your mother died."
Lily swallowed.
"You have to open it."
And for the first time in twenty years, Claire realized she had never opened the locket when she was a child.
Her mother had always kept it closed.
Claire pressed her thumbnail against the tiny clasp.
May you like
The metal clicked.
And the wedding ended before it ever began.
