Free A Hearth in Candlewood by Delia Parr

weeks to bring something to my attention when you obviously believe it’s important enough to adversely affect the extent of my fortune?’’
    ‘‘I have the correspondence because six weeks ago Mr. Atkins at the General Store didn’t know what to do with a letter addressed to ‘a lawyer in Candlewood.’ Fortunately, he gave it to me when I stopped to collect my mail. I didn’t bring it to your attention until I confirmed the veracity of the letter. I know you well enough by now to suspect you would not have followed my advice and fully investigated the matter but would have chosen to ignore the letter as a hoax of some sort.’’
    Emma decided to overlook his complaint about her instead of arguing. She moistened her lips and glanced at the papers but still resisted the temptation to read them. Since Mr. Breckenwith was so self-confident, she decided to let him explain the contents of the correspondence to her. She could always read everything later for herself. ‘‘Perhaps you should simply tell me who sent the letter and how I’m involved. Succinctly,’’ she insisted, fearing he might prolong her unease by being overly thorough.
    He captured her gaze and held it. ‘‘In a nutshell, Widow Garrett, you don’t own Hill House.’’

8
    I DON’T OWN H ILL H OUSE, ’’ Emma said quietly, as if repeating her lawyer’s words might help her to make sense of them.
    The very idea she did not own Hill House was so ludicrous she might have laughed out loud, but Mr. Breckenwith’s expression was too grim and his gaze too intense. Gooseflesh dimpled her arms, and her heart began to race. ‘‘Perhaps you might explain what you mean. Less succinctly, if you please.’’
    He nodded but held his back ramrod straight and his gaze steady. ‘‘Four years ago you barged into my office with Michael Spencer, the lawyer who represented the estate of the late Richard Hughes, who had built Hill House for his wife, then abandoned it after she died in childbirth, along with her babe.’’
    She blinked hard. ‘‘I wouldn’t say ‘barged.’ I simply arrived without making an appointment with you beforehand.’’
    He ignored her protest and continued. ‘‘Against my very specific advice, and without any prior indication you were even considering the idea, you bought Hill House that very day and paid quite an extraordinary sum for a property that had been abandoned for nearly a decade.’’
    ‘‘You reviewed the paper work,’’ Emma countered, as frustrated by him now as she had been on that occasion four years ago when she indeed purchased the property.
    ‘‘That’s true. Unfortunately, as you know, I’ve been trying unsuccessfully to get the deed properly recorded with the courts ever since.’’ His gaze hardened. ‘‘As you also might recall, I specifically cautioned you against buying Hill House and, more particularly, against selling the General Store, moving into the house, and starting any renovations until we had a deed in hand.’’
    Her cheeks burned. ‘‘Go on. I suppose you’re going to tell me now that Mr. Spencer was some sort of an imposter.’’
    He let out a sigh. ‘‘On the contrary. As far as I’ve been able to determine, Spencer was the lawful executor for the Hughes estate. Unfortunately, he absconded with your funds, along with the rest of the proceeds of the estate, before filing anything with the courts, and he’s disappeared, no doubt enjoying his ill-gotten gains at your expense, as well as several others.’’
    Denial and disbelief overwhelmed Emma’s sense of outrage, and she blinked back tears of frustration. ‘‘But I acted in good faith! And it’s been four years. Four years! If . . . if what you’re saying is true, why did it take so long for anyone to . . . to discover what he had done?’’
    He sighed again. ‘‘A combination of factors. From all I’ve been able to learn, the heir is a rather distant relative who was completely unaware of his relative’s