Free Rising Tides by Emilie Richards

Ben before seating herself ten feet from his chair, and the smile curdled his blood. She wore shortsthat bared her legs and belly button and curved over hips shaped like an invitation. Everything about her seemed calculated to prove that she was nobody’s little girl.
    He missed the vulnerability of the Dawn he had known, but this new woman intrigued him just as much. He imagined traces of the vulnerability were still there, layered under a new self-confidence and independence. But she had learned how to protect herself. He just hoped she had learned from whom.
    The pageant ended with Spencer, another gracious remnant of New Orleans’s splendored past, who had come to the morning room with Pelichere. Now that everyone had arrived, he rose. Spencer stooped, as if he carried a heavy burden, but he seemed determined to see the morning through.
    “I’m happy everybody stayed,” he said. “That was Mrs. Gerritsen’s wish. The rest of her wishes are just as specific. I’ll elaborate on them now. The reading of this will is going to be conducted exactly the way I promised Mrs. Gerritsen that it would be. I will not deviate in even one small detail.”
    Ben admired Spencer as he spoke. A good gust of Betsy-generated wind would send the old man spinning, yet he possessed a composure that Ben could envy. He supposed it came with age and battles won. There was no way to fabricate it. Father Hugh had possessed it, too.
    Ben listened as Spencer repeated the conditions he had communicated to them last night. It was all so mysterious, yet everything fit with what Ben knew of Aurore. Like Spencer’s, Aurore’s looks had been deceiving. He wished he could have known her as a young woman. What had Dawn taken from her grand mother, other than the English equivalent of her name?
    “Before I continue,” Spencer said, “I’ll point out that Mrs. Gerritsen was very specific. You are to be in residence here,and there are to be no exceptions. If you need to leave for a brief period, please arrange it with me.”
    Ferris got to his feet. “Everyone here has better things to do than play games with a dead woman. My mother won’t know if her wishes are carried out. You must be aware that these conditions can be challenged in court. What judge would believe my mother was competent when she made this will?”
    “It’s possible you’re right, Senator. You could certainly attempt a challenge. You might win. Of course, there are a number of people who spent time with your mother during her final days who would swear to her competency.”
    Ben watched Dawn touch her father’s arm. Reluctantly, Ferris sat down. “I’m sorry,” Dawn said to Spencer, “but you have to admit, this is unusual. You’ll have to give us all a little time to adjust.”
    He smiled at her, only at her. “Shall we get on with the first bequests, then?”
    Dawn looked around the room, as if counting votes. “Is anyone leaving?” Her gaze stopped at Ben.
    He shook his head slowly. She lifted one brow be fore she turned away from him. “Shoot, Spencer.”
    He looked down at the document in his hands. “As a matter of fact, my dear, the first bequests go to you, and to Ben.” He reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out two small boxes. He stepped forward and held out one to Dawn, then moved across the room to give the other to Ben.
    “Any rules on how or when to open this?” Dawn asked.
    Spencer slipped his papers inside his jacket. “None. And now we’re done for the rest of the day. We’ll meet here tomorrow morning at the same time.”
    “Done?” This time Cappy stood. “Really, Ferris is right. Ihave a house to look after, and commitments I’ve made. What’s the purpose of cooping us up like rats in a cage?”
    Spencer bent his head, but his words were clear. “It may take some time to discover the purpose.”
    “I think my mother-in-law lost her mind, and you assisted.” Cappy swept out of the room, much as she had swept in. Ferris was