Free Coming to Rosemont by Barbara Hinske Page A

going to take time to
straighten out. Don’t do anything rash.”
    ***
    Maggie slept uneasily her first
night back in California. She woke frequently, worried about the corruption in
Westbury. And she missed the sweet comfort of Eve’s presence at her feet.
    Despite her restless night, Maggie woke early,
full of energy. By noon, she had decided what to take to Rosemont and made
arrangements for movers to come on Wednesday. She signed listing papers on her
house that afternoon, with the sign set to go in the yard by the end of the
week. Fortunately, the house and yard were in good shape, and the minor repairs
and touch-ups would be handled by the realtor after Maggie returned to
Westbury.
    Maggie decided it was time to set the stage for
the nice dinner she had planned with Mike and Susan. This would be her last
party in this house, she realized wistfully. She reflected on all of the entertaining
she had done here, most of it supporting Paul’s career. Intimate dinners with
colleagues, receptions for alumni donors, brunches for academics. They hosted
something at least once a week. She prided herself on her ability to conjure up
a meal for fifty on a moment’s notice. Maggie had a short list of specialty
shops that could be counted on to supply breads, desserts, and appetizers. They
didn’t have the budget for a caterer, so Maggie did all of the planning and
most of the cooking herself. She loved throwing a party and knew she had a
well-deserved reputation for hospitality. It was disorienting when all of that
activity came to a screeching halt after Paul’s death. She remembered the
fabulous kitchen at Rosemont and promised herself that she would form a new
circle of friends, this time centered on her interests, and reestablish herself
in Westbury.
    Maggie placed a rib roast in the oven and set
about making an apple pie. She peeled potatoes and put them on the stove to
boil. The situation required comfort food, to be sure. The soothing aroma of
a home-cooked meal bolstered her. Although she hated to admit it, she was
apprehensive about telling her children that she was selling the house and
moving to Westbury. Whose life was it, anyway? As she worked, she rehearsed
what she wanted to say to them.
    Mike barged into the kitchen promptly at six
o’clock, declaring, “Something smells good!” He swept his mother into a hug
that lifted her off her feet. She choked back tears as she placed a kiss on
each cheek. “You okay, Mom?” he asked as held her at arms’ length. She nodded
and motioned for him to open the wine he had brought and pour them both a
glass. They were catching up on the news of the twins when Susan blew through
the door with her typical rush of apologies for being late and laments about
how busy she was at work. Mike rolled his eyes and handed her a glass of wine.
    “So, Mom, tell us all about Rosemont,” Susan said.
    “It’s a mini Downton Abbey. Photos don’t do it
justice, but they’ll have to suffice,” Maggie said, showing them the snapshots
she had loaded onto her laptop. Her children were suitably stunned and impressed.
    Susan gasped. “This is absolutely magnificent. Why
do you think Dad never mentioned his family in Westbury? And why did he never
tell us he inherited Rosemont? It must be worth a tidy sum.”
    “Knowing Dad, he probably wanted to take us all
there as a surprise. But he never got the chance,” Mike observed sadly.
    Maggie had repeatedly asked herself these same
questions, but she suspected his reasons for keeping Rosemont and the small
fortune associated with it a secret were not so honorable. She buried these
thoughts and said, “The people in Westbury are warm and friendly and genuine.
When I was there I felt a peacefulness and purposefulness that I haven’t felt in
months.” She quickly continued before she lost her nerve. “I think Westbury is
the perfect place for the fresh start I’ve been craving.”
    At this statement, both children stared at Maggie.
She held