Megan's Legacy

Megan's Legacy by Deidre Dalton is Book #8 in the Collective Obsessions Saga.

 

Megan Larkin falls for dashing Boston attorney Luke Castaneda, a newcomer to Larkin City. Locals try to warn Luke about Megan's family, their history of madness and tragedy, but he is determined to make her his wife. Other elements are at work to ensure the union never takes place, bringing another veil of evil over the Larkin's and their self-named city in the guise of a serial killer. Megan is forced to discover the truth and to set herself free from a legacy of family secrets and obsessions.

From Chapter Four

MEGAN LARKIN LOVED THE drive from her office to the family estate, six miles outside of town. Shortly after leaving the outskirts of Larkin City, the road turned into a two-lane highway just past the airport. The road was known as Larkin Highway South, rarely congested with traffic apart from regular morning and evening commutes. Because the Larkin’s owned most of the property surrounding their estate, there were only about two dozen families who lived nearby that either worked or went to school in the city.

The property between the city and the family mansion had been developed over the past few years, and now small houses and several farmhouses dotted the landscape. The old Sullivan mobile home was still standing near the highway a few miles away from the estate, but had been refurbished and sold many times over. Every time she passed the trailer, Megan always thought of the tangible history between the Sullivan’s and the Larkin’s, in particular Megan’s strong connection to both. She tried not to dwell on her past very often, but the trailer brought memories flooding back. She had never been inside the mobile home, had not wanted to; yet the dwelling represented her origins illustrated by her parentage. She recognized the implications of the home and what it symbolized not only to her but to the entire Larkin family.

With successive generations, the original ten thousand acres of family property had been parceled out to John Larkin’s descendants. Both Liam and his brother Kevin were allotted twenty acres apiece when their father Rory died in 1999, just as Shannon and her twin Sean were given similar acreage when their father Brian, Rory’s brother, died in 1998. For the most part little had been done with individual properties, collective family members preferring to keep the land as one.

However, within the last year, Liam developed his acreage near the highway, a mile away from the main gate that led to the family estate. His grand idea of building a winery, hotel and golf course was coming to fruition, just as Megan knew it would. He convinced various investors the world over to pour money into the projects, having multiple contacts through his late uncle and father. He was already incorporating the name Banshee Point into both ventures: Banshee Point Winery and the Banshee Point Hotel & Golf Course. The winery was all but finished, and construction on the hotel and golf course was well under way.

It was nearing six o’clock when Megan turned her silver Acura onto the long driveway of the Larkin estate. Large stone markings flanked the entrance, with an over-sized silver mailbox to the right.

After she entered a pass code on the security keypad by the mailbox, the main gates opened. She began driving onto the grounds, the paved entry slowly ascending into the property. Because it was winter the lawn seemed gray and lifeless with patches of snow, but the expanse still stretched as far as the eye could see. Trees full and imposing during the spring and summer were now barren hulls, yet still somehow majestic. Numerous pine trees mixed in with the maples and oaks, and every twenty feet stone benches and various outbuildings remained unhidden.

Streams, small Japanese bridges and decorative garden statues were placed alongside the road, giving a starkly gothic impression with an eerie, intricate fringe. Just prior to reaching the crest of the incline, Megan passed the A-frame cottage that had been built by Shannon Larkin and her late husband, Scott Page. The couple lived there for several years early in their marriage before taking permanent residence in the mansion. The cottage was now the home of their son, one of Larkin City’s most well-liked veterinarians, Jamie Page, his wife Désirée and their one-year-old son, Gabe. The couple also kept a Siberian husky-golden retriever mix that went by the name Foofer, and two mercurial cats dubbed Guido and Geena.

After the cottage, the mansion came into view. The sight never failed to take Megan’s breath away, despite the fact she was raised there. The estate was mammoth, one of the largest on the East Coast. The house was semi-Tudor in design, with gray brick and black-mullioned windows. A large awning covered in ivy was positioned above and over the main entrance to the house, a set of double doors made from highly polished, dark oak.

She turned her Acura toward a group of buildings to the left of the mansion, which housed various cars and other vehicles such as motor bikes and snowmobiles. She parked in one of the open garages, glad to be home and anxious to see members of her family again. She had been gone for two days but it felt more like a week.

Megan left the garage and took a well-worn path that led to the back of the mansion and entrance to the kitchen. Even before she reached the wide back steps she could smell the corned beef cooking mixed in with the mouth-watering aromas of bacon, cabbage and soda scones.

She let herself into the house, shutting the windowed door behind her. As she stood and removed her coat and gloves, she drank in the sight of the large kitchen, the warm comfort of the room bringing back nothing but happy memories from her childhood and otherwise. The room was a haven, a safe place to meet and mingle, and above all be with her family.

The kitchen was a chef’s delight. Stainless steel appliances somehow blended in with the shiny oak walls and smooth red brick floor. A four-foot long butcher’s block rested next to a long counter island that had a clean, black-lacquered sheen.

Megan stepped further into the room and spied Shannon standing at the stove over a steaming pot. Although Shannon was Megan’s second cousin, the older woman was more of a motherly figure to Megan, a favorite “aunt” as it were. After the suicide death of Megan’s mother Carly O’Reilly, Shannon stepped in to help Liam raise his only child. Another mother-figure to Megan was Dana Larkin, wife of Shannon’s twin brother, Sean. Megan essentially grew up with Sean and Dana’s twin children, Derek and Diana, and considered them her dearest friends. She was also close to Brose Larkin, Sean’s son from his first marriage.

Shannon turned from the stove and appeared startled to see Megan standing there. She wiped her hands on her apron and approached. “It’s about time you found your way home,” she said, hugging Megan. “You work too hard, my dear.”

Megan smiled at Shannon, amazed as she always was by the older woman’s beauty. Now in her fifty-third year, Shannon still looked rather youthful but considerably less of flesh since the death of her husband Scott Page two years earlier. Megan could feel her shoulder blades as they embraced, and the sharp line of the woman’s cheekbones.

Shannon’s once-black hair was heavily streaked with silver strands, although she still wore it long but in a tight braid that fell to her waist. The silky yellow blouse and black skirt somehow lent an earthy glow to her face and the untamed, slightly etched rows around her eyes.

“I finally gave in to Kip’s badgering to hire an assistant,” Megan told Shannon as she stepped toward the butcher’s block and plucked a peeled baby carrot from a silver bowl. “I’m interviewing someone tomorrow morning. If I can find the right person to help me, maybe I can come home every night.”

“Thank God for that,” Shannon waved her hand toward the bowl of carrots. “Take more if you like, while you get changed for dinner. You’ve got thirty minutes before drinks.”

Megan chuckled as she scooped up a half-dozen carrots in her hand. In recent years, Shannon had become a stickler about the family dressing up for dinner, or high tea in the afternoon. Megan found the tradition antiquated but charming as well, and since no one argued with Shannon over the matter Megan saw no cause to take issue with it.

“I’m off then,” Megan said as she munched on a carrot. “Drinks at 6:30?”

“As always, my dear,” Shannon replied. “Brose lit fires in the drawing room and the dining room, so both should be nice and cozy.”

Megan left the kitchen and walked down a hallway toward the front area of the house. The main foyer of the mansion was a centre point of the first floor, which led to the doorways of the drawing room, living room, dining room and study. The staircase began its wide ascent to the right of the double front doors, slightly winding to the main landing and a large window that reached the ceiling. The window overlooked the path that led to the beach and lighthouse on Banshee Point.

She stopped at the foyer table on the main floor, checking to see if she had any mail, then continued up the staircase. Once beyond the landing, she walked down a wide hallway with engraved wood walls and light brackets every ten feet. The various doors in the hallway led to guest bedrooms, with little alcoves here and there containing small, rounded windows that overlooked the estate. Megan’s quarters were on the fourth floor, so she passed through two more hallways and lesser stairways to reach her destination. There was an elevator that blended in with the paneling on each floor, but the family rarely used it unless they were transporting large items or a group of guests.

Ever since she had been a child, Megan fancied Victorian piece furniture, loving the simple yet elegant designs. Her sitting room included a loveseat with rose Fyffe brocade and intricately carved mahogany. Two matching chairs were situated on either side of the small fireplace, and a long coffee table with white oak finish stood in front of the loveseat. Beyond the sitting area, two stairs led to her expansive bedroom, which had high ceilings with beige finish and cherub etch work. The king-panel bed had high posts with feather headboard moldings and a high canopy. Next to the bed was a dark wood nightstand containing a Victorian lamp with frosted glass. Several houseplants were scattered about, along with paintings on the walls, many of them her own. A small desk with a laptop computer was placed next to the television cabinet, a small drafting lamp clipped to a nail in the wall. A rounded table and two chairs were located in front of the French doors that led to her balcony, and a tall dresser next to the wide television cabinet completed the décor of her room.

Megan shrugged out of her clothes, depositing them into the black wicker hamper in the closet next to the bed. Off the bedroom was her personal bath, tiled in white with black trim. The room included a shower that took up an entire corner, a long counter with a double sink and mirrors, and a toilet and bidet that were situated under a bay window that overlooked the grounds of the estate, Atlantic Ocean in the distance.

She showered quickly and then donned a long midnight-blue pleated skirt and a creamy white blouse with the long sleeves tucked in. She stood in front of her triple-dresser to brush her damp hair, glancing in the beveled mirror before slipping on a pewter mini-clip to form a pony tail.

She sat on her bed as she slipped on a pair of dark blue pumps. The hot shower made her realize her weariness. She plopped backward on the bed and stared up at the cover canopy, which was creamy beige and matched the bed curtains and comforter.

She had lived in the room her entire life; she had never known anything else. However, over the years she added her own personal touches such as the Victorian piece furniture and the plants. Her bathroom was also fairly new having been redesigned the year before last by her father Liam and her Uncle Kevin.

She turned her head to glance at the framed photographs on top of the dresser. There was her beloved grandfather Ben Webb – also known as George Sullivan to some - and his daughter Carly O’Reilly, who was Megan’s mother. Megan gazed at the picture of her mother briefly, feeling no connection whatsoever. She placed the photograph out of a sense of duty more than anything else – Carly had been her mother, after all. The blonde woman in the picture was physically beautiful with a stunning, “barracuda” smile. Megan had vague memories of her, none of them particularly pleasant.

The largest photograph atop the dresser depicted Megan and her father Liam, outlined in a gold frame. It was taken the previous summer when father and daughter posed at their lunch table in Bruno’s Café, with Kip Bathers out of focus behind them at another table. Megan loved the picture, and never tired of looking at it. Her affection for her father was without bounds, and the thought of his unconditional and unwavering love brought a smile to her lips.

She leapt from her bed. She had dawdled long enough. It was time to join her family downstairs.

* * *

AFTER A SUMPTUOUS DINNER, the family sat around the dining room table, chatting and sipping Irish cream liqueur from small glasses. The room was done in gray stone and dark wood paneling, with an arched ceiling. A massive Waterford chandelier was the striking centerpiece, which rested above the long dining table. Tall, slender windows with tiny black mullions wrapped around the room toward the small door leading to the kitchen. Several pine logs burned in the tall, Jacobean fireplace, its light bouncing off the Irish symbol tapestries. Several candles were lit around the table, giving the room a distinctly dreamy ambiance.

Shannon sat at the head of the table, a place once reserved for her late husband. On either side of her was her son Jamie, and her twin brother Sean.

Farther down the table, Megan sat between her father Liam and his brother, Kevin.

“Delightful meal as always,” Kevin declared as he drained his liqueur. “Mariko and I had a quick snack earlier, but we didn’t want to miss out on Shannon’s feast. She never misses a beat.”

Liam leaned back in his chair. “Speaking of Shannon, did you tell her you might have a prospective tenant for the old mining office?”

Kevin looked uncomfortable. “Not yet. She’s been in a good frame of mind lately, and I’m reluctant to spoil it. I know she still sees the office as Scott’s.”

“It can’t sit empty forever,” Liam pointed out. “Surely she’ll see the sense of leasing it.”

“I’ll mention it to her tonight,” Kevin said. “And I’ll be damned careful how I choose my words.”

“Like you always do?” Liam snickered good-naturedly from behind his liqueur glass, eyes twinkling when Kevin shot a glare his way.

“Shannon might surprise you,” Megan broke in. “She has common sense. She knows Scott’s old office can’t remain empty forever.”  She paused as she sipped her drink, turning toward Kevin slightly. “Who’s your prospective tenant?”

“He’s a new man in town, a Boston lawyer wanting to relocate and experience life in a smaller community,” Kevin responded. “He’s currently renting the Woods house and wants to set up practice here.”

It was all too coincidental, Megan thought, knowing Kevin was talking about Luke Castaneda before he uttered the name.

“What’s his name?” Liam asked.

“Luke Castaneda,” Kevin said, confirming what Megan already knew. “He seems like a decent fellow. Mariko told me he worked in the District Attorney’s office in Boston, so he’s no slouch.”

“Funny, that,” Megan stated wryly. “I have an appointment with him tomorrow morning. He wants me to design his web site, and office sundry – you know, stationery and business cards and the like.”

“Larkin City is a small world,” Liam observed. “But right now I think our biggest hurdle will be telling Shannon about the office.”

“I heard you the first time, neddy,” Kevin returned irritably, glaring at his brother again. Kevin did not care to be reminded of the unpleasant task ahead.

“Of course you did, you bloody cur,” Liam taunted his brother cheerfully.

Megan hid a smile as she took another sip of her drink. For as long as she could remember, her father and Kevin baited and cajoled one another, engaging in lengthy battles of witticisms that often left others around them rolling with laughter. The brothers were amusing in their barbed dialog, and the rumbling discourses never failed to entertain her. Kevin always referred to Liam as a neddy, which was Irish slang for fool, while Liam delighted in describing his older brother as a “cur.”

“I have a suggestion,” Megan said. “Why don’t you tell Shannon about renting the office now, in front of the whole family? Perhaps she’ll remain calm.”

Kevin glanced at Megan. “Good idea, squirt. Brace yourselves.”

Shortly there was a lull in general conversation, so Kevin seized the moment and addressed Shannon at the head of the table.

“Someone might be interested in renting the mining office,” he said tentatively, meeting her questioning eyes.

“Oh? I didn’t realize we were offering the office as a rental.”

“We’re not advertising yet,” Kevin said. “But I ran across someone today who might be interested in the space. It’s been empty for two years, Shannon.” He avoided her eyes. “We need to do something with it.”

Shannon was silent for a long moment, staring at Kevin. “The office has been empty because my husband died there,” she said slowly, with quiet measure. “He died in his office, Kevin. Did you tell your prospective tenant that bit of information?”

“Not yet,” Kevin spoke reluctantly.

Shannon’s eyes clouded over. She lowered her gaze to her liqueur glass, touching the rim slightly with her fingers. The quiet stretched out, bringing with it a mounting tension that seemed to fill the room. It was several moments before Jamie reached across the table to touch his mother’s hand. Jamie was a mirror image of his father, tall with black hair and the ever-present stubble of a day-old beard. Jamie had his mother’s dark eyes, but his resemblance to the late Scott Page was uncanny and sometimes startling.

“Mum, it makes sense,” Jamie said gently. “The office can be of good use to someone else. Dad would never have wanted you to keep the place empty or enshrine it in his memory. You sold the mining company, so there’s no reason for it. The office has a prime spot on Main Street, perfect for a new business or local service. It’s time to let it go, Mum.”

Shannon raised her head, looking at her son through damp eyes. “I’m being silly, aren’t I? Of course it’s time to let go, and allow someone else to make use of it. No one seems to have a need for mining services in Larkin City, which is hardly surprising these days.” She looked at Kevin. “Who’s interested in the office space?”

“A lawyer by the name of Luke Castaneda,” Kevin told her. “He’s renting Leo and Sachiko Woods’ place, and wants to set-up a family practice in Larkin City. He just moved from Boston, where he worked in the district attorney’s office.”

“Hmmm,” Shannon said thoughtfully. “Main Street would be a perfect place for him, then.”

Megan observed Shannon covertly. Despite her rather newfound love with LCU’s English professor Lee Gunther, she still had difficult moments when memories of her husband surfaced. Scott Page suffered a massive heart attack while sitting at his desk two years ago. The man seemed to be in top physical shape, his only vices being cigarettes and a few nightly whiskies. Scott had been composing an e-mail to Shannon, who was at the mansion, inviting her to join him for lunch. Apparently, Scott sent the e-mail and then slumped over at his computer keyboard. Shannon found him there hours later.

Shannon and Scott appeared supremely happy together, their thirty-one-year marriage seemingly solid and filled with an all-encompassing love that had not dimmed over time. Shannon was devastated by Scott’s death. Her grief turned to rage when she discovered he’d been carrying on an affair behind her back ten years before he died. Scott’s double life was exposed when his mistress, Andrea St. John, filed a paternity suit against his estate, claiming he was the father of her young daughter Alexandra. Scott’s mistress abandoned their child after she failed to garner money from his estate. Shannon’s daughter Angie stepped up and legally adopted her half-sister Alexandra, who now lived with Angie and her husband Tom Cimarelli in New York.

Aside from increasingly infrequent recollections that sometimes plunged her into a brief depression, Shannon seemed to have recovered from the loss of her husband and knowledge of his perfidy. Over the past year she had grown closer to Lee Gunther, their relationship decidedly intimate as they undertook weekend excursions together on a regular basis, sometimes only as far as the lighthouse keeper’s cottage.

Unbidden, Megan found herself thinking about Luke Castaneda. “What the hell?” she thought, slightly alarmed. The man rather annoyed her. It was puzzling that he kept returning to her mind out of the blue.

Megan finished her liqueur in one swallow.

“Do you want another?” Liam asked his daughter.

                “I think I will,” Megan replied, holding out her glass. “Fill it up, Dad.”