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 Eight

March 2005

Larkin City, Maine

LUKE OPENED FOR BUSINESS the first week of March. The redecoration project in the old mining office was complete, and he was quite happy with the results. Mindful that Shannon Larkin might be emotional about the changes, he specifically invited her to view the space before he officially opened his doors.

She came one late afternoon, accompanied by Lee Gunther. Luke was surprised to see Lee with her. He assumed Shannon would want to view her dead husband's long-time place of business on her own, not sure how she might react to the changes. Normally, an overly emotional response to memories of a previous mate did little for the current male libido, but perhaps Lee was different.

Shannon seemed to discern the question in Luke's mind. "Don't worry about me and Lee," she told him softly. "We've run the gamut on our first marriages, through and through. There's no longer anything new under the sun. You'll learn that as you get older, trust me. You can't reverse spilt milk, so there's no sense in agonizing over it."

They arrived shortly after three o'clock, dressed in coats against the cold. Shannon wore a stylish black wool gabardine jacket with navy blue slacks and a cream-colored blouse. Lee was equally well-dressed, his camel-colored neck scarf and single-breasted overcoat reaching to his knees. He looked every inch the elite English professor.

Shannon paused in the reception area of the office, her eyes taking in the changes. She turned to Luke and told him: "At first glance, I can tell you I'm very pleased."

Luke felt a stab of relief. "I have Bennett Blueprints and the fine craftsmanship of Ben Webb to thank."

"You can't go wrong with either one."

The seventies-style carpet and furniture had been completely removed. Instead, the original hardwood floors were left exposed and adorned with large maroon area rugs, which also contained unique blue and gray justice scale motifs in the middle and at the corners. The window drapes held similar design, tucked at the sides with knotted sashes. The dark beige reception chairs were booted with dark oak and carved in ivy design, another one of Ben's specialties. The end tables and large coffee table were built using the same dark oak, as was the reception desk. Creamy wallpaper with slight flecks of red completed the look of first impression.

Luke led Shannon and Lee into what was once the drafting room. It was now divided into two sections, which included an area with several filing cabinets, and a spacious conference room with much the same design as the reception entry. A dark oak table with chairs dominated the room, with a vase of purple crocus in the center.

A smaller office had been converted into a lounge, with a small refrigerator, table and chairs, cupboards and a coffee pot. The small bathroom had a dark red glass counter with vanity mirror, and a vessel sink.

They went back to the reception area, where Luke paused at the doorway of the executive office. He glanced at Shannon anxiously, knowing it was where she found Scott dead at his desk more than two years ago.

Despite her pragmatic words earlier, she paled as they approached her husband's old office. She turned to look at Lee, taking his hand. "Do you mind if I go in there alone first?" she asked him. "Just for a few minutes."

He kissed her on the cheek. "It's okay, darling. Take your time. I'll wait here with Luke."

Glancing to Luke with a small smile, almost apologetic in fashion, Shannon disappeared inside and shut the door firmly behind her.

IT WAS DIFFERENT, BUT some elements were the same. Luke kept the only window in the room, which had a dubious view of the alleyway. The glass was covered with dark beige window blinds, open to let in the light of the day. Scott's nautical clock, now hung near the window, quietly ticked in time. New bookcases, built from the same dark oak used for the reception area furniture, went from floor to ceiling on each wall. Two chairs, brocaded in dark red faux velvet, faced the desk in the room.

Luke kept the desk. It was the same one used by her father and her husband, now both dead. The wood was nicely polished, but it was still the same. Scott's old computer was gone, in its place a sleek-looking blue lap top with the screen upraised.

She stood in the center of the room, staring at the desk. Memories came flooding back to her, bringing with it the horror of the day. She had loved Scott Page with all her heart and soul, for more than thirty-two years. At first, it was incomprehensible to her that he could be gone in an instant. Just like that. His lies and deceit revealed themselves after his death. She was left to suffer another acute loss, almost worse than his sudden demise. Now, two years after the fact, her feelings were a mix of sad regret, waning grief and the occasional resurgence of anger directed at her husband's betrayal.

Shannon reasoned her flashes of indignation, which grew less frequent with time, were roused more by not being able to confront Scott about his betrayal. As she settled into a comfortable relationship with Lee, both points of rankle had diminished, and didn't seem to matter much anymore.

She closed her eyes, bringing Scott's face into focus in her memory. The years he spent behind the desk couldn't be taken away, any more than the faint presence of her father in the room could be erased. Each man had been an influence on her life, wielding both positive and negative power that colored her mindset.

She could feel them, although Scott's spirit seemed stronger than Brian Larkin's. She could picture Scott sitting at the desk, absorbed in his work to the exclusion of all distractions.

A frown crossed her face. The image in her mind changed. Now she saw Andrea St. John sitting in Scott's lap, planting kisses on his face and neck.

"Bitch," Shannon breathed.

Then she opened her eyes. Scott was still sitting behind the desk, staring at her intently. His image was muted, somewhat faded in appearance. He was wearing the same clothes from the day he died, faded blue jeans and a white cotton polo shirt. If he was dead and showing himself to her, why wasn't he wearing the clothes she buried him in instead? The indigo corduroys and a silky blue shirt with a brown short-vest?

"Why am I seeing you?" she whispered. "Are you a figment of my imagination?"

"I sensed you thinking about me," he answered her simply. She recognized the sound of his voice, although now it came slightly muffled and otherworldly.

"I've thought about you plenty of times before," she pointed out, her tone calm and rational. How could one equate 'rational' when speaking to an apparition? "So why are you here now?"

"I also sense you've moved on," he continued, ignoring her words. "It makes me sad, but at the same time I want you to be happy."

She closed her eyes again. Was she losing her mind? Or was Scott really sitting behind the desk? She wasn't as scared as she ought to be, she realized. It wasn't the first time she had experienced ghostly episodes, and was certain it wouldn't be the last. Although infrequent, she was no longer shaken by occurrences that forced her to question her own sanity. If she was crazy, at least she was a functioning loony. "It's old hat," she thought. "Perhaps I'm jaded."

"Why do you care if I'm happy?" she asked aloud.

"Because I love you. I've always loved you." He watched her, face expressionless.

"Liar," she spat.

"Andrea didn't mean anything to me," he insisted, as if trying to explain himself. "I loved you, kitten. You probably don't realize it, but you're a very intense person to be around. You've always been a powerful force to me, which is one of the reasons I loved you so much. Andrea was simple, uncomplicated. I felt in control when I was with her, but it wasn't love."

"Uncomplicated?" Shannon's tone was scornful. "Guess again. Your simple little trollop made moves on your estate after you died. She had underhanded designs on you from the start, Scott. When her plan failed, she dumped her daughter and skipped town."

"My daughter, too."

Her eyes narrowed, glittering dangerously. Alexandra was a sore spot with her, and always would be. "Screw you," she responded calmly. "No, better yet, fuck you and the ghostly wind you rode in on."

"C'mon, kitten. Don't be that way . . ."

There was a loud rapping on the office door, jolting Shannon from the impossible tableau. She heard Lee's voice on the other side. "Shannon, are you all right in there?"

She turned to the door, reaching for the knob. "I'm fine, Lee," she said strongly. "Come in."

As Lee and Luke entered the room, she glanced back at the desk. It was empty, of course. What did she expect? She and Scott could continue their conversation some other time, if ever. Not once had he apologized for his behavior . . .

Keeping her bearings and adopting a friendly tone, Shannon addressed Luke. "You've done a splendid job with the redecoration. I'm impressed, and very pleased. All my fears seemed for naught. It was rather silly of me to fret about it, anyway." She gestured to the room. "I predict you will be very happy here, and enjoy great success."

"Thank you," Luke replied, visibly relieved. "Your approval means a lot to me."

"Who were you taking to?" Lee wanted to know, glancing at Shannon with a curious expression on his face.

"I wasn't talking to anyone," she said evenly. "You must be hearing things."

"No, I was not. I heard you talking."

Shannon thought fast. "Oh! I did call Dana on my cell phone. I told her to get started on preparing the tea service without me." She stared at Lee. "Maybe that's what you heard."

"Probably," he finally conceded, meeting her eyes.

He had no desire to belabor the point in front of Luke, but he didn't believe her.