Page 25 of Everyone’s a Liar

“She’s searching.”

“Searching for what?”

Helene stared at her, a pained silence stretching between them. Then, with a strangled gasp, she spoke.

“Manny.”

“Manny?” Livia furrowed her brows. “Is that a place? Or a person?”

“Manny, Manny, Manny,” Helene chanted.

“Tell me—”

“Helene.” A female voice cut through Livia’s question as Janet Preston stepped through the back gate. The woman was a few years younger than Helene and had lived at the Willows as Helene’s private nurse for the past twenty years. She was a small woman with sandy blond hair that she kept cut short and a square face. She rarely interacted with the rest of the family, but when she did she acted more like a drill sergeant than a nurse. “There you are.” She moved to stand next to Helene. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” With a stiff smile, she nodded toward Livia. “Hello, Livia. It’s good to see you.”

“Janet.”

“You’ll have to excuse us.” Janet firmly grabbed Helene’s arm, pulling her away. “It’s time for our afternoon tea.”

Helene tried to cling to Livia’s hands. “I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“Tell him I’m sorry.”

“Tell who?”

“Manny.”

“Manny? I don’t know who that is.”

“Manny, Manny, Manny.”

“That’s enough,” Janet said in stern tones, shoving Helene through the gate.

Livia glared at the nurse. “Wait. We were talking.”

“Not now,” Janet said, her expression grim. “She’s on new medication that’s affected her mind. Maybe after she’s had her tea and a nap, you can talk again.”

Livia stepped forward, intending to demand the right to speak to her aunt, but a glance at Helene’s anxious expression dried the words on her lips. Janet was right. The older woman was fading into a haze of confusion. She wasn’t in any condition to answer the questions that hammered through Livia with a ruthless hunger.

Fisting her hands, she watched the two women disappear, leaving her with a nagging desire to know the truth about Manny and why her aunt was sorry.

CHAPTER 7

The Willows

Wednesday, July 2nd

Livia slowly returned to her rooms, a trickle of sweat inching down her brow. The heat was oppressive in New Orleans, but this close to the swamps there was an extra layer of humidity that clung to her skin like a damp shroud. Intending to jump into the shower, Livia paused at her doorway. The heavy silence that filled the house assured her that most of the family were in their rooms, while the staff were no doubt scurrying around the kitchen as they prepared the lavish dinner.

It was a perfect opportunity to do more snooping.

With determined steps, she headed down the long corridor, passing through the main section of the house and into the family wing. She refused to tiptoe past her aunt and uncle’s suite, reminding herself she wasn’t doing anything wrong. Her encounter with Helene had stirred a vague memory.

She didn’t know why it mattered. Who cared if her aunt was roaming the grounds, searching for her dead sister and sending her regrets to some unknown Manny? The older woman was clearly unstable. Livia would be better off concentrating on why Winston Durand had entered her house like he owned it. And his connection to Jacob.

Or better yet, she should be checking through her email to discover what disasters were piling up while she was out of her office. In a few days, she would collect her trust fund check and return to New Orleans. Once she was gone, her family and Winston Durand could rot in these swamps.