âYOUR Aunt Lucy has left you everything.â
Jessica stared at the solicitor across his leather-topped desk. âEverything?â she repeated blankly, her normally sharp brain a little fuzzy with shock.
She was still getting over the news of Aunt Lucyâs death. Of inoperable cancer, three weeks earlier.
When sheâd protested over not being told at the time, the solicitor informed her this was because no one had known of her existence till her auntâs will had been found a couple of days ago.
Jessica had not known of her Aunt Lucyâs existence, either, till the woman herself had shown up at the Sydney Grand a couple of months back and asked to speak to the hotelâs public relations manager, who was none other than Jessica herself.
It had been an awkward meeting. Jessica had been stunned when the woman abruptly announced she was her motherâs older sister. Jessicaâs mother had always claimed she was a foundling, with no known relatives.
Aunt Lucy had seemed a little stunned herself by the sight of her niece. Sheâd stared and stared at her, as though sheâd been confronted by a ghost. When Jessica was called away to a problem with one of the guests, sheâd left the tongue-tied woman in her office with the promise to return shortly. There were so many questions Jessica had wanted to ask. My God, her head had been whirling with them.
But when sheâd returned fifteen minutes later, her Aunt Lucy had disappeared.
The memory of the womanâs distressed face had tormented Jessica ever since. As had the many questions her auntâs brief and mysterious visit had caused. Why had her mother lied to her? Why hadnât her aunt waited for her to come back? And why had she stared at her so strangely, as though her physical appearance offended her?
Jessica had tried tracing her aunt, but without success. Sheâd almost got to the stage where she was prepared to hire a private investigator. Only this last week, sheâd started searching for one in the yellow pages.
As sad as her Aunt Lucyâs death was, at least now she might find some answers to her many questions. To which was added the puzzle of why her aunt had made herâa niece sheâd only met onceâher one and only heir!
âI can see youâre startled by this legacy, Miss Rawlins,â the solicitor said. âBut Mrs. Hardcourtâs will is quite clear.â
â Mrs. Hardcourt?â Jessica immediately picked up on the title. âMy aunt was married, then?â
No wonder she hadnât been able to trace her. Sheâd tried Woods, which had been her motherâs maiden name.
âShe was a widow. For some considerable years, I gather. She had no children of her own. Your mother was her only sibling. Their parents passed away many years back.â
Jessicaâs heart sank. There went her hope of grandparents, or other aunts and uncles, or even cousins. So she still had no living family who wanted anything to do with her. Her own fatherâplus his parents and relativesâhad abandoned all contact after her mother divorced him.
Not that Jessica had ever really known them. Sheâd only been three at the time of her parentsâ divorce, and it had been a bitter parting, one her mother refused to speak of afterwards.
When Jessica had notified her father by telephone of her motherâs death eight years agoâhe still lived in Sydneyâhe hadnât even had the decency to attend the funeral.
Jessicaâs heart turned over as she thought of that wretched day. It had been raining, with no one at the graveside except herself, the priest and the undertakers. Her mother had had no close friends, having been an agoraphobic and an alcoholic for as long as Jessica could remember. Sheâd died, of liver and kidney failure, at the age of thirty-eight.
Jessica wondered anew what had been behind her motherâs self-loathing and misery. Sheâd thought it was her failed marriage. Now she wasnât so sure.
So many questions about her motherâs and her own life, unansweredâ¦
Jessica looked up at the patiently waiting solicitor, her expression curious and thoughtful.
âSurely my auntâs husband must have had some relatives,â she speculated. âWhy didnât she leave them something? Why leave everything to me?â
The solicitor shrugged. âIâm afraid I donât know the answer to that. She doesnât mention any in-laws in her will. Neither have any come forward. You are her sole legal heir, and might I say her estate is quite considerable.â
Jessica was taken aback. Sheâd been picturing a small house perhaps, in a country town. Somehow, Aunt Lucy had looked country. Jessica hadnât envisaged any great fortune. âHow considerable is considerable?â she asked, feeling the first stirring of excitement.