Jessica Griffith stepped inside with a rattle of keys and a muffled exclamation. "But they probably will, Manda. And it's about time. This monstrosity looks as if it should be condemned. Why, the acreage the house sits on is worth more than the house itself."
Amanda stifled a sharp defense, saying instead, "It's been in my family since it was built in 1852. It has historical value, I would think."
"It might have at one time. Now it's too run-down." Tilting her head just as she had when they were both little girls playing dress-up in the third-story attic, Jessica gave her a sympathetic smile. "Look at it this way-it's for the best. With your great-aunt Hannah in the nursing home these past two years before she died, the trust fund ran so low it couldn't take care of her as well as this ol' house."
Amanda sighed. "Poor Aunt Hannah. She never expected to outlive my daddy. When he died, I think she just ignored the fact. I wish someone had told me about the will not being changed. Now it's too late. According to my attorney, there's nothing I can do to keep the house and property from being sold."
"It's your mean cousin Ronald's fault, but I guess that doesn't help any."
"No." Amanda drew in a deep breath. "It doesn't help at all. I wish his granddaddy had gone to California with the rest of the Scotts. Then this wouldn't be happening."
Jessica was silent, not pointing out the obvious truth that if Amanda's grandfather had properly provided for such a contingency in his will, the house would still belong just to the Brandons. But somehow Ronald Scott had found the old deeds and discovered that the limitations had run out. He'd immediately filed a claim. The judgment had been levied at a time when Amanda had been caught up in her own affairs in Memphis and Great-aunt Hannah was already in a Holly Springs nursing home. Without Hannah having appointed a proxy, Scott had been successful in his suit to have the property sold and the proceeds divided between all the remaining heirs on both sides of the family.
"Too bad your cousin wouldn't agree to try to get the house listed on the National Register of Historic Homes," Jessica said after a long moment of silence. "But maybe it's best this way. After all, you'll get a lot of money."
"I'd prefer keeping the house in the family. I even made the Scotts an offer to share ownership of the house as well as the surrounding acreage if they would agree not to sell to developers. They refused."
Amanda's throat tightened. Coming on the heels of other tragedies in her life, this was almost overwhelming. To keep back her tears, she focused on the delicately carved plaster frieze above the parlor door. Figures of knights errant and beautiful heroines had infused her imagination as a child. Now they left her with poignant memories as blurred with time as the plaster figures. Yet the two-story red brick antebellum home held more than just childhood memories of happier times; it was her only legacy.
Jessica turned to look at her, her head tilted to one side and a faint smile on her lips. "You know, you should be living in this house. It fits you better than anyone I can imagine. You were just born in the wrong time."
"What do you mean by that, Jess?"
"Oh, you know-wearing long skirts, little white lace gloves, a big hat and ribbon sash under your chin-like we used to play dress-up when we were little girls, remember?"
She laughed. "I remember. You always wanted to be Rhett Butler."
Jessica grinned. "Why, with your wicked green eyes and blonde hair, you'd have given Scarlett O'Hara a run for her money with Rhett. You even remind me of your aunt Hannah a little bit."
"An eccentric old maid?"
"Oh, you're not an old maid. You've been married. No, I meant… romantic. That's it. You're the romantic type, all dreamy eyes, soft smiles, and long blonde hair. You were just born a hundred years too late. I always thought you fit in here." Jessica shrugged. "I never have understood about that ridiculous family feud between the Scotts and the Brandons," she said frankly. "Not that it matters. Nothing can save the house now. Unless you can change history."
"I only wish I could," Amanda murmured. "But I know that's impossible."
Wandering into the parlor, Jessica wiped a hand over the elegantly carved edge of the heartpine mantel gracing the fireplace, then grimaced at the dust on her fingers. "It's probably just as well. Heartpine is worth a fortune nowadays. Can hardly find it anywhere, and collectors and builders pay a pretty price for it. This house will be worth much more piece by piece."
Amanda winced, and glancing up, Jessica added hurriedly, "You did everything you could, Manda. But once Hannah died and the ghouls demanded their portion of the inheritance in cash, there was nothing you could do but sell."
"I know." Amanda wandered restlessly from the front parlor to the curved staircase leading to the second-floor bedrooms. The handrail was worn smooth and satiny by generations of Brandon hands sliding along its elegant length. Golden wood had darkened with time and use. "You'd think," she murmured, caressing the smooth finish, "that the Scotts would want to keep it intact. After all, it's their inheritance as well as mine."
"Obviously they don't. I hear developers plan to put a mall here." Jessica's keys clattered like a metallic rattlesnake as she lifted her hand to pat a stray strand of hair back into place. "You know how large corporations pay top dollar for prime locations, so I imagine the lure of money would fast overcome any kind of sentiment they might feel. And it's not as if any of them even care about the old house. At least you came back here as often as you could for a while."
Amanda shrugged. "After all, I did spend most of my childhood here before my parents were killed. Lord, what was I-fifteen?-when I went to Memphis to live with Grandma Weaver? I would have been a junior in high school the next year. Everything happened so fast, it seemed; my world turned upside down in the blink of an eye… I could hardly bear to think about this house for a long time. It held so many memories for me, and I was too young to be able to separate the good from the bad. Poor Aunt Hannah. I know she wondered why I didn't come visit her for so long."
"Somehow," Jessica murmured, "I think she understood. She always spoke of you when we chanced to meet, and always said how you would be back soon."
"It was five years before I could make myself return, though, and that wasn't until Aunt Hannah got sick the first time." Amanda sighed. "She was so glad to see me that I felt guilty it had taken me so long. But she just gave me a pat on the cheek and told me that she understood, and it was as if I'd never left. Then I met and married Alan-and things got so bad so quick, it seemed."
Jessica shifted uneasily. “I really was sorry to hear about Alan, Manda. This has been a rough few years for you, hasn't it?"
"Pretty rough. Grandma Weaver died, then Alan's cancer, and now Aunt Hannah's gone-for the first time in eleven years, I'm completely alone. I've no family left."
“Except the Scotts, and all of Holly Springs knows they haven't spoken to the Brandons in years." Jessica reached out and put a hand on Amanda's arm. "Hey, I'm always here for you. Just like when we were little. Remember our secret place?"
Amanda laughed. "Not as secret as we thought-a tree house only twenty yards from the house had to be as obvious as you can get."
"But we thought it was well hidden, and that's what really mattered then. Maybe our tree house is gone, but the tree's still there. And there's always my kitchen. You can always come back to Holly Springs to live, you know."
Shrugging, Amanda said vaguely, "I've still got a job in Memphis, and an apartment in a nice area, and-"