"It isn't anybody's fault. Not yours, not mine, not Judah's. It's part of aging, Mary. Just a part of living a long life. We'll take him home with us until he remembers where he's supposed to be." He stared at Mary, and the earnest expression on her lovely face tugged at Lee's heartstrings. She cared so much—maybe too much, and she could be hurt so easily. He reached out and touched her cheek with the tip of his finger. "Don't agonize over it," he said. "You didn't mean any harm. Judah won't remember an innocent blunder for long."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because he is like a child." Lee touched the tip of her reddened nose. "He dismisses the bad and remembers the good."
"Thank you." Mary smiled at him.
Lee shrugged his massive shoulders. "We can't have you worrying about little things when there are bigger things to agonize over." He pointed to the wrought-iron fence surrounding the building at the end of Main Street. Lee whistled in awe. "The stationmaster was right when he said we couldn't miss it. Look."
The house standing before them was an amalgam of nearly every architectural style known to man. Made of wood, stucco, and stone, it combined Moorish and Gothic styles on a Queen Anne frame. It resembled a castle, and boasted turrets, gargoyles, stained glass windows, and a collection of statuary depicting various Greek gods. There was even a faded red pennant flying from a staff on the roof of one of the turrets. Ettinger House wasn't just a house; it was a bonafide mansion situated on a lot the size of a city block, and was quite impressive despite its peeling paint and neglected state.
"Oh my goodness," Mary breathed, overwhelmed at the massive task ahead of her. "Would you look at the size of this house?"
"House," Maddy echoed. "My house."
Lee reached over and ruffled Maddy's dark curls. "Yeah, sweetheart, it's your house."
"It must have cost a fortune to build," Mary said.
Lee nodded. "It's too bad Maddy didn't get the fortune along with the house."
Mary wasn't too surprised that there was no money to go along with the house. A house this size would cost a small fortune to maintain. And it was obvious that Maddy's father hadn't been able to afford the upkeep. How could he have afforded it on a Pinkerton agent's salary? And for that matter, how would Lee? She glanced over at her husband. "We're not actually going to live here, are we?"
"I'm afraid so," Lee said. "It's one of the conditions listed in the will."
Mary chewed on her bottom lip. She had money of her own left to her by her uncle, and the interest from investments Reese and David had made for her. It might be enough to support them for a while, but not indefinitely.
"Cheer up, Mary." Lee tried to reassure her. "It won't be forever."
She had an idea that there was a lot more about the house, the silver mine, and the terms of Maddy's father's will that Lee wasn't telling her. Mary didn't like the jovial note in his voice: She didn't trust it. Her instincts warned her that she wasn't going to like the answer to her question, but she asked it anyway—and dreaded his reply. "How long?"
"Until Maddy reaches her majority."
"Eighteen years." The number horrified her. She didn't have enough money to support them and this huge monstrosity of a house for eighteen years!
Lee winced. "The actual number in the will is twenty."
"I guess he added two extra years for good measure."
Mary muttered in the exact same way a judge would pronounce sentencing on a condemned man. "Are you sure Maddy's father was your friend?"
"Positive."
"Hmmf," she sniffed.
Lee couldn't help but laugh. "Mary, Mary, what am I going to do with you? I never dreamed you were such a pessimist. We haven't seen the inside of the house yet."
"I've seen all I want to see."
"Yeah, well, cover your eyes because we're going inside." Lee unlatched the iron gate and pushed it open.
Mary didn't budge.
"Come on." Lee reached out, gripped Mary's arm and gently urged her forward. "You'll see, it won't be all bad."
"I'll bet the inside is every bit as bad as the outside."
"If it is, we'll have i