Chapter 13 - Secrets in the Summer Pavilion
With the Vance threat permanently dismantled, the summer brought a profound, healing quietude to Raven Hill.
In the southern rose garden, the newly restored Victorian pavilion was flooded with June sunlight. Lady Evelyn sat in a wicker armchair, listening to the melodic sounds of Poppy practicing her violin scales on the cedar deck. The little girl had traded her yellow raincoat for white cotton sun-dresses, her crooked pinky finger now arching gracefully across the ebony fingerboard with remarkable dexterity.
Sadie stood by the stone balustrade, watching Poppy laugh as one of the golden retrievers Ronan had bought for the estate chased a tennis ball through the hydrangeas.
“She... plays... well,” Evelyn said, her voice stronger now, the words arriving with rhythm and confidence.
Sadie turned, smiling warmly at the older woman. “She takes after Julian. He told me once he played the cello in boarding school before he joined the infantry.”
Evelyn reached out, taking Sadie’s hand and patting it gently. “Julian... was stubborn. Just like... his brother.” The old woman’s eyes twinkled with ancient maternal wisdom. “Ronan... has not... slept in three nights. He paces... the library.”
Sadie furrowed her brow. “Is there another problem with the harbor council?”
“No,” Evelyn said, laughing softly—a sweet, clear sound that carried over the garden wall. “He is... terrified. The man... who faced down... six cartels... cannot find... the courage... to ask... what date... you want... for the chapel.”
Sadie felt a warm flush rise to her cheeks.
Before she could answer, heavy footsteps crunched on the gravel path. Ronan walked up the pavilion steps, holding two small leather-bound passports and a slim manila envelope.
“Poppy’s legal adoption decree was just finalized by the probate court,” Ronan said, handing the documents to Sadie. “Her birth certificate now reads Poppy Cole-Cain. She is Julian’s daughter by blood, my daughter by law, and the sole heir to the Raven Hill trust.”
Poppy stopped playing her violin, lowered the bow, and ran across the deck, throwing her arms around Ronan’s knees. “Does that mean I get to keep my pony in the barn forever?”
Ronan laughed—a deep, unburdened sound that seemed to chase away the last remnants of the house’s dark history—and hoisted the little girl onto his broad shoulder. “It means you can keep three ponies, a baby goat, and whatever stray cat your mother sneaks into the pantry.”
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“Uncle Ronan,” Poppy whispered conspiratorially, tugging on his ear. “Mommy told me that when people get married, they get to eat chocolate cake for breakfast.”
Ronan looked down at Sadie, his eyes burning with an affection so fierce and protective it made her breath catch. “Is that what your mother said? Well, then we’d better make sure the baker makes the cake three tiers high.”
