Whispers of the Silver Coasts
. It was the most exquisite piece of mail, and without
Be
ue opportunity we are offering. Attached is a job offer for the restoration of an historically si
dress she had to Google-an isolated manor atop a wind-carved bluff on the Atlantic coast. The m
nts died without warning five years ago and she disappeared into her work with such ferocity that some believed she was tryin
ace value, felt like the life preserv
estate. The mansion seemed to blot out the sky with its sheer mammoth size. It looked new and sleek in comparison to the jagged cli
lized she was mentally
in her mid-forties, with dark hair pinned neatly behind her ears. She was wearing
d and extended a hand "I manage the
hand, her cool firm grip matc
ough the word wasn't quite right. The estate was br
efly at that. "I
le place was decorated in stark white. It felt more like a museum than a home with it's floor to
d from behind her as if reading her mi
t taken aback - why would anyone hire her to work with something they had no
of the hallway. Sofia rapped on it once
t has turn
id not recognize reached all the way up to the high ceilings. Every shelf was crowded with what seemed to be hundreds of l
t he would be-mid-thirties maybe-and he practically oozed that sort of easy-going good looks that most women couldn't help but feel
oice was smooth but distan
for inviting me Mr. Wolfe. I'm hon
ooking right into her soul, it was unnerving a
hat you have to do
ear the chapel?" Helen said, f
's well past time it was restored to its former glory. The mur
is voice that made her feel like the assignm
n do that.
could possibly need. Sofia, would you be so kind as to escort ou
tion to the window; his posture rigid. She glance
of the sea, a little lounge area too. But as Sofia left her alone Helen felt she
t lay heavy over Wolfe Manor, she finally got up and roamed the hallways in bare fee
as high up in the wall as it was possible to put glass, saw moonlight on stone.
dn't cluttered it with the bits and pieces of some idiotic cult. Maybe because without them mu
vel if anyone other than Lord Byron would give a damn about calling Beronsdale a city. It was a painting of a man and woman standing
she spun around to find john standing in the doorway,
he said quickly. "I c
her or away from the painting.
ned. "In t
," he said, h
tone walls. Then john looked up at her, and for a moment there passed between them s
now, Ms. Bell," he sai
ldn't help feeling that john Wolfe was still hiding som