Page 15 of Willowbrooke
“Willowbrooke is a complicated place for me—for my family.” She circled back to my question. “I grew up there—I have a lot of happy memories in the house.” She paused before taking another sip of her wine, “But the house has also seen a lot of tragedy, which can be difficult to ignore.”
I remained quiet, interested in what little information Margot was willing to share with me, as Leo had said nothing of it.
“The air in the house gets quite heavy—sometimes I think it’s the spirits of those who passed on the grounds,” shesaid solemnly.
“Spirits—plural?” I asked faintly, picturing the odd shadow and orbs in the photos I had taken, sending a shiver down my spine.
Margot sighed. “Well—those that I know of—my father and mother, Leo’s mother, Christine—and now George, my brother. I’m sure there were more before, since our family built the house.”
I opened my mouth to ask what I really wanted to know, but paused. I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help myself. “How?” I whispered.
Margot’s gaze met mine, and although I expected malice or at least discomfort, she was instead curious. “Daddy had a bad heart—back then it was hard to know in advance—I found him in the study. Mother was devastated and died of a broken heart not long after.” She looked beyond me, as if she was peering into the memory.
She took a long sip of the wine. “Christine—poor thing, I think she found motherhood difficult, as they don’t warn you about anything, how it changes you, how it’s not meant for everyone—it certainly wasn’t meant for me.” Margot raised her glass, “She couldn’t cope—decided to end things on her own terms…”
Was Margot implying Leo’s mother had committed suicide?
“Such awful business, and George never got over it, never got over her. It changed him.”
We sat for a moment, the air heavy between us.
“And what of George?” I said softly, entranced by Margot’s transparency.
“Cancer. But George didn’t like going to the doctor, so they didn’t have a chance to do much treatment—it all happened so quickly.” Margot’s eyes were glassy, thinking of her brother, who might have sat in this very chair across from her mere months prior.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. I wanted to reach across the table and comfort her, but thought better of it.
“I’m just glad he reconciled with Leo before the end.” She sniffled. “George spent years pushing that poor little boy away—reminded him too much of Christine, I think. Poor thing’s an orphan at thirty-five—still too young.”
“But he still has you,” I offered sympathetically.
Margot gave me a watery smile. “And now you, it seems.”
“Me?” I was taken aback by her inference.
“He’s quite fond of you, you know?” She raised an eyebrow, gauging my response to the revelation.
“I’m fond of him.” I softened. “He makes for an excellent client.” I chose my words deliberately to make sure she understood the extent of our relationship.
“And what exactly makes an excellent client? Deep pockets and a handsome face?” Margot laughed.
I was shocked at the implication, but decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. “The fact that he actually trusts my opinion and doesn’t argue over small details.” I smiled. “I’mvery lucky to have this project.” My tone sobered.
“Yes,” she agreed. “Yes, you are.”
Again, I wasn’t sure if I was reading Margot correctly. Was I imagining the edge to her voice, the hint of a threat behind her words?
“He’s lucky to have you; I think you’ve really helped him through his grieving process—he’s never had many friends, you know.” Margot’s tone was even now…sincere. Maybe she just had a quirky sense of humor.
“He’s easy to get along with,” I said honestly, not revealing that it was only true because he rarely revealed much of himself. You couldn’t argue or have trouble with someone you barely knew. And you certainly shouldn’t be harboring crushes on them either, especially when you worked for them.
“I wonder if you would have liked him as much before—he was a bit of a shark in his career. Recent events have softened him, for the better, I think.”
“What did he do before?”
Mina and I had often speculated, and even found some vague news articles that mentioned his name, but nothing concrete. And I was too nervous to ask Leo, if he didn’t want to offer it up first.
“Leo’s brilliant—a self-made entrepreneur. He built a great reputation for himself, helping start-ups scale their businesses and secure funding for expansions.” Margot smiled as she spoke. “And look at you, starting your own business. Birds of a feather, I suppose.”
