Christmas Eve at Claredon Hall by Dayle A. Dermatis

Author:Dayle A. Dermatis
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Soul's Road Press

“Rachael de Young?”

An older woman with impeccably coifed short white hair stood in the parlor doorway, smiling.

“Mrs. Jenner?” Rachael moved the overflowing file from her lap to the brocaded loveseat cushion so she could stand.

“Celeste, please,” the woman said, coming forward and taking Rachael’s hand between hers. “We can’t have such formalities when we’ll be working so closely together.”

Rachael smiled back, feeling the last of her anxieties melt away before the gracious woman. She stuffed the photocopy back in the folder and shoved the whole thing into her attaché case.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” Celeste continued as they left the parlor together. “It was a phone call that simply couldn’t wait.”

“No problem,” Rachael said. The woman was several inches shorter than Rachael, and if it weren’t for her snowy hair, her erect carriage and slim figure would easily cause her to be mistaken for a woman twenty years younger. Her navy suit and simple, high-necked red silk blouse spoke of both elegance and comfort. Rachael felt grubby in comparison in her jeans and soft grey knit shirt, but Celeste seemed not to notice—or if she did, she didn’t mind. “It gave me a chance to look around a bit.”

“And what did you think?” Celeste held open a door and allowed Rachael to enter first.

“Everything is beautiful—gorgeous,” Rachael said lamely.

“Thank you, dear,” Celeste said, and moved around to sit behind her desk.

Her black slate-topped desk.

At Celeste’s gesture, Rachael sank into the comfortable burgundy-leather armchair across from her. So. Even unbidden, her visions continued to be accurate to the last detail.

A cluster of framed photos held court at one corner. Rachael tilted her head around to see them. Most were older, sepia-tinted. One, of a dark-haired man, struck her soul; even though the color couldn’t be in the picture, she saw him with familiar eyes of green.

“Now, I do want to go over a few things before you get started on your research,” Celeste said. “Let me give you a brief overview of the family. Of course, I will always be available to you—I’ll give you whatever information I can. The rest of the family is to do the same, not that there are many of us left.”

“You said that’s the reason you wanted the family history charted,” Rachael said. Celeste’s office also contained modern computer equipment, but Rachael noted that it was recessed in the back wall and doors could be closed to hide it, better retaining the manor’s antique charm.

“That’s definitely one of the reasons,” Celeste agreed. “Really, Ian and I are the only ones of this line, and we don’t seem to be leaving any heirs. I’ve lost track of all the different groups in Scotland—you’ll track most of them down, I’m sure—but I gather they’re diminishing as well. Smaller families, fewer marriages, that sort of thing. My main interest, where I’d like you to concentrate, is on our line of the family since we came to America.” She leaned forward. “Another reason, Rachael, is that, besides the

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