Cyndi laughed. She really liked her tart-tongued lawyer. “You don't know the half of it."

"No, but I probably should."

That pushed all thoughts of laughter aside. “If you feel you have to...” Cyndi really didn't want to rehash the past, not again.

Alicia's voice was low and determined. “If Harris and Hammond know things I don't, it might make things more difficult."

"When do you want to talk?"

"What are you doing this morning?"

Cyndi glanced around the kitchen. The dishes from last night's supper were waiting to be washed, the washer was chugging away in the next room, and she had a list a mile long on the table in front of her. “I'm working at home."

"I'm coming out. It will be better if we talk there with no chance of interruption."

Glancing at her watch, Cyndi decided that Alicia was right. She wasn't expecting Shamus for several hours yet. Plenty of time for her and her lawyer to talk. “Okay. I'll be here."

"Cyndi.” Alicia's voice was warm and reassuring. “Whatever you tell me is confidential."

"I know.” She rubbed her forehead, the beginning of a tension headache forming behind her eyes. “It's just not something I talk about."

"I understand. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't necessary."

There was no mistaking the other woman's sincerity. “I know, Alicia. I appreciate you taking the time to come out here. I'm not sure I could talk about it in your office."

"I'll be there sometime in the next half hour."

"I'll be waiting.” She turned off the phone and tossed it onto the table. Shoving her notes aside, she stood and began to clean the kitchen.

The remains of the meal from the night before all went in the garbage, the dirty dishes in the sink. Cyndi washed and dried and cleaned and scrubbed. When that was done, she started a fresh pot of coffee before she headed to the laundry room. One load of clothing went into the dryer, before she loaded the washing machine again.

Cyndi wandered back to the kitchen and picked up her lists, scanning them. Even though it didn't feel like it, she was making progress. Soon, her estate would be totally in her own hands, and she'd finally be able to begin to make changes.

Over the past few days, she'd been digging through her father's files and was already making a list of items to take care of regarding those. She'd decided what changes she wanted made to the house, but would finalize those when Shamus had a chance to go over them and make recommendations. This was what he did for a living, so she'd be a fool if she didn't listen to his ideas. She was rather curious to find out his thoughts on the project. The antique dealer and the rare book dealer would be here tomorrow and they'd start the process of clearing out the house.

The sheer amount of work she had to do was almost overwhelming, but she was no quitter. She'd get through it all one day at a time, one item at a time.

And she'd left off the biggest obstacle on her list—Jamesville. She had yet to really go out around the town since her first day here. It was hard to admit it to herself, but she was afraid. Now that people here knew who she was, Cyndi hadn't worked up the nerve to face them. Yet. She would. She had to if she was ever going to make any kind of life here.

"One thing at a time,” she muttered, laying a hand over her churning stomach. She'd thought her days of running on nerves alone were long over, but returning to Jamesville had brought it all back. “I won't live like that,” she promised. She'd moved beyond that part of her life. She was no victim and would not play the part again. She was strong and capable. “You can do this."

The doorbell rang, startling her. “Get a grip, Cyndi.” She laid her lists aside and strode to the door. Pasting a smile on her face, she opened it. Alicia Flint stood on the front step looking smart in a pants suit, tailored much like a man's. A bright red blouse peeked out from between the lapels of the gray pinstripe jacket.

"Can I come in?” Alicia stepped forward, her leather briefcase clutched in her left hand.

Feeling foolish for just standing there, she held the door wide open. “Of course.” Cyndi stepped aside and Alicia strode in.

"Where would you like to talk?"

Cyndi closed the door and led the way down the hall. “In the kitchen. I just brewed a pot of coffee if you'd like some."

"Would I?” Alicia gave a low, throaty laugh. “I've only had one this morning and it's definitely time for more.” They entered the kitchen and the other woman glanced around. “Nice."

"Thanks, but I can't take credit for it.” She motioned to the table, fussing with the coffee and mugs to try to divert her attention from what was coming.

Alicia laid her briefcase on the table and opened it, drawing out a legal pad and a pen. She unbuttoned her jacket, peeled it off, and draped it over one of the other chairs. “I have a feeling this might take a while."

Cyndi picked up the mugs and headed over to the table. Cream and sugar were there already, so there was nothing left for her to do but sit. “You have no idea.” Memories were bombarding her. Maybe it was because she'd shared her past with Shamus last night. Maybe it was being in this house, in this town. But memories she'd thought were buried and forgotten for forever were now as raw as the day they occurred.

Alicia pulled her chair closer and picked up her mug, taking a sip. “Mmm, good coffee."

Sitting there, Cyndi tried to decide where to begin. Alicia waited patiently as the minutes ticked by. Opening her mouth, she allowed the story to spill out. “It really started after my mother died."

Almost an hour later, Cyndi finally stopped. Her coffee mug was empty and she was hoarse from talking so much. Her eyes burned from holding back tears of anger and grief. She felt as if she'd been dragged through the wringer. Curiously, she felt lighter, as if at least some of the weight of the past had fallen away. Maybe telling Shamus and Alicia had lessened the grip of the memories on her.

She'd been staring at the table the entire time and finally raised her gaze to meet Alicia's. She had no idea what the other woman was thinking. Cyndi had been lost in the memories and Alicia hadn't interrupted her.

Alicia stared back, her eyes slightly red and luminous. “You can prove this?"

Cyndi shrugged. “Not all, but I do have the reports from when I arrived in Vermont. Can I prove it was my father who beat me? No. It's my word against his. But I do have scars. There are also the letters to the colleges declaring me mentally incompetent, signed by a doctor who never ever saw me.” She hesitated, but then plunged forward. If she was going to do this, she was going all the way. “If need be, we might contact some of the former staff. They might love a chance to get back at my father and Harris and Hammond."

Alicia shook her head. “I'm sorry. I'm having a hard time assimilating all this."

Cyndi shrugged. “That's okay. I lived in this town my entire life and no one ever knew, or if they did, they ignored it."

"You're Cynthia James."

"Yeah, pampered princess. The girl that other girls envied. I would have traded places with any of them in a heartbeat.” Jumping up from the table, she grabbed both mugs and strode to the counter. Taking her time, she filled them both and carried them back to the table.

She felt raw. Exposed. As if she'd turned her skin inside out. And in a way, she supposed she had. She'd started down this path and there was no going back.

Alicia reached across the table and clasped her hand. “I'm sorry."

"Thanks.” Cyndi didn't want anyone's pity. “But it's in the past."

Giving a final squeeze, Alicia sat back. “Not if Harris and Hammond have their way."

Cyndi had been doing some thinking since she'd talked to Alicia this morning. “I hesitate to even bring this up, but what if I could find something out about the law firm?"

"What do you mean?” Alicia was all brisk business again.

She traced her finger over the rim of her mug, her thoughts ordering themselves. “I know my father. He didn't do business with anyone without having them investigated. Thoroughly. I imagine that he'd be even more rigorous with his law firm. They did business together for a lot of years.” Cyndi raised her gaze and unflinchingly met her lawyer's. “I imagine that some of it was probably illegal."

Alicia whistled softly. “You sure you want to go there?"

"Whatever it takes.” Cyndi sat up straight and squared her shoulders. “They started this and I mean to finish it. One way or the other. If they won't let go of my affairs, then I'll force them to."

Alicia picked up her mug and sipped. Cyndi noticed the other woman's manicured hands. Her lawyer was polished and professional, but unlike the vultures at Harris and Hammond, she was also honest and treated people with respect.

"Okay.” Alicia pushed her coffee aside. “See if you come across anything, but if you do, bring it to me. Do not approach them on your own."

That sounded more than reasonable to her and she nodded.

Her lawyer smiled at her. “After all, that's why you're paying me the big bucks."

Cyndi laughed. “What good is my father's money if I don't put it to good use?"

Alicia stood and tossed her legal pad and pen back into her bag. “I'll need a copy of that letter from the doctor if you can find it. I doubt that the colleges you applied to kept it after all these years. I have the doctor's name, so that's somewhere to start. He's probably retired, but I'll see what I can dig up on him.” She pulled on her jacket and buttoned it. “We may need to hire someone."