Olivia would never forget that day two years ago when she had been thumbing through a travel magazine and came across an article featuring the Bridal Veil Inn. Her throat had tightened and she had felt frightened, for she knew that house well. Although the years had changed the facade and grounds, it was the house in her dreams. That very day she had started planning this trip, not knowing what she would find at the Bridal Veil Inn, but knowing she had to go.

The plane landed with a soft thud and taxied down the runway toward the terminal. Soon everyone was pushing and shoving in the aisles, and Olivia said a hasty good-bye to Ada Harmon.

A short time later, with her luggage in tow, Olivia stepped out into the humid afternoon air. There was no way to describe the feeling she experienced, the tightening in her chest, the hammering of her pulse-it was almost as if she had been on a long journey and had come home at last!

She was soon seated in a taxi, and the driver spoke to her in a thick Cajun accent. "Where to, ma'am?"

"To the Bridal Veil Inn," she answered, anxious to reach her destination. "Do you know where it is?"

Through the rearview mirror, he gave her a measured glance. "I know about it, lady."

With a honk of his horn, he pulled into the traffic and they left the airport behind and merged onto the freeway. Olivia soon became so absorbed by the scenery that she hardly noticed when they left the city behind and turned onto River Road.

Excitement throbbed through her when she first saw the Mississippi snaking its way through the lush countryside. Before long, she had her first view of a swamp, and though it was merely a narrow inlet with ghostly moss hanging from strangely shaped cypress trees, she found it fascinating.

"Is it much farther?" she asked when they turned down what appeared to be a country lane. Ada Harmon had been right-it was desolate here.

"Just up the road," the man muttered. "Looks like fog's settling in," he observed in irritation. "It'll take me an hour to get back to town now."

Olivia felt that he was asking her to apologize, although she could have pointed out to him that nature, and not she, controlled the elements.

She turned her attention to the long, oak-lined drive, which was eerily enveloped in a swirl of mist. But neither fog nor ghost stories dampened her enthusiasm, because even though she could not see the landscape very well, she already knew what it looked like.

Until that moment, she had been lonely and incomplete. Now she knew that whatever her destiny was, she would find it at Bridal Veil Inn.

The sensation that she had been there before intensified as they stopped in front of the great house that rose from the mist. Olivia paused with her hand on the door handle, knowing that when she stepped out of the taxi, her life would change forever.

It suddenly had turned cold and a shiver went down her spine. Olivia had the curious feeling that she had just stepped back in time.

Just then, Betty Allendale, the owner of the Bridal Veil Inn, threw open the door and descended the steps. Her blonde hair was flawlessly styled, and she wore a green print dress and a white organdy apron. Her smile was genuine as she greeted Olivia.

"Miss Heartford, at last we meet-welcome, welcome! Come inside; Harrison will see to the driver and place your luggage in your room."

"Betty, please call me Olivia. After all, we have been corresponding for two years."

"Very well," her hostess said. "I do feel that we know each other well."

At that moment, Olivia could not have spoken if her life depended on it. Suddenly, she could hardly breathe because there was a heavy sadness in her heart. Betty did not seem to notice anything unusual in Olivia's manner and chatted endlessly as she accompanied her guest inside.

Olivia was confused by the change in the entryway. The floor was polished wood with a red Turkish runner, and she was quite certain that it had once been black marble.

Betty Allendale led her into the front parlor, where a blazing fire was a welcoming sight. Hungry flames licked at the applewood log, filling the room with a sweet scent.

"Where are the other guests?" Olivia inquired.

Betty looked apologetic. "I hope you won't mind being my only guest. It seems that most people today want all the conveniences of the big chain hotels, and we are a bit far from town."

Mind! Olivia was elated, because she didn't want to share her time at Bridal Veil with other people. "No, I prefer it this way, Betty."

"Through our correspondence," Betty said, "you learned quite a lot about Bridal Veil Inn-still, I will give you the same speech I give all my guests." After a small pause, her voice took on the tone of a tour guide. "This was once the main house of Meadow Brook Plantation, owned by the St. Clair family. It passed through six owners before my husband and I bought it. Since John died seven years ago, I have sold off most of the property and opened the inn. Besides myself, I have a maid, a cook, and Harrison, who acts as gardener and handyman."

Betty added a log to the fire before she continued. "When we first purchased the house twenty years ago, it had not been occupied for over fifty years. Although we did extensive renovations, we chose to add few modern conveniences. You will find the plumbing is quite modern, but everything else is as near to the original house plans as our limited knowledge would allow."

"You did an exceptional job," Olivia said, turning around in the room that felt so familiar. "Was this not once the master's study?"

"Why, yes, although not many people know that. I'm sure I never wrote you about that-did I?"

"No. It just seems obvious."

"Yes, I suppose so. Logically it would be advantageous to the master's needs," Betty admitted. "As you know," she continued, "tragedy befell the daughter of the man who built this house. Although it was hushed up at the time, it is reputed that young, beautiful Jade St. Clair was tragically slain by the man she was to marry. Not many details have come down to us, although we know that soon after Jade's death, her fiancé, Raige Belmanoir, disappeared. Some say he went into the swamps and never came out because he couldn't live with what he had done."

Olivia felt as if a hand had just clutched her heart. "It was not his fault. Jade St. Clair stepped in front of his sword."

"So you wrote in your letters," Betty said dismissively. "Everyone who comes here has a theory on just how Jade St. Clair died. While some try to glamorize her demise, the probable truth is she was slain by the man she loved while he was in a jealous rage. Some overimaginative guests have sworn they saw Jade's ghost roaming the halls in her wedding gown and veil, and I must say that at times even I have seen things out of the ordinary. I know it adds to the romance of the inn to have a legendary ghost, but I hope Jade St. Clair has found peace."

"Do you have a portrait of her, or any other possessions besides the wedding veil you named the inn after?"

Betty shook her head. "No, nothing else of hers has survived. But come with me-you will not be disappointed."

Olivia followed Betty Allendale up the wide stairs to the second-floor landing. There, on a rosewood table, covered with a tall glass dome, was Jade St. Clair's faded lace wedding veil.

"It's so delicate, so beautiful," Olivia said in a trembling voice, reaching out toward the glass enclosure and then allowing her hand to drop away. "The pearls are from the Orient, and the lace was made in Brussels."

"You have done your research," Betty said, becoming disturbed by Olivia's obsessive interest in Jade St. Clair. This had been apparent in her letters; it was even more apparent in person. Betty thought there was something very sad about the lonely young woman.

"May I… would it be possible to try on the… veil?" Olivia asked hesitantly.

Betty looked horrified at the thought. "I never take it out of the protective case. It is fragile and very valuable."

There was pleading in Olivia's eyes. "I will be careful with it if you will only allow me to touch it."

Betty felt a rush of pity for the plain young woman who was so entranced by the legend of this house that she had saved her meager salary for almost two years so she could make the trip. "I suppose it will do no harm," she said, at last capitulating. She lifted the glass and laid it aside. "You can see that it really is quite delicate."

With trembling hands, Olivia reached for the veil, almost touching it and then drawing back, only to reach out again. At last her fingers brushed softly against the lace and she felt as if a shock of electricity had gone through her body. She had touched this veil before; she knew she had. It had once sat atop her own head.

Seeing the longing in Olivia's eyes, Betty Allendale made a quick decision. “If you will never tell a living soul, I'll allow you to put the veil on. But just for a brief moment, and just this once."

Olivia stood statue-still as her hostess gently lifted the lace veil from the wooden form. When the material floated across Olivia's head and brushed her cheeks, Betty Allendale faded from view and another woman stood in her place, a woman dressed in a floor-length gown-a woman that Olivia knew was Jade's mother, Emmaline St. Clair.

"Jade, dearest, you will make a lovely bride. Wait until Raige sees you!" her mother exclaimed.

Olivia felt paralyzed and she wanted to cry out. She was so frightened that she wanted to rip the veil from her head, but then the ghostly face of Emmaline St. Clair faded and Betty Allendale once more stood in her place.

Olivia carefully removed the fragile lace veil that had given her a glimpse into the past and handed it to Betty, who did not seem aware of what had occurred.