''According to Pop,'' he said after a few minutes, "the Todds came here to visit because Corrie's grandmother, Alice Todd's mother, had always talked about the place. They didn't know of her connection to the family. Or if they did, they never mentioned it to Pop or his father. They arrived late in the day and were disappointed to find the hotel closed for the season."

"But somehow they got in." Corrie had been watching Hugh and was relieved to observe that he did not seem upset. He wanted to tell his story.

Lucas nodded. "My grandfather, Pop's father, was a generous man. He felt sorry for Mrs. Todd, so, on an impulse, he invited them to stay anyway. Pop was annoyed about that. First, because they were already worried about the wildfires. They didn't need guests to look out for. Then because the daughter claimed she'd seen a ghost."

"She wanted to stay longer," Corrie guessed.

"Yes. Pitched a fit when she was told they had to leave. That was the quarrel you saw, Corrie. And it took place when Pop insisted they evacuate because of the fire danger."

"And the claim that she'd seen a ghost? He did nothing about that?"

"He had other things to worry about at the time."

"The hotel lost one wing to the flames," Joyce reminded her.

Lucas nodded. "That was the very next day. Pop says he did wonder, but the Todds let the matter drop. They never came back. He figured the girl just had an overactive imagination. He never gave the incident another thought until you came along, Corrie. Your experiences stirred up the old memory, and a sense of guilt because he hadn't pursued it."

"And that's all Adrienne wanted to convey?" Donald Ballantyne asked. "That Marguerite was the real heir because Jonathan Mead was the love child of Cordelia La Fleur and some unknown man?"

"Oh, not unknown," Joyce said. "It's quite obvious who he was."

Everyone turned to look at her, even Hugh.

"Well, to be more accurate, I can make an educated guess from studying old family photographs." She trotted over to the bookshelves and withdrew one of her alb.u.ms. When she found the page she wanted, she held the book out to Corrie. "There. See? That's Douglas Sinclair, the older brother of the first Lucas. He left the area sometime around 1875 to go out West with his wife and family. Never came back."

Douglas had not been on the family tree Joyce had given her.

"You're saying Douglas was Jonathan's father?" Lucas asked. "That Jonathan was a Sinclair?" He sounded appalled, and Corrie could guess why. This put Kelvin back in the family again.

Joyce flipped through the alb.u.m until she found another photograph and extracted it to show around side by side with the portrait of Douglas. "Here's Jonathan's picture. You see? You can hardly miss the resemblance."

They were as alike as Hugh and Lucas.

"Do you think Horatio knew?" Corrie asked.

"Who can tell? Once he married Cordelia, though, he accepted her son as his own. Then, of course, they had Marguerite. It's possible Jonathan suspected who his real father was. He certainly had some problem with self-esteem. Everything I've read about him in old records indicates he wasn't a very pleasant man. Petty. Quarrelsome. It didn't surprise me to hear he lied to old Horatio, telling him Marguerite was dead so he'd have exclusive claim to the Phoenix Inn."

"This is way too complicated for me," Corrie's father said. "Why go to all that bother?"

"Horatio might well have disowned Jonathan if Adrienne had told him Marguerite was still alive," Corrie explained. "Even if she didn't force him to acknowledge the truth of Jonathan's paternity, there would still be the fact that Jonathan had lied about Marguerite being dead." Horatio had loved his daughter. Corrie had seen that for herself the day he burst into the dining room at the Sinclair House.

Joyce was nodding. "That Adrienne didn't speak up before she died must have been what kept her from resting in peace. It may not seem like much to us today, but back then it would have been a very big deal."

"Do you suppose we'll ever know if this is the right solution?" Lucas wondered.

"Oh, I think so." Corrie sent Lucas a smile meant just for him. "If it isn't, we'll be seeing Adrienne again."

The only one around with a stronger sense of family, she mused, was Adrienne Sinclair's great-great-grandson.

Four months later, Corrie's wedding day dawned clear and bright, a perfect May morning. It was the warmest spring on record, too, to everyone's great relief. She spent a few minutes going over the final plans for the following week's Cozies Unlimited conference at the hotel, part of her job now that she was in charge of PR for the Sinclair House, then went to the armoire to take out her wedding gown.

Rachel came breezing in, holding up a delicate lace garter. "I've got your something borrowed."

"Are you sure that isn't the something old?"

Her something blue was a bouquet that contained the first forget-me-nots of spring, chosen to match her eyes, Lucas said.

"Could be both. It came out of a trunk in Joyce's attic. I'm betting it belonged to the first Mrs. Lucas Sinclair."

Adrienne.

No one had seen the ghost or experienced any sense of her presence since Corrie's last dream. She hoped that meant she had succeeded in righting all the old wrongs, as much as they could be righted after the pa.s.sage of so much time. Still, Corrie could not help wishing for some sign that Adrienne approved of what she'd done.

She took the garter from Rachel and began to dress.

A short time later, she stepped out of the hotel on her father's arm and started down the path that led to the man-made pond. Donald nodded his gruff approval and kissed her on the cheek. "Your mother would be proud of you," he said.

As they moved past the grove of trees, a small orchestra struck up Purcell's "Trumpet Voluntary." Corrie felt as if she were floating toward the gathered guests.

Rachel, as maid of honor, led the way along the flagstones toward waiting family and friends. So much family, Corrie thought. Even her brother's Saint Bernard was in attendance, well-behaved for once and sitting next to her nephews.

The only family member missing was a distant cousin named Stanley Kelvin. She didn't regret his absence. The truce seemed to be holding as he slowly built up his own business and left the Sinclair House alone.

Then Corrie caught sight of Lucas, waiting for her at the flower-covered bower with the minister, and all thoughts of other people vanished. Their gazes locked. She moved to his side.

They had written the words themselves, promises of a lifetime of love and devotion to each other. The ceremony had a dreamlike quality, yet nothing had ever felt so real. As Lucas pledged himself to her and she murmured her vows in return, Corrie knew she had never in her life done anything more right or been happier.

They kissed and then, still holding hands, turned to face their well-wishers.

"Enjoy already," Rachel whispered.

But Corrie barely heard her best friend.

There, just at the entrance to the grove, another couple stood hand in hand, beatific smiles on their shimmering faces. "Lucas?" she breathed.

"I see them."

As Corrie and Lucas watched, the shades of Adrienne and her Lucas grew fainter and fainter and finally faded away entirely. Corrie felt no sadness at this last glimpse of the ghost who'd changed her life. She and her Lucas were reunited at last.

"Till death do us part," Corrie's Lucas whispered, "and beyond."

"Happily ever after," she pledged, "and happily ever hereafter too."

This one is for Elaine Emerson Smith, with belated apologies for running away that one Christmas.

(but it did give me the idea for the book).

Copyright 1997 by Kathy Lynn Emerson.

end.