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“Do you remember when it changed?”

“’Course I do. It was the day your mother died. Henri was never the same. He closed the shutters on the house when he went into mourning. No more lavish parties or weekend guests. The whole family practically disappeared for the next couple of years. I think it was your aunt Delilah that at last insisted they start doing some entertaining, but it wasn’t like back in the day.”

Livia resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She didn’t doubt that Delilah had been foaming at the mouth during the long bout of mourning. She hadn’t married Adrian Benoit to be trapped in the middle of nowhere with no ability to show off her supposed wealth.

“What about Aunt Helene?” Livia had never really considered the idea that her oldest aunt had been a person with hopes and dreams before she started lobotomizing herself with alcohol. “Did she ever do any entertaining?”

“Not really. She never had your mother’s beauty or Adrian’s ambition. And, I hate to say it, but she didn’t really mix well with others. I don’t know if it was because she was shy or just thought she was better than people in this town, but she was never a favorite.” Remy took a deep gulp of his coffee, and Livia marveled at the amount of caffeine that had to be running through his veins. She’d be jittery all day if she drank more than a few sips. “But eventually your grandfather decided it was time for her to get married and he started inviting men with the sort of money and pedigree he wanted for his daughter.”

Livia sucked in a sharp breath. “My grandfather decided it was time for her to get married? Not Helene?”

Remy shrugged. “Back in his day I think it was a normal thing. And as far as I know, Helene didn’t argue about it. A few months later she was married.” He tsked. “Unfortunately.”

Livia squashed her burst of anger at the thought that Helene had been bartered off like a prized cow. Maybe her aunt had been happy to land a rich husband. She was more interested in the hint of disgust in Remy’s tone.

“You didn’t like Lance Prescott?”

The older man struggled and failed to contain his disdain. “I didn’t really know him, but he managed to stir up a lot of ill will around here, I can tell you that.”

“What did he do?”

“He hadn’t moved into the Willows for more than a few weeks when one of his boys was swimming at the old rock quarry. The boy got a bump on the head. Or maybe a cut on his lip, I can’t remember, except I know it wasn’t much. But Prescott was furious and he stormed down to the city hall threatening the town with a lawsuit unless they put up a fence up so no one could get into the quarry. It was the best swimming hole in town before they finally built the pool and everyone was locked out.” He shook his head. “I broke my arm out there one summer when I was little. My mom whupped me and told me to be more careful.”

“Yeah, I can’t imagine that made him popular in Rushville.”

“That wasn’t all, he threatened another lawsuit to close down the flea market they used to have in the city park on Saturday mornings.”

“Why did he care about a flea market?”

Remy’s features hardened. “He claimed they were selling stolen merchandise, which was a load of hogwash. My auntie had a booth there selling her homemade fudge and my cousin would sharpen knives for a few cents. Just a way to make some extra cash for the locals.”

“I’m confused.” Livia studied Remy’s clenched jaw. “Why would he claim that they were selling stolen stuff?”

“He was pissy because one of the flea market vendors backed into his fancy car one morning and drove away before he could make them pay for the damages.”

“That was it? He closed down the whole flea market because of a dent?”

“Yup.”

Livia shook her head. Lance Prescott was clearly one of those petty, self-entitled jerks that thought they ruled the world.

“No wonder Helene divorced him.”

“I don’t think she did,” Remy said. “Prescott left her. Or at least that’s what I heard happened.”

“Did you also hear why?”

“The rumor was that she refused to give him a child.”

Livia blinked. It wasn’t what she’d expected to hear. She’d assumed that Henri was responsible for running off his son-in-law. He controlled everything that happened in the Willows. If Henri had forced Helene to get married, then he would be equally comfortable in forcing her to divorce him.

“Helene refused to have a baby? Or she couldn’t get pregnant?” Livia asked, inwardly confused why a man with two sons would care about more kids. Unless he was one of those gross rich dudes who was convinced it was his duty to spread his seed far and wide. She frowned when the older man lowered his head, as if hoping to avoid the question. “Remy?”

Reluctantly he met her searching gaze. “Actually there were whispers she got rid of one.”

“An abortion?”

He held up a hand at her shocked tone. “It was just rumors. Anyway, he packed up his brats and moved away. No one blamed Helene. If she’d had a kid then she would never have been free of him.”