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Bryce didn’t look convinced. “Your mother lived in his house in the middle of the swamp. That’s about as controlling as you can get.”

“My mother had obviously managed to sneak around and get pregnant. It was possible she was continuing to sneak around to stay in contact with my father. Whoever the hell he was.”

Bryce’s eyes softened, but she was smart enough to know that Livia didn’t want her pity. You couldn’t miss what you never had, so Livia rarely thought about the fact that she had no clue who’d gotten her mother pregnant.

Now, however, it was possible that his identity had put the recent chaos into motion, even if he’d been a minor player. Like the butterfly effect.

“You think he was someone local?”

She wrinkled her nose. When she’d been very young she’d occasionally wondered if her father might be nearby, but sheer survival had forced her to squash the urge to look for resemblances in the men she passed on the streets of Rushville.

“I’m not sure, but there must be a reason why no one is willing to talk about him. Either he dumped her and disappeared after discovering she was pregnant, or, more likely, he was somehow unwelcomed at the Willows.”

“Maybe he was already married.”

“Yeah. I’ve considered that, but I’m pretty sure my grandfather would have bullied whoever it was to leave their family and marry my mother,” Livia said. “He wouldn’t have cared who was hurt in the process as long as the Benoit honor was restored.”

Bryce nodded, sipping her wine as she mulled over what Livia had told her. Her expression was pensive, as if she wasn’t entirely satisfied with the direction of her thoughts. At last she gave a sharp shake of her head.

“You know, I’m willing to speculate that Stella had some sort of information that one or more of your relatives were willing to pay to keep secret. Why else would she be living in a home owned by the Benoits? And why else would your uncle try to hide an account that might be connected to the nanny?” Bryce conceded. “But why would they be worried about your father, or anything else to do with your mother, once she was gone? Any potential scandal no longer mattered, did it?”

Livia considered the question. Bryce was right. Not because her mother was dead, but because her grandfather was. He was the one who would have been wounded by his beloved daughter’s memory being tarnished. The rest of the Benoits couldn’t care less if Giselle’s name was dragged through the mud.

“Agreed,” she murmured. “It must be some other secret.”

“Stella did live at the Willows for at least a couple years.” Bryce tapped her finger against the edge of her glass. “It’s possible that she saw something. Or overheard a private conversation. And after your mother’s death, she decided to cash in.”

“It’s more than possible,” Livia muttered. “They are hiding something. I’ve sensed it all along.”

“But what?”

“I don’t know. I truly don’t.”

Silence settled between the two women as they pondered the fragmented clues that refused to fit into a cohesive picture. They knew that Larry Sutton was a private investigator who’d pretended to be Jacob Pearson to worm his way into her life. But they had no idea who’d hired him, or why he’d been sneaking into her house and searching through her drawers. They knew that Stella Gates had once been her nanny, but they had no idea why the Benoit family had given her a fancy house to live in, and potentially a monthly salary.

What was the connection?

“Okay.” Bryce at last broke the silence. “Someone in the Benoit clan obviously knew that your nanny was in the house for the past … what? Twenty-eight or twenty-nine years?

“Yes, the property didn’t go up for sale until after her funeral.”

“And your uncle just closed the bank account?”

“Yes.”

Bryce pursed her lips. “If they knew where she lived, and that she was now dead, why hire Larry Sutton to break into her house?”

“It could be that Stella took something from the Willows and they were trying to get it back before the house was sold,” Livia suggested. “Maybe some sort of document. Or picture.”

“But if they owned the house, they wouldn’t have to break in, would they?”

“If Stella was smart she would have changed the locks the day she moved in,” Livia said dryly. “She had to know you can never trust a Benoit.”

Bryce shook her head. “Even if there was a lease agreement between the Benoits and Stella and she’d locked them out, the contract would have ended the day she died. Whoever owns the property would have every right to go inside.”

Livia clicked her tongue, annoyed with herself. “You’re right, I should have thought about that.”

“You have a lot on your mind.”