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as belonging to her father. There were several dress shops and haberdasheries in town.
    “Henry owns half the town,” Driscoll said. “The bank, the creamery too.”
    Addie shrank back against her seat. “I fear I’ll be out of place.”
    “You’ll be fine. As my ward, you’ll be treated like one of the family.”
    The carriage slowed at two large stone columns that anchored a wall taller than Addie’s head. A massive iron gate barred the way. The vehicle stopped until the guard opened the gate, then it turned into a long driveway.
    “Why is it gated?” she asked. “Are they in danger?”
    He laughed. “You have much to learn, Adeline. The Eatons don’t mingle with the lower class other than to employ them. It’s better that way.”
    “Better for whom?”
    His smile faltered and he turned away. “There’s your new home.”
    Addie caught her breath at the sight of the mansion. Three stories high, it rambled in so many directions she had to crane her neck to take it all in. Five or six colors of paint emphasized the architecture’s features. The porch encased two sides of the manor, and the railing made her think of toy blocks. The red trim accented the medium gray-green siding. The door and shutters were black. The home had so many gables and dormers, it made her dizzy to take them all in. Numerous outbuildings peeked from the coastal redwoods that shaded the yard. The forest began barely ten feet from the back corner of the house.
    “It’s quite lovely,” she said.
    “Henry attends to every detail,” Mr. Driscoll said. “You’ll see many homes such as these in town. We call them butterfat palaces, since most were constructed from money made from dairying. Henry’s is the grandest by far.”
    “Did Mr. Eaton make his money in dairying too?”
    “In the beginning. He owns many other businesses now, as I mentioned.” He stepped from the carriage and helped her down. “Remember, mention nothing to anyone. It might be dangerous to reveal your identity.”
    “Dangerous?”
    “Someone took great care to keep you from Henry. Whoever did this must hate him very much. That level of hatred might be dangerous. If Henry finds out who has done this, that person’s life would be ruined. Henry would see to that.”
    “My father sounds formidable.”
    “He doesn’t suffer fools gladly, and he expects those around him to be loyal.”
    She accepted the arm he offered, and they walked past banks of blooming goldenrod and salvia. Gideon followed at her heels. “How about you, Mr. Driscoll? How do you feel about Mr. Eaton?”
    “He’s a loyal friend to those he trusts. He’s been good to me for my sisters’ sakes, and I’ve made my home in the manor for many years.” They reached the front door. He opened it and motioned for her to enter. “Stay,” he told the dog.
    She repeated the command and stepped into the entry. The first thing she noticed was the scent of something baking. A berry pie, perhaps. Then she saw the opulence of the hall. Her mouth dropped as she took in polished walnut floors and woodwork, richly colored wallpaper, and an Oriental runner down the entry and up the six-foot-wide staircase. Through a doorway lay a parlor with lovely red upholstered furniture and fine pictures.
    She craned her head to look at the art that lined the walls. A woman’s portrait caught her eye. “My mother? I’d like to know more about her.”
    “That’s not her. It’s your grandmother Vera.”
    She clutched her necklace. “The one in my locket. She’s much older in this portrait.”
    “Yes.”
    She glanced at her shoes and realized she was tracking mud on the carpet. “Oh, dear me,” she muttered. She quickly retraced her steps to the porch and removed her shoes. “Might I have a rag to clean up the mess?”
    “Molly shall get it. Come along,” Mr. Driscoll commanded. “I’ll show you to your room, then introduce you to your charge.”
    Her pulse leaped at the thought that her new life was