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      But while Violet hadn’t fooled her mother, she had her doctors. As Violet sat next to the window and looked over the hospital grounds, she could almost taste freedom. It wouldn’t be long now. She’d played her role perfectly. All those case histories of psychosis had given her the script. Now she was nearing the final act, the one that would get her released.

      It didn’t surprise her that her mother was fighting her release. Arlene knew what Violet was capable of and, worse, had an inkling of what she would do once she got out of this place. Violet’s great sin, she believed, was that she’d shamed her mother by not being marriageable.

      She’d been born unattractive and hadn’t grown out of it. Even her mother—who Violet resembled—had snagged a man. Arlene’s endless attempts at marrying her off had only made matters worse. Violet hated her for it. Hated that she’d taken after her mother, unlike her two siblings.

      “Violet? Is everything all right?”

      She turned to find her doctor watching her closely, a slight frown on his face.

      “I was just thinking about some of the awful things my mother said I did,” she covered quickly as she realized he’d seen her true feelings when he’d walked up on her.

      She really had to be more careful.

      He sat down beside her. He was a small man with small hands. “Does that make you angry?”

      “Only with myself,” she said piously. She’d worked so hard to hide what was really going on inside her. She would have to remember not to think about her mother.

      “I am getting better, aren’t I, Dr. Armond?” she asked pleadingly.

      “Yes, Violet. I am very pleased with your prognosis. Very pleased. In fact, that was one reason I came to find you.” He paused and smiled. “I’m recommending your release.”

      Violet’s heart leaped. “Oh, Dr. Armond. Are you sure I’m ready?”

      “Yes, Violet. I’ll recommend some outpatient visits, of course, but there is no reason you can’t be an active member of society again. I’d hoped you would be excited.”

      “Oh, I am. I can’t wait. To think that I have my whole life ahead of me…” Her eyes brimmed with tears and he covered her hand with his.

      “I’m so glad to hear that because I’ve set your release for next month.”

      Next month? She’d been planning on getting out sooner than that. What was wrong with the stupid old quack?

      She was careful not to let her disappointment or her anger show. She tried to calm herself. What was another thirty days here? Nothing compared to what she’d been through. But it still felt like a lifetime, she was so anxious to get out.

      “I wanted you to have enough time to prepare for reentering that world,” he was saying. “I think it would be unhealthy for you to return to your mother’s home given the way she feels, don’t you?”

      “Yes.”

      “I thought you could prepare by working here in the hospital office. You’ll also need income. I’ll help you put together a résumé for when you’re released.”

      The imbecile. She wasn’t going to need a job when she got out. “That is so kind of you,” she said. “How can I ever thank you?” She could think of several ways she’d like to thank him, all of them involving his pain.

      “You being well and getting on with your life will be thanks enough,” he said as he removed his hand from hers and rose to leave. “I want you to be a survivor, Violet.”

      She nodded and smiled. “I intend to be.” She couldn’t say the same for her mother and the others who had made her life a living hell.

      She tried not to shudder at the thought of the mediocre life she would have on the outside if it was up to these doctors. Some dismal job, a cramped apartment, several cats and nothing to look forward to at night but television and a frozen cheesecake.

      A woman as smart as she was? Not a chance. She’d been foolish in the past. She’d let them catch her. She wouldn’t make that mistake again..

      She thought about her mother’s face when she saw her oldest daughter again. Payback was a bitch, she thought with a secret smile as she looked out the window.

      Thirty days. And counting.

       Chapter Four

      The auction was held in front of the Harper House on a bright blue-sky June day. Someone had mowed part of the weeds in the front yard the night before. The air smelled of fresh-mown grass and dust from the county road out front.

      As McKenna mounted the steps to the open front door, she saw that the footprints she’d seen yesterday evening in the thick layer of dust had been trampled by the half dozen people who’d traipsed through the house this morning.

      April had been right. The house needed work. But that wasn’t what surprised McKenna. She’d always been enthralled by the house. She’d just assumed she would feel the same once inside. The interior had a dark, cold feel even with the warm sun shining through the dirty windows, and she found herself shivering as she walked through the rooms.

      She noticed the shovel and shirt she’d seen by the back door yesterday were gone. On the third floor, when she looked out a small back window, she couldn’t see the places where the man had dug. They’d apparently been covered with cut weeds. Had she not caught the man in the act yesterday, she would never have guessed anyone had been digging on the hillside.

      It still made her wonder what he might have been looking for, but she turned her attention to the house as she wandered from room to room, trying to imagine herself living here. It was hard given the condition of the house. It would take days just to clean, let alone paint. She knew exactly what her sister Eve would say.

       Raze the house and start over.

      McKenna had heard several such comments from the other people who had gathered for the auction.

      “There’s a nice building spot upon the hill once the house is gone,” she’d heard one man say.

      But the rooms were spacious, and she told herself once the house was cleaned up, painted and furnished she could be happy here. Anyway, the house was the reason she’d always wanted the place, wasn’t it?

      At one fifty-five she gathered with the others in the front yard as the auctioneer climbed the porch steps and cleared his throat to quiet the small crowd.

      McKenna glanced at the group around her, surprised that some of the people who’d toured the house earlier had left. Just curiosity seekers. She recognized only one elderly man and his wife, Edgar and Ethel Winthrop. The couple lived about two miles to the north. McKenna was surprised they’d stayed, since she doubted they would be bidding on the place.

      She didn’t recognize any of the others waiting. Three of the men appeared to be in their early thirties; the fourth man, in his forties, was on a cell phone. She figured he was here bidding for an investor and turned her attention to the other three men.

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