The Tomb (Repairman Jack)

The thought of her nephew brought a bitter taste into her mouth. Richard Westphalen was living proof of what a curse wealth can be. Look what inheriting control of his father's share of the fortune at such a young age had done to him. He might have been a different person—a decent person—if her brother Teddy had lived longer.

Money! Sometimes she almost wished—

The saleswoman was speaking to Gia: 'Did you see anything else you'd like to try on?'

Gia laughed. 'About a hundred, but this is perfect.' She turned to Nellie. 'What do you think?'

Nellie studied her, delighted with the choice. The dress was perfect. The lines were simple, the black crepe accented her blond hair and clung everywhere it was supposed to.

'You'll be the toast of the diplomats.'

'That's a classic, my dear,' the saleswoman said.

And it was. If Gia kept to her current perfect size six, she could probably wear this dress ten years from now and still look good. Which would probably suit Gia just fine. To Nellie's mind, Gia's taste in clothing left a lot to be desired. She wished Gia would dress more fashionably. She had a good figure—enough bust and the long waist and long legs designers dream about. She should have designer clothes.

'Yes,' Gia said to the mirror. 'This is the one.'

The dress needed no alterations, so it was boxed up and Gia walked out with it under her arm. She hailed a cab for them on Third Avenue.

'I want to ask you something,' Gia said sotto voce as they rode back to Sutton Square. 'It's been bothering me for two days now. It's about the...inheritance you're leaving Vicky; you mentioned something about it Thursday.'

Nellie was startled for a moment. Had she spoken of the terms of her will? Yes...yes, she had. Her mind was so foggy lately.

'What bothers you?' It wasn't at all like Gia to bring up the subject of money.

Gia smiled sheepishly. 'Don't laugh, but you mentioned a curse that went along with the Westphalen fortune.'

'Oh, dearie,” Nellie said, relieved that was all that concerned her, 'that's just talk!'

'You mean you made it up?'

'Not I. It was just something Sir Albert was heard to mutter when he was in his dotage and in his cups.'

'Sir Albert?'

'My great-great grandfather. He was the one who actually started the fortune. It's an interesting story. Back in the middle of the nineteenth century the family was in dire financial straits of some sort—I never knew the exact nature and I guess it doesn't matter. What does matter is that shortly after his return from India, Sir Albert found an old diagram of the cellar of Westphalen Hall which led him to a huge cache of jewels hidden there since the Norman invasion. Westphalen Hall was saved. Most of the jewels were converted to cash, which was carefully invested, and the fortune has grown steadily since then.'

'But what about the curse?'

'Oh, pay no attention to that! I shouldn't even have mentioned it! Something about the Westphalen line ending 'in blood and pain,' about 'dark things' that would come for us. But don't worry, my dear. So far we've all lived long lives and died of natural causes.'

Gia's face relaxed. 'That's good to know.'

'Don't give it another thought.'

But Nellie found her own thoughts dwelling on it.

The Westphalen curse...she and Grace and Teddy used to joke about it. But if some of the stories were to be believed, Sir Albert had died a frightened old man, mortally afraid of the dark. It was said he spent his last years surrounded by guard dogs, and always kept a fire going in his room, even on the hottest nights.

Nellie shivered. It had been easy to make jokes back then when they were young and there were three of them. But Teddy was long dead of leukemia; at least he hadn't gone 'in blood and pain.' More like fading away. And Grace was who knew where? Had some 'dark thing' come for her? Could there possibly be something to—

Rubbish! How can I let myself be frightened by the rantings of a crazy old man who's been dead for a century?

Still...Grace was gone and no one could explain that. Not yet.

As they neared Sutton Square, Nellie felt anticipation mounting within her. There had been news of Grace while she was out—she was sure of it! She hadn't budged from the house since Tuesday for fear of missing word from Grace. But wasn't staying in the house like watching a pot? It wouldn't boil until you turned your back on it. Leaving the house was the same thing: Grace had probably called as soon as they left Sutton Square.

Nellie hurried up to the front door and rang the bell while Gia paid the driver. Her fists clenched of their own volition as she waited impatiently for the door to open.

Grace is back! I know it! I just know it!

But the hope shriveled and died when the door swung in and she saw Eunice's grim face.

'Any word?'

The question was unnecessary. The sad, slow shake of Eunice's head told Nellie what she already knew. Suddenly she felt exhausted, as if all her energy had been drained off.

She turned to Gia as she came in the door with Victoria. 'I can't go tonight.'

'You must,' Gia said, throwing an arm around her shoulders. 'What happened to that British stiff-upper-lip-