The Covehill Ladies

By Mary A. Lonergan

Grown up as an orphan at a young age, Jennifer learned that she indeed does have a real family, but not before becoming an instant millionaire and fell in love with her wild Irish neighbor - Robert, living right next door to her. Even with all her installation of gates, she was still in real danger, but from what and who was her real family?

• Language: English
• Publisher: LitFire Publishing
• Release date: Aug 22, 2018
• ISBN: 9781643981277

Mary A. Lonergan

Mary Anne Lonergan, a retired Asthetician and hearing impaired. She is a member of the Canadian Hearing Society and lives in Newmarket, Ontario, Canada along with her husband Mike and their little dog which she has personally trained for a hearing ear dog. Mary Anne's love for writing started after their children all left the nest to begin their own adventures. She has previously dabbled with writing Song lyrics which she won awards and she has written and published many poems to her credits. Still something was missing in her life.... Her love for writing stories where she would let her vivid imagination loose and run wild. I wanted my readers to feel the experience and try to guess the next step in the world of suspense and adventure and be able to put down the book and look forwards to my next book.

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The Covehill Ladies

Copyright © 2018 by Mary A. Lonergan

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher or author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Although every precaution has been taken to verify the accuracy of the information contained herein, the author and publisher assume no responsibility for any errors or omissions. No liability is assumed for damages that may result from the use of information contained within.

ISBN-13: 978-1-64398-127-7

Printed in the United States of America

LitFire LLC

1-800-511-9787

www.litfirepublishing.com

[e-mail]

The Covehill Ladies

— Mary A. Lonergan —

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 1

At twenty-four years old and already a millionaire, Jennifer Anne McColl thought to herself, What a beautiful fall afternoon—warm temperature with very little breeze. What more can a person ask for in the late month of September? Jenny’s favorite time of the year was a warm Ontario Indian summer. The leaves had changed to auburns.

Many shades of gold and crimson were also on her list of favorites, although she liked all the seasonal colors of different hues of red, orange, blue, pink, and yellows. She sometimes wondered if the fall was her best season and why she was born in the month of June instead of the fall, a season which comes in September. Summer has been too hot lately, and spring was still to cool and wet.

Winter made her shiver all day long, and the fall, for some reason or another, left her feeling warm and cozy—a friendly reminder that Christmas is just around the corner. Jenny loved the Christmas seasons with all the baking and the school’s cheerfulness, but she dreaded the long winter months. She made the best of it with the rest of the girls at Covehill Boarding School, where she was brought up.

Today, she was in a hurry trying to beat the rush for the first train leaving the station. Jenny had been into the city to get her order for a new set of curtains for her master bedroom and sheers made of Scottish plaids for her kitchen that she ordered earlier. She could have ordered from the Sears catalog and had it shipped to her home, but she decided at the last minute to have it shipped to the store and inspect the material herself on the premises.

If she wasn’t happy with it, she was going to have it sent back and perhaps have the curtains customized instead. Jennifer was on her way to her new home in the country that she just purchased last month. The house was an older home; it was very well maintained with a fresh coat of paint inside and outside, and it has new windows with vinyl trims.

Maintenance free, her real estate agent, Mr. Jenkins, said. The roof was shingled the previous year, which is another thing she won’t have to worry about for a while. Her agent made an effort and found out that the previous owners had recently installed new shingles that will last fifty years maximum.

Her lawyer, Harry Moore, hired an electrical company to check the wiring and the breaker panel box because he sensed Jenny knew nothing of these matters. He wanted to make sure that all things were updated and were not going to give Jenny any future problems. The plumber even gave his ok.

All new copper piping installed about five years ago, they told Harry. Harry knew that Jenny was proud of the fact that she is still a single lady, and she already owned her first home at the age of twenty-six. Once Jenny boarded the train and found herself a quite spot by the window, she sat down on its firm leather seats with straight backs.

She felt it had been a long day, and she was feeling tired and exhausted but still managed to watch the city passing by. Rows and rows of houses and trees were quickly rushing by. Next came along the factories and warehouses, more trees wear their brilliant fall jackets of many colors.

Jenny picked up a history book that she bought with her to read on the journey back to town of Bellwood where she now lived, three quarters of an hours train ride. If she was driving, it would have taken her at least ninety-five minutes on a good day.

She read a few pages of the history book and put it down. She was glancing out the train window to rest her eyes when a quick flash of her life began to appear. She watched it as if it were someone else’s life on television; it was her life she was summarizing.

Jenny’s life had been a tragic one. She thought about the earliest moments of her memories—her eight-year-old young life. She remembered her elderly grandfather George, the only living relative she had living was taking her to a boarding school somewhere out in the country. It seemed like it took hours just to get there.

She knew that both her parents were killed in a car accident by a drunk driver driving down the wrong way on freeway when Jenny was only five years old. It was Christmas season when they were all returning home from taking Jenny to get her pictures on Santa Claus’s knee in the downtown Calmar department store in the city of Calmar.

Jenny survived the accident, but both her parents died minutes apart when all three were thrown out the shattered windows of the family’s Station Wagon. With such a sudden force, both her parents landed on the heavily snow-covered ground.

Young Jenny came away with only scratches when she was thrown through the Station Wagon’s side car window. Jenny was found lying slightly scratched and unconscious in a nearby snow-covered ditch. There were no seat belts back then, and the Canadian politicians were finalizing the seat belt laws and making it mandatory that every vehicle factory must now install seat belts into the next year’s new vehicles.

The police said it was due to bad weather conditions that caused the head-on collision. Jenny had since been living with her elderly grandmother Lila and grandfather, George McColl. Be proud of your strong Scottish name, he used to say.

Jenny loved both her grandparents until one morning her Aunt Lila did not wake up. Now she understands that her grandmother Lila died of a stroke in her sleep. What an awful way to wake up and see that your longtime spouse has passed away while still lying next to them, she thought quietly to herself whenever she dwelled on her grandparents.

Her Grandfather George was having a hard time deciding what to do about his young granddaughter. At the tender age of eight, she needed to be around women and not an old man like me, he thought. She told him that she was happy with the Woodstock’s school where they lived at the time, but that was not good enough for his granddaughter, according Grandfather George.

So Grandfather George made contact with the all-girls Covehill Boarding School just outside of Bellwood, which his friend and longtime family doctor had highly recommended. It wasn’t too far for the odd visits, which Jenny always treasured, even though they visited the area less frequently as he got older.

Jenny even spent all her summers, birthdays, Easters, and Christmas along with the exception of the odd visit from her Grandfather George at Covehill. Sometimes she would go home with Macy, her best friend, to her house for the odd weekend overnight stay when her friend’s parents were back in town from their African trip as they were both doctors.

One day, at a tender age of fifteen years old, Jenny was called into the dean’s office. Jenny’s heart told her that something was wrong while thinking of her Grandfather George and how he had aged in the last two years. There was only one other time she had been requested to come down to the office for a meeting; it was regarding her excellent marks, what career choices did she plan, and what college or university did she want to apply to.

Once inside the stuffy office, she knew already what the dean was going to tell her by the looks on Mrs. Taylor’s face. Mrs. Taylor spoke gently, Have a seat dear, while she pulled out the chair. She hesitated. I’m so sorry, dear, but I have some sad news to tell you. Your Grandfather George passed away while doing his gardening outside. It was his housekeeper Mrs. Smith who found him on the ground. The doctors say that it was his heart. Those very words, still to this very day, have never left her. Jenny cried her young heart out that night.

Her only living relative died along with her dreams that one day, when she was free of this cold boarding school, she would once again live with him and his hired live-in housekeeper Mrs. Smith. It was her only dream that kept her going, but this was not going to happen anymore. Her cold world was once more shattered, leaving her alone and vulnerable.

Life went on; Jenny graduated and went straight into Calmar University in the city of Calmar. There she lived and attended classes as well as meeting new friends for the next four years, preparing herself for the cold harsh world.

Twenty-four hours after graduating at Calmar University and in the process of moving into a rented apartment with her best friend Macy, an important phone call came, requesting her to meet a lawyer named Harry Moore.

He mentioned that he was a dear friend and a lawyer for George McColl. Macy tried to protest and suggested that she rides along with her, but Jenny refused. She was an adult and must learn how to handle the situation herself.

Jenny faintly remembered the name Harry Moore from somewhere and agreed to meet him. Harry hired a car to get Jenny from her new apartment. The car took Jenny for a short drive to the other end of Calmar City, and she met Harry, who appeared to be in his middle 70s. He seemed well-mannered and very well-dressed in a dark blue pinstripe suit. Something seemed familiar about him, but Jenny still couldn’t put her finger on it just yet.

The secretary showed her into Harry’s office. His office furniture was between modern and with some small antique brass and ceramic looking small statues standing on the bookcase shelf along with hundreds of law books with different colors; some had gold letters and vertically piled according to sizes. I hope you enjoyed your drive my dear, he widely smiled with his pearly white teeth. Not bad looking for an older gent, she thought.

Yes, I did enjoy the ride very much, and thank you for having someone bring me here, she told Harry in her usual polite manner.

I know you are curious as to why I had a car pick you up early this morning and bring you down, he said in a soft voice almost to a whisper as he took her slender hand into his and gave a gentle squeeze patting the back of her hand with his left hand at the same time.

I don’t know if you remember me, but we met while you were still in boarding school, and I came out one late fall with your grandfather at his request. Harry could see that Jenny started to remember him. He was very surprised at how pretty Jenny turned out to be, especially when she was a plain Jane (an unattractive girl or woman) when she was eleven years old.

What the hell happened, Harry Moore thought to himself. From a skinny little girl to a beautifully full grown woman; he wished he was younger again. You know, you still have the very same shade of blue eyes as your grandmother Lila’s, my dear. Your grandparents, May God rest their souls, have been my very dearest friends since our early days in Scotland, Harry said while still holding Jenny’s hand.

Through his glasses, he said, Did he ever tell you about the time the three of us—along with your father ‘Young Willie’ as we use to call him and was just shy at seven years old—all came over from Scotland on this huge ship? Jenny shyly smiled and shook her head; she told him that she hasn’t had the opportunity to hear stories, except that McColl was a good Scottish name.

With a more relaxed smile, Harry told Jenny, I never married. One time, I kept company with your grandmother, but your Grandfather George, bless his heart, caught her eye. Next thing I know, the two of them were dating right away, Harry chuckled.

He was fifteen years older than Lila, Harry said. Back in those days, age wasn’t a factor; not like it is today, he smiled at Jenny. Saying with a wink, And he was also seventeen years older than I am, and I must give George McColl credit as he was certainly young at heart; he fooled every one with his age.

I’m guessing that you didn’t know that I was George McColl’s best man at their wedding, Harry chuckled and continued on. Oh yes, let me tell you. While they were standing getting married, I closed my eyes and pretended that she was marrying me instead of George McColl, again he chuckled out loud, as he could see that Jenny was enjoying the conversation. He was glad she was becoming more relaxed in his presence.

Have a seat Jenny my dear, as he cleared his throat and guided her to a chair in front of his large leathered top desk while talking at the same time. Your Grandmother Lila was a very special lady. She always had a Royalty air about her, although she did not came from a royal family. Your grandmother was from England, a town called Nottingham, he said with a chuckle.

I’m sure you were taught in school about the story of Robin Hood. Lila’s parents came over to Scotland and settled in Argyllshire on her last weekend of finishing school in Nottingham. Harry Moore gave a little frown. The funny thing about Lila was that she always maintained, even right up to the time of her death, that Robin Hood is a true story and that one of her relatives was related to Robin.

Harry Moore chuckled, Your grandfather George and I, oh, how we used to tease her about it, and we told her that she was dreaming an old maiden’s dream. He looked at Jenny who was smiling, and she spoke up for the first time. Remind me to track this story down one of these days.

Jenny couldn’t help but smile at the story. She never heard this one before, not that her grandfather told her very many stories. Perhaps one day when you are retired, Mr. Moore, you could write your autobiography, and perhaps you can include the Robin Hood story?

I’m sure you must have quite a few stories to tell. As a matter of fact, I’ll even be the first one to buy your book, but—with a twinkle in her eye—only if you autograph it first!

Harry Moore laughed out loud at the thought of him writing about Robin Hood and he could see that Jenny was being nice but serious at the same time. Hmmm . . . I have often thought of writing my autobiography. If and when I do, by-golly yes, I’ll do just that my dear but first, it’s time that we get down to business as to why I requested to see you, if it is alright with you? replied Harry Moore.

Harry’s secretary brought in a large silver tray with tea and cookies. When Jenny saw what kind of cookies they were, she smiled and thought to herself, It’s been awhile since I have had any butter cookies. Jennifer is five feet six inches tall, medium in frame, slender, and firm. She has always been careful of not eating anything too fatty. If my body doesn’t need it, then I won’t eat it! a trick, which she taught herself, became her motto to keep her figure trim, especially when she heard all the other teenage girls were complaining of not liking their figures. She did a lot of walking and exercise when she could just to keep herself firmed.

Jenny’s hair was her other pride and joy. She always received compliments about her thick and shiny black hair with a touch of red highlights. At least, that’s the one good thing that she had inherited from her father, according to her grandfather. Her mother’s hair was a mousey brown and straight. She also knew that she inherited her father’s and her grandmother’s striking blue eyes and her mother’s complexion of ivory with peach tones on her high cheeks. Yes I will love a cup of tea, she told Harry Moore.

Harry Moore was an easy person to talk with even when he was talking while having phone calls, jotting messages on his note pads, and passing the information with instructions to his secretary. He told his secretary to hold all the calls and close the door behind her.

Once his office door was closed, Harry asked her all about the boarding school, her teachers, and what she enjoyed the most; was it Math or English and how about friends? A pretty girl like you must have dozens of friends, he teased, bringing a smile to Jenny’s face. She made up her mind; she liked Harry’s personality. It suited him.

Little did Harry know that she was a very private person. She only had one true friend from the first to the last day at school. Her one and only true friend Marcy, who is known as Macy—a nickname the girls at the Covehill’s boarding school had given her. Macy’s hair looked like a Mace, a spice the women in Covehill’s kitchen used to make pumpkin pies. Jenny could tell when they were having pumpkin pies for desserts, because the fragrance of Mace can be smelled throughout the school’s hall. It was one of her few favorite pies. Jenny was not a keen fan of creamy pies.

Too many calories, she always thought. Jenny was more into cookies and enjoyed baking them. The girls at Covehill all took cooking, sewing, and housekeeping lessons as these were part of their school program.

Jenny’s best friend was Macy and her real name is Marcy Duncan, but the girls called her Macy, much to her dismay. Of course, Macy did not object to her new name. She