Christmas In Philipsburg

Prologue

Late October

There has to be some mistake.  Olivia Fox handed the sheaf of papers back to the man blinking at her repeatedly from behind his massive office desk.  There is no possible way that I am actually related to Emily Foster.  There's certainly no way she would leave me her entire estate, even if I was.

The attorney, Harvey Stockman, who was Aunt Emily's long-time, not to mention long-suffering, attorney, blinked again.  It was beginning to annoy Olivia, but she said nothing.  Probably just one of the man's quirks.  But you did refer to her as 'Aunt Emily,' correct?  He clasped his hands and placed them on the desk in front of him.

Olivia shifted uncomfortably in her chair, realizing now that the blinking was probably a tactic to set her on edge, or at the very least to test her composure.  She also recognized that she was on the verge of not thinking before she spoke and losing control.  

Over the years, Olivia had conditioned herself to be extremely careful in everything she did, even right down to what words she used, which included how she had always referred to the woman who was more like a mother to her than her biological one had ever been.  For some reason, she didn't want to admit to this strange man that, for once in her life, she had simply followed her mother's lead without question.  Even if it was only regarding a name.  Well, yes, but that was more of an honorary title, I guess you might say.  That was how my mother always referred to her, and, well, I did the same.  I never saw any reason not to.  She stifled a sigh and forced herself to relax.  "That doesn't mean that she actually was my aunt."

Actually, it does.  Harvey gave her a small smile.  Well, Olivia assumed that it was a smile.  With a man like Harvey, it was difficult to tell she was quickly learning.  I know this is somewhat difficult for you to accept, Miss Fox, but you are in fact the new mistress of Presqueisle House and all that it entails.  Which, if I may be frank, is quite a bit of responsibility.

When the attorney for the Foster estate had contacted Olivia the previous week, requesting to meet with her about the contents of Aunt Emily's will, Olivia had assumed that her beloved Aunt Emily had left her a small amount of money, or perhaps even one of the antique Wedgwood figurines that Olivia had loved to gaze at for hours as a child when she was at Presqueisle for a visit.  She hadn't expected to receive an entire estate in the middle of Pennsylvania.  Or to discover that Aunt Emily had, in fact, been her mother's half-sister.  That last part was still too confusing to contemplate.

Picking up the papers again, Olivia looked over them carefully, searching for any hidden layering or meaning in the words.  As a lawyer herself, she was always extremely careful before signing any binding document.  However, she had been over these papers nearly a dozen times, and each time, they remained exactly the same.  It was, she decided, time to accept that she was the new owner of Presqueisle House.  

Though she hadn't visited the estate for years, the old fieldstone mansion held a special place in Olivia's heart, as did the town where it was located.  Some of the happiest moments in her life had occurred at Presqueisle House, including the magical summer when she had experienced her first taste of young love.

But that had been a very long time ago.  So long that it seemed as if it was part of another lifetime and, in many ways, it was.  At least for her.  Just like that summer of young love had been.

However, life moved on as it always did, and Olivia's life had led her to other corners of the world.  She had a different place in the world now, one that didn't include Presqueisle House or Aunt Emily.  In fact, there had been times that Olivia was certain that she would never see Presqueisle again.  So she had almost forced herself to stop thinking about the magical fieldstone mansion that had played such a big part in her youth.  Now it was hers to do with as she wished.  There was something both exhilarating and frightening about the idea at the same time.

However, ownership of Presqueisle could also be exactly what she needed.  She felt it was time for a change, and she had been thinking of doing something different with her life.  She wasn't happy in her job and hadn't been for quite some time.  She wasn't happy living in Pittsburgh, either, despite the fact that she had chosen the city from among hundreds of locations around the world.  Though in reality, part of her reason for selecting Pittsburgh was because it was the one location certain to annoy her mother the most.  Olivia had always been honest enough with herself to admit that.

That didn't mean it made her happy, however.

In fact, Olivia wasn't certain when she had ever been truly happy.  Except, of course, for those wonderful summers spent at Presqueisle House.

So perhaps a change in location was exactly what she'd been searching for.

"So what, precisely, does this mean, Mr. Stockman?  Specifically.  Because I know there has to be come catch or caveat to this.  She put the papers back down on the desk, still unsigned.  Does that mean I have to become a farmer?  Or something?"  There were several farmable fields at the estate, including a few that bordered the old Moshannon Hall, also known as the Hardman Philips House, which was the other large estate in town.

Sitting side by side, the estates had always been impressive to behold, especially right down to the matching winding driveways that were marked by large pillars made from local stone.  Presqueisle had always been a far more active estate, however, making full use of its farmable fields, stables, and other amenities to the benefit of the community.

In fact, she remembered something Aunt Emily had once said about farming being estate's life blood.  However, Olivia had never so much as lifted a rake to clean up the leaves from her own yard in the fall.  She wasn't certain that farming was for her.  Still, she was looking for a change.  Maybe farming could be her new career path, though she seriously doubted it.  She would be hard pressed to give up her designer clothes for coveralls.

Harvey finally smiled, or she thought it was his version of a true smile, making him appear at least vaguely human and not a robot.  You have her sense of humor, you know.  Then he sobered, the smile gone before Olivia could be certain that it had been real.  No, you do not have to become a farmer, though you can if you wish, and I would recommend that you do find a way to keep the fields active.  The estate needs the income.  At the moment, a man named Lee Varshaw is in charge of overseeing Presqueisle House and he has rented out the fields to some locals.  He has been in charge of things for many years now.  Ever since Emily became too ill to oversee the daily operations of the estate.

Harvey sniffed in a clear sign of distain.  However, I'm not sure that's working out for the best, and I would urge you to dismiss him immediately.  There is a supposedly qualified overseer on-site, though he has been stripped of most of his authority, which is truly a pity.  Though how this other man is qualified given his past career choices is beyond me.  Then again, he could not possibly be any worse than Mr. Varshaw.

Frowning, Olivia sat forward, unsettled a little by the news.  Aunt Emily had been ill for well over ten years.  Her aunt had obviously assumed that Presqueisle House had been in good hands, but perhaps she had been wrong.  How had things gotten so far out of control?  I don't understand.  Is the estate in trouble financially?

Quickly shaking his head, Harvey put her fears to rest.  The estate itself is fine, at least to a large degree.  There was a trust established by the Foster family years ago to make certain of it, and it is untouchable except by a team of lawyers and protected by an astounding number of laws and regulations written into Mrs. Foster's will.  However, Mr. Varshaw tends to run the estate as if he owns it, rather than your aunt, and now you, of course.  My fear is that he's pocketing the rent money rather than investing it back into the estate as he is supposed to under the terms of the trust.  I can't prove anything, of course, because the books look fine, but there is something about that man that I don't care for.  

Harvey waved a hand in the air when she began to speak.  "Varshaw won't be pleased when he learns that you're the new owner.  I think he was expecting that Presqueisle House would be left to him.  God knows, he's pestered Emily about it enough over the years.  Though if that were the case, the place would fall apart in under five