Chapter One

From the plush comfort of the velvet love seat that had been broughtinto the library for the occasion, Chelsea Kane studied the blond-haired,blue-eyed, beak-nosed members of her mother's family and decided thatwherever she was from herself, it had to be better stock than this. Shedetested the arrogance and greed she saw before her. With Abby barelycold in her grave, they had been fighting over who would get what.

As for Chelsea, all she wanted was Abby. But Abby was gone.

Bowing her head, she listened to the whisper of the January wind,the hiss of a Mahler murmur, the snap of her father's pocket watch, therustle of papers on the desk. In time she focused on the carpet. It was anAubusson, elegantly subtle in pale blues and browns. "This carpet is yourfather," Abby had always declared in her inimitably buoyant British way,and indeed Kevin was elegantly subtle. Whether he loved the carpet asAbby had remained to be seen. Things like that were hard to tell with him.He wasn't an outwardly demonstrative man. Even now, when Chelsearaised her eyes to his face in search of comfort, she found none. Hisexpression was as heartrendingly somber as the dark suit he wore. Though he shared the love seat with her, he was distanced by his owngrief. It had been that way since Abby's death five days before.

Chelsea wanted to slide closer and take his hand; but she didn'tdare. She was a trespasser on the landscape of his grief. He might welcomeher, or he might not. Empty as she was feeling, she couldn't risk therejection.

Finally ready, Graham Fritts, Abby's attorney and the executor ofher estate, raised the first of his papers. "'The following are the last wishesof Abigail Mahler Kane ...'"

Chelsea let the words pass her by. They were a grim reminder ofwhat was all too raw, an extension of the elegantly carved coffin, the minister'swell-meaning words, and the dozens of yellow roses that shouldhave been poignantly beautiful but were simply and dreadfully sad.Chelsea hadn't wanted the will read so soon, but Graham had succumbedto the pressure of the Mahlers, who had come to Baltimore from greatdistances for the funeral and didn't want to have to come again. Kevinhadn't argued. He rarely took on the clan. It wasn't that he was weak; hewas an eminently capable person. But where he championed select causesat work, there his store of fire ended, rendering him nonconfrontationalat home.

Abby had understood that. She had been as compassionate as compassionateever was, Chelsea realized, and let her thoughts drift. Sheremembered Abby bathing her in Epsom salts when she had chicken pox,ordering gallons of Chelsea's favorite black cherry ice cream when thebraces went on her teeth, excitedly sending copies to all their friendswhen a drawing of Chelsea's won first prize in a local art show, scoldingher when she double-pierced her ears.

More recently, when Abby's system had started to deteriorate, aswas typical of long-term polio victims, the tables had been turned, withChelsea doing the bathing, doting, praising, and scolding, and she hadbeen grateful for the opportunity. Abby had given her so much. To be ableto give something back was a gift, particularly knowing, as increasinglythey both had, that Abby's time was short.

"'... this house and the one in Newport I bequeath to my husband,Kevin Kane, along with ...'"

Houses, cars, stocks, and bonds, Kevin didn't need any of thosethings. He was a successful neurosurgeon, drawing a top salary from thehospital and augmenting it with a lucrative private practice. He had beenthe one to provide for Chelsea's everyday needs, and he had insisted thatit be that way. Abby had taken care of the extras.

Often over the years Chelsea had wished she hadn't, for it had onlyfostered resentment among the clan. Abby's brothers and sisters had felt itwrong that a Mahler trust should be established for Chelsea, who had noMahler blood. But Abby had been insistent that Chelsea, as her daughter,was to be treated like every other Mahler grandchild. So she had been,technically at least. She had a trust in her name that provided her withsufficient interest to live quite nicely even if she chose never to work.

"'... to my daughter, Chelsea Kane, I leave ...'"

Chelsea was an architect. At thirty-six she was one of three partnersin a firm that was landing plum jobs up and down the East Coast. Moreover,she had personally invested in a well-chosen few of those projects,which meant that her profits were compounded. She lived quite nicely onwhat she earned.

For that reason, perhaps, the accumulation of assets had never beenof great interest to her, which was why she barely listened to whatGraham read. She didn't want to inherit anything from her mother, didn'twant to acknowledge that the woman was dead. Her aunts and unclesdidn't seem to have that problem. Trying to look blasé, they sat with theirblond heads straight and their hands folded with artful nonchalance intheir laps. Only the tension around those pointy noses and their ever-alertblue eyes betrayed them.

"'... to my brother Malcolm Mahler, I leave ...'"

Malcolm got the yacht, Michael the Packard, Elizabeth the twoThoroughbreds, Anne the Aspen condo. Still they waited while Grahamread on.

"'As for the rubies ...'"

The rubies. Only then did it occur to Chelsea that that was what heraunts and uncles had been waiting for, not that any of them lacked forjewels - or yachts, or cars, or horses - but the rubies were special ...

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Passions of Chelsea Kane LPby Delinsky, Barbara Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.Copyright © 2003 Leon Uris
All right reserved.

After the death of her adoptive mother, thirty-six-year-old Chelsea Kane is consumed by the need to uncover her biological heritage. Taking a break from her successful architecture career, she arrives in the New Hampshire town where she was born, determined to learn the truth, her only clue a tarnished silver key.

One of her first discoveries, however, is something quite unexpected: the irresistibly attractive Judd Street. Buoyed by love and resolution, the determined Chelsea slowly begins to uncover the dark mystery of her past. But as she inches closer to the truth, she realizes that someone is trying to stop her, first by scaring her, then by trying to harm her. The danger escalates until one terrifying night when all secrets are laid bare.

With memorable characters and writing that will stir the hearts and minds of all readers, The Passions of Chelsea Kane is the kind of compelling narrative that has earned Barbara Delinsky an ever-widening readership.

After the death of her adoptive mother, thirty-six-year-old Chelsea Kane is consumed by the need to uncover her biological heritage. Taking a break from her successful architecture career, she arrives in the New Hampshire town where she was born, determined to learn the truth, her only clue a tarnished silver key.

One of her first discoveries, however, is something quite unexpected: the irresistibly attractive Judd Street. Buoyed by love and resolution, the determined Chelsea slowly begins to uncover the dark mystery of her past. But as she inches closer to the truth, she realizes that someone is trying to stop her, first by scaring her, then by trying to harm her. The danger escalates until one terrifying night when all secrets are laid bare.

With memorable characters and writing that will stir the hearts and minds of all readers, The Passions of Chelsea Kane is the kind of compelling narrative that has earned Barbara Delinsky an ever-widening readership.