The oldest, Ludlow, was the reluctant inheritor of the family business, and was much relieved when his own son, Henry Swift, took to it with a passion.
And now Ludlow Swift was dead. Henry's wife had passed away at a young age and Henry himself was incapacitated, leaving the control of the estate, the family fortune, and the bank itself, in the hands of his children. Both Tamara and William appreciated the legacy they had inherited, and yet they felt burdened by the responsibility. So much had changed in their lives since their grandfather's passing. Life... the world itself... had turned out to be not at all what they had imagined.
No one could ever have predicted the way things had worked out. The truths the siblings had discovered. The dangers that lurked in the shadows and so often landed upon the very doorstep of Ludlow House.
Yet on that late summer day, the sun did seem just a little brighter, the shadows not quite so deep. It had rained softly that morning and a mist had covered the city, but it had burned off not long after breakfast. It was a rare gem of a day, the sort that seems to stretch on forever and requires leisurely walks upon the grounds and a lingering afternoon tea.
