Stalking Shadows by Debi Chestnut

I’d been hoping for a son, but the girl child was so beautiful and sweet, and in time I forgot the desire for a male heir. When she got older, I saw to it that she attended a finishing school back East. A young woman of her social standing required only the best education and instruction in the social graces.
    “I hoped she’d marry well, and I would have a son-in-law who was worthy to take the reins to the empire I’d amassed. But alas, she fell in love with a man ten years her senior, and a schoolteacher no less! My God, he lived in a boarding house! I was mortified! How could this have happened? I was so careful to see that she met only the right type of gentlemen—men who were worthy of her and capable of running the family business when I retired. Yet, despite my attempts to discourage this unholy union, they married in December of 1880. My daughter could be headstrong at times, and I, being too overindulgent with her, finally acquiesced, although privately I seethed.”
    “Why? Being a schoolteacher is a noble profession,” I interjected.
    “Maybe now.” Franklin shrugged his shoulders. “But at that time, it wasn’t looked upon as being a noteworthy profession.”
    I nodded in understanding. “Go on.”
    “In 1870, my father got elected to the state Senate. In 1871, he died. My mother insisted on a funeral fit for a king and a monument to match. It cost a small fortune, but after all, it was my father.
    “In his will, he left a large sum of money to the town to build a school. I fought it tooth and nail for two years. The family fortune belongs in the family, dammit! Eventually I lost and ended up giving this godforsaken place even more money.
    “He also left a large sum of money to my daughter, who was nine at the time, with me acting as trustee. I invested her money well, and it became a most tidy sum by the time she reached adulthood. Fortunately for me, she had no head for money, and allowed me to manage her estate, even after her marriage.
    “Then one day the unspeakable happened. My darling daughter, who’d been married only three months, died. The circumstances surrounding her death I took with me to my grave. Isn’t that a joke? My body rests in peace, yet I shall never rest.
    “I commissioned a glass coffin to hold her fragile body, and spent a considerable amount of time selecting just the right monument for the grave. I finally decided on using marble for the material, and had it ornately carved into a bed.”
    “I’m sorry, Franklin. I’ve been to her grave—it’s beautiful,” I said.
    “Thank you,” Franklin said. “Although I did not shed a tear at her funeral, inside I nearly died. I stood in stoic silence as they gently lowered her into the ground and covered her with dirt. My wife and other family members wept openly. I do not condone such public displays of grief, not in this family. We mourn in private and hide the grief from the world outside. After all, we are of high society, and it isn’t proper.
    “After the funeral, my daughter’s husband came to me and told me he wanted the money due to him. He argued that he was married to my precious daughter, and her money was legally his. He wanted to go back to his family and start a new life. I lied and told him some bad investments caused Betsy’s estate to suffer. Then I set my plan of action. There was no way I was going to turn this great amount of money over to the man, who was nothing more than a social-climbing weasel!
    “A few days later, I had him sign a paper stating he had no further interest in the estate of my daughter, and gave him a check for $2,000—a mere pittance considering the true value of the estate. Then I walked him down to the train station and purchased him a ticket home. I’d already had one of the maids pack his belongings in a worn, tattered suitcase, which he held tightly in his hands, and I sent him on his way.
    “I then immersed myself into my work. The only thing I ever held dear to my