"Serious as a heart attack, pardon the continued analogy," he replied dryly. His eyes had gone a cold, steely gray. "So you can see why I have to have the money from Victor Cassidine’s estate."

She pursed her lips slightly in thought, then slowly walked away from the windows back towards him. "Look, Jax, I know it’s a really confusing time for you, and you probably don’t want to think about this alternative….." Brenda lowered her voice and put her hand gently on Jax’s arm as she came to stand next to him. "But if Miranda really is……..dead," she whispered haltingly, "then the money from Victor’s estate becomes part of HER estate. And unless she had some kind of will that made other provisions, then the money would go to you as her surviving spouse, wouldn’t it?"

Jax sighed, his mouth thin and grim. "Miranda didn’t ……. doesn’t have a will, Brenda. But Victor Cassidine DID." He raked his fingers through his short, bristly hair. "And unfortunately, he was determined that I would never get my hands on one red cent of Cassidine money."

Her eyebrows drew together in a frown. "Why?"

"Before Miranda and I got married, I dabbled in taking over a few of Cassidine Industries’ shakier holdings. Victor wasn’t too happy about that……until I set up a merger for one particular Jacks subsidiary and a Cassidine company. When he saw the potential for substantial financial rewards like I did, his attitude changed." Jax shook his head, a faraway look in his eyes. "But the closer we got to the closing date, the more I found that there were some aspects of the merger that I didn’t like." He smiled grimly. "Let’s just say than when I pulled out of the deal, it didn’t make Victor’s day."

"And he cut you out of the will for that?"

"Miranda and I got married about a week after the deal went sour. From what I understand, Victor revised his will a few days after that." Jax snorted sarcastically. "Despite what Tsevis says, I serious doubt that Victor would have attended our nuptials, even if we *had* invited him."

"So then who gets the money if Miranda dies?"

"It goes to the next surviving Cassadine relative – in this case, her cousin, Stefan." Jax glanced at the ruby in his hand, tossed it cavalierly up in the air and caught it again. "So unless I can somehow convince Tsevis that Miranda is alive and well," he sighed, walking back towards his desk with the ruby tightly gripped in his hand, "I’ll never get the money I need to continue my project."

"But Jax……" Brenda followed him, exasperation evident on her face. "If Tsevis finds out that I’m not Miranda, he can report us to the authorities and charge us with fraud! We could go to jail……"

"I’d never let them send you to jail, Brenda," Jax quickly interjected. "I’ll tell them that you weren’t part of the scheme and I forced you to go along with it."

"But what about you?" Brenda leaned over, trying to meet his gaze when he dropped his head, weary and dejected. "Doesn’t it matter that YOU could spend the rest of your life in jail?"

She caught her breath when the eyes he raised to meet hers glistened with tears. "If I can’t continue this project, Brenda, my life isn’t worth a d*mn thing."

Brenda drew back, then paled as realization washed over her. "Jax, when you said life and death…..do you mean …… are you saying that it means YOUR death if you don’t continue whatever this project is?"

He looked away for a minute, clearly uncomfortable, then straightened his shoulders brusquely. "It’s getting late, and I’m really tired, Brenda. We can discuss this more in the morning."

Her face hardened with anger. "This is because I wouldn’t tell you where I was, isn’t it?" she whispered, her lower lip trembling. "Some kind of twisted payback for keeping you in the dark for six years?"

"It’s been a LONG, traumatic day for both of us, Brenda," Jax murmured, pressing a button on the side of his desk. "Charles will take you upstairs to Miranda’s suite and get you settled in."

"Miranda’s suite?" One raven eyebrow arched in surprise. "Weren’t you two sharing a room?"

"I’ve been working so many odd hours on this project that she said I disturbed her rest," Jax replied wearily. He looked up when a knock sounded at the door, then motioned Charles into the study. "We’ve been sleeping in separate beds for over 10 months now."

"Mr. Tsevis is resting comfortably in the blue room, sir," Charles announced as he came to Jax’s desk. "I made sure that the flue in his fireplace was open before I left him."

"The furnace boiler inevitably picks the coldest nights of the year to go on strike," Jax explained to Brenda with a half-smile. "Miss Barrett will be staying with us for two weeks, Charles," he added, turning back to the butler. "She’s going to …… " His cheeks colored ever so faintly. "She’s going to pretend to be Miranda so that Victor’s estate can be settled."

"The resemblance between the two of you IS quite striking, madame." Charles said, bowing slightly. Brenda was surprised when their scheme didn’t seem to bother Charles’ ethical sensibilities in the least. "Will you be informing Mr. Spencer of the plan, sir?"

"Of course." Jax glanced over at the grandfather clock. "But it’ll have to wait until morning. I believe Lucky was going to turn in early since he stayed up so late working last night."

"Very good, sir." Charles nodded his head in Jax’s direction. "I’ll make sure to tell him to see you first thing." Although Brenda’s confused gaze bounced between the two men like a ping pong ball, neither one seemed inclined to cue her in on who Lucky Spencer was. "Will you require anything else tonight?"

Jax shook his head in a negative reply, then suddenly his eyes widened and he reached into his pocket. "Yes – after you show Miss Barrett to Miranda’s room, would you please take the Scarpetti down and place it in the vault for safekeeping, Charles?"

As he handed the magnificent ruby over, Brenda’s chest tightened. {So close and yet so far.} She raised an eyebrow at Jax. "You don’t think you should keep something that valuable in a safe here in your study?"

"The stone walls of this estate date back farther than my mother’s grandmother, Brenda," Jax explained indulgently. "There’s a honeycomb of tunnels and stone passageways far beneath Wyndemere’s surface that crisscross the foundation." He chuckled softly. "Frankly, I still get lost in them myself sometimes."

She tipped her head to the side. "But still……"

"Don’t worry about it, love," Jax said, then regretted when the endearment slipped out before he could stop himself. "I’ve had a complete security system installed at the entrance to the lower level. NOBODY gets into those tunnels unless he can somehow bypass the alarms."

Although Brenda wasn’t completely satisfied, the lateness of the hour and the fatigue she saw in Jax’s eyes made her drop the subject. "Of course," she echoed with a wry smile. "I should know better than to think you’d ever be less than thorough, Jax."

Their eyes met and held for a few highly charged seconds. Jax felt his heart flutter in his chest. How many times had he dreamed of this moment – when Brenda would finally, somehow, miraculously be alive and come back to him? When they would fall into each others’ arms and renew their love for each other as though time had stood still for six years? And yet, now that it was here, reality somehow had a much more bitter taste than his fantasies.

Charles broke the awkward tension in the room. "If you’ll follow me, Miss Barrett," he intoned diplomatically, "I’ll take you to your room now."

"Right." She rocked back and forth from heels to toes, then gave Jax a tight-lipped smile. "I guess I’ll see you in the morning."

He teetered on the edge of the emotional precipice. Part of him ached to just forget about the "why’s" and drag Brenda upstairs to bed. Yet there was still that part of his heart that was wounded. Before it could heal completely, it needed the cure that only the truth about the past six years would provide.

The ringing of the telephone was almost a relief, robbing him of the need to make a decision. "I …… I should get that," he hemmed, edging back towards the desk. "I’ve been expecting an important call from Jakarta….."

Brenda’s heart sank. For just a minute, it looked like Jax was going to sweep her into his arms, recriminations be d*mned. "You go ahead." She turned and walked briskly to catch up to Charles, who had already exited the room. Stopping at the door, she looked back over her shoulder at Jax one last time. "Jax – despite what you may think……." Her breath caught in her chest. "……I never stopped loving you."

Tears blurred his vision for a moment as she disappeared through the door. "I never stopped loving you either, Brenda," he whispered, ignoring the persistent ringing of the phone. The muscle in his jaw clenched in frustration. "That’s the problem."

*~*~*~*

"It won’t be much farther now, Miss Barrett." Charles turned on the landing to glance back at the petite brunette. "This staircase leads to the residential wing of the mansion."

"That’s good……. that’s REALLY good……." Brenda gripped the banister tightly, her breath coming in short pants. "I mean, I thought I was in good shape," she wheezed, her face slightly flushed from exertion, "but these steps are enough to bring a MARINE to tears!"

"Mrs. Jacks often mentioned the need for an elevator after she came to live here." Charles opened a large wooden door and stepped back so that Brenda could precede him into a darkened hallway. "Frankly, negotiating the stairs in Wyndemere has never seemed that onerous to me, but I suppose that because I’m used to it."

Brenda cast a quick look over her shoulder, half expecting on of the gargoyles that graced all the newel posts to be sneaking up behind them, prepared to pounce. "So you’ve lived here long?" she asked, trying to smile as brightly as she could while dragging air into her starving lungs.

"I joined the staff shortly after Master Jerry was born," Charles replied. When he reached out to flip a switch, lights flickered in sconces that randomly graced the walls in the long hallway. "I was born and raised in the city, though."

"The city?" Brenda paused, arching an eyebrow. "You mean New York City?"

"No – Port Charles." Charles gave Brenda a "you-should-know-this-kind-of-thing-if-you’re-going-to-pull-this-off" look. "I know it sounds like a terrible affectation, but the people who live on Spoon Island often refer to Port Charles by that term."

"Hmmmm……." Brenda nodded thoughtfully. "I can see where it would sort of drive a wedge between the two groups." When Charles stopped and turned back to her with a silent question on his face, she went on. "Jax told me that Miranda never went into town much and didn’t exactly have any good friends in Port Charles."

"The blame shouldn’t all be laid at Mrs. Jacks’ feet." He began to lead her again, slowing his pace as they neared the end of the hallway. "Most of the people in Port Charles wouldn’t DARE get near Wyndemere or associate with anyone connected with the estate."

"Really?" She watched intently as Charles dug in his rear pocket, pulling out a large brass key. "Why not?"

He fit the key into the lock, turned it slowly, then looked up at her with a somber face. "The curse, of course."

"Curse?" Brenda still stood transfixed for several seconds before she followed Charles through the yawning doorway. "WHAT curse?"

"It’s most likely nothing – just an old superstition concocted by local crones who have nothing better to do on cold, snowy nights than to scare their grandchildren." Despite his assurance, a chill ran down Brenda’s spine as the butler moved through the silent room, lighting several candelabra that adorned the walls. "But I’m sure that the abbey’s history has a lot to do with it, too."

Brenda glanced over her shoulder again, sure she heard a noise out in the hallway. "Abbey?" She quickly went over to the fireplace, where Charles’s head was buried deep inside the chimney. "Which abbey is that?"

"Wyndemere." His answer echoed from behind the wall. When he bent his knees and ducked down to face her again, smudges of soot painted his cheeks. "Before Mrs. Jacks’ family bought the estate, Wyndemere was an abbey."

"Which explains why it feels like some kind of medieval castle in here." Brenda glanced around the room, chewing on her lower lip. "But then what happened to the monks who lived here? Why did they decide to sell the place and move out?"

"They didn’t." Charles slapped his hands together to rid them of dust before staring eerily into Brenda’s eyes. "They all died."

Her doe-eyes grew even wider. "You mean they died because they were so old?"

"No – they just DIED."

The way he said it almost made Brenda feel like she had just been warned about something. She took a shaky breath. "And?"

"And then when John Jacks and Master Jerry died……"

"It seemed like everyone who lived here met an awful fate." One side of her mouth lifted in what she hoped was a brave smile. "I guess I can see where people would come up with the idea of a curse….."

Charles nodded, then turned to go to a large window at one side of the room. "Not to mention the fact that several members of Mrs. Jacks’ family passed away at young ages." Before Brenda could ask him for details, he turned back to the window, pulling on the drapes to part them. "The view from this room is really quite excellent," he said brightly, all thoughts of the curse left behind for the moment. "When there’s a full moon, you can see all the way across the lake to the city docks."

Trying to put Charles’ macabre revelations out of her mind, Brenda finally took a good look around at her temporary accommodations. A large four-poster bed dominated Miranda’s room. A dark red velvet bedspread and matching ruffled pillow shams didn’t exactly brighten the furnishings. Matching the mahogany of the bed frame, a triple dresser and huge armoire occupied the space to her right. On the opposite wall, the fireplace’s dark gray marble mantle added to the room’s gloomy atmosphere.

"Now……." The sound of Charles’ voice as he crossed to the door almost made Brenda jump. "Since Mrs. Jacks always complained about the smoke, this fireplace hasn’t been used much lately. I’ve opened the flue and can build a fire if you’re cold, but the heat should be coming up shortly." He opened the door and turned back to her. "Once it does, I’m sure you’ll find the room quite toasty."

"Charles……." Just as he turned to leave, Brenda reached out a hand towards him. She gave him a smile that belied the butterflies dancing in her stomach. "I really appreciate you helping me with this……. project. Telling me a little about the house and Miranda and everything."

She almost thought she saw the faintest hint of a smile cross his face. "I’ve been with this family for over thirty years, Miss Barrett. If Master Jax thinks it’s the right thing to do, then I support him completely." Charles tipped his head towards a door across the room that was ajar. "Your bathroom is through there. If the plumbing proves to be uncooperative, just press the button on the nightstand next to the bed and I’ll come see if I can give it some…….persuasion."

"And……." Brenda called after him just as he turned to leave. "And that other door? The one in the corner near the windows?"

Charles hesitated for just a fraction of a second. "That door leads to Master Jax’s room, Miss Barrett." He tipped his head again deferentially. "Pleasant dreams."

An adjoining door. Brenda didn’t even notice when Charles exited the room, closing the door firmly behind him. Her entire attention was focused on that one portal as she walked slowly towards it.

{Does it have a lock?} She stopped three feet from the door, staring so intently at it that she almost expected it to open on its own. {If it doesn’t have a lock, would Jax open it? Would he WANT to, especially after the way I kept him in the dark for the last six years? Would *I* want him to, knowing the uncertainty of my future after this two-week charade is over?}

When the golden swirls on the doorknob started dancing before her eyes, Brenda knew it was time to turn her attentions elsewhere. Jax had said he was going to work downstairs for a while. There was no way he would have come up that quickly – unless……

Taking a deep breath, Brenda reached out, grasped the doorknob, and turned it. When it didn’t budge, she let out a long sigh – the door was either locked or permanently jammed. In a house this old, she wouldn’t doubt it was the latter. From the way Jax had spoken about the state of his marriage the last few months, he hadn’t made many nocturnal visits to his wife’s bedroom.

Wrapping her arms around her waist, Brenda walked over to the windows. She used her first two fingers to push back the drapes, then inhaled sharply when she saw the curtain of white falling outside. Even if she had convinced Jax that she needed to leave to get some of her own things, Mother Nature would have confounded her plan. The snow was coming down so fast and the wind blowing so hard that a near blizzard was raging outside.

Resigned to using Miranda’s clothing and toiletries at least for the night, she turned back and walked over to the triple dresser. After pulling out several of the drawers, Brenda finally located the one where she kept her nightgowns. "Hmmmmm……." She held up a gruesome floor-length pink floral flannel gown. Rows and rows of ruffles trimming the bodice. "Guess you had to find *something* to keep you warm on all those chilly Port Charles nights, didn’t you, Miranda?" After measuring the gown against her own petite form, she firmly pushed it back deep in the drawer. "Well, I’m not quite ready for the granny scene yet, thank you very much," she groused, digging through a mountain of similar gowns. "There must be SOMETHING in here that won’t make me look like Ma Kettle!"

After searching several other drawers, Brenda straightened and sighed loudly. "Someone upstairs is trying to tell you something, Brenda," she muttered softly to herself, walking back towards the windows. "This house gives me the creeps, and this Miranda chick is….was….. NOTHING like me. I shouldn’t be doing this for Jax……" She stopped when she saw her parka draped over one of the upholstered chairs and sighed. Pressing her lips together, she shook her head. "Might as well get it over with. This is gonna go over like a lead balloon."

After a few more minutes of deliberation, she went to the parka and pulled out a small cellular telephone. Although Jax had assured her she was free to make a call, she didn’t want to take a chance of using the traditional telephone and having him listen in somehow. Glancing around once more to make sure she was alone in the room, Brenda turned it on, pressed in a long series of numbers, held it to her ear, and grimaced in advance against the reaction she knew she was going to get. She only had to wait through two rings before someone picked it up on the other end.

"Willburn here."

She took a deep breath, preparing for the tongue-lashing she knew would follow. "It’s Brenda."

"Brenda!! Are you OK?" She heard the hinges on his desk chair squeak, probably the result of him sitting up straighter. "I’ve been worried sick about you!"

"I’m fine. Everything’s fine." She chewed on her lower lip like a child about to admit to breaking her mother’s treasured vase. "I just……. I won’t be coming back tonight."

Ten seconds of silence followed. "CAN’T, or won’t?"

"Won’t," she repeated firmly. "I TOLD you, everything’s fine."

Five seconds of silence. "Where are you?"

Her chest heaved. "I’m in Port Charles on Spoon Island. I’m at Wyndemere."

"After all this time?" She heard him take a deep breath. "You’re with HIM, aren’t you?"

She fully expected the venom in his voice. "I HAD to come here, Willburn." She paused. "Jax bought the Scarpetti out from under me."

More silence. "But you have it now?"

"I will." Glancing at the ceiling, she prayed for strength in the battle she knew was coming. "I made a deal with Jax."

"What KIND of deal?"

"I agreed to do a favor for him."

"What KIND of favor?"

"Careful, Willburn." She smiled in spite of the gravity of the situation. "If the-powers-that-be hear you, they’ll think YOU’RE as redundant as your speech patterns and you’ll find yourself without a job on the outside looking in."

More silence. "You KNOW what I mean, Brenda. Stop beating around the bush and tell me how you got Jax to sell you the Scarpetti."

"He’s not selling me the ruby, Willburn. Jax is GIVING it to me." It was her turn to allow a pregnant silence. "If I stay here and help him for two weeks."

She expected rage. She almost held the phone away from her ear, anticipating his loud tirade. Instead, he whispered his message across the distance that separated them.

"You can’t stay away that long, Brenda. You KNOW that."

No anger, no bluster, no chastisement. Willburn’s voice was uncharacteristically – but unmistakably – cold. Succinct. Deadly.

"You can’t tell me what to do, Ed." Brenda tried to keep her own voice just as firm and reasonable sounding as Willburn’s. "You’re not my keeper."

Her heart pounded loudly in her ears through the silence he allowed before speaking again. "And YOU know that I’M not the one that needs you here, Brenda."

Faint tears of frustrated concession clouded her vision before she quickly wiped them away with the back of her hand. "How is she?"

"About the same." Brenda heard the squeak of his chair hinges again. Knowing he held all the cards, Willburn was allowing himself the luxury of relaxing. "Doctor Acheson visited with her for about an hour yesterday. He did a complete work-up and told me that her vitals are all stable."

Her chin tightened, a sign of her inner turmoil. "But still no other progress?"

"Acheson still insists that YOU hold the key to that, Brenda." She heard Willburn sigh. "And now Jax, I suppose."

She fought hard to settle her nerves, steeling her resolve. "I’m *going* to get the Scarpetti from him, Willburn. I’ll make him understand that I need some time to check back in with you and….. and …… take care of things there," she added haltingly.

Brenda could almost see him shaking his head and pursing his lips in doubt. "I don’t like the sound of it."

A sudden glint of determination lit her eyes. "You OWE me this much, Ed. *Especially* after the way your people dropped the ball."

"How many times do I need to say it, Brenda?" His long sigh of disgust echoed in her ear. "Halliburton has admitted to screwing up big time. We’re still investigating why and how Jax was never informed of ……. the plan."

"You could have CORRECTED that little oversight, Willburn," she retorted sarcastically. "ESPECIALLY after Paris."

"If anything," he shot back tersely, "Paris PROVED that it was a good thing Jax never knew you were still alive! We had to spend a lot of man hours and money to cover your tracks when he tried to follow you!"

Brenda jumped slightly when she heard the wind howling outside her window. With the conversation at a terse stalemate, she pushed the drapes back with her finger and peered into the darkness.

"Speaking of Paris ……." Willburn’s tone sounded suddenly lighter – perhaps because he knew he was losing ground in the argument. "You might be interested to know that Cordova is finally behind bars. We’re just waiting for the extradition papers to come through to bring him back here and put him away for good with the information you got for us."

She let the drapes fall back into place with a long sigh. "That’s nice."

"Aren’t you even pleased to hear that your hard work wasn’t in vain?"

Brenda grimaced. "Tell me that you’re putting Sonny Corinthos away for the rest of his miserable life. Tell me that this six-year nightmare will finally be over. THEN I’ll be pleased."

"You know we’re working on that as hard as we can." Willburn’s voice dropped and gained as much warmth as the crusty old man was capable of. "I’ll be worried about you, Brenda. Out there – exposed. For two weeks."

"I know, Ed." She finally allowed herself an exhausted smile. "I’ll be careful, I promise. And I’ll check in with you as often as I can."

"Call me anytime on this line. You know it’s clean."

"I will." After promising to come back as soon as she could, Brenda hit the "end" key. She slipped the cell phone back into the pocket of her parka and then walked back to the windows. Pushing the drapes back again, she sighed as she stared into the near-blizzard conditions outside. "Don’t make a liar out of me, Jax. Too much is at stake," she prayed softly, blinking back tears. "I’ll give you two weeks. Fourteen days." She let the drapes fall back into place, glancing at down at the date function on her watch. "Clock’s tickin’."

*~*~*~*

She’s a liar. Lying is a sin. Sin must be punished.

The voices echoed again and again, pounding out the message as a cloaked figure watched Brenda hang up her phone. At first, it seemed as though Jax’s wife had come back from the dead. This new brunette looked so much like Miranda.

But she WASN’T Miranda. At least, not on the surface. Down deep, though, Brenda was the same kind of conniving, corrupt lost soul. She lied about who she was and why she was in the house.

And for that, the voices had told the cloaked figure what to do. Brenda had to die.

To be continued……..