She thought back to the tour Courtney and Debbie had taken her on the night before. Courtney hadn’t wanted to show her this room, saying, “Tabitha, we haven’t been able to do anything with this room.”
“I would have thought this would have been a priority since it’s where I first saw our resident ghost.” She had tried to push open the door, but Courtney had stood in front of it.
“You aren’t understanding me.” Tabitha could tell Courtney’s frustration level was off the charts.
“So tell me what you mean, then.” Tabitha could feel anger rising to the surface again. Anger she didn’t normally feel. Anger she didn’t understand.
“I mean that every time we try to do something with this room, things happen. Bad things. Ghostly things. The people I hired to clean the room won’t even come into it anymore. Debbie and I tried to clean it ourselves, but our cleaning supplies kept disappearing. It’s like our ghost doesn’t want this room touched.
“How odd. She didn’t seem malevolent either time I saw her. She helped us on both cases.”
Courtney clinched her fists, her eyes flashed, and her face went red. “Don’t you think I know that? I don’t understand why she’s doing this. Can’t she realize I want to get this room done and I can’t. It’s really bugging me!”
“Hey, relax. Show the room the way it is. It’s the ghost’s hang out. Let your customers see what the house used to look like.”
“What if she starts throwing things or someone gets hurt. I can’t stand it.” Courtney had burst into tears and run from the room.
Tabitha had stood watching her, her mouth open in shock. She’d never seen Courtney react that way. It must be stress. Tabitha looked around. She could feel tiny prickles running up and down her spine. Or maybe it’s the room or the ghost.
As she entered the room, she headed for the space between the windows where she’d found the small picture that she thought depicted her ghost in real life. It had faded in the four or five hundred years since it had been painted.
She put both hands around it, lifting it from the heavily paneled wall. Cradling it, she set it down on the table, shining the flashlight on it. “I wonder if I can clean this. I’d love to see my friend better.”
She ran her fingers lightly over the painting. There was a connection. She could feel it. She thought the ghost’s name was Lady Aimee Payne although she didn’t know for sure. There had been a picture of Aimee Payne in the book she had read, but the book was over 200 hundred years old and very battered.
According to the book, Aimee, a younger daughter of one of the black sheep of the family, John Walter Payne, had refused to marry the man her father chose for her. She’d run away with a young man from a family that had been banished for fighting on the wrong side of one of the numerous civil wars that flooded England’s history.
Her father had brought her back, killing her lover in the process. The book didn’t say what had happened to the very young Lady Aimee but Tabitha imagined that it hadn’t been either good or pleasant.
Tabitha looked at the paneling where the ghost had made her first appearance. When she had appeared, she hadn’t done any of the things that ghosts were reputed to do. No cold. No moaning. No malevolent acts. She had simply shown Tabitha the way into the secret staircase.
That clue had helped Tabitha break the case and save both Courtney’s and Debbie’s lives.
As Tabitha stared at the canvas, the face seemed to get clearer. There almost seemed to be a similarity to Tabitha. The ghost had dark hair and deep brown eyes and what had once been a smiling mouth, but the similarity seemed to be in the expression.
Tabitha suddenly set the picture down on the table next to the fireplace. Grabbing her flashlight, she ran lightly down the stairs to her bedroom. Her paint kit was sitting on the floor. She flung back the lid, rummaging for some paint cleaning chemicals she had purchased specially to clean the painting.
Hurrying back upstairs, she set the painting on a clean rubber mat, then she picked up a cotton swab, dipped it in the neutralizer and gently rolled the cotton swab across the face of the painting.
Tabitha changed swabs as they got dirty, she could almost feel the Lady Beatrice’s interest in what she was doing. It was like she was standing next to Tabitha looking down, watching the painting reappear.
When the grandfather clock in the hall chimed two, Tabitha set down her swab, picked up the flashlight to make sure everything still was going okay.
Yawning, she capped her neutralizer, put the swabs in a metal container and slowly walked back to her room. After washing her hands, she climbed into bed and was instantly asleep.
She didn’t see a transparent white form materialize in front of the portrait. The small, ghostly fingers first brushed the picture, then hovered over the neutralizer, the clean swabs, then back to the picture.
She looked toward the door that Tabitha had shut carefully behind her. Then she floated back into the paneling on the opposite side of the fireplace from the secret passage.
********
Early the next morning, Courtney found Tabitha leaning against the registration desk. Mark was smiling widely as he hung up the phone. “That was a productive phone call, but you are going to owe Eugene big time.He spent the whole night getting what you wanted.”
Tabitha laughed. “How much do I owe him? $100.00? $200.00?
“He wants you to paint his Bichon.”
“Do I really owe him that much?” Tabitha knew her painting, even the small ones went for five hundred dollars and up.”
“No, but I do. I’ll pay for it.”
Tabitha grinned. “I won’t charge you unless he wants a really big picture.”
“I’ll limit it to 12 x 16 inches if that’s okay.” Mark looked down at his notes.
"You're both up early." Courtney ran down the stairs. She was dressed in well-cut brown pants, a cowl button neck Aran sweater and brown flats. She looked enviously at Tabitha’s Levi jeans, a teal blue turtleneck sweater and a white sleeveless quilted vest.
"True." Tabitha stifled a huge yawn. "I wanted Mark to check with his sources to see what they found out."
"She dragged me out of bed before breakfast." Mark groaned.
"Were you able to find anything out about our friend?" Courtney straightened up the desk.
"Actually, I am surprised at all that he found in such a short time." Mark said.
Tabitha stood up, opening the register book. "By the way, I just made another reservation for you. It's for January, although I have a hard time believing anyone in their right mind would want to stay here in the middle of winter. The sameness of the moors would drive me crazy."
Courtney looked over the register. "They reserved for two weeks. That's a long time. Did you get a credit card number?"
"No. They are sending a check. That's why I wrote it in pencil."
Courtney stretched. "Let's go get some breakfast before the ravening hoards descend on us. I'm starved."
"Mark, tell me what you found out, before I die of curiosity." Tabitha begged.
"I was planning on it. It's just that the hall is a bit public for private talk." He looked up the stairs where the guest rooms could be seen.“Sometimes you sound just like an old novel or a solicitor." Courtney shook her head. "You fit right in with the house."
"Sorry. I guess I get carried away by the atmosphere besides, I am a solicitor, well, a barrister which is the same thing." Mark gave Courtney a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
Tabitha pushed open the dining room door. Breakfast was already set out, buffet style, on a long table. She picked up a large, china plate in the Blue Willow pattern, handing it to Mark as Courtney lifted the silver covers off the chaffing dishes.
Tabitha whistled softly when she saw the number of selections. There was sausage, bacon, ham, three different types of eggs, steak and kidney pie, several different pastries, plus clear containers of cold and hot cereals.
"If you provide food like this every day, you'l
l go broke."
"We charge the earth for breakfast, but we are finding that most people are willing to pay for a real English breakfast. Lunches and dinners aren't this elaborate, although we are a resort hotel that caters to the very wealthy or hose who like to think
they are."
Tabitha put a couple of Belgium waffles on her plate, covering them with blueberry syrup. She added bacon, sausage, a fruit salad, then picked up a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.
She sat at table for four in front of the glowing fire waiting for Mark and Courtney. Courtney selected a helping of steak and kidney pie, a Danish pastry and a glass of milk. When Mark joined them at the table, his plate was piled so high, that Tabitha was afraid that the top layer would slide right off on to the floor.
"Tell me, what you find out? I would guess from the way you're smiling that it must be good news." Tabitha took a bite of waffle. “Umm. This is good.”
"Most of it is." Mark took a huge bite of French Toast, smothered in butter and whipped honey.
He added a trifle thickly, "He is a well-known philanthropist. He sits on the boards of seven or eight museums as well as on the boards of half a dozen well-known charities. He does own the ballet company and it has run in the black for the last four years. He only had to subsidize it for two years.”
Mark finished chewing. “Although his seed money was inherited, and there wasn’t that much of it, he is a hard-driving businessman who gets what he wants. Eugene said that he owns more than half the stock in a good dozen large businesses that are traded on Wall Street. He is heavily into pharmaceuticals and communications, as well as the arts.
The bad news is that he likes to bulldoze his way through life. He just married his fifth wife, a 31-year-old costume designer by the name of Liu Soong. They met at his ballet company. She did the costume design for several of the ballet productions. She has also been heralded as innovative, original, and imaginative in her costuming."
Courtney looked from Tabitha to Mark, "What advice do you have for Tabitha?"
Mark took a sip of water, then swallowed. "My advice is to take it and run but make sure you have a solicitor write up contract for your services which you are already planning on doing. Right?"
"Peter said he'll write up the contract today if Mr. Cabot will agree to it." "If Mr. Cabot will agree to what?" Cabot strode into the room, his voice echoing off the walls.Tabitha jumped. His loud voice startled her. "A written contract drawn up by my solicitor."
He paused for a moment. "I always get everything in writing. I can have my lawyer draw up a contract, but you said you have an attorney?”
"Debbie's fiancé, Peter, whom you met last night is a solicitor. I think he brought his laptop with him because he mentioned that he had some work to do. He said he'd draw it up.
"Get him down here, then. I'd like to have this taken care of before I leave." He picked up a plate.
"In fact, I'd like to take you back with me. I want these pictures done as soon as possible. I've tentatively scheduled the premier performance to open the building for the 22nd of December of this year but I can't decide if I want to do Swan Lake, Sleeping Beauty or The Nutcracker, although I’m leaning toward The Nutcracker since it’s a Christmas production. But that probably will change when I consult my wife. She has very definite ideas of her own."
He shrugged. "All her ideas are money makers.
"But that's less than a month per painting.” Tabitha protested. “I honestly don't know if I can get them done that fast.”
She glared at him, her voice like ice. “I'm not an assembly line painter."
"I'd like to have them done by then but if they aren't all done, we'll hang what is done and make the best of it. I don't want to rush you. I want quality rather than quantity.
"I guess I'd better see if he's awake." Tabitha stood up, as a pretty, blond waitress picked up her plate.
A few minutes later, Courtney hurried into the hall. "Were you able to wake him?" Tabitha grinned. "Yes. We're supposed to meet him in the library at 9:30. He brought his laptop computer so he can write it up while we wait.”
She stood up, stretched, then picked up a yellow legal pad. "I think I'd best have a heart to heart talk with Mr. Cabot about this commission. Six life size paintings in five months plus will be a grueling challenge and I won’t be doing a one-man show.There’s no way I can do both. I’m not sure $500,000 will be enough. I’ll need to get started on it as soon as the contract is signed."
Tabitha pushed open the door to the dining room.
"Were you able to wake up your solicitor?" Cabot asked.
"I was. He will meet us in the library at 9:30. Once the contract is taken care of, you and I need to do some planning so I can get started sketching each painting."
He motioned for the waitress to pour him some more coffee. "I'm ready whenever you are."
"Perhaps, if it is okay with Courtney, we should go into the library. Since our business is private, it would be wise to discuss it privately."
"You're welcome to work in that room," Courtney finished her pastry. "I've got a number of things to do so I won't be needing to use it for a while.
Cabot got up from the table, carrying his coffee cup. "Lead the way."
Once they were in the library, Cabot frowned. "What is it that we need to discuss?" "There are a number of things that need to be decided on.” She walked to the fireplace then back to the desk where Cabot was still standing. “Since this commission will be a very time consuming one, I need to get started on my sketches immediately."
Leland drained his coffee cup, setting it gently on the table. "How can you do that when you won't have anyone to pose for you."
"You said that each dancer would pose in the costume of the dance that had made her famous. I would like to know which ballet and which pose. The dancer isn't important at this stage. Once I know which ballet, I can do some research on the background that will best suit the dance. I can then sketch it out in different ways, you can decide which background you want, preparatory to sketching it on the full-size canvas."
"Good idea. Danielle Rousseau will be doing an Arabesque from the ballet, Cinderella. I was thinking of having her partner, Steve, as the prince trying to hold her back."
"She could be painted on some steps, with perhaps some castle gates in the background or maybe the pumpkin coach. I'll do a sketch of both and you can decide on the one you like the best."
"That is a good idea. I like the idea of the pumpkin coach in the background but I don't want the picture to be considered trite. I don't want anything cartoonish about it."
"Of course not. I was thinking more along the lines of a Berliner coach, with her slipper on the step behind the prince."
"She wouldn't be wearing a glass slipper in the dance." Cabot protested.
"No, she would be wearing toe shoes, but if the audience is to know that it is Cinderella, the slipper must be there. Even if she has one in her hand and one on the step and flesh colored toe shoes."
"I see your point." He looked at the pad she was carrying. "Can you sketch your ideas now?"
He thought for a moment. "Perhaps the prince could be holding one of the shoes out to her."
"Perhaps. I will sketch some different ideas. You can tell me which one you like best."
Quickly, Tabitha picked up a pencil. In just a few lines, the background came into being.
"Now, if I remember right an Arabesque is where the body of the dancer is in profile with the back leg extended out behind the body with the arms in some graceful pose?"
"That's right. Did you take ballet when you were younger?"
Tabitha looked up from her sketch. "No. My parents traveled too much for that but my mother loved the ballet so we went whenever there was a performance in the city where we were staying."
"Your parents traveled too much? Why was that?"
"They were with the State Department. I've seen ballets at all the best places in London, New York, San Francisco,
Tokyo. She used to tell me the names of the moves." She handed him the sketch. "This is what I had in mind."
He held the sketch up to the light from the window. "I like that. The costume has a white tulle skirt with sparkles in it and she wears a crown."
"I'll keep that in mind as I select the background colors. What color hair does this Danielle have?"
"She has blond hair and blue eyes."
Tabitha wrote that on the sketch. "Then perhaps a medium to dark blue background."
There was a knock on the door, then Peter stuck his head in. "Ready for me?" Tabitha turned to him, smiling. "We are. I hope I didn't get you up too early.
Leland got up and began pacing the room. "Let's get on with this. I need to go get my wife before she buys out all of London." His voice was harsh.
After exchanging looks with Tabitha, Peter said, "Tabitha, can I talk to you outside for a second."
"Why? Are going to try to talk her out of this commission?" Cabot’s voice was still abrasive.
"I think she ought to think twice about taking this commission when she has to deal with someone as rude and obnoxious are you are, sir!" Peter straightened to his full height which was three inches shorter than Cabot.
"She is an excellent painter. I don't think she needs to put up with the kind of crap that you dish out. She can make it without your commission."
She turned to Peter her voice gentle. "I appreciate your concern, Peter, but I'm a big girl and I can speak for myself. Just be sure that I can walk out if I find I can’t work with him."
She turned on Cabot. "I'm not some poor little hired secretary whose livelihood depends on keeping in your good graces. You'll treat me with respect or you'll get another painter because I'm not taking any of your bloody rudeness or your temper!"
"Hold up, little lady. No need to get your toga in a knot." He put his hands up in a stop motion."I'm not a little lady. I don't need you patronizing me."
Cabot held out both hands. "Okay, sorry. My wife and I had a fight before I left London. I guess I'm feeling guilty and I miss her. Let's get the contract written and signed so I can take care of my family obligations."
The Ghost Dances the Nutcracker Page 4