Better Homes and Hauntings

by Molly Harper

  “When I saw what was happening, I asked him again, when would I get my raise? He didn’t have an answer for me. When would I get a share of the business or even some controlling say in how the business was run? He didn’t have an answer. So a few nights later, I snuck into our offices and looked at the books. I realized how much money he had sucked away. I may have lost my temper.”

  “Care to elaborate on that?” Deacon asked.

  “I may have shattered the windshield of that brand-new truck,” she admitted, biting her lip.

  A delighted grin broke across Deacon’s handsome face. “With what?”

  “A concrete planter shaped like a dolphin.”

  Deacon snickered, and Nina gave a weak chuckle. She couldn’t find the situation funny just yet. It was still too raw. For now, she was grateful to Deacon for hauling her up off the floor and distracting her with “abrupt greenhouse semi-nudity.” It was some of the most enjoyable nudity of any degree she had ever experienced. She would focus on the electric tingles still zipping along her nerve endings, because she was getting to the more difficult part of the story. It was the part that had her spiraling into a near-fugue in the greenhouse, and part of her wished Deacon could kiss that and make it better, too.

  Nina peeled the label loose from the ginger-ale bottle in long strips, fidgeting with the paper while she tried to find the right words. “I felt so stupid, so helpless. I had nothing to show for years of work. I didn’t have a contract to show that I owned any part of the business or that I was guaranteed a share of the profits. It wasn’t like Rick was going to give me a reference. I didn’t have any reputation to speak of. But I figured, what else could I do? I had to work. My parents are lovely people, but I wasn’t about to move in with them. So I scraped together every cent I could, cashed in savings bonds from my grandmother, borrowed money from my brother. There were some shameful incidents with cash advances on credit cards. And I started Demeter Designs.

  “I tried to keep it low-key. I was afraid of advertising, for goodness sake, because I didn’t want Rick to see it and get mad at me. But Rick just laughed. He said I would be closed within a year, so what did he care? It was like he forgot who had done all of the work at Elegant Environments. He started to believe his own hype. He presented mediocre designs to important clients and began losing jobs to firms he used to call ‘rinky-dink.’ I started getting more jobs, and eventually, I started swiping jobs out from under him. He was furious! He came into my office and pitched a royal hissy fit. ‘Disloyal,’ he called me. ‘Petty, ungrateful, deceitful,’ and a bunch of other words I shouldn’t repeat. He threatened to sue me. When I laughed and reminded him that would be hard, considering we’d never signed a contract, he got this weird look on his face and just walked out.

  “About a month later, I started getting weird bills in the mail. My credit report red-flagged a dozen or so new cards, store accounts, memberships to porn sites. My credit rating went into the toilet. I could never prove it, but Rick had destroyed me. He ran up huge debts in my name, ruined my credit. I think I had a mortgage for a hunting cabin in Utah. It took me more than a year to clear it up. Hell, I’m still clearing it up.

  “My jobs got sabotaged. I would leave a pristine, beautiful garden, and the next morning, I would come back with the client to find the plants bleached and the flower beds torn up.

  “I can’t tell you how many equipment trailers I accumulated. They kept getting stolen out of my shed. And the worst part was that he’d steal my equipment, and then, after I’d reported it stolen, he’d sneak it back into my driveway before the cops arrived, and I would look like a nutcase.

  “I felt so powerless all the time, so damn stupid. I almost didn’t bid for the Crane’s Nest job, because I didn’t know if I would still be in business long enough to complete the work, and I knew Rick was bidding for the job, too. I knew if he saw me bidding for the same account, he would be furious.”

  “So why did you?”

  “I wanted to make something great. I saw the pictures of the house. I saw the footprint of the original garden designs, and I knew I could do something extraordinary. I walked into your office and saw Rick sitting there, waiting for his appointment, and I almost turned around and ran out. Rick’s design was awful.” Nina snickered. “I got a peek at the presentation boards. It was tacky and out of place and ugly. He wanted to put in a succulent garden, can you believe it?”

  “The nerve,” Deacon said, shaking his head.

  “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?” she asked, sniffing.

  Deacon shook his head, brushing the mussed hair back from her face.

  Nina clarified, “One New England winter, on an exposed location like this? It would put the ‘suck’ in ‘succulent.’ ”

  “Oh.”

  “And as he was walking out of the meeting, the jerk actually smirked at me while he did his usual ‘frat guys all together’ thing with you. I almost walked out of your office, because I was sure there was no way I was getting the job. But then you looked at me, right in the eye, and I figured running away like a little girl would be poor form.”

  “Definitely. You would have left me with a tacky, dead succulent garden. It would be a fate worse than death.” Deacon wrapped his arm around Nina’s shoulder and squeezed her gently. “Look, you’re here because you belong here. Because I didn’t trust anyone else with the job as much as I trust you. And my trust isn’t something that I give easily. Now, the question is, what would you like to do about the Rick situation?”

  “I’m assuming that you’re not firing me? I would understand if you fired me. No hard feelings.”

  Deacon’s eyes went saucer-sized. “No! Why would I fire you?”

  “Because my presence on the island is inviting the violent attentions of a crazy man?”

  “You still represent less of a threat than most of Jake’s ex-girlfriends. And Dotty.”

  “OK,” she said, nodding. “What are my options?”

  “Well, I could try to find a way to file destruction-of-property charges against him. But that would require proof that he actually came onto the island. Or I could make a few phone calls and erase his digital presence from planet earth entirely.”

  “Is there some unhappy medium between the two?” she asked.

  “Well, sure, if you want to take away all of my fun.”

  “Let me think about it,” she said.

  He pulled her close again, breathing in the citrus-spice scent of her hair. “It’s going to be OK, Nina. You’re not dealing with this alone anymore.”

  She glanced up at him, and he leaned back into an appropriate non-lawsuit-like space bubble. “You know, Cindy, Jake, and Dotty. They’re going to want to help you, too.”

  “Of course,” she said. “Thank you, Deacon. It feels good just to have talked to someone about it. What is it about you that makes people want to tell you everything? You should have been a priest or something.”

  “A priest?” he asked, lifting his eyebrows. “With a face this pretty and a mind this brilliant?”

  “And modest, too.” She sighed.

  LEAVING NINA TO rest in the staff quarters, Deacon made it across the property to his office in record time. The moment he reached his desk, his fingers flew over the keyboard, calling up video feeds from cameras scanning the greenhouse area over the last twelve hours. He scrolled through the video at lightning speed, only pausing when someone crossed the screen. Nina, Jake, Anthony, a few of the landscaping day-crew members breaking for lunch. But no one entered the greenhouse. Frowning, he switched camera angles, scrolling through another feed until he saw a dark blur cross into the camera’s view at around six A.M. He clicked on a tab to stop the scroll, then rewound, playing the section of footage at normal speed. A tall, dark figure darted across the lawn and opened the greenhouse door. Deacon stopped the footage. The man on the screen was wearing black from head to toe, his face hidden by a dark baseball cap. He also had his face turned away from the camer
a. In fact, the man managed to keep his face turned away from the camera throughout the clip, including his dash across the lawn. It was as if he knew where the cameras were.

  Deacon sat back in his chair, turning the dilemma over in his head. He’d known about Nina’s troubles with Rick Douglas, the bankruptcy, the vandalism, thanks to the background check he’d run before hiring her. Clearly, the cursory report he’d received didn’t quite cover the extent of Douglas’s tactics.

  Deacon picked up the handset and dialed his corporate security chief’s number. “Hey, Gabe, I need you to look into a guy named Rick Douglas. Also, review security footage in sectors A three to twelve from oh-four-hundred to seven-hundred hours. There’s not much to see, but you can probably pick up on something I missed. When you find Rick Douglas, I want you to keep an eye on him, track his activities. I want pictures. And I want to know when he gets anywhere near the coastline.”

  Rick Douglas would never touch Nina. Deacon hung up the phone and tapped his fingers on his desktop. He tried to stay fluid and flexible. When you worked in an industry that could quite literally change overnight, you didn’t make decisions that included the word never or always. But he simply couldn’t have this.

  He had to find a way to keep Nina safe. Nina was his, his to protect. She was his. Hissing, Deacon felt a sharp pain in his right hand. Glancing down, he saw that he was clutching a letter opener in his palm, the sharp edge biting into his skin. He dropped it onto the desk and scrubbed his uninjured hand over his face.

  This wasn’t like him, the drastic mood swings, the strange cyclical thinking that always seemed to come back to Nina. Hell, stripping down a woman who was technically his employee on the floor of an outdoor utility building was definitely a departure from his usual personality. Was it the isolation of the island? Being away from familiar surroundings and people who kept him grounded? Or was he too much like Gerald Whitney, possessive and too quick to act? Was it the house? Was the Crane’s Nest destined to drive all of its Whitney residents insane?

  It didn’t matter. The curse, the emotional upheaval, none of it was as important as Nina’s safety. Come house or high water, he would not allow Nina to be terrorized on his watch.

  Brainstorming for Bogeymen

  THAT NIGHT’S DINNER was the most awkward on record.

  Nina made enchiladas, because it was her night on the schedule, and she couldn’t screw up tortillas and beans even when her hands were trembling a bit. Cindy was ruthlessly polishing her silverware. Jake looked as if he was ready to jump out of his skin at any moment. Deacon was staring at Nina as if she possessed the secret cheat codes to video games that hadn’t even been invented yet. Nina was avoiding eye contact, but he wasn’t sure if that was because of the Rick problems or post-greenhouse semi-nudity awkwardness. Dotty seemed to be the only one not completely stressed out. Nina suspected some fairly strong herbal supplements were involved.

  Halfway through the silent meal, Cindy gave Jake an emphatic nod toward Deacon. He frowned and shook his head no. Cindy made a circular, come on with it gesture. Jake shook his head again. By this time, they’d caught the others’ attention and realized they weren’t nearly as sneaky as they thought. Meanwhile, Deacon was watching Nina as if she would bolt at any moment And Nina kept her head bent over her plate as if she was praying for divine enchilada intervention.

  Deacon cleared his throat and said, “Nina and I have something to tell you,” just as Cindy said, “Jake and I have something we need to say.”

  “You’re going to put us out of our misery and agree to go out with him?” Dotty asked, clapping and turning toward the others. “Who had three weeks in the betting pool?”

  Deacon shook his head and said, “Me, but that’s not really as important as Nina’s issue.”

  “Our issue is pretty serious,” Cindy countered.

  “Well, so is Nina’s.” Deacon turned on the landscaper. “Nina, come on. We talked about this.”

  “Maybe we should let Nina go first,” Jake suggested brightly.

  “Jake, we talked about this,” Cindy groused.

  Nina suddenly blurted out, “I think my former boss snuck onto the island and destroyed my greenhouse.”

  Suddenly, Cindy’s simultaneous declaration of “The house is definitely haunted” didn’t seem so dramatic. Although it did make Deacon roll his eyes a little.

  Cindy patted Nina’s back. “She can go first.”

  Nina gave the brief, emotionless summary of events that she’d been practicing in her head since the afternoon.

  Deacon added a comment about the state of the greenhouse and said that Anthony’s crew had already cleaned out the mess.

  It was strange to watch that livid flush creep into Nina’s cheeks, to hear the flinty, pissed-off tone in her voice. Nina had reached her breaking point. And apparently, her chewy candy center was made up entirely of anger.

  “I’m sorry that I brought this with me to the island,” she practically spit. “And the offer to let you fire me stands. It wouldn’t be the first job this jerk has ruined for me, not that I can prove it. I just have to work harder to make sure he can’t ruin the next one.”

  “Nina, I’m not going to fire you,” Deacon told her quietly. “It’s not your fault. You can’t control what some psycho does. I’m not angry with you. I’m a little angry with the people who installed my security system for not picking it up, but that’s not something for you to worry about. I don’t want you to worry, all right? Just focus on that water-garden thing, because I am very, very concerned about the possibility of living here without the right number of water lilies.”

  She offered him a tense imitation of a smile and nodded sharply.

  “And I have a few Tasers in my bag. You and Cindy are more than welcome to keep them with you if you don’t feel safe,” Dotty offered.

  “You have a few Tasers?” Jake exclaimed. “Who would give you more than one Taser?”

  “Who would give you one Taser?” Deacon asked.

  “Have you ever ridden on the Metro in Paris?” Dotty snarked. “Well, until you do, don’t judge me.”

  “We’re getting away from the point,” Deacon retorted. “Maybe my security company can provide you with mace or personal alarms or a Taser that might not electrocute you when you try to use it because Dotty dropped it in a puddle once.” He ignored the obscene gesture Dotty sent his way, tapping a few tabs on his phone to pull up a picture of Rick, which he promptly sent to all of the other team members’ phones. “This is a picture of Rick Douglas. If you see him, come to me immediately, and we’ll call my security team.”

  Nina shot Deacon an incredulous look. How did Deacon know who her former boss was and pull up a picture of him so quickly? She knew it was unwise to question the skills of a Web wizard, but it seemed suspiciously efficient.

  “Until then, keep your eyes open, and if you see anything strange, report it immediately. I’m having five copies of my alarm watch made, so that each of you can call for help directly, if necessary. They should be here in a few days.”

  “That actually brings me to my point,” Cindy said. “The reporting issue, that is.”

  Jake grimaced, as if he had hoped that Cindy would drop the subject in the face of Nina’s problem.

  “What’s going on?” Deacon asked.

  “Cindy and I had a, well, let’s call it an episode this afternoon.”

  “An episode?”

  “An incident,” Jake amended.

  Dotty held up one hand, as if waiting to be called on, before interjecting, “Is an incident better than an episode?”

  “OK, are we just not going to talk about this out in the open?” Cindy demanded. “I know that nobody wants to use the g-word first, but I can’t just ignore what I’m seeing and feeling. Jake and I saw two people on the lawn. We think it was Catherine Whitney and Jack Donovan, the original architect of the house. And it looked like they were having some sort of argument, maybe a lovers’ quarrel. And since they’ve been d
ead for about a hundred years, I think we can assume that’s not possible. A few weeks ago, I was on the steps to the third floor. I heard furniture moving upstairs, when no one was supposed to be up there. I tried to go upstairs to look around, and all of a sudden, I couldn’t breathe. It felt like I was being choked. If Jake hadn’t caught me, I would have fallen headfirst down the stairs. Now, I came onto this island as a complete skeptic. But those two experiences, plus the feeling that I’m being watched no matter where I go on this island, have made a believer out of me.”

  This pronouncement was met with a long, awkward silence.

  Cindy looked up and down the table. “I can’t be the only one who’s seeing and feeling these things.”

  No one made eye contact with her.

  “No one’s willing to admit they’ve had an experience?” Her cheeks flushed red.

  Maybe it was a mistake to be this candid with the others, particularly Deacon, who was looking at Cindy as if he smelled something funny. And that something was her termination notice. But damn it, she was fired up. She wasn’t crazy. She knew what she saw. And all horror-movie jokes aside, she certainly hadn’t walked onto this island expecting to see something. And she was seriously regretting accepting that date from Jake, who was turning out to be a bigger weasel than she originally thought, leaving her hanging out to dry like this.

  “I haven’t seen anything yet, but I wouldn’t be afraid to admit it,” Dotty said. “I understand if some of you are. Do we want to write down what’s happened to us on slips of paper, and we can read them anonymously?”

  “This isn’t a sorority grievance circle,” Deacon grumped. “Let’s at least be men about this . . . or Cindy. We can be Cindy about it.”

  Cindy preened a bit before saying, “Wait, how do you know about sorority grievance circles?”