by Betty Bolte
“You did. I carried you up here so you’d be more comfortable.”
Great. Not only had she passed out, but he’d had to lug her too-plump ass up two flights of stairs. Then put her in bed. She glanced down. At least he hadn’t tried to change her clothes or anything. She still wore shorts and a tee. Small comfort but she’d take it.
“How long was I out?” She swung her feet to the floor and stood, grateful the room no longer spun and her lungs worked.
“A few minutes, maybe ten. Take it easy, though.” He reached to steady her, but she brushed away his hands.
“I don’t want to take it easy,” Meredith said. “I want everyone to leave. I have work to do.”
She started for the door of her bedroom. Grizabella minced in front of her, slowing her progress. Max took advantage of the delay and caught up to her.
“What kind of work?” Max asked, trailing behind her.
Right, like she’d reveal to him her demo plans when he wanted her to restore the place. “Some research, if you must know. Go away.”
“Maybe I can help you.”
“Not likely.”
“I want to help.”
They reached the top of the stairs. She peeked at him, detected his curiosity and sincerity—and something more—and started down. She didn’t want to define the mysterious twinkle in his eyes. “Is that why you showed up this morning? To help like you did yesterday, breaking down my door?”
“Of course not. But I do know who to call to start the necessary repairs and to find the right period furniture. That sort of thing.” He shadowed so close she could feel his breath on her neck.
At the bottom, she spun around the newel post and hurried toward the kitchen. She needed water and privacy, in that order. “I told you I can handle my own affairs.” She pushed through the door and stopped, Max running into her before retreating.
Before her, Paulette and Meg busily washed the windows, crumpled newspapers polishing the old glass. In ten minutes they’d decided to deep clean the house?
“What are you doing?” Meredith eased into the room, memories bombarding her. Paulette always loved washing windows, had even fought to make it her chore.
“Helping you—actually, us—with our new abode.” Paulette finished drying the window by the sink and paused to inspect her work. She rubbed one corner again and then flashed a smile at Meredith. “I love to view the world with wide-open eyes.”
“You’re not staying, Paulette.” Meredith marched to the cupboard, retrieving a glass and filling it with cold water. “Let’s be clear.”
Her sister merely smiled and went back to work.
“Did you hear me?” The water cooled her tongue. “Paulette?”
“I’m staying because you need all the help you can get, and I need your hospitality.” Paulette turned and shrugged at her. “I’ve got no job, no money, no nothing. I have nowhere else to go.”
“She is your sister,” Max said, grinning.
He poured coffee into his mug. Like he was planning to stay too. Which he wasn’t. Meredith would make sure he realized how unwelcome his presence remained. Even though she had totally lost control of what was happening around her. In fact, looking back over the last few weeks, she’d lost control of her own actions the moment Max had contacted her about the inheritance. She’d have to make immediate changes in order to reclaim the direction of her future.
“Listen up, everyone,” she said, banging her glass onto the counter, water sloshing onto the tile. “I’m a one-woman show, and I do not need your help to make the necessary changes I have in mind.”
She tried to glare at the questioning expressions, but they didn’t seem to feel threatened one iota. Perfect. She’d have to make them understand somehow. This situation simply couldn’t continue.
“What intentions, precisely?” Paulette stared at her, arms poised at her sides, questions in her eyes.
“I’ll show you; then you’ll understand and will leave me alone so I can get on with it.” Meredith strode to her purse on the little table by the back door and pulled the printed list out. She unfolded it and smoothed out the creases before flinging it at Paulette. As soon as the page left her fingers, her breath hitched. In her anger and frustration, she’d tipped her hand. Damn. She moved to lean on the kitchen counter, braced for the reactions sure to be aimed in her direction.
Paulette skimmed the list, a frown replacing her curious countenance. Meredith held her breath. Paulette read the list again before glaring at her.
“You cannot mean to do what this implies.” Paulette shook the page. Rage echoed in her words as they hovered in the air. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Meredith squared her shoulders. “I do.”
“What is it?” Tension stiffened Max’s frame as he studied Paulette, waiting.
“You won’t like it.” Paulette offered the paper to him.
He snagged the wrinkled page from her and skimmed it. Then he too glared at Meredith, outrage blazing from those gorgeous eyes. “What the…? Salvage companies? Are you daft, woman? If this is why you want me to remove the protection from Twin Oaks, then forget it. I won’t.”
She glared at him, moving her hands to grip her hips. “You’re my lawyer, and you’ll do as I say.”
“No, goddamn it, I won’t.” He crumpled the paper and threw it in the trash before rounding on her. “Twin Oaks means way too much to too many people for you to be allowed to go through with dismantling it.”
“It’s mine.” A slow smile spread onto her lips as she regarded his blustering rage. “You can’t stop me. The Register has no authority over me as the property owner, only developers and such.”
“Not legally, perhaps.” Max rested his hands on his hips, his torso narrowing the distance between them as he leaned toward her. “Morally you can’t want to destroy your own heritage. What your ancestors fought and died for.”
She cringed at the guilt shooting through her. Grandpa Joe had indeed fought and died to save his home. But times changed, and Twin Oaks remained her one hope for starting fresh and burying her pain and anger. “Nothing you say will change my mind.”
“Something better.” Paulette stalked across the floor to stand beside Max.
“I’m appalled and speechless.” Meg stood with her mouth open, eyes accusing.
Well, what had they thought? That she’d come here to live and not go home to her real life? Meredith squared her shoulders. If they wanted a fight, then so be it.
“I don’t imagine you can understand this, but you don’t have to.” Meredith speared each with her gaze. “Grandmother O’Connell left Twin Oaks to me, and me alone. It’s my choice and my decision as to its future.”
“You selfish bitch.” Paulette glared at her. “Twin Oaks is my heritage too. What did Mom and Dad say about your plan, or haven’t you told them yet? Grandma would never have left it in your care if she had any idea you’d destroy it.”
“I’m certain you’re right. I’m sure she’d never speak to you again,” Meg said, her voice sharp as it cut into the family dispute. “Why would you want to do such a thing to a beautiful, historic home?”
“Please explain your reasoning so we can try to comprehend your motives,” Max said, crossing his arms and tilting his head. “I’m all ears.”
“Yes, please do.” Paulette mimicked Max’s stance.
Confronted with a triad of accusers, Meredith resisted the temptation to turn on her heel and stride away. They’d probably chase her down and pry the reason from her. Maybe even tie her to a chair and torture her until she confessed the truth. One way or the other, they would eventually find out. She sighed. They deserved an answer of some kind, even if not the whole truth.
“Returning the property to nature is my way of dealing with tragedy in my life and starting over. That’s all you really need to know.”
“Willy never would have agreed with your intent,” Meg said.
“Your husband?” Paulette blinked at her. “You want to bu
ry Willy here?”
“No. Where’d you get that idea?” Meredith shifted her weight to one foot and considered Paulette.
“It’s kinda the same thing,” Paulette said. “Tearing down the house to plant grass is like digging a new grave for him.”
“How did Willy die?” Max asked.
“Protecting me.” The frown on Max’s face cleared, replaced with raised eyebrows as understanding dawned.
“Oh, I see.” Max nodded, his mouth screwed into a grimace. “You foolishly think destroying something beautiful and historic will make you feel better?”
“In a word, yes,” Meredith said, snuggling her crossed arms tighter to her waist. “I’m glad you finally understand.”
“I didn’t say I understand,” Max said, huffing out a disbelieving laugh. “I’d never understand harming one board of a historic property. I thought you cherished them as well.”
“I don’t understand, I don’t mind saying.” Meg frowned and stalked to where Meredith stood, feet braced as though for an attack. “What I do know is I’m ashamed of you.”
“It’s really very simple.” Meredith cringed at the derision in Meg’s voice as she noted the tension in the woman’s frame. “This is a huge home waiting for the very family stolen from me. In order to move forward, I must restore peace here.” She laid a hand over her heart.
Meg shook her head slowly, eyes trained on Meredith’s face. “You won’t have peace inside if you do such an awful act.”
“It’s the only way I know how.” Meredith gnawed her lower lip and contemplated the housekeeper for a moment. “Nothing else I’ve tried has worked.”
“You need time to think, to let nature take its course in the grieving process.” Paulette moved to stand beside Meredith, one hand lightly resting on Meredith’s crossed arms. “You don’t need to destroy it immediately, right?”
“True. I did want to research more about the family who lived here, to understand the history of the plantation before I…um, enact my plan.” Meredith unfolded her arms, effectively ending the contact between them.
“How do you plan to do that?” Max asked. “Pry each board loose and analyze it? God, Meredith, I can’t believe you.”
His hands flexed and tightened into fists, shooting images of boxers in their corners dancing through Meredith’s mind. He wouldn’t hit her; physical violence wasn’t his style. She forced her shoulders to drop into their normal position.
“No, Max. But Grandpa Joe’s journals and letters and, of course, Grandma’s research will hopefully shed some light on who lived here over the years,” Meredith said.
Meg nodded. “The papers in the old trunk Sean carried down for you.”
“So while you think about your next steps,” Paulette said, “rather than summoning a wrecking ball, you could see what you can find out about Grace.”
“Right,” Meredith said. “And why did Edith go off to Kentucky and marry? It would be interesting to see if I can find the answer to that question too.”
“Have you looked at the online genealogy research site?” Paulette asked.
“No, I’ve never used it, but Grandma did.” Meredith hadn’t had a moment to even figure out where she could access the Internet. “Meg, do we have Internet service here?”
Meg shook her head. “Not unless you turned the cable service back on.”
Meredith looked at Max, striving to ignore the tension in his hands and his stance. “I didn’t; did you?”
“No. Damn it, Meredith, I’m still stunned by your plans.” Max shoved his hands into his back pockets and rocked onto his heels, glaring at her. “But if it will delay what you seem to consider inevitable for even a day, I’ll call them tomorrow.”
“Once it’s back on,” Paulette said, glancing askance at Max, “I can help with the research. I discovered a lot about Johnny’s side of the family, so I’d know where he came from.”
“One day you’ll have to tell me what happened between you and Johnny,” Meredith said. “He seemed like a good fit for you.”
“He gave me fits,” Paulette said, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “But, yeah, I’ll tell you about him one day.”
“So you’re giving Twin Oaks a reprieve?” Max asked. “You’ll not tear it down without notifying me first?”
He really did care about the old place. Or, worse, he wanted to control the situation. Meredith studied the tightly pressed lips and worried glacier eyes. “For now, but I haven’t changed my mind, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Gawd. What do you want?” He strode closer to her. His eyes darkened to deep wells of worry. “What would it take for me to convince you not to do this?”
“You can’t.” Her throat constricted, making breathing difficult. “I’m delaying, not canceling, my plan. I have to go through with the renovation of the property in order to be whole again.”
* * * *
The old oak dresser held all her clothes with room to spare. Paulette pushed on the drawer, but it didn’t budge. She leaned against it, and finally it rubbed closed. She turned and scanned the room. Above Meredith’s old twin hung her cross-stitch sampler. Paulette sauntered over to examine it and smiled at the careless stitches. Meredith had never enjoyed the sensation of needle and thread in her hand. She’d rebelled about having to make the sampler, but Grandma insisted a girl should know how to sew. Paulette adored the slide of the needle as it pierced the fabric and then pulled the floss through with a slight vibration. Sewing created silent music in her hand.
If Grandma had left everything as is, then her diary should still be under the floorboard in the closet. She opened the door and pushed aside her dresses hanging inside. Two boards from the back of the closet, she pressed on the knothole and popped the third shorter one up. She reached into the dark space, trying not to imagine something grabbing her hand. Feeling around, she found the red clothbound book and drew it into the light. She stood and started to close the door again, but spied a large wooden box up high on the second shelf above her head. She blinked. Her samples. She stretched onto her tiptoes but couldn’t reach the prized box of fabric scraps Grandma had supplied to Paulette from her sewing projects. Scraps that became dresses and blouses and skirts and tops for her Barbies. She wanted to take it down, but she had never been able to reach it. She needed the chair.
She turned around and spied the only movable object in the room she could stand on. The desk chair. She’d used it before to reach her box. One more time wouldn’t hurt. She hurried to it and rolled it to the open door.
* * * *
Grizabella raised her head, eyes and ears trained on the parlor door. Meredith paused in reading, a frisson of anticipation brushing across her nerves. Was it the Lady in Blue? She sniffed but smelled only the cinnamon-scented candle burning on a small side table. The front door knocker banged twice, making the cat leap from her napping place and dash into the hallway. Meredith hurried after her to answer the door.
“Howdy and welcome to the neighborhood.” A lanky brunette with heavy makeup blinked at her with hazel eyes that sparkled with mirth. The woman thrust a foil-covered casserole dish into Meredith’s hands. “We haven’t met yet. My name’s Luanne Brashears. I’m your neighbor to the south of here.”
“Nice to meet you, and thanks.” Meredith held the cold dish, not quite certain what she should do with the gift. She didn’t want to be impolite, but she also didn’t want company. Would it be rude to not invite her in?
“I’m so glad you came to take charge of this beautiful plantation.” Luanne smiled at Meredith even as she looked beyond her into the house. “Mrs. O’Connell set such store in your ability to polish this old place up like a new penny.”
“You knew my grandmother?” Did everyone know Grandma? And her desire for Meredith to restore the plantation?
“Sure. I stopped in now and then to bring her some veggies from my garden. You know you can never eat all the zucchini and squash even a small patch yields.”
; “How kind.” Meredith clasped the door, debating on how best to end the conversation.
“I’d love to see what you’ve done since you moved in. May I?”
Panic flared in Meredith’s chest. “I’m sorry, but I’m really busy at the moment. Perhaps another time?”
Luanne blinked rapidly, cocking one hip as she contemplated Meredith. “I see. Well, sure. I don’t mean to intrude.”
That was code for Meredith had hurt her feelings. Not her intention, by any means. “I am sorry. I—”
A loud scrape upstairs preceded a muffled scream. Meredith gaped at Luanne as a second scream reached down the steps. Meredith plopped the casserole on a side table, and then they both raced up the stairs.
“Paulette?” Meredith called. “Paulette, are you okay?”
“Owww. In here.”
Meredith steeled herself against the anticipated emotional onslaught and hurried into their once-shared bedroom. She focused on her sister, struggling to sit up on the floor. An overturned desk chair, its wheels spinning, lay on its side in front of the open closet. A quick glance inside showed a wooden box stuffed with various scraps of colored cloth nearly falling off the highest shelf.
“What were you doing?” Meredith helped Paulette to her feet.
“I found my old box of swatches and patterns.” She checked herself over and then looked at Meredith. “I used to be able to balance on the chair, easy peasy.”
Meredith frowned. “It’s always been foolish to try to stand on a chair with wheels.”
“Why did you want that old box?” Luanne asked.
Meredith blinked at the unfamiliar voice, having forgotten momentarily the woman had followed her upstairs.
“I’m sorry; I don’t believe we’ve met.” Paulette smiled at the stranger and stuck out her hand, and Meredith snickered at the non sequitur. “I’m Paulette O’Connell.”
“Luanne Brashears, your southern neighbor.” Luanne shook hands with Paulette. “Nice to meet you. So, why did you risk your neck?”