Her eyes widen the slightest bit before relaxing again. “I believe Mayor Stuart hired Everett before the fire took place, for minor changes. Perhaps that is where the confusion is?” She smiles, but it’s forced. “Obviously, the project increased in size after the fire,” she adds, composed.
My eyes meet hers, and we fall silent for a moment.
There is no way an architect would be hired for minor design changes like she is suggesting.
“You look like her,” she whispers, sadly.
“Who?”
“Your sister.”
I dip my chin. “You knew Jenni?”
“Not well. The Fairchild and Bishop families haven’t been on good terms for years.”
My stomach drops at her answer as I watch Miss Mary Beth twirl around the kitchen making tea, wishing someone in town knew Jenni better so that I could start to find answers.
“Your sister was a brave woman to marry into that family.”
“How did you know Jenni was my sister?”
“Roman Bishop dropped off your registry papers today.”
“Registry papers?”
“All,” she pauses, seeming to choose her words carefully, almost as though what she has to say might spook me, “special visitors to Havenwood Falls must register with the Court. Since Roman sits on it, he took the liberty of approving your stay and providing your paperwork through September.”
My gaze roams over her serious face. “What an odd requirement.”
“Havenwood Falls is a small town, Graysin. There have been quite a few unexplained deaths lately. It’s simply a precaution the town has asked of our council members . . . keeping a head count.”
“If it’s death you’re concerned about, I’d be careful, Miss Mary Beth,” Everett interrupts.
I look up at the sound of his voice and immediately become rattled by his presence.
“Coffee is Graysin’s weapon of choice,” he teases, and points to my Coffee Haven cup.
My cheeks burn at the reminder that I dumped my coffee all over him the other day, while I search for a witty comeback, but suddenly my hands have become all clammy at the sight of him in jeans, motorcycle boots, and a black thermal—none of which sounds sexy on its own, but draped on his body, yeah, well, that is a different story all together.
He cockily smirks at me. “Sorry I’m late. I was at the library site with the construction crew.”
“No worries.” My voice cracks, forcing me to clear my throat.
“My apologies, city girl, was there a different weapon, other than coffee that is, that you would have preferred I reference?” he challenges, mistaking my throat-clearing as annoyance.
“You could have at least given me credit for something cool, like the Blue Dragon Dagger.”
Everett’s expression hardens as he stares at me. “That’s a pretty specific weapon choice.”
“It is,” I state proudly. “And after a second cup of coffee, I might be able to come up with something even more clever, like the Sword of Saints, or something . . .” I trail off as he stares.
“Well, death and weapons aside,” Miss Mary Beth steps between us, “Everett, you’ll be pleased to know that the salvageable books have been transferred to an old abandoned house a few blocks away. All the Old Families have agreed to donate from their personal collections,” she continues.
“Old Families?” I ask.
“Yes, dear.” Miss Mary Beth’s gaze slides to mine. “There are several families that founded Havenwood Falls, known around town as the Old Families,” she announces, pursing her lips, before turning her attention back to Everett. “Callie’s family will search for rare books they may have picked up during their journeys, and Irene Beckett,” she sighs and rolls her eyes, apparently not a fan, “is spearheading the book drive fundraiser in town.”
“What’s wrong with Irene?” I ask.
“Nothing, really.” She waves me off. “She’s lovely. The town busybody, but she means well.”
I make a mental note to steer clear of Irene Beckett and her gossip.
“Thank you, Miss Mary Beth,” Everett replies, but his voice sounds preoccupied.
His office manager picks up her dainty teacup and saucer. “I’ll let you two get to work.”
“Guess it’s just you and me,” I blurt out.
Everett looks at me, his head tilted. “You and me, huh?”
I mentally roll my eyes at myself and pause before answering him, taking a slow sip of coffee and blushing slightly. “Must you make everything sound so . . .” I begin, but he cuts me off.
“So . . . what?”
“Never mind.”
Everett’s expression softens before he laughs. “Come on, let’s discuss the library.”
Irritation flares in me at his reaction. “Fine.”
His gaze stays on me as I shift uncomfortably under his stare. After a moment, I come to my senses and place my empty to-go cup in the recycling bin and then follow him into the office area where our desks are. I sit at a small round table by the window, which is bathed in sunlight. He brings over a large binder and floor plan sketches, unrolling them in front of me so I can review them.
Everett leans over me with one hand on the back of my chair and the other flat on the table. I force myself not to close my eyes and breathe in deeply, as his scent washes over me. It’s soft and smooth. A sweet, woody fragrance, with notes of aromatic citrus and warm jasmine. He smells fresh and spicy at the same time. I know it’s odd, but his scent screams attractive and sexy.
I watch his large fingers as he points out the new wings and floors he’s designed with a Gothic-Victorian feel. The entire time, his Spanish accent and voice are calm and lulling.
When Everett finally notices that I haven’t spoken, he clears his throat. “What do you think?”
I take in a breath quietly through my nose to steady myself and lift my gaze, meeting his.
He watches me in a way that makes my heart beat quicker. His stare drops to my parted lips for the briefest of moments before he slides it back to the blueprints.
“September is an ambitious deadline.” I try to hide the quiver in my voice.
“McCabe & Sons Construction are the best. If anyone can pull it off, they can.”
“It’s going to take some special kind of magic, Everett. We’re in April, and currently it’s just a pile of dirt. There isn’t a foundation, shell, or anything up. The structure would need to be fully up within three months to give me at least two for interior design and finishes. And that’s pushing it. Normally it takes two, sometimes even three years for a complete rebuild and design.”
He seems taken aback by my timeline as his gaze roams over my face. God, he’s seriously, absurdly good-looking. What is it with him? I shift my focus back to the table uncomfortably.
“Then I guess we’ll have to use magic,” he whispers, causing me to look back up at him.
He smiles softly at me and seems to genuinely mean the words he just spoke.
“Magic?” I repeat.
“Nonbeliever?” he questions, but it feels like a challenge.
“My sister believed in magic . . .” I trail off, holding his gaze.
“Your sis—”
“Here are the photos from the library you asked for,” Miss Mary Beth interrupts. She walks in, handing me a folder and magnifying glass. “All okay?” she asks, her gaze floating between us.
“Fine,” I mumble, not really paying attention.
After a moment, she speaks quietly. “Those were taken the day before the fire happened as part of the early library restoration project Weston Designs was hired for. Everett asked for both interior and exterior shots,” she explains slowly, watching him the entire time.
“Thank you.” Everett’s voice is clipped.
“Of course,” she replies and reluctantly takes her leave.
Everett motions to the folder. “Did you ask for photos?”
“I did.” I stare at the file like it’s evil.<
br />
“For what?”
“Research,” I answer, lost in thought.
An odd silence passes between us before he speaks. “I’ll leave you to it then,” he replies, rolling up the designs, giving me the table and space as he returns to his drafting desk to work.
I still feel his gaze settling on me, as I take in a deep breath and open the folder.
The moment I do, I’m hit with a deep sense of sadness as I stare at what was once a beautiful reading room lined with mahogany bookshelves, filled with leather-bound books. My fingers glide over the photo, admiring the elegant red and gold velvet drapes that framed out the room.
My gaze floats over the books, squinting to try to make out each of the titles on the middle shelf. Frustrated, I grab the magnifying glass and roll it over the image.
As I read the book titles, realization hits me, and the butterflies in my stomach take off. My lips part as I move closer to get a better view. Most librarians organize books in alphabetical order, by the author’s last name—out of training and habit. In this photo, though, there are three classic books in the middle of the shelf that are not in alphabetical order. The three novels are in the exact same title order as we had them at our home library in Newport. Jenni organized the books at home. We would argue for hours if I moved them even slightly out of order. I roll the magnifier over the titles, and notice the last one is my sister’s favorite book. It’s a message, a sign.
For me. From Jenni.
After a moment, I turn to face Everett, who is watching me with a hard, curious expression.
“Did everyone in town know you were planning to restore the library?”
He sits back and folds his arms. “I don’t know. Miss Mary Beth, I’m sure, explained why she was there taking photos. It took her two days. She did the interior shots on the second day. The way gossip floats around Havenwood Falls, I’m sure that people knew what she was doing.”
With my upper teeth, I pull my lower lip into my mouth, lost in thought.
“Why?” he asks.
“The fire was an accident?” I reply, ignoring his question.
“According to Sheriff Kasun and the fire department, an arc fault within the wall sparked it. That isn’t uncommon in old buildings.” His answer is slow and deep, guarded.
“Do you know which room it started in?”
“The classics.”
My focus shifts back to the photo. “Was my sister the only one who was killed?”
“I wasn’t here for the fire. But, as I understand, she was alone in the library that night.”
“Where was the librarian? Cleaning crew? Or other visitors?”
“It occurred after business hours, Graysin. She wasn’t supposed to be there.”
“Don’t you find that odd? Isn’t anyone curious as to why she was there? Alone?”
Everett releases a long breath. “You certainly seem to be.”
“It’s just,” I meet his deep stare again, “heartbreaking.”
He falls quiet, assessing me in a way I’m becoming accustomed to when he’s thinking.
I sigh and look through the rest of the photos before an idea hits me.
“Where did Miss Mary Beth say the salvaged books are being kept?”
“In an empty house, a few blocks from here. Why?”
“No reason. I think I might want to start on design ideas for the classics room and I’d like to see which, if any, of the books made it,” I lie. Something about this accidental fire seems off.
“I’ll take you over there tomorrow.”
“Perfect.”
I push all the photos back into the folder and head over to my desk so I can start designing the interior of the new library. Five months. That’s how long I have to uncover the secrets and lies surrounding my sister’s death. And why the town of Havenwood Falls is protecting them.
Chapter 4
The Darkness
This house is filled with silence, the kind that most find intense and unnerving. The kind of silence that guards secrets from the past and protects the future. My footsteps echo, and the old pine floorboards creak with each step I take. The antique lighting fixtures offer a soft glow, but they’re not bright enough to show the aged building, chipped paint, or peeling wallpaper.
I search from room to room until I notice a pile of leather-bound books sitting on a large piece of plastic sheeting that has been laid out on the floor in a back room. With one last look around, I bend down and begin to rummage through them, ignoring the twinge of heartbreak I feel as I rub the soot and ash off the covers. Twenty minutes later, I come across my sister’s favorite book.
Slowly I lift Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and examine it, opening the cover to the copyright page. My fingertips run across the first edition’s publishing date, November 26, 1865.
I frown. Someone has written 1876 next to the original year, in the tiniest of pink ink.
I chew on my bottom lip and remember that Jenni used pink ink when she wrote in her diary.
“1876, what does that mean?” I whisper to myself.
“It’s the year Havenwood Falls was founded.” The voice causes me to slam the book shut.
Quickly, I stand and spin. My heart beats wildly in my chest as I take in the familiar girl.
“Callie?”
“Graysin,” she mimics my tone.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I scan behind her. “You scared the shit out of me.”
A smug grin plays at her lips. “I was just about to ask you the same thing.”
I motion toward the pile of books. “I’m here to see which ones survived the fire, and which I need to replace for my design budget.” I try to sound innocent.
Her hazel gaze runs over my body before landing on the pile. “At two in the morning?”
“Why are you here at this hour?” I ask quickly.
“I tend to keep off hours.” When she sees my confusion, she holds up two tote bags. “Dropping off rare books my family found during their travels.”
Looking away, I grip the novel I’m holding tighter to my chest as she steps toward me, placing the canvas bags onto the plastic cover next to me. After a moment, Callie glances over at me, then back to the stacks of books before shaking her head.
“She was your sister, wasn’t she?”
I remain silent.
“The girl who died in the fire?” Callie swings around to face me.
“Practicing your fortune teller skills?” I tease, trying to change the subject.
“You should look in a mirror,” she replies, her eyes blazing. “You look just like her.”
My teeth clench as I remain silent, not knowing if I can trust her.
She steps closer to me. “I don’t need palmistry or a crystal ball to tell me what you’re doing.”
A wave of uncontrollable emotion grips me. “So why ask?”
Callie shrugs. “Maybe I can help you.”
“Why would you do that? You don’t even know me.”
Her gaze falls to the books. “I didn’t know your sister very well either, but I do know this—the Bishop family isn’t one that you want to make your enemy.”
Frustration lines every cell in my body. “Why does everyone in town hate them?”
“Not hate. Fear.”
“Why?”
“They’re one of Havenwood Falls’s founding families, which makes them very powerful.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The Bishop family came here in 1854 from Vojvodina, Serbia, and joined a band of travelers that became the founding families. They’d been searching for a place to settle after leaving their old countries for various . . . reasons. Reasons that need to be kept secret and protected from outsiders.”
“That sounds cryptic and ominous.”
“It is. On the outside, Havenwood Falls might appear to be a simple, small town, but the truth is, there are governing bodies here that protect the skeletons behind the glamour. Ruling parties who wil
l do anything to guard the secrets. Anything. And the Bishop family—they hold very high and distinguished positions on the Court. Roman Bishop isn’t someone you want to cross.”
“Are you saying being married to Roman placed my sister in danger?”
“What I’m saying,” she sighs, “is that up until a week before her death, your sister never stepped foot into the library—or town, for that matter—without Roman by her side.”
“Why are you telling me all this?” My voice breaks with emotion.
Callie looks at me sadly. “Because I know personally the depths of just how far Roman Bishop is willing to go to protect his family’s legacy and their dark secrets.”
“What do you mea—”
“What the hell are you two up to?” a deep voice questions from out of the darkness.
Both Callie and I snap our attention to the very angry guy storming toward us.
Callie groans, and cringing, I force myself to stand taller as Everett’s gaze skims over me, examining me from head to toe before landing on my face as he approaches us.
“Hi, Everett. Fancy meeting you here,” Callie flirts.
“What’s going on, Cals?” He looks between us.
“A silly friendship hazing.”
Everett’s expression remains one of skepticism.
“My family dropped off some rare books for the library. Graysin and I were having a girls’ night at my place, and in a tequila-induced haze, we made a bet that whomever couldn’t keep down her third shot would sneak in here and drop off the books.” She pins me with a look.
“That true, city girl?”
I shrug. “I lost a bet.”
“You did?”
“Apparently, I’m a lightweight.”
Everett’s brow arches. “You’re hanging out with Callie?”
“Yes, is that so hard to believe?” She steps in front of me. “We’re the best of friends now.”
“You are?” Everett asks me, his voice lined with doubt.
“The best of,” I confirm.
Everett’s knowing smile makes me feel a strange, nauseating giddiness.
“Guess this means Callie will be giving us amazing deals on any furniture or décor we might need for design projects. You know, now that you’re the best of friends and all,” he adds.
Covetousness: A Havenwood Falls Novella Page 4