The Restoration

by J. H. Moncrieff

  Dallas sighed again. “I guess not. I feel bad saying this, because he wasn’t nice to you and scratched your face, but I kind of miss him. He could be a brat sometimes, but he was someone to talk to.”

  Terri put her arm around her daughter and gave her a hug. “I’m sorry, honey. I understand that it’s lonely for you here, but once school starts, you’ll meet other children in the area. You’ll make real friends.”

  “I hope so.”

  “I know so.”

  “You’re not going to tell Henrietta, are you? About Gertrude staying here?”

  The question was so out of the blue she was at a loss for words. “I’ve thought about it, but haven’t decided yet. Why do you ask?”

  “Gertrude was really scared about that when we weren’t talking to you. She thought you’d call Henrietta, and Henrietta would make her go to jail.”

  Terri felt another wave of anger that Gertrude had said those things to Dallas in an attempt to drive a wedge between them. “That’s not the way it works, honey. But yes, she would have gotten in trouble for trespassing.” And I would have lost my job when Gertrude immediately threw me under the bus. The woman probably had proof that Terri had allowed her to stay in the house, however briefly.

  “Please don’t tell Henrietta. I get that you don’t like Gertrude, but she can’t afford to go to jail. Her mother is sick, and she’s the only one who can take care of her.”

  “It’s not that I don’t like Gertrude,” Terri said. ‘Despised’ would be a better word. “She’s ill, and she needs help. Now that she’s not living here, able to proceed with her ‘investigation’, she might go after Henrietta and seriously hurt her. Henrietta is well aware Gertrude has issues – that’s why she fired her – but I don’t think she realizes how disturbed Gertrude is, or that Gertrude is convinced she murdered her brother.”

  Dallas’s eyes widened. “You really think she’d hurt Henrietta?”

  “Yes, I do. And I wouldn’t put it past her to do something to us, either, so if you see her in the house or around the yard, you have to promise to tell me, okay? Don’t let her approach you.”

  “Okay.” Her daughter thought for a minute. “That’s scary. She seemed so nice.”

  “Remember when you were little, and we taught you about stranger danger? Just because people seem nice doesn’t mean that they are. Look at Niles.” Terri hesitated for a moment. Dallas had to understand the gravity of their situation, but she didn’t want to make her paranoid. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t trust anyone. It’s important to trust other people, but they should earn that trust. Don’t give it to them before they deserve it.”

  “Do you think Gertrude will come back here, Mom?”

  Terri recalled the fury on the woman’s face when she’d told her to leave. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

  * * *

  Father told me he would take care of things. He seemed to take me seriously, much more so than Mother did. I am not sure what he said to Niles, if anything, but my brother has stopped coming into my room while I sleep. However, I am positive he has done something to the horses.

  He has been in the barn. I am at a loss to imagine what he has been up to, but Midnight is badly spooked, and she ordinarily has the calmest disposition. I cannot prove anything, of course – I can never prove anything with that Niles! But I would swear to it all the same. I am considering cloistering myself in there until I see what he is up to. If Father revealed that I was the one who aroused his suspicions, Niles could very well be plotting to destroy me…or the creatures I love most.

  The lightness Terri had experienced when Gertrude left the house faded when she read Emma’s words. Had Niles been capable of killing his sister? He’d been a kid, and a critically ill one at that. And yet, children had killed at that age and younger. Mary Bell. Robert Thompson. Jon Venables. Children had proven time and time again that they could be every bit as sadistic as adults.

  Many times she’d thought she glimpsed the figure of a woman out of the corner of her eye while she worked. A woman in formal dress, with an anxious expression. Was it her imagination, or was Emma trying to influence her, urge her to discover the truth about Glenvale and the Vandermeres, as Gertrude had insisted Niles had done to her? The idea was disquieting, to say the least.

  Once she’d finished with the journal and made a copy, she would ask for a meeting with Henrietta. If Niles had killed her sister, Henrietta deserved to know, and unlike Gertrude, Terri wouldn’t keep this from her. She had no desire to go public and ruin the Vandermere name. As long as Henrietta understood the truth about her family, that was all that mattered.

  She wished her daughter had agreed to share a room with her, but Dallas had insisted on retaining her independence. She’d moved out of Emma’s quarters as Terri restored them, and into the smaller cook’s room nearby. They would be able to hear each other if either of them cried out, but that wasn’t much comfort.

  Terri was tempted to leave the door open, but the darkness lurking outside the room was too unnerving. She imagined the Vandermere ghosts parading by as she slept, looking in on her, watching her, as Niles had once spied on Emma. She shivered, and decided to check on Dallas one more time.

  She heard a rustling noise in the hallway as she stepped out, as if someone had hurried out of view as she approached. She was at the point where she wished for rats over ghosts. At least rats were predictable. Dallas’s door was closed, the white doorknob gleaming in the dim light. It reminded Terri that she’d never asked Henrietta about the door to Niles’s room. With all of the recent drama, she’d forgotten about the strangeness of it.

  “Mom?” The voice, small and frightened, startled her. She opened the door and looked inside, relieved to see that Dallas appeared to be fine, snuggled in the small bed with Rufus, her old teddy bear.

  “I heard someone in the hall. I’m so glad it was you.”

  “Yes, it was me,” Terri said, forcing the thought of the rustling out of her mind. “But to be honest, I’m a bit spooked. Are you sure you won’t share a room with me? We could move into the master suite.” Hopefully there were no ghosts in there. Gertrude hadn’t said a word about Howard or Elizabeth haunting the place, but then again, she hadn’t mentioned Emma either.

  “I’m too old to share a room with my mom. What would my friends think?”

  “I won’t tell your friends if you don’t, but I think they’d say you were brave for staying in a haunted house. I bet none of them would stay here.”

  Why were they staying there? When she’d first made the decision to board at Glenvale, it had made sense. It was the most convenient – wake up, and you were already at work. But the more she learned about the tragedies that had shadowed the Vandermeres, along with the whispers of murder, the less convenient it felt. And then there was Gertrude, who’d managed to get inside the house. What if she came back? What if Terri awoke to find the deranged woman standing over her with a knife? Or worse, what if she went after Dallas? She’d never be able to live with herself if something happened to her daughter.

  “We’ll be fine, Mom. Ghosts can’t hurt us.”

  It was an odd thing to say, given the scratches on her face, but Dallas was clearly adamant about them sleeping separately. There was no point pushing it. Terri wasn’t going to make her daughter act as her security blanket.

  Still, she thought longingly of the hotel that was a few short blocks up the road. They could hardly afford it, but her fee for the restoration would more than cover it. Terri was reluctant to spend money she hadn’t earned, but in this case, it might be worth it to preserve her sanity.

  “Okay…if you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure.” Dallas laughed. “Your room is right there. You’ll hear me if I call out, right?”

  Terri nodded, though her mind strayed to how heavy those wooden doors were. They were highly effective at muffling sound. “Where’s your
phone?”

  Reaching under the covers, Dallas retrieved the cell and held it up, still smiling. As scared as she had sounded only a moment before, she appeared a lot more confident than Terri felt herself. “See? I promise I’ll call you if anything happens, even if it’s just a spooky dream.”

  “Looks like you’re all set.” Her lips curved in a smile that felt as natural as plastic. “Sweet dreams, honey.”

  “Sweet dreams, Mom. And don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen.”

  Leaving her daughter’s room, Terri could feel the weight of the darkness pressing against her back. Someone was standing in the shadows, watching her. She could see them waiting there, hear them breathing.

  Hands trembling, she flicked on the hallway light. No one was there. The shadow had been just that – a shadow. She stood there for several seconds, her heart racing. When nothing appeared, she returned to her room, fighting the temptation to run. She left the light on.

  But as soon as her door closed, someone else turned it off.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Gertrude added another blanket to the bed, even though it was warm in the room.

  “Is it raining?”

  Tilting her head, she listened. She couldn’t hear anything, but that didn’t mean much. Her mother had always been able to sense things, and that ability had only increased as Death drew near. “I don’t know, Mom.”

  The older woman nodded, her eyes gleaming unnaturally in her gaunt face. Gertrude could barely stand to look at her, to witness how the cancer had ravaged her. Not so long ago, Esther Phillips had looked years younger than her age. She’d run the most popular bed and breakfast in town all by herself, and everyone had said how pretty she was.

  No one would say that now. Cancer had stolen that from her, as it had so many things.

  “I think it is. I always feel a chill when it rains.”

  “Is that better?” Gertrude tucked the afghan around what was left of her mother’s body, an afghan that Esther herself had knit, never imagining that she’d be the one to need it.

  “Yes, darling, thank you.” Before Gertrude could leave the room, she added, “How is work?”

  The question startled Gertrude so much, she nearly dropped the glass she was carrying. “Huh?”

  “I asked about your job. It’s hardly an unusual question.” Her mother attempted a smile, but she’d lost so much weight it looked like a grimace. Gertrude averted her eyes.

  “I know, Mom. It seemed to come out of the blue, that’s all.”

  “When your days are numbered, you don’t have time to beat around the bush. I want to make sure that old battle axe is treating you well.”

  “I haven’t seen her much,” Gertrude said, relieved to speak the truth. She hated lying to her mother, and there had been so many lies already, out of necessity. She was sure lying to a person on their deathbed was a sin. She only hoped it was a forgivable one.

  She hadn’t seen Henrietta since the day she was fired, and had taken great pains to avoid her. Thankfully, after working for the old woman for so many years, she knew her routines well. She knew when Henrietta did her shopping, and where. Which restaurants she frequented and when. The one place she risked a confrontation with her former employer was at Glenvale, and once Henrietta had left Terri in charge, that risk had been greatly minimized.

  “Is she ill?” In spite of Esther’s condition, she had great sympathy for anyone else’s suffering, even an ‘old battle axe’ like Henrietta Vandermere. There had been a time when Henrietta had considered turning Glenvale into a bed and breakfast, and she’d asked Gertrude if it was possible to ‘pick her mother’s brain’. Esther was excited to meet her daughter’s boss, and to see the infamous Glenvale from the inside at last, but the meeting hadn’t gone well. Instead of wanting advice, Henrietta had used the opportunity to deliver vague and not-so-vague threats about how Esther should consider other lines of work, since Vandermere’s new venture was sure to put its rivals out of business. Esther had been so mortified that she hadn’t told her daughter the truth about the exchange until months later. By then, she’d been diagnosed, and any concerns about the bed and breakfast had been relegated to another time, another life.

  “I don’t think so. She’s probably busy.” Gertrude took a deep breath, deciding to tell her mother more of the truth. “Glenvale is being renovated.”

  “Now that is a surprise. I never thought she’d finally get around to it. When did that start?”

  “A few weeks ago.”

  Esther frowned. “But…this won’t affect your job, will it?”

  “Don’t worry, Mom. They still need me. No one knows that house better than I do, except maybe Henrietta herself.” Gertrude knew full well that she’d discovered places in that house that the Vandermere heir would never dare go. The woman was extremely cowardly when it came to the family home. She wouldn’t go near her brother’s bedroom, and Gertrude was pretty sure she knew why.

  Niles’s blood was on Henrietta’s hands. All she had to do was prove it.

  But Terri Foxworth had asked some troubling questions today, and as infuriating as those questions had been, she couldn’t stop going back to them, the way she’d continue to work a sore tooth with her tongue. What exactly was she hoping to accomplish? Even with proof, assuming she could find it, few prosecutors would be willing to throw such an elderly woman in jail for her actions over eighty years ago. Would anyone care about what had happened to Niles? Another rich, white dude, and the public had lost sympathy for rich, white dudes long ago. Did she want to see Henrietta thrown in prison, and if so, was it about justice for Niles at all? Or was it revenge she was after, revenge for the terrible way Henrietta had treated her and her mother? Such thoughts weren’t worth considering, and yet, she had to consider them. Achieving justice for Niles was one thing, but petty vengeance was quite another.

  Her mother settled back against the pillows, wincing as that most miniscule of movements pained her. Life wasn’t fair. Esther Phillips had worked hard every day of her life. She’d deserved a good retirement, where she could put her feet up and have someone else cook her breakfast. Nothing like these days of pain clouded by the morphine she hated to rely on. It made her sleep too much, she said. As agonizing as life had become, she didn’t want to miss a minute of it.

  “I’m glad to hear it. For a moment, I was worried you’d lost your job.”

  This time it was Gertrude who winced, but on the inside. Her mother was too sharp, even now, and she couldn’t risk Esther figuring out what was going on. The loss of her job at Glenvale had been devastating. Her mother’s illness was costing them hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars a day. Gertrude’s one hope was to find the proof Niles had promised her, and for Henrietta to care enough about the family name to pay well to protect it.

  Her own days were numbered as much as her dying mother’s. Henrietta might be fortunate enough to maintain her faculties to the end, but how much longer could she be expected to live? Forming that alliance with the Foxworths had been a godsend, and then Gertrude had gone and blown it with her temper. She’d thought her friendship with the daughter would be enough to keep her in the house, no matter how strong Terri’s objections, but she should have foreseen what had happened that afternoon. Blood was thicker than water. She understood that better than anyone.

  “You don’t have to worry about that. Henrietta may be an old fool, but she’s not foolish enough to lose me. She needs me to run the place, always has.” That wasn’t a lie, either. The house had suffered in her absence, and would suffer more with no one supervising Terri Foxworth. The woman was clearly out of her depth. She hadn’t been able to see what was happening at Glenvale when it was right under her nose until Niles attacked her. And now that Gertrude had been banished from the house again, Niles was bound to get nasty.

  The restoration appeared to be progressing painfully slow, if it wa
s progressing at all. The one thing the woman had managed to accomplish during her month in the house was removing the wallpaper from the parlor, which looked terrible now, and tearing apart the window seat in Emma’s quarters. As bad as the damage was, Gertrude wished she had done it herself. That had to have been where that hateful woman had found her so-called ‘evidence’. Why hadn’t she guessed that Emma would have concealed something personal in the window seat? It was the perfect hiding place, but almost too obvious. The truth was, she’d given Emma more credit. Out of the three Vandermere children, she’d been the standout – the most compassionate, the most intelligent, and the most skilled. In other words, Emma Vandermere had been doomed from the start.

  “If it’s not your job, what’s troubling you? I know something is, so don’t try to deny it.”

  Gertrude cursed her mother’s ability to accurately assess a situation and read the minds of those around her, and then immediately felt guilty. The doctor had warned her that Esther’s astuteness would not last forever. Eventually the cancer would find its way to her mother’s brain too, and when that happened, Gertrude would be lucky if Esther recognized her, or remembered her name. As difficult as it was to face her questions, and as much as she hated lying to her, it was far, far preferable to what was to come. The future was the darkest of dark clouds.

  “I don’t have a clue how I’m going to make it without you. That’s all,” she said, and this was true as well, though her mother didn’t like to talk about it. Hopefully this would bring the conversation to a merciful end so she could get back to Glenvale. The clock was ticking so loudly she could actually hear it.

  Her mother’s eyes glimmered with tears, and Gertrude instantly regretted her words. Though they talked plenty about Death, they neatly sidestepped his cousin Loss, understanding that this cousin would be the most difficult to deal with.