Wife of the Left Hand (Sugar Hill Book 1)

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Wife of the Left Hand (Sugar Hill Book 1) Page 16

by M. L. Bullock


  “Avery was right about that guy. He is a tool.”

  I laughed aloud to hear someone like Jonah mock Ed. “Hey, have you given up your phone yet?”

  “That’s not likely to happen. I lied and said I didn’t bring it with me. But I just sent Ava-girl a text. I hope she texts me back soon. I can’t wait to see her. Think I have a chance with the housemaid? She looks like she’s up for a rollicking good time.”

  “Subtle, Jonah. Give me your phone. I want to use the camera.” With some hesitation, he handed it over.

  I opened the camera app and was immediately disgusted by the last picture he’d taken. “You are such a pig, Jonah. How in the world did you end up with the Blonde Bobblehead? Even she’s smarter than you.”

  I put my focus on the couple. They were retreating into the gazebo now, and the man was looking over his shoulder. Suddenly, out of the blue, he looked directly at me. I froze. I couldn’t stop staring at the picture on the phone screen. “Jonah! Look at this!”

  He came up behind me and peered through the viewfinder. “Yeah, it’s lovely country here. Like hell it is. I hate Alabama already.”

  “Not the view. The people, stupid.”

  “People? You have lost it, Amanda.” I snapped another photo and didn’t bother to see what it looked like. I could see him clearly now through Jonah’s strong camera lens. He was a handsome man but paler than he should have been. Pale like he had been lying at the bottom of that pond for at least a hundred years. Then the scene changed, and he was alive again. Although I couldn’t see it in detail, I felt his smile and knew he directed it at me.

  I screamed and dropped the phone. I had just seen a ghost. Surely, that was a ghost!

  No wonder they didn’t want cameras here. This place was a paranormal hotspot. Even better! What was hotter than the supernatural right now? I had a brilliant idea. I grabbed a notebook and began to journal what I had seen.

  “You’re a nut, you know that, don’t you?”

  “You haven’t seen anything yet, Jonah Blight. It’s about to get crazier. I’ve got to make a call.”

  “What exactly are you doing? I hope you aren’t going to do something stupid. I came here to reunite with Ava. Not bail you out of jail.”

  “As my father used to say, ‘I’m going to do what I’m going to do. You can hide your clothes and watch.’”

  “What the hell does that mean?” He stuck a cigarette in his mouth and went to light it.

  “It means don’t underestimate a Southern lady because she’s bound to do something you didn’t expect. When I make up my mind to do something, it’s going to get done. And if you light that cigarette, that sprinkler is going to go off. Take it outside.”

  He poked his smoke back in the crinkled package. “I see. Well, I just want it on record. I have no problem hiding my clothes and watching. I’m down for that, love.”

  He smiled at me, and I had to admit it turned me on.

  I smiled back. This might not be a bad weekend after all.

  Chapter Seventeen – Handsome

  Handsome woke up with Billie singing in his ear, and he knew everything wasn’t okay. She was his guardian angel, his protection. When she sang, something was wrong, and this morning she sang up a storm.

  And I don’t stand a ghost of a chance with you.

  If you’d surrender

  Just for a tender

  Kiss or two…

  “Oh no, Miss Holiday. Don’t be singing about ghosts now. I wouldn’t like that at all. No ghosts for me, Miss Billie. Nuh-uh.” His old bones cracked and popped as he eased up off the small, stiff bed. There was no time to sleep now. He sat on the side of the bed for a few minutes, enjoying the tune in his ear. His head swayed to the music he heard in his head.

  “They having a party this weekend up at the big house. We wasn’t invited, but you know we going to go. We are family, whether they like it or not. We are family for sure, Miss Billie. Sing me something, Lady!”

  He eased off into the shower and got ready for his trip to Sugar Hill. It was only half a mile away, and he planned to walk it. He’d slept in this morning, but it was still relatively cool outside, compared to what it would be later. It was July in Alabama. Enough said. The big house had let him know they wouldn’t need him to drive this weekend. Big-time party for the Fourth, like they had every year. He was informally invited, and he intended to go. But he wasn’t going to go empty-handed. He had found a nice basket of peaches to take with him. He was sure the new lady, that TV woman, would like these peaches if he got to see her. If was a mighty big word.

  “We need to go, Miss Billie. Who else is going to keep the ghosts away? Who else will fight those old spirits? That’s our job. We’ve got to see who’s stirring up there so we know what to do about it. What if one of those old spirits decides they want to harm that pretty TV woman? We can’t have that on our conscience. We have to try. Even if we have to die.

  “We have to try.”

  Chapter Eighteen – Avery

  “You sure you want to do this now? You have guests piling in here—in fact, there is an Amanda Collins here to see you. She brought some guys with her.”

  “Amanda from the network?” I couldn’t believe my ears. I paused on the top of the stairs and weighed my options. Maybe taking this second tour of the house wasn’t all that important, but it was on my schedule and I was going to stick to it. I could only imagine what it was that Amanda wanted. Backstabbing former producer. “Nope, she can wait. I want to learn more about Sugar Hill. Teach me, Summer.” I had heard so many things from Grandmother Margaret’s videos, like why the Angel Gallery was called that and who built the pond and why the gazebo was replaced every twenty years or so. In the past few weeks I hadn’t been able to watch much, because the board kept me hopping, but we had accomplished so much already. The Starlight Foundation had been totally shocked to hear about our gift. I was still glowing from the experience. Nothing would ruin today. Not even Amanda.

  With a smile of approval, she said, “This way, cousin. The main house was first built in 1815, but there was a fire in the 1820s. The conflagration destroyed much of the left wing of the house; Chase Dufresne immediately began work to rebuild it. His father, Arthur, built the place, but it was Chase who really put it on the map, so to speak. They say his father went a bit bonkers as he got older. I guess that would be expected from someone who lost both his wife and his daughter in the same week.”

  And what about his other wife and those children? The question was on the tip of my tongue, but I didn’t ask. There would be time for that later. However, it bothered me that there were no portraits of Susanna here. Shouldn’t there have been at least one? Perhaps there was and I just missed it.

  This was my second house tour with Summer, and she proved to be a wealth of information. On the first trip through a few weeks ago, I’d barely had the presence of mind to ask about certain areas of the house, including rooms mentioned in Grandmother Margaret’s narrative. It did not take much coercion to persuade Summer to walk me through it again.

  “Sugar Hill has sixty-four rooms. I know—it’s kind of ridiculous,” she said when she saw my expression. “There are seven staircases and four galleries, and the house is over 50,000 square feet.”

  “Good Lord,” I said, feeling more amazed by the minute. And I’d been here for nearly a month.

  “This way. You wanted to start at the bottom and work our way up, right? Let me find the light switch. I don’t come down here to the basement level much. Did you know it is really rare to have a basement in a house this close to the bay? There have definitely been some water seepage issues over the years, but for the past ten years, we’ve been okay. Knock on wood. Nobody comes down here, really, except Dinah when she’s coming to get wine. The basement kind of gives me the willies, probably because there is absolutely no natural light. I mean, it’s like being in a coffin. Ew.” Summer shivered visibly but continued, “The elder Mr. Dufresne made many strange additions to the hou
se—including rooms that had no doors and staircases that led to nowhere—but those have been either removed or modified now, to keep the flow of the house. In fact, on the other side of that far wall is an empty room, the only empty room at Sugar Hill. Nothing in it at all. Just four walls. We have no idea why he built it.”

  “Hmm…that is odd.”

  “Let’s walk through here quickly. I hate it down here.” I thought I heard scratching, probably a mouse or rat digging a hole into something, but I didn’t mention it. Summer paused for a moment. “So this is the basement.” She walked a few steps and stopped. We’d barely walked into the room, and she was ready to run—I was too now. “Wine storage, like I mentioned, is through there. It’s a climate-controlled room. Do you want to see it?”

  I shook my head. Summer didn’t want to show it, that much I was sure of, and I wasn’t particularly interested in seeing a wine cellar. As we walked back up the stairs, I examined the ceiling above me. What could Susanna have been hearing? Were there rats in the floors, or were there really disembodied hands crawling around hoping to strangle impressionable young women? Miss Anne was right. There was no way that Grandmother Margaret could have known what happened a century before she was born. One thing was for sure, my great-great-grandmother had a heck of an imagination.

  We jogged the rest of the way up the stairs and shut the door behind us. I didn’t like that the door had a glass window in it. What was the purpose of that? I glanced at it as we walked from the basement to the mudroom and on to the kitchen. Summer said, “Now, the kitchen wasn’t original to the house. Obviously when the house was built, the kitchens were set in a different building. It was too hot to have a kitchen in the actual house. This area wasn’t added until about the turn of the twentieth century.”

  “The kitchen is bigger than my last apartment. New appliances. I love stainless.”

  “Me too. As you can see, we have plenty of cooking space for our Fourth of July party, which by the way is coming along nicely. Hey, everyone!” We waved at the kitchen staff and tried to stay out of their way. “You’ll be happy to know you’ve gotten a ton of RSVPs. I put the list on your desk this morning. Dolly Jane, the little girl you met the other day, is coming with her family. She seems really taken with you.”

  “I loved her. So creative. Tell me, has she always been unable to walk?”

  “Born with a spinal deformity, but that hasn’t slowed her down one bit.”

  “I’m sure Aunt Anne made sure her parents had everything they needed for her care, didn’t she?”

  “Yes, to a degree. Our aunt, may she rest in peace, was more concerned with buildings than with people. If I had any criticism of her at all, it would be that. But there’s no reason why you can’t do something about that.” She quietly added, “If I were matrone, that’s what I would do. Dolly has a chance at improving. There is a promising hospital in Switzerland that takes special cases like hers.”

  I squeezed her hand and said, “Get me the paperwork, and I’ll take a look at it. If you think it will help, that’s good enough for me.”

  We continued through the ground floor, and there were people everywhere, just as Summer had warned me. I didn’t avoid them but spoke to everyone who spoke to me. So many unfamiliar faces, but I could see the family resemblance. One young man in particular was the spitting image of old Mr. Dufresne. There were wide parlors full of Dufresnes and various cousins, and some small children ran around, but it was never long before an adult brought the activity to an end. I was glad to see that the family respected the house.

  After about thirty minutes of meeting and greeting, we scampered up the rear staircase to the second floor. There wasn’t much foot traffic here, but the rooms were full. I could hear the families settling in, and a few doors opened as I passed by them. This was the far left side of the house—my room was at the opposite end, far away from the noise and activity. The walls here were painted bright white, the carpets a thick blue with gold trim and a red rose border. There were oil paintings of past Dufresne generations and an exciting hunt. Then I came upon a solo portrait of a young man with dark eyes and dark hair. He had haughty eyes and a proud look; at his neck was a ruffled bow, and he wore a fitted coat. I didn’t have to ask who this was.

  “Ambrose,” I said to myself.

  “Yes, how did you know? He was a cousin of Chase Dufresne and the son of Arthur Dufresne’s sister, Vivian Treviso.”

  His mouth was unmistakable, just as Grandmother Margaret described. He had full lips and a sexy half-smile that made your heart flutter, if you didn’t know what a jerk he was—or had been. I touched the painting with my fingers, tracing his jaw.

  “Margaret mentioned him in her history.” Then I asked, “Have you ever seen those videos, Summer?”

  “No, that’s not something they like people to see. Aunt Anne didn’t offer, and I didn’t ask.”

  “Well, I don’t mind if you see them. I don’t think there’s anything so bad in there. It’s not like we are a perfect family. If Grandmother Margaret is to be believed, we definitely aren’t.”

  “Really? You want me to watch them?”

  “Sure, why not? Unless you can think of a reason why you shouldn’t.” Her eyes were wide as she stared at me, but then she smiled. It reached all the way to her eyes, which were often distrusting. I knew eyes. I had been in the news business all my life.

  “Thank you, Avery. I am happy to be included, but you don’t have to do that. I’m not going to cause a stir or fight with you over being the matrone. It’s yours.”

  “I didn’t offer them to you for that. I just thought it would be nice if you could see them. You know, in case something happens to me.”

  “Don’t even say that. But yes, I’ll take a look at them if it makes you happy. There are more records to see too, beyond Margaret’s videos.” In a low whisper she said, “Many people believe this place is haunted. I heard you’ve had your own experience already.”

  We continued to walk down the long hallway, ignoring the various parlors and studies. “You heard, did you? I hope you don’t think I’m a nut.”

  “I don’t think that at all.” She crossed her arms thoughtfully and kept walking. We passed one room—a large one, judging by the size of the doors—and I paused.

  “What’s in here?”

  “Oh, that. That’s the Mirror Room. According to many reports, this is the most haunted room in Sugar Hill. Miss Anne kept this room locked at all times. She had a bit of a scare here last year but would never say what it was she saw.” She turned the handle on the door, but it wouldn’t open. It was an ornate doorknob, unlike the others in the hallways. It looked old, and the keyhole was large.

  I bent down to peer through it and thought I saw a flutter of fabric. I blinked and looked again. Nothing. Must have been mistaken. I tried the knob and didn’t have any better luck. “Who has a key now?”

  “Dinah should. Where has she been? I haven’t seen her lately.”

  “We had kind of a falling out the first night I was here—I thought she was pranking me. I don’t think she cares for me too much. I haven’t seen her often, but I haven’t really missed her. Robin is a big help. So she has the only key?”

  “She has one of them. Miss Anne used to keep another one in her office—your office, I should say. In the cedar box on the third shelf. Wait right here, and I’ll go grab it.”

  “Okay,” I said as she walked quickly down the hall toward my study. I waited outside the Mirror Room door, waving at the two young ladies who passed by. They’d come up the right staircase instead of taking the left. I didn’t care. It was a family house, I wasn’t about to rope it off and forbid people to use what belonged to them. A third girl passed right by me, and I watched her stride down the long hall way and open the door to my room. My room was off-limits, and it bothered me to see her walk in there without a care.

  “Hey! That’s my room. I think you’ve got the wrong room!” I called in a friendly voice. She acted like
she didn’t hear me and sailed right into my room like she was the Queen of England.

  “Excuse me,” I said, feeling aggravated now. Summer had said there were no criminals in our family, but she appeared to be wrong. “Hey!” I heard the clicking of the door as it closed behind her.

  I walked to the door of the Green Room and went inside. I didn’t see anyone, but the smell of jasmine was overwhelming. It filled the room as if there were piles of the flowers somewhere. “Hey! Whoever you are, you are in my room,” I called out, but nobody responded. I walked around, opening closets, but found no one. Like a fool, I looked under the bed too. Nope, no one there either. I sat on the bed and stared at myself in the mirror across from me. This was ridiculous. I was seeing ghosts everywhere now.

  Then I saw her from the mirror—she stood behind me, a girl with dark hair and pale skin wearing a cream-colored dress. I turned around quickly, but there was no one there. I shot off the bed and looked back in the mirror—she was gone, but the smell of flowers lingered. There was nothing and no one behind me now. I spun around again, but the space was empty. Empty of warmth, too, and I noticed that once again all my shutters and blinds were open. I stepped backwards like the fools in the horror movies do and kept going until I felt the door handle behind me. I eased out of the room and stood in the hallway. Summer was outside the Mirror Room, and she called to me.

  “Hey, I have the key. What’s the matter, Avery?”

  I leaned against the wall and stood there trying to catch my breath. I shook my head as she walked toward me.

 

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