Above the second-floor landing was the stained glass window she’d seen from the outside. Slices of the sun filtered through as it made its westward descent, filling the main entrance and stairwell with glorious shades of amber, purple, and blue.
The second-floor hall was cast in eerie shadows. This could definitely be the next location for a Hollywood horror movie set. Brianna half expected a creepy caretaker to spring up from behind her, and she casually checked over her shoulder.
Connie waved her toward a room to the right of the main hallway. The clacking of their heels on the scuffed hardwood floor echoed in the empty house.
“This room is considered the front parlor,” Connie said. She moved to the far wall, pointing to a fireplace that appeared original.
Brianna noticed the massive mahogany mantle with decorative spindles running up both sides. The hearth had dark tiles surrounding the firebox. Scattered throughout were lighter tiles depicting the nine Greek muses. She was curious about the people who’d sat in front of this fireplace. Who were they, and what they were like?
She glanced up and admired the intricate pattern on the pressed metal ceiling, enhanced by eight-inch mahogany crown molding. All the details in the room were extraordinary and expensive. Whoever built this house had been quite wealthy.
Brianna followed Connie through pocket doors to the next room and stepped back when she saw the garish wallpaper. The bright red flowers, huge green leaves, and strange birds splattered everywhere were an eyesore.
That ugly monstrosity will be the first thing to go.
“I know it’s a little much,” Connie said.
“That’s an understatement.” Brianna turned her attention to the fireplace, which was a mirror image of the one in the parlor, though a tad smaller. “Connie, do you know much about the house?” They moved into the adjoining room, longer and wider than the other two.
“Music room,” Connie stated. “I did a little research when I first got the listing. Sorry to say, I didn’t find much.”
“This room is huge. A baby grand could fit in here,” Brianna said.
Connie laughed and stepped aside, allowing Brianna to wander toward the casement door. Her footsteps seemed amplified as she walked across the room. “The acoustics are great in here.” The door opened easily, and she stepped out onto the deck that wrapped around from the front of the house. She could imagine herself sitting here in the morning, eating breakfast and watching the sunrise.
“Let’s head across the hall to the dining room,” Connie said.
“You said you didn’t find much, but do you mind telling me what you did find?”
Connie stopped walking and faced Brianna. “The house was built in 1880 by William Page from Philadelphia. His wife didn’t accompany him. She stayed in Pennsylvania. I don’t believe they had any children. When he first arrived, he purchased sixteen acres of coal land. He hit a vein on his first attempt and became one of the wealthiest men in Fairmont. To convince his wife to join him, he had the house fashioned after the Queen Anne style. According to stories, Mrs. Page fell in love with the design during the 1876 Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia.”
“Did she?”
“Did she what?”
“Move here.”
“I believe she did.” Connie stepped further into the room. “As you can see, the round tower is the focal point.”
Brianna walked over to the circular seating area beneath the numerous windows of the tower and rested one knee on the window seat to look out across the front yard. She ran her hand over the leaded glass, surprised none of panes were cracked or broken. All the windows, except the two stained glass ones, were clear leaded and in perfect condition.
Opposite the tower was a mahogany sideboard built into the wall and decorated with dentil molding.
“If the Pages built the house, why is it called Monroe Manor and not Page Manor or something more creative?”
Connie opened the panel doors to the butler’s pantry before answering. “I’ve never thought about it before. I believe someone named Monroe owned it at one point. I only remember the last owner, Mrs. Talbert. When I was younger, I lived near here. Every Halloween we’d go trick-or-treating in the neighborhood, but we never came to this house.”
“Why?” Brianna asked.
“Everyone said the place was haunted, and we believed it until we grew up and realized it was only a story to keep us from trespassing.”
The pantry was a narrow room lined with shelves, a sink, and a drainboard. A half bath had been added across the hall.
Once in the kitchen, Brianna took note that the walls were finished in the same horizontal white beadboard as the pantry. A sleek, stainless steel refrigerator and stove had been left by a previous owner. Their modern appearance looked out of place.
Another staircase was hidden behind a wall of the service area, and a washer and dryer had been installed underneath.
“What happened to Mrs. Talbert?”
“She moved somewhere up north. Chicago, I think. That’s where her daughter lives.”
Bang!
Both Connie and Brianna jumped “What was that?” Brianna asked, trying to remain calm.
Connie went into a lengthy explanation of open windows causing drafts and slamming doors. She said they’d check it out when they went up to the second and third floors.
“Of course, it could be the ghosts,” she whispered as she led Brianna toward the stairs. “I’m sure they don’t want us here.” Her deep belly laugh filled the room, but the hair on Brianna’s arms stood straight up.
The two women climbed the narrow stairs, one behind the other.
“Can you tell me anything else about the house?”
“I’ve heard stories that it was once a house of ill repute. I don’t know when or if it’s even true.”
“I’d loved to research the history of this house, if I have time before I leave.”
They stopped on the second-floor landing. “I know someone who might be able to help,” Connie said. “Ms. Jane was the librarian at the county library for forty years. She’s retired now and owns a bookstore on Main Street. I’ll give her a call to see if she has the scoop on this place. If anyone would know, she would.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
The second-story hallway was long, but had two alcoves that opened up the area. As they continued to inspect every room on the second floor, Brianna made mental appraisals of the paneled wainscoting and ceiling medallions that were present in all the rooms. She noticed the door knobs were brass and placed lower than they are today, typical for that time period.
“Why does the current owner want to sell?”
“Taxes were becoming a burden, and she lives in Chicago. She only inherited the house after her mother, Mrs. Talbert, died. Since none of her children want the house, she decided to sell.”
Connie opened a door to a full bath with a claw-foot tub in the center of the room. Dingy white mosaic tile covered the floor and a third of the wall. Rectangular strips of decorative black tile were used as accent pieces. A pedestal sink, pull chain toilet, and a stand-alone vanity in deep mahogany completed the room.
The second floor had four bedrooms, the bath, and the tower room.
The third floor had a similar layout as the previous floor, although less ornate with much less attention to detail. Connie explained that this floor was once used to house the servants, which explained the lack of ornamentation.
Brianna was drawn to the third-floor tower room, and she chose it for her bedroom. The past was alive in every corner, and she loved its view of the river and the mountains. The fireplace, with its copper tiles, would warm up the room on a cold winter night, and the adjoining room would serve as her living room.
After concluding the tour, Brianna followed the realtor back down the main staircase to the first floor, running her hand along the rough railing. She’d always loved old houses and the secrets they contained, but this one was special. For some reason, this house resonated
with her.
Connie said the locals thought the house was haunted. Could the essence of a previous owner somehow have remained within these walls, forever trapped, a nebulous part of the house? They’d never found the door that had slammed shut, although they didn’t go up the staircase to the attic. Brianna hated confined places.
“Are you ready to see the next two properties? We can take my car from here.”
Brianna made a slow full circle, examining the entryway one more time. “That won’t be necessary. I’ve decided to buy this one. It has everything I want—mystique, location, and more space than I will ever need.”
“Are you sure? This property will take more work to get it functional than the second or third properties. It could become expensive and time-consuming. I thought you wanted to get the spa up and running as soon as possible.”
“I do, but this one feels right. I’m an interior designer. If I can find a reputable contractor, I can make it work.”
“My company has always used Robert Moretti Construction. He’s been in business for some forty-odd years now. He does quality work. We’ve never had any complaints.”
“I’ll give him a call and see if I can set up a meeting.”
“Remind me to give you his number when we get back to my office. Tell him I referred you, and he might give you a discount.”
Now that Brianna had decided on this property, she would follow the realtor downtown to fill out the necessary paperwork. She waited on the veranda, watching the river flow past while Connie locked the door. “How long do you think it will take before we can close?” she asked, anxious to get started.
“It could take up to forty-five days. It all depends on how long it takes the bank to get the documents ready. Price negotiations can drag things out too.”
“I’ll pay whatever the owner is asking. I need to get the spa up and running as soon as possible. If I pay with cash will that make a difference?”
Connie explained that paying in cash would eliminate the bank from having to do a credit check and financial documentation. The timeframe to close would be cut to two weeks, perhaps less.
“I know two weeks seems like a long time to wait,” Connie said, “but we can talk to the owner, Mrs. Burke. Maybe she’ll let you make some changes to the property before closing.”
“That would be wonderful! Can we call her when we get back to your office?”
“Of course. Take another look around the yard if you’d like,” Connie said, heading for her car. “I’ll wait for you at the end of the drive.”
Brianna walked across the lawn, her mind awhirl. I hope Connie can get the paperwork done in time for me to get to the utility companies before they close. The sooner the power and water were on, the sooner she could begin renovations, and the sooner she could leave.
With her hand on the iron gate, Brianna glanced over her shoulder for one last look at the house. A shadow moved across the third-floor window. She shaded her eyes with her hand and studied the tower. No one was there.
It’s nothing but a cloud passing across the sun. Connie’s talk of ghosts has me a little spooked. It’s a beautiful house, and I’m going to bring it back to life.
She knew this intriguing, mysterious house was meant for her. It beckoned to her, almost pleaded with her.
Save me!
And she intended to do just that.
Chapter 7
Mrs. Burke accepted Brianna’s offer and agreed to allow her to begin the renovations immediately. With a set of keys in her hand, Brianna left the real estate office. She remembered to get the phone number for Mr. Moretti before she left and called him as soon as she got back into the car. He sounded interested in the job and scheduled a meeting with her at the manor tomorrow morning to examine the house and look for any structural damage. Depending on the amount of renovation needed, he’d work up an estimate and timeframe for completion. If his terms were acceptable, he would have his crew start as soon as the house had electricity.
Once she got off the phone, Brianna headed to the utility companies and managed to make it to all three before they closed. The sales associates listened to her enthusiastic plea and scheduled the technicians to arrive this Friday, any time between 8:00 a.m. and 5:00 p.m. It could turn out to be a long day of waiting.
She returned to her hotel room to freshen up and call Jackie and Beverly, her two best friends since middle school. They’d been inseparable until she’d moved to Carmel. Merging the calls so they could all talk to each other, they chatted for thirty minutes before agreeing to meet Friday for dinner and drinks at their old college hangout, Foxy’s.
She called Ben next to give him an update on her day. He was thrilled her friends had arranged a get-together, but he didn’t like the idea of her staying at the manor alone since the property was so isolated. He refused to hang up until she promised to contact a security company and have an alarm installed before moving in. She reluctantly agreed and hung up.
Tonight was all she had to come up with a suitable design to show Mr. Moretti in the morning. She also needed to go shopping before the stores closed. The manor needed bedroom and living room furniture, bed linens, towels, and cleaning supplies. She might as well clean to pass the time while she waited for the utilities to be installed.
She dug through her suitcase for a sketchpad and a handful of drawing pencils, and headed out.
After two hours of searching, she was only able to purchase a handful of items on her list. She’d have to shop for the rest another day. The key to a successful renovation was a well-designed floor plan, and that was her top priority tonight.
As she drove up the circular drive to the Queen Anne, she was hit with the same excitement she always experienced when starting a new project—that heady surge of adrenaline. Charlene often told her she was a decorator junkie. She had to admit her friend might be right. She craved that feeling of exhilaration, always looking forward to the next project.
She cruised to a stop two feet from a rectangular concrete slab in front of the carriage house. This had gone unnoticed during the initial tour of the home, but it would make a perfect parking area for the patrons. All it needed was a canopy to provide the customers protection during inclement weather.
She stuffed her purse under the passenger’s seat, grabbed the sketchpad and pencils from the back, and roamed around the property, jotting down items for repair. The gate needed to be fixed. The entire outside of the house needed pressure washing and a new coat of paint. Sections of the wooden clapboard siding had splintered from years of exposure to the elements and would need replacing. An area on the north side required treatment for mold, but it didn’t look like the wood was damaged. The entire roof needed new tiles, and the copper over the tower needed polishing and sealant to bring back the sheen.
She strolled back toward the house, and the list continued to grow. The yard needed new sod, the hedges and trees needed pruning, and the foundation plants should be replaced with evergreen shrubs of varying color and texture. The flowerbeds needed weeding and flowers planted to brighten up the exterior.
She tilted her head from side to side, trying to picture the grand structure with all the anticipated changes. She felt a peculiar affinity for this place, and she was determined to rescue this beautiful house from obscurity. She wanted to maintain the original style while utilizing the space to fit the needs of a day spa. It would be a challenge to get the layout right, but she was confident in her ability to pull it off.
A flicker of movement in the third-floor window caught her attention.
How strange. It’s the same thing I saw earlier today. Could someone be in the house? Who else would have a key?
Brianna shook her head, determined not to let her mind play tricks on her. She knew the glass was old and would likely have some defects that caused weird shadows to be visible.
I’ll have Mr. Moretti check it out when he comes.
She jumped when her cell phone rang, and she fumbled in her purse to stop
the offending noise, her finger sliding across the screen. “Hello?”
“Bree, it’s Connie. I called Ms. Jane, and she said you can come by her shop anytime between 9:00 a.m. and 5:00 p.m., with the exception of Sunday. She’s always closed that day to go to church. I found out she’s related to one of the previous owners and has some information about the manor you might find interesting.”
“Thanks! I can’t wait to hear what she has to say. I’ll be sure to stop by as soon as I can.” Brianna hesitated. “Connie, do you know if anyone else has a key to the manor?”
“You and I have the only keys. Why?”
“Curious, that’s all.” Brianna glanced back at the third-floor tower. No shadow. No movement.
“If it’ll make you feel better, you can have the locks changed.”
“I’ll do that, thanks.”
Brianna hung up and continued up the veranda steps to jiggle the doorknob. Relieved to find it locked, she fiddled with the key until the door lumbered open and stuck her head inside, shouting into the great hall, “Hello? Is anyone here?”
All she heard was the echo of her own voice. With her courage bolstered, she stepped further inside but left the door wide open in case she needed to make a quick getaway. The vestibule led into the main living room. She wanted to use this space as the reception area. She opened her sketchpad to a blank page, and plopped down on the dusty floor to draw the layout for the waiting room and the front counter.
Her scream echoed in the empty house when the door slammed shut behind her. With her heart thumping against her ribcage, she sprang up and rushed to the door to run her hand across the wooden panels. The structure was solid and heavy. She glanced out the side window. A slight breeze rustled the tree branches and scattered leaves across the yard.
I’m not sure how the wind blew this closed, but I guess it’s possible.
She returned to the main room to finish her sketch. Once the reception area was drawn to her satisfaction, she left the comfort of the entrance to wander through the ground floor, drawing each room’s design to maximize the space and meet its specific purpose in the spa. On occasion, she would peek over her shoulder to make sure there wasn’t anyone sneaking up behind her.
Still, Forever, Promise Page 6