“A couple of hours.”
“What time is it?”
“Seven forty-five.”
“Why’re you up so early?” She padded across the room toward the bathroom.
“I’m not such a good sleeper usually, but I made it to almost five today. Must have been the legit bed.”
Lucy pushed her hair out of her eyes. She would talk to Hank today about the girl. Whatever was going on in her life was not even close to normal. “I never wake before nine.”
“You sure were snoring last night.”
“I was not.”
Natasha laughed. “Oh yes, you were. Hey, what is that metal thing on the dresser?”
“My mother’s ashes.”
“Can I see them?”
“How about you let Dolly out? I’ll be right downstairs.”
“Sure. Come on, Dolly.”
The dog jumped off the bed and followed the girl as if she’d been doing it all her life. Lucy moved into the pink bathroom and prayed for hot water as she twisted the crystal handles of the claw-foot tub. The pipes rattled and knocked behind the wall, and for a moment nothing came out, and then the water trickled and started to rush into the tub. The water was ice cold the first few seconds, but then it slowly warmed until it steamed. More grateful than she could say, she turned the cold water tap until the heat was just right, and then she plugged up the drain.
Lucy brushed her teeth and then sank into the tub. If this cottage were trying to win her over, the tub was a good start. It had been a long time since she’d soaked in a tub, and as the warmth seduced her body into relaxing, Dolly barked outside. Natasha called out the dog’s name. And judging by the tone of the kid’s voice, Dolly was not listening.
So much for the long soak. She grabbed a towel and dried off. Ten minutes later, she was in a clean pair of jeans, a thick black sweater, and her cowboy boots. She pulled her blonde hair into a ponytail, finishing off the last of her coffee before she hurried down the stairs. She found Dolly and Natasha waiting by the front door.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in school?” Lucy asked.
“School starts at nine. We still have time.”
She pulled on her jacket and grabbed her purse. “Do you have all your stuff?”
“You mean like homework? Yes. I did it last week.”
“You work ahead? Hats off to you. Do you have a coat?”
“Sure.”
“Where is it?”
“At home.”
She grabbed her jacket draped over a chair. “Put it on.”
“I don’t need your coat.”
“Wear the coat.”
Natasha slipped it on. “Whatever.”
Pulling the front door closed, Lucy locked it and hunkered farther down in her sweater. The rains had left as quickly as they’d come, and the sky was a crystal blue.
They walked through the damp, sandy soil down the dirt driveway until they saw the Dodge Charger parked on the other side of the section that had been washed out. Two bulldozers were pushing earth back toward the deep crevices while a dump truck full of crushed rock and gravel stood at the ready.
Lucy waved to the men in the trucks.
“Where did you get that tattoo?” Natasha asked.
Lucy glanced at her wrist. “It was a long time ago.”
“It looks like a songbird.”
“It is.”
“Why’d you pick that?”
“My mom had one just like it.”
“I’m not a fan of needles,” Natasha said.
“Then you wouldn’t like getting a tattoo. Besides, you have to be eighteen.”
“I bet I could find someone who would do it for me. Money talks, right?”
“Not today, okay? You’re way too young.” Again, how did she find herself one thousand miles away from home in an old house with her mother’s ashes, a dog, and a twelve-year-old angling for a tattoo? And when did she start sounding so disapproving?
“Whatever.” Natasha jabbed her thumb over her shoulder. “Hey, how long do you think it will take them to fix the road?”
“Hank said a few hours.”
Natasha scratched Dolly’s head. “Did you see any ghosts last night?”
“No.” She fished the Dodge Charger keys out of her purse.
“I didn’t either.”
“Good. So what’s the name of the guy who died?”
“No idea. Ask Mrs. Reynolds at the library.”
Lucy opened the car’s back door and waited as Natasha and Dolly scrambled inside. As she reached for the driver’s-side door, she had the immediate sense that someone was watching her. She looked up toward the cottage, expecting to see one of the crewmen. But there was no one on the path.
“So am I now being stalked by a ghost?” she muttered. A breeze blew over her skin, raising goose bumps. “Great.”
Drawing in a breath, she hustled behind the wheel and shoved the key in the ignition. Once she dropped Natasha off at school, she’d swing by Hank’s office.
As she turned the car around, she spotted his black truck rumbling toward her.
She stopped, her driver’s-side window facing his. Natasha slid over the pink vinyl seat covers as she sank a little deeper in her seat.
Lucy glanced at the kid, sensing that if she was accountable to anyone, it was Hank. “What are you looking so worried about?”
“No one knows I’m here.”
“No one? You mean Hank?”
“Maybe.”
“I kind of figured that.” Lucy rolled down her window.
Hank had showered, shaved, and changed into a dark-blue button-down shirt, hunter’s jacket, and jeans. The faint scent of aftershave, which she could admit smelled nice, wafted out toward her.
His gaze shifted from her to the back seat. “Looks like I found who I was looking for.”
“Hey, Hank,” Natasha said. “You located me pretty quick this time.”
“I’m getting wiser.”
Lucy leaned back. “So you two have met?”
“Everyone knows everyone in this town,” Natasha said. “Hank here gets the call from the school now if I don’t show up.”
Lucy fished her cell out of her back pocket and glanced at the time. It was 8:02 a.m. “She told me school started at 9:00 a.m.”
“Nope, 7:45 a.m.,” Hank said.
“The first class is PE, and it’s lame,” Natasha said. “And I really hate those stupid shorts we have to wear.”
Lucy tapped her finger on the steering wheel, irritated she’d been played.
“I could have woken up Lucy, but she was sleeping pretty hard, Hank,” Natasha said. “I figured she could use the rest. Seemed the right thing to do.”
“How did you get into the house this time, Natasha?” Hank asked. “I nailed up the access door to the basement.”
She grinned. “There’s a window.”
“I saw that window,” he said. “It’s pretty small.”
“For you, not me.”
The backhoes rumbled and beeped. “You’ve got to go to school,” Hank said.
“I hate school,” she said.
“It’s not about what you like or don’t like. It’s about what you need. And you need an education.”
“Why do I need an education? Brenda and Dad say I’m going to end up working at Arlene’s anyway.”
Hank tightened his hands on the steering wheel, and she imagined him counting to ten while his frustration diluted. “And I’ve told you that’s not correct.”
“Whatever.”
Lucy could tick off at least ten reasons why a return to Nashville made sense. Her old job. Friends. Her favorite honky-tonk. Good bourbon. Zero complications. “She can stay here. I’m here for now.”
Natasha grinned. “Perfect solution!”
Hank shook his head. “Natasha, I’m taking you to school.”
“Lucy is taking me,” she said.
His gaze zeroed in on her with all the force of a marine drill sergeant. “
No, I am.”
The girl locked eyes with him for a beat and then shrugged. “Sure. Whatever. Don’t go all ‘hoo-rah’ on me.”
His sights still on the girl, he said, “Lucy, why don’t you and Dolly join us? If Natasha is going to stay with you, we’ll need to let the school know. I’ll run you back, and then we can check on the road repair.”
Common sense was hard to argue with. “Why not? Kid, hop in the truck.” She pulled to the side of the driveway and got out. Natasha piled in first, sliding over to make room for Lucy and Dolly.
Hank put the car in drive and headed back into town. He pulled in front of the school and shut off the engine.
Lucy and Dolly followed them as far as the door.
“Hey, what about lunch?” Hank said, reaching for his wallet.
“I made extra sandwiches,” Natasha said. “Lucy bought some pretty nice bread and ham.”
“Good.”
“Don’t break any federal laws today,” Lucy said.
Natasha laughed. “Will do. But you said I could get a tattoo, right?”
“I did not!” Lucy said.
Hank didn’t rise to the bait as he walked a grinning Natasha into the office. Through the window she saw him talking to an admissions secretary and then sending Natasha off to class. The administrator glanced toward Lucy a few times and nodded.
He joined her outside, and neither spoke until they were back in the truck with Dolly between them.
“All set?” she asked.
“It’s one thing to be ambivalent about a house or staying in this town. But don’t pull Natasha into this. The kid is drowning, and she can’t afford to have you flake on her like everyone else has in her life.”
“I offered her a place to stay for a few days. I didn’t make any promises.”
“She’s not going to see it that way.” He tapped a finger on the steering wheel. “Unless you can commit to staying in this house forever, don’t make any kind of promises to that kid.”
“Look, I was just trying to help.”
“Trying doesn’t cut it.” He shook his head as if she hadn’t spoken. “Can you make a promise that you’re going to stay for good?”
“No.”
“Then this conversation is somewhat pointless.”
“What about this Brenda woman?”
“Not as reliable as I had hoped. And if she’s telling the kid she’ll never get out of this town, then I’m going to have to figure out something else. Natasha is smart as a whip, and she can do better.”
“What’s the deal with her father?”
“Brian Willard. Good-natured guy when he’s sober but mean as a snake when he’s not. More often than not, he’s drunk.”
“Natasha said she stayed with my grandfather when he was alive.”
“Her mother was his caregiver, and Samuel did try to help. But he was in his late nineties when Natasha’s mother died. He was in no shape to raise a child.”
“How’d you end up in charge of her?”
“She landed on my radar when I came back to town six months ago. I’ve been trying to figure out a viable solution ever since.”
Bourbon. Friends. Great music. No responsibility. The list ticked in her head. “I’m here regardless for the next few days. A few days will at least buy you some time to rethink your options with Brenda.”
“Have you ever been around a kid before?”
“I had Beth.” It didn’t sound funny when she said it out loud. “There were plenty of times I felt like I was raising a teenager.”
“It’s not the same.”
“I understand, but I respect the concept of sticking it out even when it’s not what you want.”
“What do you really want, Lucy?”
“Good question, Hank.” When his frown deepened, she asked, “How much time do you need to get Natasha situated in a real home?”
“Two weeks.”
“I can give you that. It’ll give me time to send Beth off right and maybe find out more about my birth father. But I can’t promise beyond that.”
“You’ll do right by the kid?”
“I may not look quite the part, but I can damn sure be responsible when I have to.”
“But for how long?”
“For at least two weeks.”
He didn’t speak for several seconds. “I’ll have to take you at your word.”
The drive back to the cottage was tense and quiet. When he turned the corner onto Winter Cottage Road, they both realized the crews had stopped work.
“Damn it,” he muttered.
They got out of the car, and she followed as Hank strode toward the dozer operator. “Matt, what’s going on?”
Matt, a gangly guy in his midtwenties, took off his ball cap and scratched his head. “We found something.”
“What?” Hank asked.
“It looks like an old well.”
“A what?”
“Well.”
“What’s that mean?” Lucy asked.
“When the original property was built, the builders sunk several wells before they found one that would give them sufficient fresh water. The old ones were filled in. Mrs. B brought county water onto the property in the 1960s.”
“You’ll never guess what we found in this well,” Matt said as he led them over the grated dirt toward a parcel ten feet from the driveway. “The wheel of one of the dozers got stuck, and we had to tow it out with the other one.” He handed Hank a flashlight.
Lucy followed, figuring for now it was her place and she’d learn all she could about it. Hank approached the five-by-five section that had collapsed in on itself.
He gripped the light and held Lucy back until he tested the sturdiness of the area around the old well. He shone the light down the hole and studied it for several long seconds before he waved her over.
She edged close to him, and he handed her the light.
“Have a look,” he offered with no emotion.
She followed the spotlight to the bottom of the well. Clustered at the bottom was a collection of bones.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Beth
May 15, 1988
“I have a crush, Mrs. B.”
The older woman is dressed in a burgundy wool jacket, black slacks, and a white ruffled shirt. “Is it the same crush since the last time we talked?”
“No, better.” Beth rummages through her backpack, fishes out the microphone, and sets it on the small table beside Mrs. B. “This guy is going places.”
“Going places is always a good thing.” She fingers the ivory broach on her lapel. It’s the same one she always wears. Ivory etched with black ink. It’s the songbird.
“He wants to take over his daddy’s land one day,” Beth says.
“Do I know this boy?”
“You should.” She clipped the microphone to her collar. “It’s your great-nephew, Noah.”
“He’s a good boy. And dating a lovely young woman, from what I remember.”
Beth snorts. “Nancy.”
“They’ve been together a couple of years.”
“She’s getting fat. And he’s getting tired of her. I can tell.”
“Can you?”
“Sure.” She sits cross-legged on the floor. “Men don’t stick around, Mrs. B. They flutter around like butterflies. Pretty soon, Noah’s gonna be flitting in my direction.”
“And if he doesn’t?” Mrs. B asks.
“He will.”
Beth knew Noah would see her. And he would save her.
Claire
January 18, 1916
The Buchanans sponsored a party for the Cape Hudson community. It was their wedding gift to all those who’d worked hard on the upcoming nuptials and those who had served the family for years. Mrs. Lawrence had been clear she wanted everyone invited. No expense was to be spared, and she even hired a four-piece band from Norfolk and seen to it that there was a large pig to roast, breads, beers, and cake.
Claire and Victoria had only been
in town a week, but as soon as Victoria had heard about the party, she had insisted on attending. Robert had been the one to remind his sister that the fete was for the servants, and she had obligations at Winter Cottage. But Victoria would not be swayed and saw to it that she and Robert would attend.
The air was warm, the wind calm, and the stars bright and brilliant when Claire, Victoria, and Robert joined Jimmy at the car parked in front of Winter Cottage. He was standing by the polished vehicle, the motor already running, wearing navy-blue seaman’s pants, a cable sweater, and a peacoat. His blond hair was damp and brushed off his face.
Claire had plucked a white rose from one of the arrangements at the cottage and pinned it to her burgundy jacket. She’d only brought the one traveling dress, the one she’d worn from New York, but she hoped the rose updated the look just a little.
Victoria wore a baby-blue dress that skimmed her calves and a matching coat with a white fur collar, and she’d had Claire arrange her hair in a loose bun that allowed strategic curls to frame her face. Robert, as always, wore a black suit, a fresh collar, and a tie.
Jimmy helped a giggling Victoria into the back seat with her brother and then assisted Claire into the front. She was pleased to sit by Jimmy while Victoria and Robert were relegated to the back seat.
Jimmy tugged on his seaman’s knit cap and shifted into first. The car glided gently forward, a sign he’d been practicing his driving. The slightly arrogant tilt of his chin told her he was proud of the new skill.
She’d only glimpsed Jimmy the last few days as he came to Winter Cottage to greet Mr. Buchanan and his male guests for their dawn hunts. The rattle of Jimmy’s wagon had awakened her each morning, and then rushing to her window, unmindful of the cold floor, she would catch a glimpse of him. Jimmy was always smiling and at ease with the much older and far wealthier men. And it appeared that they held him in high regard, listening closely when he spoke. She couldn’t hear what he was saying but imagined he was sharing details about the best hunting spots.
Conversation now was impossible with the rumble of the engine, but she hoped this ride to the party would be theirs alone. She’d planned to ask him for a dance.
When he pulled up the motorcar, a rarity in these parts, he drew the attention of everyone. Already the crowd had grown to fifty, and judging by the collection of boats rowing toward the shore, that would soon double. Parties like this were rare, and no one would want to miss it.
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