“No, I didn’t call Miss Addy,” she said, returning her gaze to his seemingly naturally hostile expression. “I’m not here to visit her anyway. I heard about her nephew’s arrival and thought I ought to introduce myself.”
“He know you’re coming?”
“No!” As if it were any of his business.
Uriah barked a laugh. “Well, then, you both got a real treat in store, ain’t you?”
Echo swallowed the lump that immediately formed at his words. So Bram Vanmatre could be difficult. So what? So could a lot of people, as she knew from personal experience.
And so could she, if necessary.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll be getting that ‘treat’ now.”
Uriah glanced back at a first story window and moved out of her way.
Echo followed his gaze toward the house. Behind a set of sheer curtains, she could make out the silhouette of a man. And from the way he held himself as he watched the exchange on the lawn, she sensed no welcome. Her resolve strengthened and she set out to meet him whether he would or no.
As she approached the impressive building-wide veranda that fronted the lake, fog licked at her ankles and slithered up the stairs before her, leading her to the front door that stood open a crack.
About to knock, she poked her head in instead. “Hello?” she called, expecting Lena, the housekeeper, to be around. “Anyone there?” But no one answered.
Perhaps it was just as well. She wouldn’t mind confronting Bram Vanmatre without anyone tuning into her conversation. Inching open the door, she checked out the gloomy interior. The marble-floored foyer was empty as were the open front parlors on either side. Thinking about the window where she’d spotted the man looking out at her, she guessed the room to be the second door to her left. The library, if she remembered correctly. She hadn’t actually been inside since the library was one of the few rooms that would not be made available for the fundraiser.
Straightening her spine as her grandmother had drilled into her, Echo crossed the foyer and hesitated only a second in front of the closed door before knocking. Her heartbeat was even as she waited for a response, but when none came, her pulse accelerated at the same rate as her annoyance. Surely he hadn’t left the room in the short time it took her to enter the house. She tried again, but her knock either went unheard or fell on purposely deaf ears.
Either way, she had difficulty swallowing her irritation. She just had to talk to Miss Addy’s nephew now.
That thought propelled her into grasping the knob and opening the door. A deep, seemingly empty gloom met her eyes. But as she stepped inside, her gaze penetrating the spooky atmosphere, touching on the walls of old books, she knew she wasn’t alone.
Over in the furthest, deepest recess of the room, flames danced and crackled in a massive fireplace that was faced with green ceramic tiles. And before the hearth were two high-backed leather chairs, only one of which was empty. Settled along the wing of the other was a man’s arm draped by a black silk sleeve of unusual fullness and caught tightly at the wrist.
Echo cleared her throat and stepped closer. “Mr. Vanmatre?”
At first she thought he planned to ignore her. Then, ever-so-slowly, he turned in the chair and peered out at her. Deep-set eyes— haunted eyes— met her steady gaze. His angular face was intensely handsome and framed by thick black waves. His expression was neither welcoming nor disapproving.
He seemed to be... waiting.
Thinking her best bet would be to give him a businesslike demeanor, she curved her lips in a confident smile, stepped forward with hand offered and said, “Mr. Vanmatre, I’ve come expressly to see you, to find out what you intend to do about the Haunted Mansion.”
WHAT HE INTENDED to do? An odd way of putting it, when the mansion was already haunted.
He stared at the audacious woman who dared invade his sanctuary. As if realizing he wasn’t about to take her hand, she settled it on the back of the chair opposite. Firelight made the long tangle of curls dancing over her shoulders gleam a red so brilliant that it almost hurt to look at her.
“Well?” she asked, both hands now gripping the chair back. Her nails were of moderate length but polished, and she wore several unique rings— art pieces rather than traditional jewelry.
“Mr. Vanmatre, I know you’ve taken over Miss Addy’s affairs and that you have the power to deny us the use of Dunescape Cottage since we have no written contract,” she said, “but I hope you’ll see reason.”
Everything about her was unusual. Her features were striking rather than classically beautiful. Not easily forgettable. Good bone structure. Full lips. Wide-spaced eyes a fathomless gray. A man could lose his soul in eyes such as those.
“We’re talking about a fundraiser for a good cause. The proceeds will be used to make what is now a deserted storefront into a real center for the Water’s Edge Youth Group.”
So entranced was he by the mobility of the woman’s expression that he barely heard her words. As she continued her plea, a current emanated from her that held him fascinated.
“Until now, the kids have met in spaces meant for other activities. The church hall, the high school gym.”
Her voice fairly throbbed with conviction and purpose.
“They need a place of their own, something they can be proud of, something that will keep them off the streets, out of trouble and away from drugs.”
She was surrounded by a pulsing golden-red aura, all fire and light, the most exciting thing to enter this house in thirty years.
“Surely you can see that our young people need extra motivation to stay straight considering the problems of this day and age, can’t you?”
She was so... alive.
He couldn’t think of a more appropriate description.
She was also losing patience.
Boldly arched eyebrows drew together as she frowned down at him. Color not of the fire’s making flushed her prominent cheekbones. And her mouth, that mouth that could be so generous in a smile, tightened.
“Mr. Vanmatre, the least you could do is give me a civilized answer of some kind.”
He stared. Silent. Fascinated by the pulse that beat in her throat.
An expulsion of breath punctuated her growing frustration. “All right, then. Since you don’t want to be bothered, you give me no choice.”
She drew herself together. Formidable. Tall and full-bodied beneath her coat of many colors. Enhanced by the firelight, flashes of purple and turquoise, rose and jade challenged the melancholy of the room.
“I suppose I shall have to find Miss Addy, although I had wanted to spare her... as I’m certain you’ve created enough disruption and stress in her life for one day.”
With that, the fiery woman abruptly strode away and slammed the door behind her, leaving the library as empty and dull and lifeless as she’d found it.
CHAPTER TWO
ADMITTEDLY UNNERVED, Echo stalked the hall toward the kitchen, hoping to find some sign of life there. “Hello?” Empty. “Anyone around?” Growing uneasiness stalked her. “Miss Addy?”
Certain she heard low-throated laughter coming from above, a relieved Echo backtracked to the staircase that split the main house in two. She avoided so much as glancing at the library door as she passed it, but couldn’t help murmuring, “Mean-spirited, aggravating man.”
Halfway up the unlit stairway, she once more announced her presence. “Miss Addy? It’s Echo St. Clair.”
“Echo, hello.” The mellifluous tones of Sibyl Wilde floated down to her. “We’re in the upstairs sitting room.”
Echo took that as an invitation and rushed right up to the second floor. A moment later, she stood in the doorway of the frontmost room, where she and Miss Addy had tea on her first visit. Though the hour was not yet advanced, the lady of the manor was wearing a loose white satin nightgown and robe that might have been resurrected from the thirties. Miss Addy had a penchant for what she called “timeless” garments. Her hair, dark as a raven but
for the white wings at her brow, spread over her shoulders and fell to her waist. Thin and frail as she normally appeared, she now looked absolutely wraithlike.
“Come in, come in.” She waved Echo over to the table that had been placed near a window with a view of the lake. “Forgive my state of undress. I’m afraid I didn’t remember you were coming.”
“I wasn’t. I mean, you weren’t expecting me. I’m sorry to bother you.”
“No bother. Sit,” she insisted.
Echo pulled up a chair.
“I always enjoy having company,” Miss Addy said. “A body needs live people to talk to. Difficult having a good conversation with Donahue these days,” she said of her late brother. “He’s so out of touch with the real world.” The loose skin around her faded blue eyes crinkled and her laugh approached a cackle. “That’s why I hired Sibyl here. To keep me entertained. Nothing wrong with me that some vitamins and attention can’t cure.”
Though Echo had heard otherwise, she didn’t argue. She glanced down at the table of inlaid wood on which cards had been arranged in a Celtic Cross pattern. Echo raised her brows. Sibyl had been reading Miss Addy’s Tarot. Owner of a New Age shop herself, she recognized the deck as being one utilizing goddesses from around the world in place of the more traditional images.
That Miss Addy’s nurse-companion was into alternate paths really didn’t surprise her. The woman played up her exotic looks— tawny-streaked dark brown hair, amber eyes and coffee au lait complexion— with ethnic touches in her dress and accessories that were reminiscent of the islands.
Noticing that she was wearing a beautiful shell and bone necklace that must have some metaphysical significance, Echo said, “That’s a wonderful piece of jewelry.” She’d never seen anything quite like it. Certain it was one-of-a-kind, she asked, “Who’s the designer? I would love to carry some of his or her work in my shop.”
Sibyl fingered the necklace, and the mole at the corner of her mouth twitched. “This is a legacy of my mother’s mother. Grandmama Tisa brought it with her when she emigrated from Haiti. I’m afraid the artist is long beyond your reach.”
“A shame.”
In addition to New Age books and recordings, Echo stocked her shop with art, both the kind to be admired on a wall or shelf and the kind to be worn. Everything she sold reflected the various spiritual avenues of their designers. Healing crystals, angel cards, dream catchers, pyramids...she would carry anything that represented the positive forces of man and nature and what lay beyond. Her shop was a bit unusual for a small town, but Water’s Edge was part of a vacation area for Chicagoans and other city dwellers. Surrounding towns were rife with sophisticated galleries and shops and restaurants.
Turning back to Miss Addy, Echo said, “I came because I heard about your nephew’s arrival.”
A gleam entered the old eyes. “Bram is a good boy. He can be a bit annoying, but then who isn’t?”
Annoying was an understatement. “Yes, I tried speaking with him about the fundraiser.”
“You wanted him to be one of your ghouls, too?”
Miss Addy had already insisted she be allowed to participate.
“I wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to stop the fundraiser,” Echo explained. “Mrs. Ahern seemed to think he’d disapprove.”
“That Nancy, always going on about other people’s business.” Miss Addy clucked. “Well, this time, she’s wrong. Bram can’t disapprove of the Haunted Mansion because he doesn’t know about it.”
Echo winced. “He does now. I’m afraid I spilled the beans.”
“Well, then.”
“I’m afraid he wouldn’t discuss the situation.”
“Stuffed shirt!” Miss Addy grumbled. “Must come from Katherine’s side of the family, not from ours.”
Not wanting to rub any sore spots or to distress the kindly if eccentric woman, Echo tried to be tactful. “So, you don’t think there’ll be a problem with your nephew, then?”
“Oh, just let him try to muddle things and he’ll have me to deal with!” Miss Addy said. “Don’t worry your pretty head. Nothing has changed even if Bram has gotten some legal paper that gives him authority over me. Your youth group will have the use of Dunescape Cottage for Halloween. And if Bram tries to stop it... why, I’ll send him to bed without his milk and cookies.”
Echo had been heartened until Miss Addy got to the last bit. The elderly woman wasn’t exactly on any plane of reality here.
“What’s this about no milk and cookies?” came a deep growl from the doorway.
Miss Addy cackled again. “You know that’s the rule if you misbehave, Bram!”
And Sibyl furtively gathered the Tarot cards, slipped them into their silk pouch and hid the bundle in the pocket of her full skirt. It was obvious she didn’t want Bram Vanmatre to see them. From her own brief experience with him, Echo didn’t blame her.
“Excuse me,” Sibyl said, rising, her eyes going beyond Echo to the man behind her. They suddenly softened into pools of amber light. “But I need to make a call.”
She moved away from the table in what Echo could only describe as a deliberately provocative slink.
“After I finish my call, I’m going to make Miss Addy her nightly hot chocolate,” Sibyl told him. “Would you like some, Mr. Vanmatre?”
While the nurse might not want him to know about the Tarot, her tone of voice left no doubts in Echo that she was definitely interested in the man.
“I’ll pass.” He sounded amused. “That goes for the milk and cookies, too.” He paused only a second before saying, “I see you have a visitor, Aunt Addy.”
“Echo,” the elderly woman volunteered.
“Pardon me?”
“Her name is Echo St. Clair. Didn’t you bother to ask, you naughty boy?”
“Echo,” he repeated.
Giving Echo no choice but to acknowledge the man. She turned in her seat and aimed an assessing stare his way. “So the cat didn’t get your tongue, after all.”
One eyebrow shot up at her sarcastic comment. “Bram Vanmatre.” He was holding out his hand out to her.
For a moment, she was tempted to ignore the overture as he had done earlier. Telling herself she had better manners, she gave him a shake that was tepid, wholly unlike her normally healthy grip. Still, it felt too personal and she ripped her hand free.
She longed to tear her eyes away from his face as easily, but he was even more arresting than she’d discerned through the gloom of the library. He’d styled his hair, had slicked the black waves back so his face appeared more angular, his features sharper. And now she could see a barely discernable fine scar that slashed his forehead, starting a bit above his right eyebrow and disappearing into his hairline.
He’d changed out of the black silk shirt. Now he was wearing a deep plum turtleneck and charcoal gray trousers that set off his build— he was broad-shouldered and athletic-looking without being bulky. That he kept himself in such good shape annoyed Echo. She didn’t want to appreciate him after her frustrating experience in their previous face-to-face.
Bram seemed equally fascinated with her. Eyes the deep blue of the sky at twilight assessed her inch-by-inch as if he’d never seen her before. She couldn’t tell for certain what he thought of her, though she guessed that in some peculiar way, she was amusing him.
“I would have thought you’d have tired of looking at me by now,” she said with a stiff smile.
That’s all he’d done earlier, after all. Look. He hadn’t said a word.
That eyebrow shot up again.
And Miss Addy suddenly rose. “I’ve got to say goodnight to Donahue. Put the girl at ease, would you, Bram,” his aunt commanded as she swept out of the room, her robe floating behind her.
And Echo realized Bram never took his eyes off her.
“Put you at ease about what?” he asked.
“The fundraiser.” Echo couldn’t believe that, after all her talk, Miss Addy had abandoned her to fight it out alone. And to say goodnig
ht to her dead brother’s ghost, no less. “The Haunted Mansion.” And she could hardly believe that Bram’s expression revealed no comprehension. “The reason I came to see you today!”
“You came especially for me.” He grabbed a free chair, wheeled it around backward and straddled the seat. Folding his arms over the high back, he leaned closer. “How flattering.”
She put on a positive face. “Then you won’t interfere in our plans.”
“Which?”
“To turn Dunescape Cottage into a Haunted Mansion for Halloween,” she reminded him, quickly becoming as exasperated as she had when he’d refused to discuss the fundraiser with her earlier.
Was he purposely being obtuse? But why? He seemed to be amusing himself at her expense. She’d misjudged him, then, for she hadn’t thought he had a sense of humor.
“Tell me about it,” he suggested, resting his chin on his arms.
“I just did.” She referred to the scenario in the library.
“In detail.”
Maybe he meant the actual plans for transforming the house. “Starting tomorrow, we’re turning a bunch of rooms into horror chambers like Dracula’s Crypt and Dr. Frankenstein’s Laboratory. We’ll set up a specific path, ending with a maze on the lower level. We’ll make certain no one strays into the parts of the house that are off limits. And we’re holding a Monster Bash in the ballroom.”
“We?”
“The Water’s Edge Youth Group,” she reminded him. “The teenagers and their parents and sponsors. We’re raising funds for the new center, remember.”
“How could I?”
He was implying this was the first he’d heard of the plans. Echo gritted her teeth. “Look, I don’t know what your game is. All I wanted was some reassurance that you wouldn’t interfere with plans made and agreed to by Miss Addy weeks ago. We’ve already gone to a lot of trouble and expense. And the kids are hyped.”
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