Hauntings of the Heart

by Joselyn Vaughn

  “Just cream, thank you. Please, call me Derek.”

  She placed the delicate cup on a saucer with a teaspoon in front of him, then handed him the cream pitcher. She sat down on one of the armchairs, too nervous to pick up her own cup. Her mind reeled with possibilities. A long forgotten bank account? A lost relative searching for her to pass on a royal title? Or that parking ticket she’d crumpled and tossed in the storm drain while in Alaska? She started to feel a little sick, then relief swam through her when she remembered she’d sent a check after she returned home.

  Derek took the loveseat. Minnie doctored her coffee while he dialed the combination on his briefcase and popped the locks. The man extracted a manila folder and placed it on his lap. Then he closed the briefcase and set it on the floor beside his feet.

  Maybe he was from the IRS. She shouldn’t have claimed the spa party she’d thrown for the Ladies Night Out as a business expense. Leslie, her accountant, had said it would be a red flag for an audit, but Minnie figured she could talk her way out of it, if only she could recall the reasons.

  She shifted in her chair, remembering belatedly this seat had a creaky spring. It announced every wiggle. It wasn’t her usual spot, but if she was talking to an IRS agent she didn’t want to be too relaxed.

  He thanked her for the coffee. “I’m an attorney with Michaels, Smith, and Hanover.” He stirred a dollop of cream into his cup, then handed her a buff-colored business card.

  Minnie studied the embossed burgundy lettering. “Are you a tax attorney?” She placed the card on her knee.

  Derek laughed. “I hate working with the IRS as much as anyone else. I do mostly personal law: writing wills, creating trust funds, representing individuals in contractual matters. I have handled a few tax situations, but it isn’t my specialty.”

  “So you aren’t from the IRS?”

  “No.”

  Minnie let out the breath she’d been holding. She could cross one item off her worries list. But what else could he be here for?

  “Are you having trouble with them?” Derek asked.

  “Not yet.”

  He chuckled. “Feel free to call me if you do. Someone at our firm will be happy to help you.”

  “I’ll be sure to do that.” Minnie slid his business card from her knee to the table. “What brings you here today?”

  Derek’s countenance sobered. “I have it in my power to make you an extremely wealthy woman, Ms. Schultz.”

  “You represent Elvis Presley’s estate and he actually left Graceland to me?” Minnie teased. She knew the dreamy singer had meant it when he’d pointed at her during “Love Me Tender” at that concert in Vegas right before he’d died. He’d longed for her, even though they never actually met…

  “I’m not at liberty to divulge my client’s identity,” Derek hedged, but his eyes twinkled.

  “What if I guess? You could wink or something. I can keep a secret.” Minnie inched forward and her seat creaked.

  He laughed again. The sound was rich and hearty. “Why do I have a feeling you could coerce it out of me if I gave you half a chance?”

  “Why, Derek, you wouldn’t have to give me any chance at all.” Minnie winked and relaxed. As long as he wasn’t from the IRS, she could enjoy herself. Maybe even flirt a little.

  “I believe you are right. But I will still do my very best to protect my client’s identity.”

  “That’s very honorable of you. I suppose I can respect that.” Flirting, she reminded herself was a skill she didn’t practice often. Maybe it was because Derek was so handsome—a regular Christopher Plummer. Between him and Gordon, she’d never had so many dashing men under her roof at once. It was enough to make a lady swoon.

  “We’ve actually spoken on the phone before.” Derek met her eyes as if he was trying to make her remember. She searched her memory, a tedious task considering all the things she crammed in there each day. Wouldn’t she have recognized his voice?

  Minnie looked at him askance, their easy banter gone. “About what?”

  Derek sipped his coffee. “My client is still interested in purchasing this property.”

  Well, there go any romantic notions. “I thought I told you it wasn’t for sale.” She thumped her cup down and coffee splashed onto his business card. “I can’t make it any clearer.” Why couldn’t some people take no for an answer?

  Derek nodded. “I passed the information onto my client. He would like me to extend a counteroffer.”

  “How do you counter a flat-out no?” She couldn’t imagine anything that would change her mind.

  “He has given me carte blanche in negotiation. He is prepared to offer whatever you want.”

  “What I want is for him to leave me alone. I am not selling.”

  “He’s a wealthy man, and is prepared to offer you anything in his portfolio in exchange for this property.”

  Minnie snorted. “Perhaps you should seek a psychiatric evaluation for him. No one would offer so much for the Lilac Bower Bed and Breakfast.”

  Derek opened his briefcase. He extracted another folder and placed it on the table in front of Minnie. “This is a list of my client’s major assets and their current market values. He is willing to exchange any one of them for this property. Or several, if that is your wish.”

  “So I’m supposed to pick off the menu?” Minnie shoved the paper away with such force it floated off the end of the table.

  Derek bent over to snatch it off the floor when a drop of water splashed from the ceiling onto the paper. Another followed, then another hit the inside of his briefcase, and another the open folder. Derek and Minnie both jerked their heads toward the ceiling. A new droplet formed on the plaster above their heads, then broke away and fell. Within seconds, a steady stream dribbled from a soaked spot. Another stream dribbled straight into Derek’s briefcase, puddling on the papers and warping the manila folders.

  Derek slammed the lid shut and shoved it off the table as the water spray grew to the level of a garden hose. Minnie simply stared at it. She supposed she should do something. Buckets. Towels. Move furniture. But the water mesmerized her, like her very own indoor water feature.

  Then the plaster started to sag. A slight convex at first, then an obvious bowl. Not a cereal bowl either—one of those big ones for lettuce at a salad bar.

  Derek might have cursed as he dove over the arm of the loveseat, a second before the plaster broke loose and crashed down in soggy blobs. The deluge caught his ankles and shoes. Splatters hit Minnie’s face, yanking her out of her stupor.

  Plaster and lathe pieces dangled, dripping dusty water from a gaping hole above the coffee table. The hole revealed a broken, rusty pipe, chunks of which now floated on the coffee table and the floor. Minnie brushed her face dry with the cuff of her sweatshirt, then moved to check on Derek.

  He lay on the floor on his side, eyeing the ceiling for more downpours. Despite his valiant attempt, his cuffs and fancy loafers hadn’t escaped. Watery grime soaked a good four inches of his pants, with splotches here and there over the rest of his suit.

  “Are you all right?” Minnie gasped. Water still flowed off the edge of the table, dousing his briefcase. She picked it up. Water dribbled out of the seams.

  “I believe so.” Derek scrambled to his feet and brushed his hands against his pants.

  Minnie wiped the handle on the bottom of her shirt and extended the soggy case to him. “So, do you still think this place is worth a million dollars?”

  “I wouldn’t pay it.” He stepped forward and his loafers squerched.

  “Show him your shoes,” Minnie suggested. “That will change his mind.”

  6

  This will put an end to those ridiculous offers. Minnie tugged the coffee table across the room and piled soggy plaster on top. The water would do less damage to a metal table than to the wood floor. Who’d want to buy a place where the ceiling came crashing down?

  Mark propped a stepladder under the hole in the ceiling. Minnie started swa
bbing up the water with some old towels while he inspected the leak.

  “I knew we should have replaced every pipe from the street in and out.” He dropped a flashlight into a loop on his tool belt and stepped up the ladder.

  Minnie chucked a sopping towel into a bucket and grabbed a dry one. “Wish I could have afforded it. New sinks, showers, and commodes did me in.”

  “We could have scaled that back.” Mark reached for the pipe and wiggled it.

  “You found the best deals you could on eBay. We had to replace everything. Anything less wouldn’t provide the experience I wanted for my guests.” The maintenance and cleaning skills of the previous owners had been lacking. She hadn’t been able to get the rust and hard water stains off the old fixtures, even after using some pretty nasty chemicals.

  “And having the ceiling fall in on them is?” Mark snapped his flashlight on and studied the remains of the pipe.

  “It didn’t fall on a guest. It fell on that awful lawyer who’s trying to get me to sell.”

  “Bet he changed his mind.” Mark tapped the pipe with the end of the flashlight, and it crumbled in his hands. He brushed flakes off his face. “The galvanized pipe here is corroding from the inside out.” He shone the light into the cobwebby ceiling space. “There might be some lead joints down there, too. This is bad, Minnie.”

  Minnie slung another towel into her bucket. It landed with a kersploosh, filling the pail. “Will we have to shut off the water?”

  “I already shut everything down to the whole first floor. You won’t have water in your apartment or the kitchen until I fix this.” Mark snapped the flashlight off and tucked it back into his belt.

  “What about the guest rooms?”

  “The guest rooms still have water. The main line splits into two metered ones once it gets into the house—one for the main floor, and one for the guest rooms.”

  Minnie flicked some debris off the arm of the couch. “So I don’t have a personal bathroom to use.”

  “You can use it, but you can’t take a shower or flush the toilet.”

  “Very funny,” she muttered. “This gets better and better.” The house was falling down around her and she couldn’t even take a shower. Some people needed coffee in the morning, she needed a shower.

  Mark climbed down the ladder. “It’s not so bad. You can still have guests. You’ll just have to use one of the rooms for yourself until we get this fixed.”

  Minnie flung some gravelly pieces into another bucket. Sounded fine in theory, until she thought about Gordon staying at the Bower. She didn’t want to run into him while she was trotting upstairs to take a shower. She couldn’t think on her toes before her shower. Ha, she could barely keep it together around Gordon as it was. How could she stay on guard if she saw him before she was truly awake and ready for the day?

  Well, there was the blocked-off servants’ staircase. She could sneak upstairs as long as no one rented the room above hers. She hadn’t opened the panel upstairs in years, not since Mark had finished remodeling the second-floor room. Who knew how dusty it would be? But it would be worth a try. She didn’t want to chance running into Gordon in her jammies.

  That, however, led to a second problem. The room above hers was her second most expensive. She couldn’t have it out of commission if more guests arrived. “How long will it take to fix?”

  Mark pursed his lips as he studied the ceiling. He shook his head and started to answer, but was interrupted. “What happened here?” The voice boomed from the doorway, and Minnie wished she could crawl under the coffee table. Speaking of not having her guard up.

  “Hello, Gordon. Is there something I can help you with?” She plastered on her hostess face and hoped there wasn’t any insulation clinging to her hair. It was hard to look dignified when your pants were soaked up to your knees.

  Gordon stepped through the doorway, carefully tiptoeing around the crumbled bits of plaster under his shoes. “Just wanted to chat with you for a minute, but I can see you’re busy.” He circled around the puddle until he could see into the hole in the ceiling. “Pipe burst?”

  Mark shuffled through his toolbox and came out with a wrench. “Yeah. It corroded right through.”

  “Mind if I take a look?”

  Minnie rolled her eyes. What business was it of his? She didn’t care for his opinion, but Mark gestured to the ladder and offered the flashlight.

  Gordon climbed the ladder in his clean white dress shirt. Minnie cringed. Typical male, doing dirty work in nice clothes. Common sense must short-circuit at the sight of tools. How many times had she scolded Mark for doing the same thing?

  Gordon flashed the light into the ceiling and reached forward to jiggle the pipe. He swiveled around and did the same with the other length. “This isn’t a simple patch job,” he said to Mark, who was standing at the base of the ladder. “That whole pipe has got to go.”

  “That’s what I thought. I’m worried about the lead joints, too. I’ll have to check what the building code says. I know we can’t put new lead in, but I’m not sure what it says about existing pipes.”

  From there, the whole conversation deteriorated into fittings and putties and PVC versus copper. Minnie rolled her eyes and continued soaking up the water from the floor. Then her thoughts rewound Mark’s words. Lead pipes? They had to be all over the house. They hadn’t changed any of the plumbing lines. If she had to change everything, she’d go out of business. Unless the haunted house generated enough money, she’d never fix the pipes and keep the Bower open.

  The men’s conversation was still going full bore as she prepared to haul the rolled-up area rug outside. It was too heavy for her to heave it onto her shoulders. Instead, she grabbed one end and flung her weight backward. The rug scooted a mere inch. Her fingertips slipped off the damp fabric and she landed on her behind. Her bones thudded against the wood floor and she let out an involuntary, “Ooof!”

  Unfortunately, her tumble caught Gordon’s attention. He scrambled down the ladder and across the room. He reached down to lift Minnie by her armpits. She swatted him away. “I can get up by myself.” She prayed it was true. Resituating herself, she leveraged off the end table and back to her feet. “See? Right as rain.” She dusted off her behind, taking a silent inventory of her bones. They appeared to be intact, if screaming their displeasure.

  “Are you okay?” Gordon kept reaching for her like she was going to keel over at any second.

  Minnie swished at her knees. “I’m fine.” She refused to meet his gaze. The last thing she needed was to embarrass herself in front of him, yet she’d done just that, quite spectacularly, too.

  Gordon lingered, a little too closely. Like he was guarding her. Minnie stepped closer to Mark, who had arrived at her side milliseconds after Gordon. How had Gordon beat him, especially from the top of the ladder? Her legs weren’t so spry even after all her Zumba classes. It wasn’t fair that his were.

  Gordon bent to grab the end of the rolled rug. “Where do you want this?” His knees made a disturbing crack, which soothed Minnie’s humiliation a little.

  Mark grabbed the rug in the center of the roll and heaved it onto his shoulder. He rolled his eyes at Minnie and Gordon. “You could have asked for help,” he said and carried it out the back door.

  Gordon straightened slowly. “These old bones don’t move the way they used to. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Nothing bruised but my pride.” And possibly her bum, but Gordon didn’t need to know that. She moved toward the pile of towels, but couldn’t hide the wince. Her hip buckled and she froze, biting the hiss of pain on her tongue. Why did her trick hip have to lock up now?

  Gordon rushed to her side again. “How bad is it? Maybe you should sit down.” He hooked an arm under her elbow and half-carried her toward the couch. Upon seeing its soaked upholstery, he looked around the room for a dry spot. “Over here.”

  Minnie decided to accept his help. It wouldn’t hurt to sit for a minute. She was a bit tired fro
m bending over the puddle. She sat gingerly. Her tuchus must have taken more of a bump than she thought.

  “Can I get you anything?” Gordon asked.

  Minnie waved him away. She wouldn’t be waited on in her own home. “I’m fine. I just need to rest a minute.”

  Gordon hovered. She checked his feet to make sure he wasn’t actually levitating. Nope, Italian loafers firmly on the wood floor. “Are you sure you’re okay? At our age, hips can break like that.” He snapped his fingers.

  “Would you quit reminding me of my age?” Minnie snapped. Didn’t he have somewhere else to be? His room? A remote mountaintop in Tibet? His presence was more unsettling than her tumble had been.

  Gordon chuckled. “I’m as old as you are.”

  “You never let me forget I was two years older when we were kids.”

  “Maybe I liked being pursued by an older woman.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  Minnie rolled her eyes. She wasn’t going to let him work his charms. She didn’t want to be cajoled out of her bad humor. “Is that why you never wrote? I was supposed to be pursuing you?”

  Gordon’s face changed. He looked regretful, like he might apologize.

  She cut him off, waving her hand like she was brushing away a fly. “Never mind, I don’t want to hear it.” She’d always counted on him to be there for her, and he always had been, until the one time it mattered more than anything. He had hurt her deeply, and a bantered “I’m sorry” wouldn’t cut it. Nor did she want to hear it now—she didn’t want to delve into the past. She had too many other things to worry about, things in the here and now. The water leak, the rusty pipes, the possibility of lead. The new ad campaign. The mysterious buyer. They all needed to be handled now. She didn’t need to revisit something from so long ago. What didn’t happen with Gordon could remain undisturbed.

  Minnie slapped her palms against her thighs. She stood, grinding her teeth together against the pain zipping through her hips and back. It took a few seconds to stand completely straight, her bruised bum protesting every stretch. “Mark said the water to your room was okay.” She walked out, wincing with every step. Gordon had waited fifty years. He could wait forever for all she cared.