Mind Your Manors

by CeeCee James

  Mind Your Manors

  CeeCee James

  Copyright © 2018 by CeeCee James

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  For my flock of flamingos

  Contents

  Blurb

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Blurb

  Mind your Manors

  by CeeCee James

  The story began with ex FBI agent Oscar O'Neil (and his dog Peanut/Bear) from from the Baker Street Mysteries. This series is written from the point of view of his granddaughter! Will she learn the secrets of why her grandfather is estranged?

  Meet Stella O'Neil. She's got a lot on her plate, trying to figure out her crazy, stubborn family and starting out as a realtor. Throw in a dead body found in what used to be the town's "royalty" family's manor, and she’s neck deep in a mystery.

  She may be sweet, but she's pretty stubborn herself.

  As Stella's curiosity leads her from one town resident to the next, a dramatic tale of family secrets starts to appear, but is she getting too close to the truth? A scary car chase in the dark has her nerves on edge, but she won't give up until she finds out who the skeleton once was. She's so close... but someone... maybe more than one person... will do anything to stop her.

  Chapter 1

  Fireflies flashed around me in the cool night. I didn’t move, hoping one would land near me. It had been a long time since I’d seen the tiny warriors of light. Twenty years, maybe.

  I guess I was about five or six when we’d moved away, Dad and I. Mom was out of the picture, and had been for a while. I hardly remembered anything about her. Dad didn’t like to talk about her, and I didn’t ask much. Growing up, life had seemed normal having it be just Dad and me.

  We moved all the way to Washington state because Dad needed a fresh start, and he sure got one. I’d loved living there. The ocean, the mountains, city life, it had it all.

  Now, I guess it was my turn for a fresh start, and so I’d returned to my childhood stomping grounds of Brookfield, Pennsylvania.

  The porch swing squeaked under me as I absentmindedly brushed off a mosquito. I closed my eyes and breathed in, sipping on the memories of my childhood.

  Summers in Pennsylvania should be on everyone’s bucket list. Although it was cool, now that the sun had slipped below the horizon, the warm scent of blackberries still hung in the air. I rocked and stared up at the sky. The overhead branches from the maple tree blotted out most of the stars. But on a clear night, if I were to start down that path that curved into the backyard, the night sky would make me gasp.

  Growing up in Seattle, I’d never known how brilliant and clustered the stars really were. The city lights had drowned out a lot of the night sky.

  Of course, logically I’d known there were billions. I’d even done my sixth grade science project on the birth of stars, with my father watching over my shoulder as I carefully spread the glitter.

  “Stella,” he’d said. “More up here. You can’t just clump them all in one spot.”

  Well, it turns out, stars can be clumped in one spot. Like right there. Staring up gave me the weirdest sensation. Like I could fly off the earth and spin among them. I pulled my gaze down to the earth, to the little stars—the fireflies—before me. These I could handle.

  Remembering that day of the science project gave me a strange feeling, too. My dad was pretty straight-laced. Come to think of it, I’d rarely seen him smile. There was that one time when his stock meeting had gone well. And that time he brought home a BMW. He’d sat six-year-old me in the passenger seat and talked about how this car was one of the best ones ever made.

  “Stella, you put your mind to it, and you can own one of these some day.”

  I’d sat straight on the white leather seat, my light-up sandals not quite reaching the floor, and stared at the wood on the dash. It had gleamed with an iridescent quality to it, something I might now compare to a tiger’s eye. But, back then, I just knew that it looked alive. The fire in the grain called to me. I’d slowly reached out a finger to touch it.

  “Stella,” His tone warned me to not smudge the interior.

  It wasn’t that my dad was mean. In fact, he rarely raised his voice and never spanked me. He just had a way about him. I couldn’t put my finger on it. He was a typical type A personality, while my own personality was probably somewhere near the end of the alphabet.

  Still, we were all each other had. He never even dated again, saying he wanted to focus on raising me and getting his company going. That I was enough.

  I tried to live to be enough for him. I wanted to make him happy and proud of me. I was always on the honor roll, gymnastics, the science team. I’d graduated college magna cum laude, and then been offered an executive job with Costco corporate.

  My personal dating life hadn’t been so great, though. I think I needed to figure out more about men, about my dad, my mom and the rest of the family. Maybe I just needed to figure out my own complicated noodle brain.

  So, I ended up leaving that job, and here I was sitting outside of my rental house across the country, the signature on the rental contract practically still wet from signing it that morning.

  The quiet was something new and would take time to get used to. The hustle and bustle of the city had seemed almost like family. I held my breath to listen. A breeze moved the leaves above me, making them say shhh shhh, as if they were wishing the world sweet sleep.

  My dad had been unhappy that I’d moved back. “Why Pennsylvania, Stella? Why are you leaving a good job? This isn’t using wisdom.” He’d then gone into his typical detailed list on what consequences I could suffer with future retirement issues.

  I’d tried to explain to him that Uncle Chris had offered me a job. Uncle Chris was Dad’s younger and more adventurous brother. He was kind of a playboy but hadn’t had a serious relationship in years. He owned a real estate brokerage out here in Brookfield, Pennsylvania, and I heard rumors he was thinking about getting into politics. One night last Christmas I’d had one glass of wine too many and somehow my whole disillusionment with corporate America had spilled out. Uncle Chris had listened with a twinkle in his eye, and then told me he could give me a new beginning with a new adventure.

  “You’re too young to feel like this. What are you? Twenty-six? Seven? Come work for me. You’ll love it. The real estate market is hopping, and every day there’s something new. You need a life, girl. Heck, when are you going to meet a man?”

  Well, a man was the last thing I wanted. But the idea of an escape sure was tempting. So, when Uncle Chris had called me a few months ago to remind me of his offer, I’d jumped on it.

  But an escape wasn’t the real reason I’d moved out to Brookfield. I could have done that anywhere.

  I moved back here for my grandfather.

  Oh, he didn’t know I was back. I wasn’t sure what he was going to say when he saw me. In fact, growing up, I’d thought he was quite an evil man from the stories my fa
ther had told me. But I had too many mysteries revolving around family, and I needed some answers.

  It was time to find out for myself.

  Chapter 2

  Tuesday morning found me inside the realty, ready to hear my first assignment. Unfortunately, I had to wear the same clothes I’d had on while driving across the country. The delivery company had promised it would be here yesterday, but they hadn’t shown. A bored woman informed me over the phone that there’d been a severe storm and the truck was stuck in a washout. “Just a few more days, ma’am. If you can be patient.”

  My rental had a washing machine but no dryer, so here I was, in clothing that hadn’t quite dried from the night before. The dampness was lovely. I sat in Uncle Chris’s office and tried not to squirm.

  “So when’s the moving van getting here?” Uncle Chris took a sip from a coffee mug that said World’s Best Boss. He leaned back in the chair, and it squeaked in protest at his considerable bulk. For the last twenty minutes, we’d beaten to death every small topic two people who barely knew each other but were still family could tackle.

  Sunlight vainly fought through the dirty window to brighten the room. A filing cabinet—half the drawers unable to close from the overflow of papers—was a pedestal for a drooping plant. Brown leaves littered the floor. And the craziest thing, pink flamingos decorated everything. They were on his desk, in the window sill, and one giant flamingo poster competed with pictures of himself with his arms around different blonde-haired bikini girls.

  I swallowed hard, wondering what I’d gotten myself into.

  “Stella?” Uncle Chris prompted.

  Oh, yes. He’d asked a question. “Hopefully in the next couple of—”

  “Nice,” he interrupted. “Ah! Here she is now.”

  The door creaked open behind me. I turned as a slim woman with short blonde hair and a skirt covered in a kaleidoscope of flowers entered the room.

  The woman was as animated as her outfit. She blurted in a rush, “You can’t believe traffic. It was insane!” She ran to the desk in a swirl of perfume and threw a packet of papers on the desk. “Anyway. Tada! There it is.”

  Uncle Chris pulled over the folder and flipped it open to read. He announced without looking up, “Kari, this is my niece, Stella. She’ll be assisting you until she gets licensed.”

  Kari’s blue eyes took me in. Smiling, she held out her hand. “Kari Missler. Nice to meet you.”

  I shook it. “Nice to meet you, as well. Have you worked here long?”

  “Oh, I’m fairly new myself,” she answered.

  “She’s still under a probationary period,” Uncle Chris grumbled, flipping another page.

  Kari’s cheeks pinked and she laughed. “So far so good, though. I hear you’re from Seattle?”

  “Yeah, but I was born in Pittsburgh.”

  “Should have stayed here, as well,” Uncle Chris added. “That father of yours…”

  My dad had always been somewhat on the outs with Uncle Chris. All the men in my life were so complicated. Was it any wonder that I had dating problems? I was thankful for the job offer, but it did make me wonder if Uncle Chris was competing with my dad somehow in trying to be a substitute dad. Or maybe my uncle thought having family working in the business would be good for his image. Like I said, he wanted to get into politics.

  “Oh,” Kari smiled. “So there’s some family dynamics at play here, huh?” She shook her head and whispered conspiratorially. “Don’t worry. I get dynamics like that. You’re going to do great.”

  Uncle Chris slid the packet of papers over. “You forgot to have them sign here.” He tapped the empty spot with a finger. “And there’s two spots where a set of initials are missing.”

  Kari’s mouth dropped open. “Oh,” she said, blankly. Then smiling brightly, she accepted the papers. “I’ll get right on that. In fact, I’ll pop over there, now.”

  “Take Stella with you,” Uncle Chris said. “Have her help you with the staging.”

  “You got it,” Kari said with a nod. Then, turning to me, “You ready?”

  A few minutes later, we climbed into what appeared to be an innocuous van. I was expecting a sedate drive when Kari hammered on the gas and I was throw back, violently reminded that appearances can be deceiving. She took the last corner with tires screeching, and me hyperventilating and stomping the floor like I was praying for a brake pedal.

  I think I was.

  She pulled into the driveway of an old Victorian manor with a calm smile. I, on the other hand, breathlessly clutched my seatbelt.

  Kari didn’t seem to notice. “Okay, so let me catch you up to speed. This is an unusual seller.” She peered at the house over the tops of her sunglasses. “Two retired sisters and a brother. All in their late seventies and early eighties.” She grabbed her purse and the folder of papers. “Staging is going to be tough, I’m afraid. The house hasn’t been aired out in eons. Fortunately, with all the land and the historical value, the property is worth well over a million dollars. I’m expecting we’ll get a nice chunk of cheese at the end of it.” She opened the van door and climbed out.

  I struggled with my seatbelt which had locked tight during one of her turns. Her eyes were down scanning the forms when I finally joined her.

  “Don’t let them intimidate you, especially the older sister. Her bark is worse than her bite. There’s a brother around here. I haven’t met him yet, but I hear he’s a prankster.”

  I studied the enormous manor and swallowed at her comment about the sister.

  I scanned the yard as we walked up to the door. Dry bristles of grass struggled through the brick pathway. In fact, it seemed all the landscaping plants were gasping for water.

  My toe caught the edge of an uneven brick and I lurched forward.

  Kari grabbed my arm. “You all right?”

  I nodded, embarrassed. We walked up the stairs where Kari opened the screen door. She knocked while I continued to study the architecture. The porch was long and curved around the side of the house.

  “A veranda,” Kari murmured, catching my glance. “Very nice description to put in the listing. Always talk it up.”

  A tall thin woman, wearing a brown tweed dress, answered the door. She leaned on her cane, her lips frowning with disapproval.

  When I say thin, I mean skeletal. Her other bony hand clung to the door as if she were about to slam it shut in our faces.

  “You again,” she said. Her voice could make a puppy whimper.

  “Hi, Ms. Valentine. I’m sorry, but there was a spot I missed having you sign. And since I was coming over, I figured I’d bring my assistant. She’ll be helping you get things ready.”

  Here Kari touched my elbow. “This is Stella O’Neil.”

  Ms. Valentine stared down her nose that jutted between sunken cheeks. “Not even wearing a business suit. How charming,” she said dryly.

  I brushed my t-shirt down over my jeans. “I’m new in the area. Unfortunately, my moving truck got delayed. Anyway, it’s nice to meet you.” I thrust my hand out toward her.

  She glanced at it before taking it with a surprisingly firm grip. I swear, she squeezed just to be mean.

  “Well, I suppose you must come in again.” Ms. Valentine stepped away from the door. Her cane thumps echoed as she walked down the huge hall.

  We followed her into a room that I assumed was a study. The windows were streaked with grime, and clutter was everywhere. I glanced at Kari, wondering exactly what she expected me to do with this mess. I wasn’t a miracle worker.

  Ms. Valentine brought out an antique pen and raised her eyebrows expectantly at us.

  Kari jumped. “Oh yes.” She quickly went through the folder and pulled out the document, then directed Ms. Valentine where to sign and initial.

  Ms. Valentine’s stubbed pen scratched across the paper. Her signature was beautiful calligraphy.

  “Okay!” Kari said brightly when Ms. Valentine had finished. “Well, now. I’m going to leave you in the very ca
pable hands of Stella O’Neil here. She’ll need to get familiar with the house to begin the staging process.”

  My mouth dropped open. She wasn’t abandoning me here, was she?

  “Excuse us,” I said to Ms. Valentine with what I hoped passed for a smile and then drew Kari outside to the hall. “You can’t be serious. How am I to get home?”

  She jingled a set of keys. “You can take the van home. It’s the company vehicle anyway.” She pulled out her phone. “My Joe is here.” Then, sensing how nervous I was, she patted my arm. “You’ve got this. Nothing like jumping into the deep end of the pool to learn to swim. Relax, you’ll be fine. I’ll send you the number of a cleaning company to call, and this will all be done in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

  I didn’t appreciate the cutsie encouragement, and that sentiment must have shown on my face.

  Rather than be offended, Kari laughed. “You’ve got to start somewhere, and right now you’re on the bottom.”

  Before I knew what was happening, she was out the door and hurrying to a waiting car.

  “But Kari!” I yelled.

  She showed me no sympathy. Just waved and sped off.

  Slowly, I turned back to find Ms. Valentine watching me with a sour expression on her face.

  “Well, are you coming in or were you born in a barn? We don't normally keep the doors open in these parts,” she snapped before walking away.

  Feeling like a kicked puppy, I headed back inside.

  Once in the hall, I heard a patter of little feet. The sound was jarring, and I glanced around for a child. To my surprise, coming around the corner was a woman who was scarcely taller than your average fifth grader. She exuded an innocent jubilance as her tiny feet danced across the worn floorboards.