His head cocked. This happy me was not at all what he expected. “Call me Zeb.”
“Great, Zeb.”
He twisted his hands around a set of rolled-up engineering plans. “You’ve never called me Zeb.”
“Maybe it’s about time.” I stepped back from the door. “Please come in.”
He paused and wiped his boots on the mat before entering. “You said you made a decision about the garage.”
“I did. I realized I’ve been overthinking it and need to stop worrying. Let’s go ahead and build it with the apartment on the second floor. No need for an office or storage space.”
“Thinking about rental property?”
We stepped into the front parlor overlooking the site of the new building. It no longer looked like an angry scar but a sign of better things to come. “No. But you never know. It will be nice to have the space. Do you know when you can start?” I always forgot about his towering height until we stood side by side. He was solid, and perhaps that was what I’d always liked about him. I pictured him with Rachel. They certainly had all the makings of a successful match. They were the logical choice. And yet it didn’t feel right. Hardly scientific, but I didn’t question.
“We can start first thing next week.”
“Great.”
He held up the plans. “Do you want to go over them one more time? I actually have two sets of designs. One for an office and one for an apartment.”
“The apartment design is fine.”
“Let’s just go over it one more time.”
There was no missing his hesitation. How many times had I said I’d known what I wanted and didn’t? “Sure. One more time.”
He crossed to the conference table and spread out the plans. He reached for a tape dispenser, a small vase, a stapler, and the stone heart and laid each on a corner. “As you can see, we’re still creating the two-car garage. And the upstairs will have one bedroom, a kitchen, a bath, and a small living area.”
Standing close to him, I felt energy snap. I recognized the feeling. It had been a long time, but I knew. It was sexual attraction. Clearing my voice, I smiled, and this time it felt a bit more natural. “It looks great.”
“It will be. And if you decide to rent, you’ll get top dollar.”
“Good to know.”
He slowly removed the weights from the plans, pausing as he held the heart-shaped stone. “I hope you didn’t take offense at this.”
“I did, but not anymore. I know I can be cold.”
“Not cold.” He closed his powerful hand around the stone, warming it. “Just reserved. Eric likes you and he’s a good judge of character. The cookies were a big hit.”
“He’s a good kid. You’ve done a solid job with him.”
“Thanks.”
“I can’t assume credit for the cookies. Rachel has a magic touch when it comes to baking.” I dangled the fishing lure in the water. “She said her girls and Eric go to the same school.”
“Yeah, she’s great. I’ve always admired the way she kept it all together after Mike died. She was like a little sister to me. Mike and I were pals in high school.”
Well, wasn’t that something as I reeled in the fishing lure.
“I didn’t know that.”
What the heck was I digging for? All the facts I’d listed regarding a match between Zeb and Rachel proved they would be a good fit. He didn’t act particularly interested in her as a partner, but then men didn’t always know what was best for them.
The conversation was petering out quickly, but I wasn’t ready for it to end. “Margaret is having a meeting with a local newspaper writer about her witch bottles,” I said.
“Eric and I hear a lot about those bottles whenever we’re at the salvage yard. Margaret’s passion for history is infectious.”
“She’s doing a small presentation, and I thought you and Eric might like to come. It’s a bit of a history lesson and well, it’s different.”
He studied me a beat, still wondering what had changed. “Sounds good. When?”
“Tomorrow afternoon at four.”
“We’ll be there.”
“Great.”
Carefully, he rolled up the plans and then straightened. “You’ve changed. And I’m not quite sure how.”
“I feel a little like I did before . . . before my sister died. You know, whole.”
His eyes darkened. “I can’t imagine what you and your family went through.”
“It was a dark hole, but it’s time to climb out. I know Jennifer would want it.”
He cocked a brow. “Think Margaret’s witch bottle has anything to do with the change? Addie’s aunt Grace swears their lives all changed for the better once her bottle was broken.”
“I think the McDonald bottle is still intact, unless Margaret dropped it and didn’t say.”
“You would have heard the scream up and down the Potomac if she had.” Zeb chuckled. “She handles the thing like it’s a child.”
“It’s her baby.”
“Margaret’s fun but she needs a life. Maybe you could make a match for her.”
“She asked me to make a match for Rachel. Wanted to know if I had any spare men lying around.”
He shook his head slowly and laughed.
The heat radiating from him warmed my face. “I think everyone expects me to have a full warehouse of specimens. Or perhaps mail order like the bakery.”
He twisted his hands tighter around the plans. “Hey, you might have something there.” His phone vibrated on his hip. Frowning, he unclipped the phone and checked the number. “Job site. I’ll need to take this.”
“Sure, go ahead. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“You bet.”
• • •
Normally, when a patient was a couple of minutes late, I became irritated. But today, I couldn’t cling to anything other than hope. The rains had stopped. The project was moving forward. And tomorrow I would see Michael. Life was looking up.
When the doorbell rang, I rose, walking down the hallway with a softer clip of my heels than usual. Opening the door, I found both Debra and Samuel standing on the threshold. They were holding hands. Smiling.
I returned the smile. “You two look very happy today.”
Debra grinned. “We bought a house.”
I stepped aside so that the two could enter. “The house on Prince Street?”
Samuel rattled the keys in his hands before tucking them in his side pocket. “That’s the one. Houses like that don’t come on the market that often.”
“You’ve bought yourself a lovely home,” I said. As hopeful as they looked, I feared they wouldn’t be a couple in that house for very long. “I visited there several times as a child. And I’m amazed at the renovations.”
“We’re paying for move-in ready,” Debra said. “We’re too busy with our careers to tackle a renovation. The basement will need work, but we’ll deal with that after the wedding.”
We settled into the front room. “So what has changed between you two?” I asked.
They smiled at each other and Debra nodded, giving Samuel the go-ahead to speak. “I was pretty mad at Debra when we left here. She wouldn’t share her secret and it bothered me. I couldn’t be with someone who wasn’t forthcoming. So we spent some time apart.” He held her hand. “I really missed her.”
She smiled and clasped his hand. I understood body language enough to know she was still hiding a whopper and wasn’t even willing to tell me. “I’m sure you did.” I hoped she would share more.
Debra’s smile didn’t quite mask her trepidation. “I love him. I want to marry him and have a family. So I went to see him and we talked. It wasn’t easy.”
I wanted to dig deeper below the surface, suspecting she’d only slapped a small bandage on a wicked wound. But as I searc
hed for the right question to delve deeper, I hesitated. I believed honesty was the best policy, but if Zeb and I became closer, could I tell him about Michael? It seemed that was exactly what I would be doing tomorrow at the salvage yard. My past and present would collide when Michael and Zeb met. I’d made a strong argument for truth, but really I feared what would happen. “And you two were satisfied with the conversation?”
“She told me everything,” he said. “I know all about the drugs she used in college.”
“Drugs,” I repeated. As much as I wanted to believe she’d been honest with him, I couldn’t. The explanation was too easy and convenient.
“Yes,” Debra said. “I told it all to him. It was a bad time for me. I made a lot of foolish choices that I never talked about.”
“How do you feel about what you told him?” I asked.
She crossed her feet at her ankles. “I didn’t like doing it, but I’m relieved to have this behind us. I don’t want to look back. What purpose would it serve to dwell on it?”
Samuel nodded. “We’re glad you made us look inside ourselves. There were clearly things between us that needed airing, and better now than later.”
Debra tightened her hold on his hand. “We love each other.”
And this, I believed. Debra wanted this to work, but she wasn’t being forthcoming.
I only hoped the future would be kind to them and that they never were forced to look back. “I wish you two the very best. If you ever need me, know that I’ll be here.”
Samuel straightened with pride. He was on top of the world. “We’re good now, but thanks.”
December 13, 1769
My Dearest Children,
The famer’s wife lies in the new fancy four-post bed on the first floor of the brick home. In the spring, the farmer will begin on the second floor. But she does not notice the new home with its white plaster walls, freshly hewn floors and grand hearths. All she knows now is the pain that grows worse by the day. All the color has faded from her face, her hair now thinned to faint wisps.
As I tended her with a compress to her fevered brow, she confessed she and the other women had made witch bottles to cast a spell against me. I bade her to tell me where the bottles were hidden. I would smash them, for wishes can easily turn to curses. She refused to tell me. They know not what they’ve done.
—F
Chapter Nineteen
Rae McDonald
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 3:45 P.M.
I was nervous when I arrived at the Shire Architectural Salvage yard. Once again, choosing what to wear was a headache as I thought about seeing Michael. I finally settled on dark pants, a matching fitted jacket, and a white shirt. Hardly a fashion statement, but this was my “go-to” suit and it made me feel confident and comfortable. And more than anything, I wanted to at least appear relaxed and confident around Michael.
Pushing through the front doors of the King Street warehouse, I noticed that Margaret, or more likely Addie, had arranged a collection of mismatched chairs in a theater style. They faced a long, makeshift table made of a reclaimed door and two sawhorses. In the center of the table stood a tabletop lectern that looked like it had come from a church.
A baby’s cry echoed from the back of the warehouse, and as I heard footsteps, I expected to see Addie with Carrie bundled in the front pack. But it was Margaret who rounded the corner with the child tucked in a sling. The baby was awake, bright eyed, her fists balled up with energy and excitement.
Margaret raised a hand. “Rae. Are you not thrilled about this event?”
“I am. I hope you don’t mind, but I invited Zeb and Eric as well as a couple of friends of mine.”
“Wonderful. My lectures are not typically well attended. I have a talent for developing a great fascination for things few care about.”
Around Margaret, my blood pressure dropped. Even the baby, normally fussy, appeared content.
“The local reporter did say she might come,” Margaret added. “Though, I’ll warn you, I think it was the same reporter who gave you the ‘heart of stone’ moniker.”
“Even better.” I moved forward and took the baby’s foot in my hand. “I didn’t expect to see you with a baby.”
“Addie had to deliver a 1910 hand-carved mantel to a client, and Grace was too tired to watch the kid.” She rubbed Carrie on top of her head. “And I’m fairly sure that Carrie is not a real baby. I think she’s a thirty-five-year-old woman trapped in a baby’s body. I find the more I talk to her like an adult, the calmer she becomes.”
“Really? What makes you say that?”
“When I speak, her eyes are always open and studying me. And yes, she can be a crier, but this kid knows what she wants. You’ve got to admire a woman who knows what she wants and then promptly demands it in full. I’ve been running through my presentation and she’s been offering her opinion freely. She likes offering critiques.”
It was hard not to grin. “What’s she saying so far?”
“Well, that depends on how you interpret burps and grunts. I’m thinking it means, ‘Good job, Margaret. You’re brilliant.’”
“That’s how I would interpret it.”
“Good, because there have been lots of burps and grunts. Some noises even sound as if they have exclamation points on the end.” Margaret checked her watch. “Lisa should be here soon.”
“Great.”
“I did find out a few tidbits on Fiona. I’ll share after the meeting if that’s okay.”
“Perfect.”
Lisa pushed through the front door. She was dressed in dark jeans, a black T-shirt, and a lightweight gray jacket. Her blond hair was twisted into a loose topknot and secured by two red hair sticks. Silver feathers dangled from her ears, and though her makeup was slight, there was just enough to accentuate her blue eyes. She was nearly two years older than I, but she looked hip and cool, whereas I felt a little stiff. I considered popping the collar of my shirt or pushing up my jacket sleeves, but in the end it just wasn’t me.
Tucked under Lisa’s arm was a leather portfolio case. “Rae, I’m glad you’re here a little early. I have something for you.”
“You brought something for me?”
Lisa set the portfolio on Margaret’s table. I approached as she unwound the string that was holding the top flap closed. “When Addie and Margaret cleaned out Amelia’s basement, I didn’t realize they had found a box of glass negatives. I told them to take everything, and they did. When I was here at the warehouse a few days ago, I spotted the box. Until that moment, I’d forgotten all about it.”
Margaret studied the portfolio. “I knew they were glass negatives but assumed they were really old.”
“They’re seventeen years old. They were one of my first attempts at wet-plate photography. I cringe when I see all the mistakes I made in the early days.”
“I stopped worrying about my mistakes a long time ago,” Margaret said. “It’s about the only kind of history I don’t track.”
So much of me wished I could be like Margaret. I meticulously catalogued every error I made. I’d become so focused on making no missteps that I couldn’t move forward. I was a dowdy thirty-two-year-old who hadn’t had a real date in more years than I could count. But I was realizing that to wish away my mistakes would also cast off Michael. Something I would never do. “It looks like you developed some of the negatives.”
Lisa reached into the portfolio. Her fingertips on a print, she hesitated. “I made this for you and Jennifer, Rae.”
Slowly, she pulled out the image, its white backing facing me. “It’s not the best photography I’ve ever done. In fact, the negative had technical mistakes that I couldn’t fix. However, I was able to capture a great moment.”
Drawing in a breath, she turned the picture around and I found myself staring into Jennifer’s face. For a moment, I could not move. My heart stopped. I
studied the image, feeling the last of the barriers to my heart splinter and crack. Feelings so long in hibernation stirred.
My chest tightened with emotion and hands shook as I accepted the picture from her. My gaze lingered briefly on my young face before shifting to Jennifer’s expressive eyes. A lock of her reddish-brown hair, which looked darker here, cascaded over her shoulder, thick and full, and a small strand dangled over her left eye. She wore the gold hoop earrings that Mom had given her on her sixteenth birthday and the black V-neck I’d given her for Christmas. Her smile was so slight it would have been easy to miss. She possessed a look that suggested to the world she knew a secret.
We were sitting on a bench. She had slung her arm around my neck and I was grinning. This was the Jennifer I remembered. She was real. I’d never liked the formal pictures Mom displayed at her funeral or the last yearbook picture, which made her look so prim and proper. The girl looking back at me now was the bossy, sometimes irreverent sister who took all the chances and broke the rules.
Words escaped me until, finally, I cleared my throat and said, “That’s her. That’s Jennifer.”
Lisa released the breath she held. “That’s you, too. The kid I remember.”
“I’d forgotten we looked so much alike.”
“I’ve had these faces in my memory for so long, but I realized when I saw this picture, I’d forgotten so much.” She pointed to a small white scar above Jennifer’s lip. “Remember when she got that? We were in the sixth grade.”
“You and Jennifer were playing baseball in the backyard. She called you a wimp and you hurled the ball at her. Hit her in the mouth.”
“Your mom was so freaked out. Jennifer had a cotillion dance that Friday and your mother was certain she would greet her date with no front teeth.”
“The doctor said the cut could use a couple of stitches, but Jennifer wouldn’t let him get near her with a needle,” I remembered. “She said the scar would add character.”
“I’ll never forget all the blood. She must have made up a dozen stories about how she got the scar. Milked it good.”
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