“Yes, and while they worked up a special arrangement for me, Derek and I explored the courthouse square. Do all rural counties still plunk their courthouse right in the middle of two major thoroughfares?”
“Most did away with them long ago, and a lot of our county activities take place in the courthouse annex down the street, but it used to be much more commonplace. The bypass diverts those passing by, so the square is primarily for locals and tourists. We like that throwback to our past.”
“So did I. Derek probably was bored out of his gourd, but I had to go inside and see how it had been constructed.”
“Who knows? You might be sparking an interest in architecture with him.”
“Perhaps. Right now, he’s more interested in pirates, zombies, and dinosaurs.”
Tillie smiled. “He’s adorable, and you know it.”
Greg nodded as he took another bite. “Wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world.”
They ate and drank in silence a while. “There are a lot of historic buildings in this county, many of them well-preserved. I love that you aren’t only interested in constructing glass and steel buildings.”
“Construction is someone else’s territory. But I’ll admit I’ve drafted more than a few plans for those sterile structures. I try to add as much flair as I can, but there are definite limitations if bricks, native stone, and wood aren’t incorporated into the design, in my opinion. Luckily, a number of people and corporations are willing to pay for something truly unique these days. As long as we make it function in today’s world, they’re more open to traditional elements.”
They spoke a bit about some of the projects he was most proud of, until she looked down to see they’d eaten all of the cookies. “If I didn’t think we’d spoil our supper, I’d go through a dozen cookies.”
“I could as well. What’s on the menu tonight?”
“Another chicken dish, but with the five-spice I used in the cookies, along with brown rice and braised asparagus. Not too bad if we want to eat light. What do you think Derek would like?”
“Hard to say. I want him to try more things, but we might be pushing it. How about a less exotic grilled or baked chicken breast?”
“Doable. What vegetables does he like besides potatoes?”
“Corn. He’ll even eat broccoli as long as he can dip it in barbecue sauce or ranch.”
“Seriously?”
“Nancy and I were just happy he was eating some veggies.”
At least both parents made a point to be a part of their son’s life. She’d always wondered about her absent father and even her mom’s relatives who’d seemed nonexistent. The two of them had been quite isolated despite living in a close-knit community.
“It’s wonderful that you’re there for him.”
Greg looked down and furrowed his brows. “I love him so much, even if I’m clueless sometimes as to how to raise him.”
Her sperm-donor of a father hadn’t wanted any part of her life. Not that she desired having him around if he had zero interest in her.
“I’m no great expert on parenting, Greg, but I think you’re doing a wonderful job. Derek clearly adores you.”
He shrugged, but when their eyes met, she thought his mood had lifted. “I haven’t tried as hard as I could in the past, but I noticed a change came over him soon after we arrived.”
Tillie cocked her head. “How so?”
“I don’t know, but the trip down here was miserable. He was angry at me for taking him away from his mommy and didn’t like being cooped up in the car for two days. Then he woke up shortly before we arrived here, and everything changed. Seeing that playground equipment made his day,” he said, grinning briefly. “But it’s more than that. You didn’t cast some kind of spell over him, did you?”
Was he joking? Was he now accusing her of witchcraft? She started to laugh the statement off until she saw him scrutinizing her more closely as if searching for some crack in her façade.
Typical. He reverted to being a suspicious jerk just when she’d started to like him. But she wouldn’t lose her cool with a guest. Actually, she didn’t lose it with anyone. Hadn’t since she was a child.
No wait. She’d had enough of his accusations. “First, I’m conjuring up fake ghosts. Now I’m a witch or a sorceress?” If only she could control the shaking in her voice she might hide her fear at confronting him. She stood and picked up the plate and her mug and carried them to the sink.
“That isn’t what I said.”
She turned around to face him and leaned against the sink. “But it’s what you meant.”
“Look, I can’t explain why it matters, but you’ve come dangerously close to…” He ran his fingers through his hair and glanced away. “Maybe it’s this house, not you.”
What was this house? Perhaps if she could understand why he objected so fiercely to the way she marketed her inn to guests and the world—which was totally her decision to make—they could move beyond the incredible level of distrust he harbored against her.
Drawing a deep breath, she decided to question him and try to understand him better. “You believe houses have personalities of their own?”
“I’ve been around enough of them to know so. This one definitely has a strong persona. Perhaps remnants of its formidable former owner.”
She didn’t want to talk about Mrs. Foster with Greg anymore and let him besmirch her as well, but he seemed as fascinated by her as Tillie was. Maybe he was on to something. Tillie had never been able to separate this house from Mrs. Foster.
In many ways, losing her had been more devastating than losing her own mother; her mom hadn’t nurtured and cared for Tillie the way Mrs. Foster had. She blinked rapidly and turned again to fill the dishpan with soapy water, not wanting him to see he’d scored a direct hit. She didn’t want to think about the woman right now, either.
Tillie seized the opportunity to divert the conversation away from her friend and asked, “Were you able to find the grave you were looking for?”
“Yes. The headstone was easy to find. I’m glad she and her husband will be remembered for a long time.”
He wasn’t going to give her a name, but she tried to remember who had the more prominent stones, besides Mrs. Foster, anyway. She sighed. It had been a while since she’d wandered around there, she supposed.
“I always love the elaborate stones from the old days,” she said. “Like buildings, tombstones haven’t improved over the ages.”
“Their designs have become rather mundane, haven’t they? But the ones with photos of the deceased or their family on them are nice memorials.”
She’d seen those, too, and one local artist etched images of the deceased’s life on stones, everything from deer and mountains to their John Deere tractor. But the old-fashioned ones touched her heart in a different way, probably because she’d spent so many hours playing amongst them as a child. They’d become like friends. In many ways, her interactions with the stones weren’t unlike those with her stoned mother—neither spoke back. Such a lonely point in her life.
Okay, now she was being downright maudlin. How had the mood shifted so dramatically from when they’d been eating the cookies? The crash after the high made her reluctant to try any more. She might want to stick to the memories instead.
Trying to lighten to mood again, she said, “We don’t have any like this in our local cemetery, but Mrs. Foster used to tease me that she was going to have one like the weeping woman in the My Old Kentucky Home graveyard. You’ll have to check that out during your stay—and tour the house, too.”
“It’s on my list. You know I wouldn’t pass touring a house named Federal Hill.”
She smiled but continued washing dishes. Maybe they needed some space between them to be civil. “Have you ever been to one of the Victorian cemeteries with the huge angels?”
“Can’t say that I’ve visited many cemeteries.”
“Well, I love those, too. Cave Hill in Louisville has some. Eerily b
eautiful. If you venture up that way, you should check them out. I think Derek would be fascinated by that place. It’s more like a park, so he can visit the peacock near the cave, and there are ducks, geese, and maybe even swans on the lake. Colonel Sanders and Muhammad Ali are buried there.”
“Interesting. I’d planned one day in Louisville to go to the downtown history and science museums Derek might like and maybe another day for the zoo. But I’m not sure I want to encourage his fascination with zombies by taking him to another cemetery.”
She smiled, wiping her hands after setting the last dish in the drainer and pivoting toward him. “True. But I wouldn’t worry about this phase too much. He merely has an active imagination, which is wonderful these days.”
“I’ll say he does. You should have seen him searching them out when we were up the road. He’s been obsessed with them ever since Halloween when some older kids scared him while out trick-or-treating. Now he expects them to show up at every corner. When we hit a patch of fog before arriving at our overnight stop in Indiana, he asked me if zombies were going to come out of the fog and eat our brains.”
“Well, while most kids would be fearful of them, your son seems to welcome the sight. Brave boy.”
“Who’s a brave boy?” They turned to see Derek standing in the doorway rubbing his eyes.
When Greg held out his arms, the subject of their conversation walked into them and was lifted onto his daddy’s lap for a hug. Greg’s arms were strong and protective, and the sight of them together made her chest ache so badly she almost closed her eyes.
“Why, you are, son. We were saying how brave you were chasing down zombies today.”
He cocked his head. “But we didn’t see any.”
“I guess you were right; they prefer nighttime over day,” Greg said. Had Greg experienced a change of heart about humoring his son and his obsession with zombies?
“But I’m afraid of the dark.” Derek turned toward Tillie with his big blue eyes. “Have the zombies ever come down here from the graveyard?”
“Oh no. Not that I’ve seen, anyway.” His mixture of fear and anticipation made her smile. “But you might be a zombie magnet, so I’ll be sure to keep my eyes open for some while you’re here.”
His eyes opened wide. “Cool!”
She suddenly remembered the window and said to Greg, “I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you for repairing that window. You’ll have to give me a lesson in how to handle all the camera views on my computer. How many did you install?”
“Six.”
Six?
“I’m not sure I can monitor them on a regular basis. How long will it save the video before it loops around and replaces it?”
“I chose a motion-detection system, so it only records when it detects some type of movement. And it’s backing up to a Dropbox account I set up for you.”
“How much is that?”
“No charge. See if you like it first. Then we can talk about you picking up the expense, but I’ve already ordered a year’s subscription. You should be able to record for months, but as you watch them, feel free to delete and clear off space.”
She wasn’t sure she was ready to enter the 21st century, but if anyone broke into her house again, she’d at least be able to catch them in the act.
Tillie glanced up at the clock. Almost four. “If you don’t mind eating supper at six, I think we could go”—she glanced at Derek and decided to spell out “treasure hunting” in case he had changed his mind. In truth, she simply wanted to see whether the cameras were working and how easy it would be to view the videos.
“Six is fine. We’re in for the night.” To Derek, he added, “Just in case any of those zombies are on the prowl.”
“Daddy, they don’t prowl like cats. Zombies walk with their hands out. Real slow. Like this.” Scrambling off Greg’s lap, Derek extended his hands in front of him and made his body and steps stiff as he took a few steps much like Frankenstein walked.
What an adorable zombie. He’d have a blast with the other kids in the neighborhood at her Halloween party. Not that he’d ever be here for that.
You can’t keep them forever.
To his son, he asked, “Would you like to go on that treasure hunt?”
Derek jumped up and down. “Yes, yes, yes!”
Tillie’s excitement level rose with Derek’s enthusiasm, and she removed her apron and laid it over the chair at the island. Taking a flashlight from the drawer, she handed it to the boy. “Would you like to be in charge, Explorer Derek?”
The boy stood taller as he accepted the light and turned it on while nodding.
“Then follow me, boys!”
Leading the way to the cellar, she unbolted the door and started to open it when Greg placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her. A bolt of electricity charged straight to her core.
“Allow me.”
Until that moment, she’d forgotten all about the threat of an intruder. She wouldn’t grab her revolver, though, feeling safer with Greg around than if she’d been venturing downstairs alone.
“Wait here,” he said. When he reached the bottom, Greg quickly checked all three rooms and gave them the go-ahead.
“Derek, let me go in front of you.” If he lost his footing, she wanted him to fall against her and not down the stairs. “Hold on to the railing.”
Unlike Greg, neither of them had to duck under the overhang.
“Where should we look first?” Greg asked.
Derek pointed to the room where the intruder had come through the window, as luck would have it. Greg opened the door, flipped on the light, and stood aside to let Derek lead the way.
“Hold my hand, Daddy.” The boy’s eyes were as round as saucers.
Derek stayed close to Greg with Tillie following behind. The beam of the flashlight was joined by the LED light from Greg’s cell phone. She should have brought one of her own, but a red light shone in the upper outside corner, not far from the replaced window. Must be one of the new cameras. Not obtrusive at all and only she would be in here for the most part.
“What kind of treasure do you think we’ll find, Derek?” she asked.
The boy remained silent as he shined the light in a corner of the room. “I don’t like this room.”
Could he feel what she sensed here? Hadn’t Greg mentioned the coldness of the room, too?
“Run for your lives!”
Without warning, he spun around and headed for the center room.
“What the heck?” Greg asked.
She heard Derek’s feet on the stairs before she and Greg ran after him, catching up with him at the top of the stairs.
“I’m never going down there again! It’s scary down there!”
Greg hunkered down beside him and wrapped the boy in his arms while Tillie took the flashlight from his trembling hands. Had he seen something?
“What did you see?”
“A bad guy with a gun.”
Tillie’s heart skipped a beat. She and Greg hadn’t seen anyone down there. Had he seen a ghost, and was that entity the one that made the room a little frightening to her at times, too? Could it be Jesse James himself?
Don’t you start with that nonsense, Matilda.
“We don’t have to treasure hunt anymore if you don’t want to,” Greg reassured the boy.
Abruptly, he separated from his father. “Good! Let’s go play outside, Daddy.”
“Sure.” To Tillie, he added, “I’ll get out of your hair now.”
“I’d better go finish supper.”
“Thanks.” Greg hurried to keep up with Derek as he bounded toward the dining-room door.
“Have fun!” Tillie called after them. If only the father could have the joy for living his son did.
She returned to the kitchen. If she didn’t have to be an adult, she’d follow them. She hadn’t felt playful in a long time, usually keeping herself busy, so much so that she wasn’t even aware of anything other than running her business and sticking
to her routine.
But isn’t this what she loved?
Being booked solid for most of the coming holiday season, her workload would only increase in the weeks ahead. Still, the urge to join them outside made her heart ache. She walked into the dining room and peeked out the window at them playing on the swing again.
Perhaps she needed to nurture her inner child a bit. Mrs. Foster had tried to infuse some playfulness in their days so she wouldn’t take life so seriously. But she’d been a child then. Now she had the responsibility of making her business a success.
Tillie sighed, wishing she could stop being practical for a few minutes.
Not today, though. She had supper to make.
* * *
Greg couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, but when he turned toward the L-shaped porch and dining-room window, he didn’t see anyone.
He surveyed the house as he pushed Derek on the swing, but his eyes kept straying to the window where he’d caught a glimpse of Tillie yesterday. At the same time, he hoped he wouldn’t see her staring out at them again with what seemed like longing.
Man, you’re messed up.
Being with her last night and today as they devoured those amazing cookies, he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off her. So strong yet fragile. A beautiful young woman. What was she doing all alone in that house? Did she date? Had she loved and lost like Greg had? Okay, so he rattled around his own huge house more often than not. But he must be losing his touch with the ladies if she’d interpreted his inability to tear his gaze away from her earlier as anger instead of his being speechless because she’d charmed not only him but Derek, too. Kids could cut through bull and see a person’s true character.
Why was it taking Greg so long to figure her out? He couldn’t blame Tillie for expecting the worst from him, the way he kept lashing out at her.
If she wanted to make up ghost stories about this place, what harm was there? Guests like him could ignore them; others could eat them up. Bottom line, if they helped her stay afloat, then why not live and let live?
Still, having Derek seeing ghosts didn’t sit well with him. All this talk had put ideas into his head.
The woman worked too hard as it was, never allowing herself to have much fun. No wonder, given the way she’d been raised. The story about her mother broke his heart.
Jesse's Hideout (Bluegrass Spirits 1) Page 9