Only my brother could so consistently manipulate me. He knew he had me as soon as he said that. The show Make It Pretty was one of my favorites, where the hosts went into crappy old houses and made them look elegant and sophisticated. It always amazed me how they could work magic with a little fabric, paint, wood and tools. I loved the entire design process, and I especially loved the ending where they unveiled the new look of the home.
“It’s really cool in there,” my brother continued. “With all the work they’ve done, the house looks like the end result of the show. Amazing really.”
He was devious. This was so unfair.
“Okay.” My hand covered my mouth a moment too late. I can’t believe I said that. What the heck was I thinking? Although, now that I thought about it, the old house had probably cleaned up pretty well. If they knew what they were doing, it might look darn good in there, and they’d probably sealed up the entrance to hell in the basement or fixed whatever had made it scary in the first place.
“I’ll do it on one condition.”
My brother knew he had me then, so he waved a hand in my direction. “Sure, what do you want?”
“I want to be able to take a friend with me tonight.”
At that moment the door opened, and a new customer stepped in, meaning I was going to have to wait a few minutes before convincing my brother to let me have my way. Since I was helping him out with the evening’s events at the house of hell, the least he could do was give me the couple of things I asked for.
The customer, tall, silver-haired, with a military bearing, strode in, blue eyes scanning the room until he saw Giuseppe.
“I’m here for a … marble,” he said.
I looked at him, wondering what he meant. Linwood Cosgrove, a retired Army Colonel, was always very pleasant. I usually saw him around town with his wife Valerie, who had the same polite-yet-distant demeanor as her husband.
“She changed her order and decided against the marbled design,” Giuseppe said. “Here, they just arrived yesterday.” Reaching under the counter, Giuseppe pulled out a box and set it next to the cash register. “Three beeswax candles with grapefruit and lemongrass essential oils. Yellow, not the marbled lilac and lemon.” Giuseppe smiled at Linwood. “I think this is what you’re looking for.”
Linwood hesitated, eyeing both Giuseppe and the box with suspicion. After a moment he nodded. “Okay. How much do I owe you?”
Giuseppe rang the order up and looked at Linwood. “That’ll be ten dollars and seventeen cents. Do you need this giftwrapped?”
Linwood stared at him for a moment, then reached into his wallet and pulled out some money, handing it to my brother. Giuseppe stood, waiting in silence. After a few moments ticked by, he said, “Ten dollars, Linwood. You gave me a five.”
Linwood nodded. “Right.” Reaching back into his wallet he pulled out another bill, which I could see was a twenty. Giuseppe gave him the original five dollars back and made change.
“Giftwrap?” I asked, wondering if maybe he hadn’t heard my brother. Linwood looked at me and shook his head slightly, so I grabbed one of the new boxes that had been delivered and started to unpack it. Might as well get some work done while I thought about why I put up with a brother who insisted on dragging me to the funhouse of evil. Correction: the decorated funhouse of evil.
“Tell Valerie we said hello,” Giuseppe said, handing the change back.
Linwood smiled for the first time, making him look distinguished. He was a handsome older man, and I’d bet that in his younger days women had been falling all over him.
“I will. For now I’m on a mission to carry out my day’s assignments,” he said.
My brother nodded. “Good move. It’s always best to do what the wife wants.” I gave a half snort at his serious man-to-man tone. Giuseppe’s wife Janine was a real sweetheart, and I had never once seen her harass him in an overbearing way. She was lovable and kind and supportive and had produced the most beautiful baby boy ever for him. Of course, my nephew, Baby Danny, tended to throw up more than most kids, but that wasn’t Janine’s fault. It was that organic baby food Giuseppe insisted the kid eat. I’d throw up if I had to eat that, too.
Linwood nodded, stepping away from the counter. For a moment, he stood in the middle of the store as if he were lost.
“Don’t forget your package,” Giuseppe said, grabbing it off the counter and handing it to him.
“Thanks,” Linwood said, “and say hello to, um, everyone.”
As soon as Linwood was out the door, I turned to my brother. “So who bought the house?”
“Huh? Oh, that,” he said, unpacking a new box of organic essential oils. The faint scent of sandalwood drifted through the store. “Well, you know how the land north and a little bit behind that old house got sold to the development company?”
Did I ever.
Brewster Square was a quaint New England town full of variety. The bustling center green, replete with shops and churches, spreading suburban landscape and forested areas created a highly desirable community for folks who preferred to live outside the city. My parents lived on a farm in the farthest northwest corner of our town. Driving west down the road past my parents’ house very quickly led out of Brewster Square. To the south of them, their home had been surrounded by acres of woods, an amazing place to hike and bird watch and catch frogs. In my mind the whole area was magical.
I guess all good things come to an end, because last year the bulldozers had come in and cut down all that magic and put in a new housing development.
“What’s the new development got to do with us going to the house of horrors?” I said. I knew there was probably a good story here, but I wanted my brother to get to the point. He was tall, dark and sometimes referred to as handsome, but he was never silent. Giuseppe liked to pontificate.
“When the family that bought the old house first came to town, they met with a realtor to look at a house in the new section. According to them, when they toured the new home they hated it. The ironic part is that they hated it because it was so new. But when they were driving into the new neighborhood they drove down Chartres Road and saw the McAllister house. It was love at first sight.”
“Then they must need glasses,” I muttered.
“I think it’s wonderful that they were able to purchase the house,” Giuseppe said. “That thing has been sitting empty for too long now, and it’s about time someone went in there and made it a home again.”
I knew he was right, but I didn’t like it, especially since this particular chain of events meant I had to go into that house tonight.
“I don’t know, G, sixty dollars isn’t enough. I still won’t do it.”
“Don’t call me G, and yes, you will,” he said. “You’re going to go with us tonight, or don’t come back to this store.”
“What?”
“You heard me. I need you. I need to know you’re with me all the way. You might think this is some silly little side business, but it’s part of everything I’m creating. You do an amazing job here, and I’m grateful to have you to help me.”
Giuseppe paused, putting on his stern face and looking me dead in the eye. I knew that face well; he’d used it on me his whole life. “I want this to be a family-run business, and I want you to be a part of the whole thing, but if you don’t do the ghost hunt with us tonight, you’re fired.”
Chapter Four
Giuseppe always threatens to fire me. He’s not always fair about it, but I believe him. I don’t know for certain that he’d really do it, since he’s my brother and all, and he doesn’t have anyone else to work with him, but I don’t want to take that chance. Without this job I have no money, and even though I’m bored and want to do something else, I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. I need this job while I’m figuring my life out. Plus, his wife and kid are counting on me to help out, and I’m not going to let them down.
One day soon I’ll have a different career, but for now I have rent an
d a phone bill to pay. I don’t know why I let him push me around sometimes, but I know in the end he’s always going to be there for me.
“Fine, I’ll go to the ghost hunting thing,” I said, not caring that I’d caved to his demands so quickly. Like he said, it was part of the business, and I should probably be there anyway. “But I want to bring Charlie with me.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
“And I want you to give Charlie fifty dollars, too.”
He gave me a dark look, but this time I held my ground.
“Fine,” he said. “Charlie gets fifty dollars.”
“And we get to leave early.”
“How early? You can’t cut out too soon, or you won’t be any good to me.”
“I want to be out of there by one a.m.”
He pretended to think about it, then nodded. “One a.m.”
One other thing bothered me about all this. “Why on earth are these people letting you do this? If they’ve just redecorated the house, don’t they want to, I don’t know, enjoy it without strangers traipsing through, knocking stuff over and videotaping a whole lot of nothing?”
“We won’t be knocking stuff over, and hopefully we’ll be videotaping a whole lot of something tonight,” he answered. I shivered as images of basement doors leading into hell floated through my mind.
“We won’t see anything,” I said, more to myself than my brother.
“They’re thinking about opening a bed and breakfast in there,” he said. “Can you watch the store while I go take care of some paperwork?”
I knew that meant he was going to go to his apartment upstairs and take a nap. “No, I’m not finished. What does opening a bed and breakfast have to do with finding ghosts in the house?”
Giuseppe looked at the ceiling as if he needed answers. Or strength. “Sister, everyone would rather pay money to stay in a haunted house rather than a boring old house with no spirit activity.”
Not me, I thought. I would rather not have weird sounds and apparitions appear when I vacationed somewhere or worry about what was watching me while I took a shower.
“Do they know there’s already a bed and breakfast in town?” I asked. The Lilac Inn was on the corner adjacent to Giuseppe’s store. Both were located on the town green, a big square of grass common to most small New England towns. A gazebo sits smack in the middle of the green, and each corner of the square has a very large bronze statue of a horse and rider. I think they were supposed to be soldiers or something, but to me they look like the four horsemen of the apocalypse. Buildings and businesses crowd around the green, including old apartment houses with tons of character and charm. My aunts own one of those beautiful old buildings, and I live on the top floor and do my best to take care of the place.
Our little downtown area includes Scentsations and The Lilac Inn, as well as a Catholic church, an Episcopal church, town hall and coffee shop called Big Beans. Kenny owns Big Beans, which means I have to inconvenience myself to get my coffee and muffins at the bakery on a parallel street. Since that way I don’t run into Kenny in the mornings, I’m fine with that.
The bell on the door jangled. I turned to see who was coming in, and my heart did a flippy-thing.
“It’s not a crime to have more than one bed and breakfast in town,” Giuseppe said, “and with that gorgeous old house renting out rooms, I’ll bet even the townspeople will want to stay there.”
“Hey, Stanley,” I said, aiming for a nonchalant, cool sort of tone. Guys really like it when you don’t fawn all over them.
My brother frowned at me. “Are you okay? Your voice sounds weird.”
“I’m fine,” I snapped, wishing he would go take a nap already.
“I caught the tail end of what you were talking about when I came in,” Stanley said, walking over to the counter where I stood fiddling with a box. I looked down at a miniature pile of shredded cardboard, wondering how much damage I could do if this guy stayed for any length of time.
“The old McAllister house has been bought,” Giuseppe said.
“Yes, I heard about that.”
Of course he had. Stanley is the mayor of Brewster Square, so it’s his job to know what’s going on around here. Slightly older than me by a few years, Stanley is the kind of mayor that takes his job seriously and works hard for the town. I always thought we were lucky to have him, and not just because I have a big crush on him. Stanley comes across as someone who puts ethics and justice before his own personal agenda, a rarity in politics, from what I can see.
“Did you know they were thinking of doing a bed and breakfast sort of thing?” I asked.
“Yes, they talked to me about it. I told them about the Lilac Inn, but they didn’t think it would matter. Looks like they’ve got a pretty good marketing plan, and they’re ready to go.”
Stanley and I stood there for a minute, looking at each other. I was infatuated with this guy, and I was pretty sure it showed, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself from acting like an idiot. I could feel my face turning red as I frantically tried to come up with something intelligent to say.
“So I guess it’s going to be baseball season soon.” Baseball was a safe topic, guys love baseball.
“It is? Oh, right. I don’t follow baseball much. I’m not really a sports person.” Now it was Stanley’s turn to become red in the face, but I didn’t know if he was embarrassed because he didn’t like sports or because I was an idiot for asking. Time to change the subject again.
“How’s the mayor thing going?” I asked. My mother’s gentle voice echoed in my head. The mayor thing? Very eloquent, Ava Maria Sophia Cecilia. Try to speak in a manner that reflects your degree in English Literature.
I tried again. “I mean, do you feel comfortable in that position?” Did I really just say that? Seriously, I should give up, because clearly I couldn’t talk to this guy to save my life.
“I hate to interrupt this riveting conversation,” my brother said, “but I’ve got to go upstairs and get a few things together. Ava, if you need me just ring the apartment. If I don’t see you, lock up at the end of the day and meet me at the investigation tonight.”
Giuseppe nodded to Stanley, turned and left. Stanley looked at me, his face serious. “He’s going to take a nap, isn’t he?”
I shrugged. “Not for the whole day. He’ll probably read a little, too. But in his defense, he’s got to rest up for tonight.”
“Ghost hunt?”
I nodded, not sure if I was supposed to talk about it. Sometimes Giuseppe didn’t want word getting out about where he would be investigating until the investigation was over.
“The McAllister place?” Stanley asked.
I nodded again, wondering how he knew.
“I heard a rumor that you guys were going to be there tonight, that the new owners thought it might be cool to see if the place is haunted.”
Small towns amazed me. There wasn’t much going on that everyone didn’t already know about. I looked up at Stanley, who was now looking at the floor. His lanky frame appeared awkward, as if he wasn’t quite sure how his arms and legs should go with the rest of his body, and he kept pushing his square black glasses up his nose. He was a geek, that much was true, but he was one of those geeks that I found extremely handsome. Behind his glasses were smoky gray eyes, and he had a mop of adorable blond hair that kept flopping into his face. He looked smart because he was smart, and I loved that in a guy.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you later,” Stanley said, starting to edge toward the door. “I just stopped in to say hi, see how things were going.”
“Thanks. See ya.” Clearly my conversational skills were lacking. What the heck was I thinking? How come I never asked this guy out?
Girls don’t call boys. Again, my mother’s voice floated through my head with her words of wisdom imparted to me when I was a teenager. At that time all it really meant for me was that I had to make sure my parents didn’t know when I decided to call a boy. Now it was just a nuisance thought in my
head.
Maybe one of these days Stanley and I would actually go on a date, but for now I needed to concentrate on running my brother’s store and figuring out what I was going to say to Charlie later tonight. It had to be something good, too. I knew I would pay for involving her in this later, but I had to think of something that would entice her to come to that scary old house. I needed her with me if I was going to make it through the night.
Chapter Five
“What do you mean we have a little thing to do for your brother tonight?” When Charlie was upset, her voice tended toward shrill. Right now it was piercing.
“I told him the only way I would help him was if I could take you with me,” I said, trying to sound like this was the best idea ever. “It’ll be fun. Plus, he’s going to pay us.”
“You can have the money, I don’t need it,” Charlie answered without thinking. My friend was beautiful and generous, and she had an amazing job in some sort of advertising or promotional company where she made gobs of money.
“I can’t take your money,” I said. “It’s yours just for being there. The fact is, I really need you to be with me.”
Charlie arched a perfectly waxed eyebrow at me. “Please don’t tell me you’re scared of ghosts. You know that every time you go on one of these things you never see anything anyway.”
“It’s the old McAllister house.”
Charlie sat on my old couch and let out a long breath. “He must have talked the new owners into letting him do this.”
I wondered if the whole town knew the details of the people who’d bought the decrepit old building. As usual, I was probably the last to know.
“I don’t know if I should go,” Charlie said. She twisted a piece of her blonde bangs around her finger, a sure sign she was nervous. Charlie was always well put together and never appeared disheveled. Hair twisting meant something was bothering her, something big.
“Giuseppe said it’s really nice in the house now, and they’ve made it look like one of those houses on television.”
Madness in Brewster Square Page 2