I was alone.
“Have you talked to him, honey?” Mom asked as I drank a cup of coffee at the kitchen table in the morning with her and Grandma Helen. My tummy was too twisted to eat.
“What’s there to talk about? He’s plotting with his dad to turn Milkweed Mansion into some kind of condo village.”
“That doesn’t seem like Landon.”
“He’s a builder, Mom. His dad is a builder. It’s what they do.”
Grandma snorted. “With a body like that, who cares what he does?”
Mom said, “Ma!” while I said “Grandma!” But Grandma Helen just winked at me from over her coffee cup.
She almost made me smile. “I have a question for you, Mom.”
“All right.” Mom didn’t look thrilled.
“My father obviously knew about me, since he left me the house. Why didn’t he try to get in touch?”
“I don’t know. I did inform him when I learned I was pregnant, but by then, I’d also learned that he’d lied to me. That he was engaged to someone else. Our time together was brief. Impulsive. We were already estranged when I found out about you. I told him I didn’t want anything from him but didn’t want to keep you a secret. And he told me he couldn’t endanger his future by having anything to do with us. He did offer me some money at the beginning, but I refused.”
My poor Mom. She was beautiful still, even with silver strands lightening her red hair. Knowing how badly he’d treated her, how she put her own hopes for love aside to raise me, made me understand her pride in not asking for more, in not pushing him to connect with me. But it still hurt that he never did.
I looked into her clear eyes. There were no tears there now. She was strong, and that was a long time ago.
“I get it,” I said. “And you must understand how I feel. You know what it’s like to have a guy lie to you.”
“I do. And I know something happened in Orlando.” She knew way too much. “But before you throw away whatever you have with Landon, be sure you have the whole story. He’s a good man, Kayla.”
All I could do was nod. I knew what I’d heard.
It wasn’t like I’d have to see Landon, anyway. He’d been so absent from his dad’s business while helping get the mansion ready for the haunted house, he’d promised to make up for lost work time at Putter Homes. He wasn’t even going to be at Milkweed Mansion during the tours.
But that didn’t stop him from leaving me several texts.
Where did you go?
Are you OK?
Come on, text me, Kayla. I’m really worried now.
Hey, Alex said they took you to your mom’s. Is she OK? Is your grandma OK? Call me.
Kayla? I miss you. Talk to me.
That last one really crunched my nuts. And I didn’t have any nuts.
I knew I had to talk to him at some point. I had to disentangle myself from him, disentangle him from the project. Get out of that apartment, though I had no idea where I’d go. Well, maybe one idea, though the thought of living in that gigantic strange house after the fundraiser was over seemed ludicrous.
What options did I have? I didn’t have another job. And I didn’t have enough money to go into a partnership with an investor if I wanted to retain any kind of control. Control was especially important to me now that I knew what an investor could do with control of the property — an investor like Landon’s dad.
When was Landon going to spring the big plan on me? Actually, now that I thought about it, he’d mentioned that his dad was interested in investing. Landon wanted to work me up to it, I guessed. Butter me up, grease the wheels. Get me to commit and then unveil the grand future.
Even as I thought these things, I somehow couldn’t believe them. Maybe my man-o-reader was broken, but I just couldn’t believe I’d misjudged Landon so badly.
I didn’t want to believe it. I wanted to believe in that man who’d made love to me on the beach. Who’d been there for me every day, putting the pieces together. Making everything all right. Because that’s what he’d done for me. He’d made everything all right, made me believe that it could be all right. Even made me believe that my future would be even better with him in it.
That would be the hardest thing to forgive.
I got some things from the apartment when I knew he wasn’t there and crashed on my mom’s couch for the rest of the weekend while I worked the haunted house. I took over Millie’s role, handling tickets and dealing with details. And it was amazing. Saturday and Sunday were packed, and as the next week rolled in and word got around, ticket sales for the final Thursday to Sunday run exploded.
And still I stayed at my mom’s, apologizing for crowding her and grandma in their little bungalow. They actually seemed pretty happy about having me there. But as used as I was to sharing a bathroom, having three women fight over the shower and the sink in the morning was way too much. I knew I couldn’t stay there forever, but I wasn’t ready to confront Landon yet.
The texts had trailed off, but he still pinged me at least once a day. Did he have no clue?
He’s a man, I told myself. As a rule, men are short on clues.
After the haunted house, I’d get the rest of my stuff out of the apartment and live in the mansion until I figured out what to do. I didn’t think I was cut out for a Grey Gardens existence, but hey, I did have a new obsession with roses. And the ghosts would keep me company.
Speaking of ghosts, Penelope told me she’d heard some weird things in the library between tour groups. And she had a psychic streak that I had trouble dismissing.
Could Milkweed Mansion really be haunted? Was poor sweet Flora still wandering the halls? And was she pissed about our crass entertainment?
Sunday night was bittersweet. The tours were packed — in fact, we went an extra hour to accommodate walk-ups — and it was nearly midnight when the last guests left and we turned off the giant wraith. It was over. I’d bought some wine and pizza, and I sat with the half-costumed ghouls on chairs we’d set up in the ballroom, telling tales and joking around until, pleading exhaustion, they began to gather their things and leave.
“This was really fun,” Thea said as I walked her and Duncan, the last stragglers, out to the porch. “I have no idea why I’ve never tried performing before.”
“It’s because you’re so modest and shy,” Duncan said, and I laughed out loud, remembering Thea’s screams.
“I usually am,” Thea agreed.
“Come on,” Duncan said, and then I heard him whisper in her ear, “I know how to make you scream.”
I tamped down a surge of jealousy at their easy intimacy. They were chuckling as they walked around the house, out to their car. In the distance, beyond the river and the beach, a flash of light in the sky signaled the end of our dry spell. A low rumble of thunder followed as Thea and Duncan drove out. And then I heard something else.
Another vehicle was coming up the drive.
I took a deep breath of the humid night air as Landon got out of his truck and stood there for a minute, watching me.
He strolled up to the porch, looking more formal than usual, if you can call jeans, a white button-up shirt and a skinny tie formal. I realized with a shock that it was the same outfit he’d worn for the faux dating video.
I looked him up and down, appreciating his look. He was as handsome as ever. And truth was, he still struck a chord in me. My body hummed just having him near, and even my stupid heart tried to beat out of my chest. How could I reconcile the Landon who plotted to turn this place into condo-land with this man I knew, this man in front of me?
Honestly, he looked as uncertain as I felt. “How’d it go?”
I nodded. “Really well. As well as it could have. I don’t think we made enough to do what I want to do, but it was great.”
Thanks to you.
How could you throw it all away?
He put his hands in his pockets. “I tried to reach you all week.”
“I was busy.”
“I know
, but — I’m sorry I couldn’t be out here to help. I owed my dad a lot of time and had to get some things taken care of.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” My voice was brittle. Thunder echoed again across the lagoon as the storm approached from the ocean. The wind hissed through the trees, and I heard the hooting of an owl.
I nodded at his outfit. “You dressed up for clients?”
“No. Family dinner. I wanted to look … professional for what I had to say to my dad.”
“Sounds pretty formal for a family dinner.”
“Tonight it was, yeah.” He took the few steps up to the porch and stood beside me in the dim light of the faux candle lanterns flanking the door. “Look, Kayla, can we not dance around whatever it is that has you upset? I’m no good at games.”
“You’re not good at games?” I laughed bitterly. “That’s rich.”
He took a step closer. Now there was no doubting the worry in his eyes. “Tonight, I told my dad I was leaving the business. Setting up my own company specializing in all the stuff I told you about. Renovation. Vintage homes.”
“Starting with this one?”
“What? This will look good on the resume, sure, but — ” He stopped mid-sentence, and his eyes widened. “You heard us talking, didn’t you?”
“About the Milkweed condo project? Only I’m sure it will have a different name, won’t it? Like ‘Chianti Estates’ or ‘Tuscany Towers.’”
“Holy Christ. You think I wanted anything to do with that? Why do you think I’m leaving my dad’s company now?”
For the first time since this conversation started, doubt crept into my mind. “You said it would be perfect. Perfect for cutting down the oak trees and putting up river-view condos and — ”
“I was humoring him, that’s all. Maybe you didn’t hear the sarcasm. I’m not sure how much you heard, because I told him that night there was no way in hell I would help him get into this place, let him work with you.”
“You did?” Tears were starting to well in my eyes.
“Yes, Kayla.” He grabbed my hands. “This place is special. You’re special. There’s no way I’m going to let anyone take it away from you.”
I yanked my hands from his and ran into the house.
Chapter 26
“Kayla!” Landon was right behind me as I ran inside the dim foyer. Thunder and a gust of wind rattled the antique windowpanes.
Only it wasn’t just the windowpanes rattling.
I froze. Landon screeched to a halt next to me. “Kayla? Did you hear what I said?”
I just stood there, listening. There it was again — not just the house sighing, but that strange tinkling, like laughter, only more melancholy. And then an eerie shriek — or creak. I shivered.
He stepped in front of me, put his hands on my shoulders and gave me a little shake. I looked into his eyes. They glimmered with chandelier reflections.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I think it’s the ghost.”
He cocked his head, a half smile playing on his lips. “Can we stick to the subject at hand?”
“I believe you.” I answered his half smile with one of my own. “I know now you didn’t try to sell this place out from under me. I just — oh, Landon, I couldn’t believe it even then, but I heard you say it. I’m sorry I doubted you.”
His smile broadened. “It’s OK. Just — talk to me next time, all right?”
“I will.” I looked around as a sigh shivered through the house. “Also, I’m not kidding about the ghost.”
“Maybe it’s the props from the haunted house. There’s all kinds of weird stuff in here right now.”
“It’s all turned off. Do you hear anything else?”
Creeeeeaaak!
A chill shot down my spine.
“Fuck,” I said, just as he said, “Shit.”
The wind was getting stronger, and another rumble of thunder shuddered through the house.
I had a hunch. Or maybe it was a ghostly compulsion. Almost as if I was being drawn there by an unseen hand, I headed for the dimly lit corridor beyond the stairs and made my way to the library.
Landon caught up with me at the door, which was a lot more cooperative now. It was amazing what oiling and frequent use could accomplish. He gave me a funny look, and then he pushed it open.
The fake candelabras were still on, and the teetering stacks of books were on their sides, deactivated. There was nothing particularly spooky about the room.
Except … that sound!
It was the creak, the sigh, the tinkling. And an old sconce on the wall, one the electrician hadn’t gotten to, flickered.
“Did you see that?” I asked Landon.
“Oh, I saw it.”
I looked around at the bookshelves, the grand windows, the beautiful fireplace. The library table and the strange, old furniture. The hidden closet.
We exchanged a look.
“Why would someone lock up a hidden closet and only put a few old ledgers in it?” I asked Landon. It was the question I’d been chewing on ever since we found it.
“Because it wasn’t just hiding old books.” He sounded excited now, and Landon hardly ever sounded excited.
Lightning flashed outside the windows, and thunder crashed on its heels. The storm was closer. The wind gusted again, and the noises returned.
I fumbled in my pocket for my keychain, where the skeleton key still hung. Landon threw his tie on the library table, unbuttoned a few buttons, rolled up his sleeves and pushed back the secret wall panel.
“We need a light,” I said as I turned the key in the lock of the inner door, my hands shaking, I was so nervous.
“I have my phone. It’ll have to do.” Landon flicked on his phone’s little white light.
I pushed the inner door open. “Look up top, since I can’t see up there. I’ll look down here.”
While Landon felt around on the shelf, I checked the corners again, seeing nothing obvious, just the rough, old boards that made up the walls.
But then there was … a breath.
A breath of air, and it came through the wall.
“Landon!”
“Did you find something?” He bent over to my level, shooting the light into my eyes.
“Damn it, don’t blind me!” I waved the beam away.
“Sorry.” He shone it around the walls instead. “What is it?”
“I felt something. Like a breeze. Like air coming through the wall.”
“Where?” He sounded excited again.
Together, we looked around where I’d felt the strange breath of air. Landon pressed on the boards. I eyed the floorboards.
“I don’t see anything,” I said. “Oh, this is so frustrating. And it’s not even that well-built. Look, a big old square-headed nail is sticking out here. I almost caught my shirt on it.” It wasn’t much of a shirt, but it was a dressy tank top I liked.
“Maybe you should take it off.”
“Funny.” And I giggled. Because it was funny, and Landon was back, and even if we weren’t finding anything, I was happy he was here.
“Where did you say that nail was?”
“Here.” I pointed. It was halfway up the wall between the floor and the shelf.
“Could it be that easy?” he murmured. He grasped the nail and pulled.
There was a click, and a small panel about three inches square popped out of the wall at an angle.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” I said.
He ran a finger along the edge of the panel. “Looks like a handle.”
“To a door? To a secret room? OMG OMG OMG!”
“Easy, tiger.” He felt inside of it. “It’s hollowed out. I’m sure it’s a handle. Want to do the honors?”
I hesitated and whispered, “But what if there really is a ghost?”
“Then she probably doesn’t use doors.”
“Good point.” I took a deep breath, hooked my fingers on the handle and pulled.
Chapter 27
Lightning flashed, and strangely, it also flashed inside that space beyond, revealing a small room almost overflowing with — it was hard to tell.
But it was creaking and groaning.
“Go ahead,” I said. “You have the light.”
Landon grinned at my timidity, ducked and went through the door. I followed. And then we were standing in a narrow room, perhaps six feet by twelve feet, lined with tool racks, shelves, work tables, junk and what I could only describe as gizmos.
The chaotic clusters of stuff were made more eerie by the occasional flash of lightning from a high horizontal window that was much wider than it was tall, much like room itself. How I hadn’t noticed the window from outside the house, I had no idea. I must’ve been so busy looking at the inside of the house, I didn’t even think about it.
I jumped as the creaking sound we’d heard earlier manifested itself right next to me.
“Is it a machine?” Landon asked, peering at the dark metal thing. It consisted of rings within rings on a stand, only there were cups and other pieces of metal to catch the wind and make it spin. And creak.
“A sculpture, I think. Look, there’s more of them. Where’s the wind coming from?” And then I realized a very old oscillating fan was operating just beyond the sculptures, churning the contraptions slowly whenever the fan rotated in their direction. “Wait. So that’s an electric fan?”
And then I heard the tinkling sound. In the dimness, hanging from shelves above the work benches, I saw wind chimes of varying descriptions — metal, glass, some pretty, some funky and made of bits of junk or wood. And they, too, moved and clinked and chuckled when the fan deigned to blow in their direction.
“But we heard all these noises before the electricity was even turned on,” Landon said.
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