The Christmas Spirits on Tradd Street

by Karen White

  I yanked on his arm and dragged him down the hallway toward the stairs, aware now of pounding on the front door. We looked at each other before continuing down to the foyer, the dogs at our heels and General Lee growling. Jack stepped in front of me as if to shield me, then peered through the sidelights by the door. “Just when I think my day can’t get any worse.”

  Before I could question him, he yanked open the door, revealing the smooth face and plucked eyebrows of Harvey Beckner. “It’s about time someone came to the door! I’ve been ringing the doorbell for twenty minutes.”

  He made to step forward, but Jack blocked him. “The doorbell only rings when someone the house wants inside is ringing it.”

  Harvey sneered. “Right. Because houses have souls.” He turned around to shout to a group of men unloading equipment from two vans illegally parked at the curb. It was street-sweeping day on Tradd Street the following morning, which meant a guaranteed tow, but I wasn’t going to mention it.

  Jack continued to block access to the house. “It’s getting late, and we’re about to have supper—”

  “Perfect,” said a voice from the door at the end of the piazza. “I’m starving.”

  Jack tensed. “Matt,” he said, his jovial tone at odds with the set of his jaw. “Why are you darkening my doorstep?”

  Marc moved to stand next to Harvey. “We need to get a few still shots of the interiors at night and test for lighting before it’s time to begin filming. And Harvey hasn’t seen the inside yet, so he’s brought his lighting people and location scouts to get their opinions.”

  “I don’t know about this.” Jack looked back at me. “Mellie, was this on your calendar?”

  “No . . .” I began, feeling like a two-foot dam in the path of a tsunami.

  “I don’t think you’re in a position to argue, Jack,” Marc said. “It will go easier for all of us if you’ll just let us get to work.”

  “But I’m hosting a progressive dinner here in less than two weeks,” I protested. “Rebecca told me she’d worked it out with you so that there wouldn’t be any cameras and equipment in the house until after Christmas.”

  Marc pushed on the door, but Jack was unyielding. “We’ll be out by Sunday. Until we’re ready to begin filming sometime around the first week of January. You’ll need to take down all this Christmas stuff by then.” He frowned at the magnolia garland that Veronica and I had spent hours making. My blood began to heat at the affront.

  “That’s really not convenient . . .” Jack began, but he stopped when I tugged on his arm.

  I whispered in his ear, “Let it go, Jack. They’ve won this battle. But not the war.”

  After a pause, Jack stepped back. “Then welcome to our house,” he said, graciously opening the front door as wide as it would go. “So good of you to come.”

  Both Marc and Harvey eyed Jack suspiciously, and I wondered if it had anything to do with the sudden chill in the air that had nothing to do with the temperature outside, or the sound of running footsteps across the empty foyer behind us. I also wondered if either one of them was remembering what Harvey had said about houses having no souls. And if they were about to find out how wrong he was.

  “Please,” Jack said, beckoning the men to enter. “Make yourselves uncomfortable. My family and I will be sitting down for a delicious meal in the kitchen and you are not invited to join us. And just so you know, it’s lights-out at ten, sometimes earlier if our twins are here. Trust me, you don’t want to be here after dark.”

  He said this just as the crew from the vans began to fill the vestibule. Jack put his hand on the small of my back and began guiding me toward the kitchen, where Mrs. Houlihan had left our dinner warming in the oven. He pushed open the door to the kitchen and allowed me to pass in front of him, giving a good impression of an evil Vincent Price laugh as the door swung closed behind us.

  CHAPTER 20

  I blew warm air into my gloved hands as I walked with Jack the short distance to Jayne’s house on South Battery.

  “Cold?” Jack asked, drawing me close to his side.

  I turned my face toward his, sure he could see the trembling of my lips. “I’m at the point of turning numb, so I don’t have to worry about feeling the cold anymore.” I tried to smile, but the cold pierced my teeth. “I don’t know why we couldn’t take the car.”

  “Because there’s only satellite parking for the Shop and Stroll, and we’d probably be walking just as far. I’m sure Jayne has hot chocolate to warm us, and there will definitely be plenty to eat and drink along the route once we pick up our tickets at the Francis Marion Hotel.”

  “If I don’t die of hypothermia first,” I muttered, attempting to wriggle my toes inside my shoes. I aligned my stride to his, pressing closer to him. “You’re the best heated blanket a girl could ever ask for.”

  I could hear the smile in his voice. “Is that the reason why you married me?”

  “One of them. I wouldn’t say it’s the number one reason, but it’s pretty close to the top.”

  He kissed the crown of my head. “Mercenary.”

  “A girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do.” We’d reached Jayne’s house, stopping at the bottom of the driveway. I stared at the wreath on the front door and the garland wrapped around the banisters that led up to the front portico. I squinted. “Are those . . . ?”

  “Pink.” Jack finished for me. “They’re definitely a frosted pink. I’m guessing Rebecca’s been here.”

  “Ugh. Just because she donated a lot of money to the Ashley Hall fund-raiser, she thinks she can do whatever she wants. At least she was able to talk Marc into filming the progressive dinner at Veronica’s instead of at our house, so I guess I owe her one. But I certainly don’t want to be here when Sophie sees this. I tremble to think what she’ll do to retaliate.”

  “Take off Pucci’s pink nail polish and sweater and make her look like a real dog, maybe?”

  I glared up at him. “Okay, I agree that the polish is too much, but there’s nothing wrong with dog sweaters.”

  “Let’s just agree to disagree, shall we?” Jack asked as he led me down the front drive.

  Speaking through chattering teeth, I said, “What on earth do you think Jayne’s surprise is? She knew we had tickets for the Shop and Stroll tonight, so I hope it’s something spectacular to justify our being thrown out in this weather longer than we needed to be.”

  “You know it’s only about fifty degrees, right?”

  I plastered an indignant look on my face. “To some of us, that’s the same as freezing.” I began climbing the steps. “Come on before I turn blue.”

  The door opened before I had a chance to ring the bell, my mother appearing in the opening. “What are you doing here?” I asked as we hugged. “Are you the surprise?”

  “I’ve been here all afternoon with Jayne and your father preparing the surprise.” She glanced behind me to where Jack stood. “Good job, Jack. I know how persistent Mellie can be when she suspects something’s up.”

  I whirled to face my husband. “You know what it is?” I stepped forward into the foyer, barely recognizing the brightly lit space from when I’d first seen it right after Jayne had inherited the old house, every inch of it filled with cobwebs and peeling plaster. I knew Jayne had been working with Sophie to restore the house to its former grandeur, and after looking at the gleaming banister—peeking out from beneath a frosted pink garland—and mold-free walls, I had to grudgingly admit that Sophie knew what she was doing.

  I spotted Jayne by the dining room door. “Please don’t tell me you have a pink Christmas tree hidden somewhere,” I said. “I just can’t believe you let Rebecca do this to your house.”

  “I know, I know. But she was so upset when she came here. She knows that the laundry room at your house that you allowed her to decorate won’t be seen, but she hid her disappointment from you be
cause she knows you’re dealing with ‘issues’ right now—her word, not mine. She said she had a lot of decorations left over and asked if I would allow her to decorate my house. Since it’s still under renovation and I’m not hosting one of the courses for the progressive dinner, I agreed. She seemed really sincere.”

  I wasn’t sure if I’d ever heard Rebecca’s name and the word sincere uttered in the same sentence before. But the fact that she’d hidden her disappointment from me did loosen some of my resentment toward her. Just a little bit.

  “Hello, Peanut,” my father said, emerging from the dining room. I peered past him, almost expecting to see swaths of moisture-speckled wallpaper drooping from the cracked cornices. Instead, the walls were scraped clean, waiting for either paint or reproduction wallpaper. Knowing Sophie, I figured she’d probably brought artists from Italy to hand-paint the original wallpaper design, and Jayne had willingly allowed it.

  “So, what’s going on?” I asked while my father hugged me. I kept my gaze focused on the dining room, where I could see Jayne and the foot of another person standing at the dining table.

  I stepped into the dining room and was met with a loud “Surprise!” from Jayne. I turned my head and was speechless for a moment as someone held up an iPhone to take my picture. “Cooper?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Nola’s babysitting, so she asked me to take a picture of you being surprised.”

  Before I could ask a question, my gaze was drawn to the surface of the enormous table and the neat rows of five-by-seven photographs.

  “Are these . . . ?” I began, looking around at the faces now clustered around the table.

  Cooper cleared his throat. “I pulled an all-nighter to get them all downloaded, then sized so they’re all the same, and then printed them. Nola brought me breakfast, though, so it was worth it.”

  I could feel Jack glowering at Cooper, so I said, “I’m sure it was all vegan and gluten-free, so no chance she was out to impress anyone.”

  Cooper shook his head. “Actually, it was a cinnamon bun with a side of hash browns Mrs. Houlihan made. She even drove Nola over to deliver it. Best hash browns I’ve ever tasted . . .”

  As if sensing the tension, Jayne moved to stand next to me, straightening one of the photos. “Mother told me about Marc and that horrible Harvey guy invading your house, so when Nola told me that Cooper had printed out all of the photographs, I thought bringing them to my house would be safest. That way, Marc can’t snoop.”

  “Brilliant idea,” I said, meaning it, although a tone I hadn’t expected emerged.

  Jack nodded. “Jayne also suggested that I clear out my office for the same reason. She offered her house to store everything for the time being.”

  “Jayne certainly thinks of everything,” I said, tapping lightly on one of the photographs. “Can’t imagine how we survived before she came to Charleston.” I looked at the single photograph, then picked it up, studying it closely. “I think this goes in one of the corners—you can tell from the design because only two sides have finished patterns, and the other two have truncated lines that must continue onto other bricks.”

  I looked up to find all sets of eyes focused on me. Except for one—Jayne’s. Her eyes were blinking rapidly, her bottom lip clenched between her teeth. She jerked her gaze up to the table and to the photograph I held pinched between my fingers. She swallowed. “I think you’re right, Melanie. Good job—now we have a place to start.” She began clearing one corner of the table, then pointed to the empty spot. “I think you should have the honor of putting the first piece here.” She smiled at me and I felt as if I’d been kicked in the stomach.

  “Actually,” I said, feeling the looks of censure from around the table, “you should do the honors. You’re the one who had the foresight to set up the puzzle in your dining room.” I handed her the photograph. “Here.”

  She hesitated just for a moment before taking the picture. “Thanks,” she said, putting it in its place of honor in the corner of the table. “I want you all to feel free to come here at any time and work on this puzzle. When I’m at Melanie’s looking after the twins, just stop by and get my key. The more, the merrier, I say.”

  An antique carriage clock chimed from the fireplace mantel, making me glance at my watch. “I don’t want to be late picking up our tickets at the Francis Marion. It will cut into our shopping time.”

  Jack was eyeing the table, and I knew he was thinking his time would be better spent playing with the puzzle than Christmas shopping on King Street. “Jack,” I said with a warning in my voice, “you know they have a special service tonight to help men take care of their shopping. I’d hate for you to miss that.”

  He looked up, surprised at being caught. “I just thought . . .”

  “Come on,” I said. “Let’s call an Uber or something. It is way too cold to walk all the way to Calhoun.” I glanced around the room, aware of someone missing. “Where’s Anthony? Isn’t he supposed to be coming tonight?”

  Jayne shook her head. “He’s sick. He said he hasn’t been feeling well since he left the cemetery. I told him he should come to his house in town just in case it’s something at Gallen Hall, but he said he was too sick to move. I asked if I could call his doctor, but he said he’d be fine by morning. I’ll check in then.”

  I exchanged a glance with my mother but didn’t want to say anything in front of Cooper about how Anthony should stay away from stairs and open windows while alone at the plantation house.

  “And if it’s all right with you, Miss Smith, I’d love to stay here for a bit and work on the puzzle. Just for an hour or two.” Cooper looked at Jack. “I mean, if that’s all right with you, sir.”

  “As long as you’re here, and Nola’s not, I’m fine with that arrangement.”

  “Jack . . .” I started to say, but I was interrupted by the ring of the doorbell.

  We watched as Jayne walked across the foyer to open the door. There was a slight pause and then: “Thomas,” she said, her voice an octave higher than it had been five seconds ago. “What are you doing here?”

  Detective Riley stood in the doorway, his tall figure filling the space. He looked behind Jayne and met my gaze. “Sorry. I didn’t know you’d have company. I just wanted to stop by and see how you were doing.” He grinned. “And if your house is behaving.”

  Cooper and my dad looked confused, but the rest of us, who’d witnessed the spirit cleansing in Jayne’s attic, understood.

  “It’s doing fine,” Jayne said, pulling the door open wider. “And you have shoes; please walk them inside.”

  Feeling the need to rescue my sister, I placed my hand on her shoulder and squeezed, a reminder to take a deep breath before trying again. “So great to see you, Thomas. We’re getting ready to leave for the Shop and Stroll, but come in for a minute to warm up. If that’s all right with Jayne?”

  I glanced at my sister and she gave one decisive nod.

  “I really don’t want to intrude. I can come back later . . .” Thomas began.

  “Don’t be silly. We’re all old friends here.” I pulled him inside and closed the door behind him. There was an awkward silence, filled with Jayne’s deep breathing, as we all looked at one another.

  My dad clasped his hands together. “What are we thinking? We have a trained detective in our midst and a whole mystery spread out on the dining room table.” He indicated the dining room. “Would you like to take a gander, Detective?”

  I thought I saw a bright gleam in Thomas’s eye. “I’d love to,” he said, following my dad and stopping in front of the table. “Wow. It’s like a giant jigsaw puzzle. Are these bricks?”

  “From the inside of the mausoleum at Gallen Hall,” Jayne said slowly, considering each word. “There was a horizontal design two bricks wide encircling the interior, but none of them matched.”

  “And you figured out that the lines on the bricks
might match up if you could separate them into individual puzzle pieces.” Thomas looked at Jayne as if she were Einstein himself standing in the dining room.

  “Actually, it was my other daughter,” my dad said, beaming. “I sure hit the lottery with three brilliant women in my family.”

  Other daughter? I smiled and nodded appreciation, unable to feel truly grateful at his compliment. I didn’t scrutinize my feelings, fairly confident that I was certain I knew the exact reason.

  Thomas began unbuttoning his coat. “This actually looks like fun. Although it could be that these were just leftover bricks and don’t have any connection to each other at all.”

  “Oh, we’ve definitely considered that possibility,” Jack said. “But we’re determined to remain hopeful.”

  Thomas leaned over the table to get a better look. “I see someone’s found a corner piece already. Nice going.”

  “That was me,” I said, a little too eagerly, because apparently I thought I was still in kindergarten and required approval and reassurance for every small task.

  “Yes, it was,” Jack said, rubbing my back and making me feel even more like a child. I turned to express my annoyance and was immediately met with a gentle kiss on my lips.

  “Has anyone considered staying in tonight and working on the puzzle?” Thomas looked around for collaborators, his eyes hopeful.

  “Yes,” Jack said at the same time I said, “No.”

  My mother stepped forward to intervene. “We have an extra ticket for the Shop and Stroll, Thomas. Why don’t you join us?”

  Both Jack and Thomas looked longingly at the photographs. Turning his head back to address my mother, Thomas said, “That sounds like fun. I’ve got all those nieces and nephews I have to buy gifts for, so the Shop and Stroll could be just what I need.”

  “And they have a service just for men, to help them select gifts,” my mother said as she sidled up to my dad. “Although I must say that some men don’t need any help at all.”