The Ultimate Seven Sisters Collection

by M. L. Bullock

  My mouth fell open. I had been wrong—the place was full of furniture. To the left was a four-poster bed; to the right, a long dresser with a vanity table in the center and a dim oval mirror on the wall behind it. Against the far wall stood a cedar armoire, not exactly like Calpurnia’s but very near the same style with delicate floral scrollwork at the top and bottom. To the far right was a hope chest sitting under the window, just as Callie had placed hers. The only thing missing was a desk, the small writing desk and chair that went on the opposite side of the bed.

  “Hello? Rachel?” Nobody answered me but I wasn’t surprised, I knew no one was in the room. Just to make it official, I slowly walked to the armoire and tugged the door open. The antique door swung open smoothly, the scent of cedar filled the room, and of course there was no one inside.

  “So you like it?” Startled, I turned to see TD leaning in the doorframe.

  “Yes, you did a marvelous job with the choices. Just what I was looking for, TD. Thank you.” Okay, breathe now. You were just hearing things, obviously. There was no one in here. That scraping was something else, probably the kids down the hall.

  “I’m glad I at least got that right.”

  “I know I was a pain about that paint, but I never said you weren’t gifted. This looks awesome. Thanks again.” I walked to the doorway, smiling at him.

  “You know, if you wanted the furniture moved, I would have done it for you. Geesh, you are such a perfectionist, Carrie Jo.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The furniture. This isn’t how we arranged it this morning. Ashland and I had the vanity and dresser combination piece over by the window, thinking it made more sense that whoever lived here would want to have better lighting when doing her hair or trimming his beard. The bed wasn’t there either. We put it over there.”

  I stared up into his brown eyes. “I didn’t move a thing, Terrence Dale, I swear.”

  He looked at me and then at the room. “Well, then who did? Because this isn’t how I left it.”

  “Beats me, but it wasn’t me. I did hear something, but when I opened the door, there was no one in here.”

  “Maybe Ashland did it. In the future, if anyone wants to move stuff, let’s make sure we don’t scrape the floor. Look at that.” He pointed to a definite groove in the wood near the armoire.

  “Ah, geesh. Yeah, I will tell the rest of the team. These really are perfect for this room.”

  He stood with his hands on his hips, staring at the floor. “I think I can get that out. By the way, it’s like I thought, the Motre Brothers are booked solid through the first of the year. It will have to be us, so are you ready to paint tonight? I’m picking up the material this afternoon.”

  Still trying to process what had just happened, I nodded. “I’ll be here. Six works for me. I have some progress reports to type for the board.”

  “Yeah, that’s great. See you then.” He knelt down and looked at the long scrape, and I left so I didn’t have to hear him swear. It just wasn’t his day. I walked down the hall and found all four members of my team unpacking tchotchkes from boxes and placing them on tables. They had taped a room name on each table and were sorting through potential display pieces. I saw that even Chip was in on the action; obviously, the friendly Rachel McGhee was the true attraction. For someone as socially awkward as Chip was, he didn’t let that stop him from trying. First Mia, now Rachel.

  “Hey, guys. TD is on the warpath because someone moved the furniture in Callie’s…I mean the front room up here and scraped up the floor. Who did it?” It was my job as the boss to get to the bottom of this mystery. The four stared at me blankly, looking at one another. “Come on, no one is getting sent home. I just need to know.”

  Nothing but crickets.

  Finally Rachel K. spoke up, “Honestly, Carrie Jo, we’ve been in here the whole time. I didn’t even know that there was any furniture in that room. I saw that the door was closed, but I didn’t go in. Did any of you?” Everyone shook their heads and stared at me.

  “Are you kidding me? Ashland and TD put that furniture in there this morning to surprise me, but it is now arranged differently and the floor is scraped up. Are you telling me that it did it by itself?” I tried not to think about the sounds and the moving shadows.

  “Maybe the ghost did it?” Rachel M. offered. “I mean, I’ve never seen it, but I heard this place is haunted.” Now it was her turn to get stared at. She laughed nervously. “I didn’t say I believed it. That’s just what they say.”

  I put my hand on my forehead and rubbed it. This was too much. “Okay, besides a ghost, is there any other possibility? Did you see any workmen up here, moving things around?”

  Everyone shook their heads again, and Rachel M. said, “No, Carrie Jo. Nobody has been up here except us this morning.”

  “Well it must have been one of them. If you see anyone up here, you tell them they need to check with me before they touch anything—even a light fixture. Oh, and Ashland and I are going out to grab a bite for lunch. Do y’all want us to bring something back?”

  James shook his head. “Thanks, but we’re going over to the Spot of Tea for lunch. Rachel M has never been, and I thought it would be fun. We will be back by one, though.”

  I looked at my watch; it was 11:30. “Go on, take some extra time. See you back here at 1:30.” Excited, they thanked me and left me alone on the top floor of Seven Sisters. I walked back to Callie’s room, but TD was gone too. I sat on the padded hope chest and surveyed the room.

  What had I heard? Had it been Callie, unhappy with the arrangement? Other than the fact that she was presumably dead, it made sense. The room was now exactly like it had been during her time here—from the mirror on the wall to the armoire positioning. Did she know I was here? I didn’t feel afraid sitting in the sunshine. I felt excited. Happy. Yes, this was the way it should be.

  “Okay, you can have it your way but don’t scrape up the floor again.” I left the room, closing the door behind me as if to give her some privacy. I paused on the top step, hearing no more scraping, no more sounds. I half expected to hear a sigh, a rustling of taffeta, but nothing…

  I walked down the stairs to find Ashland.

  Chapter 3

  Ashland and I stepped out the heavy wooden front doors of the house into the cool shadows of the columns that lined Seven Sisters. “I’m sure those kids are just pranking you. Who else could have done it? I mean, I haven’t seen anyone else inside this morning, have you?” I had to admit that I hadn’t, but I did not believe they were lying to me about it. Ever since Mia’s unannounced séance, Calpurnia’s room had become an uncomfortable place to hang out in. The feeling of “wrongness” remained, and I didn’t know how to fix it.

  I shrugged. “Maybe you’re right. What else could it be?” I took a deep breath, leaving the lingering doubts on the porch, ready to enjoy my time with Ashland. It was so encouraging to see the front lawn taking shape, the trash, limbs and leaves hauled away, the rows of oaks lining the property more clearly visible now. Even the ugly satyr looked as if it belonged in the lush landscape; it had been properly cleaned, and the vines that had risen up to strangle it were gone. I looked forward to the day when the outside of the house would receive the kind of love that the interior had. However, the repairs to the wood and the replacement of missing ornamental pieces were evidence that a complete paint job was soon to follow. According to our shared calendar, TD had the week of July 4th marked off for the massive job. I felt for the guys who would have to paint in the unforgiving Alabama heat.

  Ashland talked like an excited schoolboy—he had scored a meeting with the city council to talk about changing the zoning to accommodate his plans to make the house a museum and came away with everything he wanted. I never doubted he would succeed. If his shocking good looks and confidence didn’t get you, his intelligence would. I liked him more each day, but I was careful to keep our relationship as professional as possible, except when he flirted with
me in his sweet, southern boy way. I learned from the Mia episode that Ashland liked taking the lead.

  I was looking forward to this lunch—I hoped maybe it would be a precursor to an in-depth conversation about how I knew the things I did about this house. My plan was to talk about my childhood experiences and gauge his reaction. If he balked at that or called me crazy, I’d leave it alone. If he didn’t, I’d tell him what I knew. He’d asked me to help him find Calpurnia, right? Between the journals and the dreams, I felt confident that I could bring him some type of closure, maybe even vindicate his mother.

  As we stepped off the porch, I smiled up at him, shielding my eyes from the sun. He wanted to know what I thought about partnering with the Exploreum, another museum in the heart of downtown Mobile. Before I could offer an opinion, we were interrupted. “Hey, Ashland. I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”

  We had been so immersed in our conversation (and I in my thoughts) that I had not seen the attractive brunette approach. Always the gentleman, Ashland smiled at her and said, “No, of course not. Hi, Detra Ann. How have you been? I thought you were still away at Auburn. Oh, where are my manners? Detra Ann, this is Carrie Jo Jardine. Carrie Jo, this is Detra Ann Dowd.”

  Dowd, Dowd? Where have I heard that name before? Oh yeah, Bette. Is this tall, pretty woman Cynthia Dowd’s daughter? She doesn’t look cross-eyed to me. “Hi, nice to meet you.” We exchanged pleasantries as expected, then Detra Ann turned her attention to Ashland.

  “Nope, I’m all done for the semester with just one more to go. Then I will be ready to take my place at 3D Public Relations.” She smiled proudly and then looked from Ashland to me. I guessed she thought I was going to get lost, but I stayed by his side. I wasn’t going to miss out on our lunch date. Detra Ann was taller than me, but she had a toned, curvy figure. She had long dark hair, blue eyes and full, pink lips. In her pale hands she held a picnic basket. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why she was there. “Are you one of the decorators, Carrie Jo?”

  Ashland answered for me. “No, Carrie Jo is the project’s main historian. She’s done a wonderful job bringing this house back to life.”

  Detra Ann’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, that is good news. I would love to take an unofficial tour to see what you’ve done so far.”

  Too polite to refuse her, Ashland said, “What do you think, Carrie Jo? Can we give an unofficial tour?”

  “If she doesn’t mind stepping over boxes and paint supplies, sure.” I tried not to pout about having my lunch date delayed. If Detra Ann could offer some public relations ideas that would put Seven Sisters back on the map, then why not? Ashland curled his hand around Detra Ann’s elbow and led her into the house, sharing points of interest along the way. I followed the two beautiful people like a middle school tagalong. He began the tour upstairs, and Detra Ann asked intelligent questions about the original owners and how Ashland planned to advertise his new museum when the work was complete. I didn’t contribute much to the conversation except when asked, which wasn’t often; I might as well not have been there at all. The tour ended in the ballroom with a peek at the new chandelier.

  The pretty brunette caught her breath at the sight and practically squealed. “This is a sign, Ashland! You’ll never believe why I came today. I wanted to talk to you about having a Christmas ball at Seven Sisters for the Historical Society. This would be the perfect venue for the event—and think about what it would mean for your advertising efforts. Why, everyone in the state will want to attend!”

  Ashland eased the heavy wooden lid back on the chandelier crate and asked, “Hmm…What did you have in mind?”

  A smile crept over Detra Ann’s face. She knew he was interested, and so did I. But to me, the idea of a hundred modern-day debutantes and their dates traipsing through Seven Sisters seemed somewhat sacrilegious. Would Ashland so easily forget all of our hard work? What about Hollis Matthews? Surely Ashland, an old-fashioned southern gentleman, wouldn’t dream of having a celebration here now?

  “I’m thinking of a ball, right here in this room, with a silent auction to benefit the Society. Maybe if the grounds were ready, we could offer a Christmas fireworks show too. Those are just a few ideas I had to get you started. Think about what this could mean for Seven Sisters—it would be like she was taking her place again in Mobile society. And of course, you’d be helping an old friend get established in her new career. You know, I would give this project—and you—everything I had.” She smiled at him and looked around the room appreciatively, probably planning on where to nail up some garland and station Santa.

  “Wait—what are you talking about?” I interrupted, surprised at the turn of the conversation. “There’s no way the house will be ready by December—that’s just six months away, Ashland. Some of the floors still have to be refinished, the ceiling of this room hasn’t been completed yet, the square medallions won’t be here for weeks, then there’s the painting on the outside…”

  “That’s plenty of time to get ready for an event that, like you said, is six months away. You’ve seen how quickly TD can work—I think this might be a good goal to work toward. And she’s right; it would be the perfect event for putting Seven Sisters back on the Mobile scene.”

  My face must have turned two shades of red because it felt hot and splotchy. “Are you forgetting that Mr. Matthews died here not long ago? Would it be right to have a party in the house so close to his…demise?” I could see that struck a chord with him. He needed to think this through before committing the house to a party.

  “Hey…I’m not agreeing to anything yet. I just want to hear what she has to say and keep our options open. What about joining us for lunch, Detra Ann? We could talk more then.”

  She lifted her basket in her hands as if she were offering a gift to a Greek god. “I’ve got that covered. Is there a good place to eat in here, or should we lunch out on the porch?” She paused and with an insincere smile said, “I think there is enough for three here, if you like fried chicken and fruit salad.”

  “Actually, I’ve got something I need to do,” I said, ignoring Ashland’s surprised look, “but thank you for the invitation.” I forced a smile on my face and walked out of the ballroom, down the hall and out of the house. I was furious—furious that Ashland would even consider having a ball here without talking to me first. Furious that Detra Ann had interrupted our lunch date and that once again, I would have to delay my confession to Ashland. It was enough to make a nice girl swear.

  I left Seven Sisters, walking down the broken sidewalk that led to the main road. I could have driven to nearby Joachim or Dauphin Street for lunch, but I wanted to walk. I heard a vehicle behind me coming down the drive; it was TD in his big, blue Dodge truck. “Hey, you want a ride? Car broke down?” He slid his sunglasses up to the top of his head, his brows furrowed with concern. I walked to the open window. “One of these days you’ll have to say goodbye to that old eggbeater you call a car.”

  “Ha! I’m in no hurry to do that. I’m going to get some lunch and thought I would take a walk and enjoy the nice day. Where are you off to? Still mad at me about the paint?”

  “Nope. I know how temperamental you historians can be—I’ve worked with enough of them. I knew I should have shown you the color before I had them put it on the walls. Oh well…live and learn.” He smiled good-naturedly and unlocked the door. “Hop in. I’ll buy you lunch.”

  I thought about his proposal—it couldn’t hurt to spend some time with Terrence Dale. He had gone the extra mile for me so many times in the past few weeks, and I did want to get to know him better. “I can’t convince you to walk?”

  He laughed at that idea. “When you walk as much as I do, you’ll ride every chance you get. Tell you what, I will take you to lunch and you can walk back. I have an appointment in about an hour anyway.” He slid his shades back over his eyes and smiled. He really was a handsome man. Not in the obvious, otherworldly Ashland kind of way—he was the boy next door, fri
endly, with a nice body and useful hands. Good Lord, CJ. Calm down. Must be the heat…

  “Okay, that sounds great. Let’s eat somewhere close, though—I have a history with dress shoes. I’d hate to trip and sprawl out across a downtown street.”

  TD grinned. “I know the perfect place. I bet you haven’t tried it yet.”

  “Well, now I’m curious.”

  As we drove, TD took the time to show me some points of interest—things he loved about his city. He was from a southern part of the county called Grand Bay, but he’d been living in the downtown area all his adult life. Instead of turning right onto Dauphin Street, TD took us left on to Royal. “There’s a great spot called the Joe Cain Café at the Renaissance. It’s an easy walk back to Seven Sisters.”

  Stylish and modern, the Renaissance loomed above the Mobile landscape. It wasn’t the tallest building, as that honor went to the RSA Battle House Tower, but it was in the top three. Fortunately, the Joe Cain Café was on the ground floor and the line to get in wasn’t long. TD ordered a prime rib wrap—it sounded delicious, so I ordered the same. We took a seat next to a window, which would be good for people-watching.

  “Tell me about the garden, TD. I saw the crate of mirrors come in.” I was ready to think about something other than Detra Ann and her picnic basket. “Explain to me again how you plan to illuminate the garden? How do the mirrors fit in? I have heard of capturing the sunlight but never the moonlight.” I assumed part of the reason behind his irritation with me about the paint job was because he wanted to focus on this particular garden.