by Rose Pressey
Chapter Nine
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” I said as we walked out of the room and into the hallway.
Why did she insist on coming by so early? I didn’t do early-mornings well, and she knew that—especially before coffee.
“My gosh, Mama, this is how you dress to work around the house?” I eyed her brightly lacquered fingers.
She zipped by and bounced down the stairs. Her only response a shrug of her shoulders.
She paused halfway down. Her dark hair didn’t move an inch. “This is divine, but it’s a ton of work for one person.” She rubbed the wooden banister.
The little white poodle under her arm growled at me. A lot of work for one person or me?
“It really is beautiful,” she said. “I can’t get over it. Whoever built the place had a lot of money back then.”
“Come on, Mama, I need coffee.”
I grabbed her arm and helped her the rest of the way down. Good thing I brought the coffee maker because I needed massive amounts of caffeine.
“You always did have big dreams.” She sat the dog down, then placed her hands on her round hips.
I didn’t offer a response. “I’ll be right back. Just gonna fetch the coffee and maker from the car.”
On my way back from the car, I happened to glance next door. My new neighbor was nowhere in sight. Thank goodness. I trudged back inside, removed the contents of my bag, switched the coffeemaker on, and grabbed a couple of paper cups.
“You gonna have help fixing up this place?” my mother rubbed the poodle’s stomach.
“Sure. But I can do a lot myself. I’m thinking of painting these cabinets.”
I handed her the cup and watched as she added too much sugar.
“Well, I should hope so. You’ll need all the help you can get,” she said.
I didn’t offer a comment. She had taught me if I didn’t have anything nice to say…bite my tongue.
“I need to run into town for a bit this morning, Mama. Do you mind if I leave you here?”
I needed to collect my racing thoughts.
“No…I guess not.” She eyed the room with a frown. “You go right ahead. I’ll start cleaning up in here. I’ll at least sweep the floor and wash these cabinets down.” She motioned.
“You will?” My eyebrows rose.
“Sure, I said I’d help and I’m here, aren’t I? But I won’t do anything too physical now, you hear?” She pointed.
“Thanks, Mama. I really do appreciate your help.” And I really did. Just not too much help. It was my project, after all.
“Think nothin’ of it, Sugar. By the way, you really should do something about those bags under your eyes.” Her brow puckered. “Are you getting any sleep?”
Again, no comment.
She set her cup on the counter, crouched down and picked at the loose tiles. It was a funny sight, to say the least, those zebra pants swooshing back and forth. I cringed. Her outfit needed to be outlawed. Penal code 1234. Punishable by one year of no trips to rummage sales.
“I’ll be back soon, Mama.” I finished the last of my coffee and grabbed my purse.
“Have fun and please be careful. Try to stay out of trouble this time.” She wiggled her finger in my direction.
“I will.” I rolled my eyes.
The way I saw it, Payne Cooper’s body found me, for heaven’s sake. I hadn’t asked for trouble. Turning around, I reached and fumbled for the keys. They were gone.
“I put my keys right here and now they’re gone. Have you seen them?” I tapped on the Formica.
She looked up from her coffee. “No.”
I searched behind and beside the old refrigerator, thinking they may have fallen, then scoured the floor and countertops. The keys were not in sight.
“I’m sure I left them there.” I pointed to the counter. “I’m positive of it.”
“Maybe you should retrace your steps?” She surveyed the room.
“I’ll look upstairs. Why don’t you check down here?”
She nodded.
We searched every room. The bedrooms, bathrooms, and I even looked in closets. The keys were nowhere to be found. It looked as if the ghost was ready for tricks. I didn’t tell my mother the place was haunted. It would only freak her out. She didn’t handle things of that nature well. I prayed the ghost would behave while I was gone.
“I have no idea where they could be.” I blew out a breath, then walked over and peeked beside the refrigerator again, still wondering if they fell—I even looked inside the darn thing.
“The keys must have fallen somewhere we can’t see.” My mother offered with an exasperated look on her face.
“I guess.” I shrugged.
We shuffled out the front door onto the porch—the last place to look.
“There they are.” She chirped. “How the hell did they end up out here?”
“I must have dropped them.” I had just fibbed for a ghost. What was next?
She shook her head. “You’re scatterbrained like Aunt Lydia. You know what you need? You need one of those elastic bracelet key chains like we bought her when she kept locking herself out of the house.”
“That’s me. Just call me ditzy.” I snorted. Now Mama had me going senile at twenty-seven-years old.
She chuckled and went back inside, waving over her shoulder.
I shook my head and stepped off the porch. My gaze turned again to the house next door. What was I looking for? Certainly, not Mr. Handyman.
Chapter Ten
I soaked in the scenery during my ride along the curvy stretch of highway. Trees showed off their fall shades of auburn, yellow, and green. Horse farms surrounded by black pasture fencing sat on each side of the road. Occasionally, moss-covered stone fences flanked the narrow country path.
As I steered, I daydreamed about my future. Visions of the old house clean and in perfect condition danced through my head. My future had endless possibilities, open just like the road in front of me, but I felt pressure to succeed.
As I navigated the road, I tried to keep myself from thinking of Payne Cooper, but a terrifying thought popped into my head: what if the killer really came after me? Say, oh-I-don’t-know-like, while I was driving to town. I trembled at the notion. No, I couldn’t live in fear.
The historic section of town was full of old buildings and cobblestone streets. Brick sidewalks and ornate black lampposts with matching planters lined the length of Main Street. Everything anyone needed was right there in town—from an old-time barbershop to bookstore.
My reason for making the trip was Home Depot, but I’d caught a glimpse of a new boutique the other day and couldn’t wait another minute to check it out. I parked my car right in front, not a lot of shoppers out at that time of the morning. The cute Sweet Suzie’s sign dangled above the door—a pink background with a colorful rendering of a round-faced cartoon-style Suzie. I pushed on the old door and stepped inside. A bell chimed announcing my entrance. The aroma of cinnamon and other spices hit me. A comfy feeling enveloped me.
“Welcome to Sweet Suzie’s,” a sweet southern voice said. A round-faced woman with short brown hair looked up from her paperwork. “May I help you?”
“Thank you, I’m just browsing. You have a lovely shop.” I glanced around. Whimsical hand-painted signs with colorful sayings dotted the walls. Knickknacks lined the many shelves.
“You’re Alabama Hargrove, aren’t you?” She asked with a huge smile.
“Yes, I’m Alabama.” I scrunched my brow.
Apparently, I was already the talk of town.
“I’m Suzie Simmons. I heard about what happened to you, and let me just say, it’s terrible. How are you holding up? I can only imagine how you must feel.” She paused to catch her breath. “It must have been terrible to discover Payne Cooper like that.”
“I’m doing all right.” I diverted my eyes, looking around the store. I hoped she would take the hint. Too many horrific visions popped into my head.
&
nbsp; “Well, I’m glad to hear that. Are you looking for something specific?” I could the feeling she was suspicious of my visit.
“I’m not sure. Everything is so nice. I suppose I’ll know it when I see it. Your store is so charming.”
“Thank you. That is so sweet of you to say.”
I sniffed a candle. “This smells divine.”
“Don’t you just love those? I’m the only store around these parts that carries them.” She shuffled papers, then smiled.
“Oh, I guess I need a bunch then.” I chuckled.
The bell on the door jingled announcing another customer and we turned to see who’d entered.
“Well, if it isn’t Carolyn. It’s about time you stopped by,” Suzie said.
I looked at the woman as she moved our way. Her appearance was if she was going for the fortuneteller-chic look. Her long auburn hair fell to her shoulders. She wore a long white skirt that swayed with each swing of her hips and a brown blouse that reached below her waist with wisps of fabric hanging from each side.
“I sense tragedy around you. Plus, there’s a spirit here with you.” She waved her hands through the air.
“Carolyn, this is Alabama Hargrove.” She informed her with a wink.
“Oh, you are too precious. And so pretty, too.” Carolyn stared me up and down.
“Alabama, this is Carolyn Flanagan. She’s not real subtle.” Suzie chuckled. “If you didn’t take her hint, she’s a psychic.”
“A psychic medium,” Carolyn corrected. “I see and hear spirits.”
Another psychic in Rosewood? I was surprised I had heard about her already. Lacey was the only psychic in the area that I knew of. I needed to get out more. Maybe I stayed home and moped over my lack of successful career too much.
“Pleased to meet you.” She gripped my hand in a tight squeeze.
“So you see spirits?”
“That’s right.” She grinned. “But don’t think I’m crazy or anything.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t. I don’t.”
“There’s a spirit with you here right now,” she said matter-of-factly.
“I do?” I looked around. This couldn’t be good.
“An older man is standing right behind you.” She pointed over my shoulder.
I glanced over my shoulder, but saw no one.
“He’s attached to you for some reason, but I don’t know why.”
Okay, this was a little creepy. “I’m not sure if I like the sound of that.”
Suzie glanced up from her paperwork occasionally, but she didn’t appear to pay much attention to the conversation.
“Sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have told you.” She rubbed the sides of her head.
“No, no, I’d rather know. Does he say anything?”
“No. Nothing. He doesn’t seem to want to talk.”
“He’s wearing dark pants and a white shirt. Not from this time period,” Carolyn said.
“Did you just move to town?” I wouldn’t tell her about my ghost-hunting or my psychic best friend.
“Yes, we just bought a cabin here on a few acres. Over on highway ten.”
“I live off highway ten. Where did you move from?” I asked.
“Moved here from Georgia.” She smiled.
“Well, I hope you like it here. Rosewood is a great town.”
“I’m loving it so far.” She winked.
The only reason she was telling me was probably because she’d heard about my ghost hunting.
“Alabama, you simply must come by my farm. I’ll cook us a mess of beans and some cornbread. We’ll chat and have a grand time.” She patted my arm.
“That’s nice of you to offer. Thanks,” I said.
“Here’s my number.” She scribbled on a piece of paper. “Call me.”
She handed Suzie cash for her candles and headed toward the front of the store. I tucked the paper in my pocket.
“Don’t forget to call me. My cornbread’s the best.” She glided out the door.
After contemplating Carolyn’s words for a few seconds, I snapped out of my reverie and selected a few candles. Cinnamon roll, handmade cookies, and blackberry cobbler...if I couldn’t eat dessert, at least I could smell it. I handed Suzie my money.
“Would you happen to have another one of those black candle holders?” I asked.
“Sorry, dear, no more, but I did order a few more. I can let you know when the shipment is in.”
“That would be great. I can check back in with you. These I love these candles. I won’t be able to resist your shop.” I took another whiff.
“A regular customer...I like the sound of that.” She handed me the pink bag containing my purchase. It had pink and white polka dot tissue paper peeking from the top. “Stop by anytime you want to take a whiff of the candles.” Her brown eyes twinkled when she smiled.
“I will.” I waved over my shoulder as I bounced out the door.
I wondered if the spirit was still following me? That was the last thing I needed.
The uneasiness had lessened, I realized, as I stepped onto the sidewalk. I had a spring in my step and new candles in hand. As I stepped off the curb and strolled to the car, a loud roar caught my attention. The sound echoed in my head. Muted chrome and blue zoomed past. My hair swooshed as the wind from the speed of the car swirled around me, then I fumbled, grabbing the side of the car to stop from falling. My purse went one way and the bag of candles went the other.
The blue sedan with dark tinted windows whizzed down the street. It had barely missed me. The car moved so quickly that I couldn’t make out who was behind the wheel. My heart thundered in my chest after nearly being run over. I righted myself, brushed off my pants, blew the hair out of my eyes, and glanced around. Had anyone witnessed my near brush with death? I surveyed my body for injuries. It looked as if I had escaped any serious harm.
With my near brush with death, a vision of Payne Cooper flashed in my mind and a chill rippled down my spine. I shuddered. Would I soon meet the same horrific fate as he had? A fine mist of rain began to fall, so I snatched up my purse, the bag, then stumbled to my car and headed to Maple Hill Road as fast as my dented-up Volvo would take me.
Because of the latest event, I skipped Home Depot—I was too shaken up. As I maneuvered up the driveway, I noticed my mother pacing up and down the sidewalk. She held her hand over her head in a feeble attempt at shielding her big bouffant hairdo from the drizzling rain.
“Snickers. Snickers. Snickers.” She attempted to whisper, but her whisper was more of a shout.
I knew why she was calling for Snickers. Her dog, of course. But to the average sane person, it probably appeared a crazy woman had escaped an insane asylum and was requesting a Snickers candy bar.
Nosy-neighbor was perched on his front steps staring over at the circus show.
“I got a Milky Way bar over here for her.” He gave a wicked grin.
I shot him a cross glare as I slammed my car door shut. He chuckled while continuing to stare.
Chapter Eleven
“Mama, for heaven’s sake, what are you doing?” I asked.
“Snickers ran away.” She frowned.
“How long has he been out?”
“Just a couple of minutes.” She fidgeted her hands.
“I’ll find the dog. You go in and try to calm down.”
She let out a deep sigh, mumbled under her breath, then turned and dashed inside. The hinges on the door groaned in protest when she slammed it shut.
The rain picked up as I searched for Snickers, trying to whisper his name so my neighbor wouldn’t hear. My shoes squished in the wet grass. If I didn’t find that dog, Mama would be impossible to deal with.
“You lose something?” The male voice came from over my shoulder. I spun around and came face to face with sexy neighbor. He wore a faded blue t-shirt and jeans that fit in all the right places.
“This is Snickers?” He held out the poodle. “Nice name.”
“He’s not my dog.” My ha
nds brushed against his firm arms as I grabbed Snickers.
I felt a tickle in the pit of my stomach as he held my gaze. The dog squirmed in my arms. I moved back, then turned and ran up the steps to escape the downpour—and Reed O’Hara.
“He was under the bushes,” he said.
Snickers had been watching us from under the hedge the entire time? If dogs could laugh, he’d be chuckling.
“Don’t I get a thank you?” he asked.
“Thank you.” I forced a smile. I wasn’t exactly being Miss Manners. Maybe I needed to tone down my tough girl act.
He climbed up the steps. “I’m good with a hammer.”
“Excuse me?” I quirked a brow.
He stood in front of me and rubbed Snickers’ head. Did he have to stand so close? His musky scent invaded my space.
“If you need help…I’m good with a hammer.” He pointed toward the house.
“Oh, what makes you think I can’t handle things?” I gave a lopsided grin. “Just because I’m a woman means I need help?”
“I didn’t say that.” One corner of his mouth lifted in a sexy grin.
“You didn’t have to,” I smirked. ”My daddy taught me things. So did my uncle.”
“I’m just trying to be a nice neighbor.” He held his hands up in surrender, then blew out a breath and leaned back against the column. “Heck, I thought about buying this place. But I figured it’s too much work…and I know what I’m doing.” He looked me up and down. His words slipped out sexy with his southern drawl.
“I think I can handle this place,” I said.
“Your pretty pink nails look as if they’ve never seen a hard days work.”
“I can hire people to do the hard stuff.”
“So you haven’t worked hard?”
“That’s not what I meant. I have worked very hard before. Many times, in fact.”
“What do you do?” He rested his arms in front of his muscular chest.
“As in career?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Currently?”
He chuckled. “Yes, currently.”
I cleared my throat. “Interior decorator.”
I averted my eyes from his gaze and waited for the snide remark.
