“Most of my life. When Miles inherited it from his grandfather, he retired from the Army and moved in. He hired my parents first. I was two.” Coop looked around the next room, a satisfied expression on his face. “His grandfather had let everything go, and it’s taken twenty years to get it this far. Miles had some pretty grand ideas for the place.”
“Lia, can I help?” Mellie skipped in just as my phone vibrated with a message from Ezra that she was heading my way. She stopped in the middle of the room and turned in a circle, her little jaw hanging open. Captivated, she went up to one of the intricately carved stones, intermingled with the regular ones that made up the wall, and ran her fingers over it.
I looked a little closer, scanning the room to see if I could make sense of their placement. Like on the library fireplace, they seemed random. I guessed it was meant to be artistic to scatter them irregularly around the room. Mom would know, being the decorator-type.
“Can my room have one of these pretties?” Mellie asked.
“I’ll bet your family will be living in the east wing.” Coop knelt down beside her so they were closer to the same height. “The servants lived in that wing.”
“Aw. Servants don’t get pretties.” Mellie’s bottom lip stuck out in a pout.
“Why do you think that?” Coop kept his tone serious.
“Lia reads me princess stories. Cinderella didn’t get any pretties, and it’s not fair.” Mellie, the little drama queen, leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed.
“No, it’s not fair.” Eyes wide, Coop met my gaze, his shoulders shaking.
Even after nearly a year, he made my heart go all twitchy. I captured the little scene with my phone.
“I think I’ll make my own pretty,” Mellie said. At the sound of the boys shouting and stomping their way up the circular metal stairs, she looked up. Grinning, she darted from the room.
I followed her and shouted, “Ez, Mellie’s coming back to you.”
After a pause, he called, “Got her.”
“What now?” Coop asked, coming into the hallway.
“We’re done with this floor, and it sounds like they’re taking the third.” I stepped over to the window to look at the garden again. Like the village, it had an “under construction” sense to it. “What were you saying about Miles being progressive or something?”
“Oh, yeah.” Coop moved beside me. “His father and grandfather had played the role of feudal lords. Miles wasn’t like that. He wanted to make the village into an attraction.”
“Attraction?” I asked, considering the word. “Do you mean something like Colonial Williamsburg?”
“Just like that. Wildstone has a hundred and fifty acres to work with, and we’re right on the border of the US and Canada, both countries with connections to the British.”
A rush of excitement flooded through me, and I pressed my palms to my cheeks. The style of homes in the village would be perfect. But had my father inherited enough money to do something on such a grand scale?
“My dad’s a huge history buff,” I said, “almost as much as he’s into building and fixing things. Him being the one to inherit this is kind of—” I couldn’t think of a good word.
“Serendipitous?” Coop sounded like he meant it.
“Serendipitous, yeah.” I faced the window again and leaned my forehead against the glass. “That garden is so beautiful. I can’t wait to wander in it.”
“I loved creating it.” He shifted, and his hand brushed mine before he shoved it in his pocket. It sent a little thrill up my arm and delayed my brain registering what he’d said.
“You designed it?” I stared at him.
“It was my senior project.” At my confused look, he added, “I just got my degree in landscape architecture. For my senior project, Miles let me take the old mess of a garden and redo it, design and everything.”
“Since you have your degree,” I asked, “will you be leaving to go somewhere else?”
“Miles planned for me to be the head gardener for his ‘attraction.’” Coop reached up and pulled a strand of hair from my face, his fingers brushing against my cheek ever so lightly. “I guess it’s up to your father what I do next.”
“Hey, Lia.” Ezra’s head peeked into view on the curvy stairs. I jumped back, like a guilty little kid caught doing something naughty. “Dad texted for us all to come to the east wing.” Ezra disappeared but not before I saw that irritating smirk again. Punk.
***
When we got to the front entry, Dad had the truck pulled up to it and was working the mechanism for the ramp.
“Mr. Savage, the side entry will work better for that.” Coop jogged over to the truck.
“Let the guys do the grunt work.” Mom took my arm and drew me past the formal dining room in the east tower.
“Nice prep room,” I said, appreciating the meal staging area sandwiched between the dining room and the kitchen. I paused at the door to the large kitchen. With its cozy furnishings and familiar appliances, it felt like a home. Then I remembered that Coop had grown up eating his meals there.
The boys hurried in, each lugging an end of one of Mom’s large, labeled boxes. She waved them where she wanted it taken. We hadn’t brought much furniture—just beds, bedding, and personal stuff—since the castle had some furnishings already.
“This way,” Mom said to me.
I followed her up a narrow flight of stairs to the third floor. It contained smaller rooms, none with bathrooms. Once again, a hallway ran the length of the east wing with windows overlooking the garden. Except these were small windows, high up the wall. The designers must not have wanted to make it easy for the pesky servants to spy on their master or his guests. I smiled to myself thinking about what Mellie would have to say about that.
“There are lots of rooms to choose from for your bedroom.” Mom opened a small door. “This floor has a couple of good-sized bathrooms.” My mother stared down the hallway, thoughtful. She glanced at me.
“What?” I asked.
“I noticed you had that boy with you again.”
“Coop?”
“Yes.” Her eyes darted down the hallway, all suspicious.
I leaned over and searched the hallway too before peering back at my mom. “Is that a problem?”
“We think they could be trying to scare us off.” She pinched her lips.
I stared at her for a second. My mother, one of the most practical people I’d ever met, had no patience with conspiracy theorists. “What makes you think that?”
“At the gatehouse, that woman told me the castle is haunted. Then they pulled that stunt on the tower.” Mom planted her hands on her hips. “We won’t be scared away.”
“I don’t believe they did that on purpose.”
“Listen,” Mom said, pulling me down the hall toward the main wing. “Ezra said the boy helped you with the inventory. Did he say anything?”
“He told me Miles Savage had plans to turn the village into something like Williamsburg.” Not exactly what she’d asked about, but I wanted her thinking of something else. “I guess that’s why the projects in Wildstone looked unfinished.”
“Hmm.” My mother paused at the door, smiling for the first time. She must like the idea. Good. One point for Coop.
We went through the doorway, and Mom gasped. She stepped into the huge open space, turning as she examined it. “What a great area. This is even better than the main floor.” She took out her notepad, mumbling to herself. “We could definitely be ready for the Fourth of July event. A picnic or a tea or something.”
The huge room had an entire wall of large windows overlooking Coop’s garden. The opposite wall had smaller windows, but they had chalk outlines marking the stone surrounding them. To enlarge the windows, I guessed.
On the side with the garden, right next to a modern window, sat a state-of-the-art computer workstation adjacent to a drafting table. I went there while my mother examined the opposite windows.
I lift
ed a piece of paper. It contained a much grander design for the garden. Coop’s vision for it gave me a thrill. A true English garden, in its infancy.
I wondered what the Irish ancestor who’d originally built the castle would have thought of it. Had he been one of the Irish lords who’d worked with the English, like one of our own American colonist Tories who’d supported the British during the Revolutionary War?
“Lia, what’s this?” Mom stepped beside me. “Oh, my.”
“Yeah.” I handed the paper to her. “Coop designed that. He said it was his senior project. He’s a landscape architect.”
“That boy did this?”
“That boy has a name, Mother.” I fought my rising irritation. “It’s Coop.”
“I can tell you like him already.” Her expression softened.
“I’ve liked him for a long time,” I said. “Didn’t Ez tell you we met Coop last summer?”
“He mentioned something about it, but Lia, you can’t trust everyone,” she said, her voice soft.
“And not everyone is out to get you.” I kept my voice equally quiet.
“Yes. Well.” My mother stood a little taller. “I’ll show this to your father, but keep your ears open.” She turned back toward the east wing. “We need to get the beds made up. Mellie said she wants to sleep with you.” As soon as Mom had mentioned Mellie, the worry crease between her eyes deepened.
“Mom, no.” I tried to sound firm. After Phoebe had died, Mellie slept in my bed for six months before getting strong enough to face her bedroom alone. “She’s a bed hog.”
“I know, sweetheart, but you’ve got a big bed. And Mellie loves the princess stories you tell her.” Mom patted my cheek. “She’ll get used to this place soon enough.”
Right. I sighed but didn’t argue.
“Gabbie, where are you?” Dad’s shout came from the family wing.
“Coming.” Mom shouted back and then mumbled, “We need an intercom system.” She’d only taken a step before she spun on her heels and gave me a hard look. “The game is afoot, and we have to find out what’s behind it.”
Dad called again, and she hurried off.
Sherlock Holmes quotes and ghosts. Perfect.
Chapter 4
Hugh held up his hand and willed it to become corporeal. He grunted at the table still visible through it. Since his initial success with the old man and the young woman in the library, Hugh had been unable to lift more than small objects and shift them.
While able now to maintain a sense of himself more consistently, he still had an occasional period when he would come to spy on the arrogant, always-in-motion Americans and find that days had passed since his last memory. Eavesdropping on their plans might entertain him, but he must not permit their industry to distract him.
He frowned. What had changed to make it so laborious for him to focus his power? Not until those buffoons had taken apart his home had he experienced such difficulty. Had they reassembled his beloved home poorly, and that was the cause? Or did it tie back to locating the stone?
Hugh concentrated, twisting his hand and wiggling his fingers. When they became solid, he lifted the chain of keys the mother had left on the table. The raucous laughter of the twin boys made Hugh start. His hand turned translucent again, and the keys crashed to the floor. The undisciplined hellions. Hugh forced his hand tangible again and moved to the window.
Below, the little girl gave a happy squeal as her brothers swung her into the air. For a moment, another scene superimposed itself upon theirs. A different brother swung his young sister into the air. Hugh pressed his hand against his chest, but the ache did not stop. Where had they put his little Maire’s stone? How could he ever be free of the place if he could not find it?
Below, the father called the children inside. Hugh’s hand turned translucent again, and he growled. They were all so distracting.
Frightening away the servants had been simple enough. Once he fully revived his powers, he would do the same to the family with their noisy boys and too-perceptive girls.
“I vow,” Hugh said through gritted teeth, “to claim the citadel for myself and my search.”
Coops
COOP FOUND HIMSELF DRIVING UP to the citadel a week after the Savages had come. He meant to drive into town to check out any new plant shipments and to put in an order. Mr. Savage had liked the garden design and given a tentative go-ahead on its completion. His wife loved it, just as Lia had predicted. Mrs. Savage hadn’t said anything about hiring new people or letting anyone go, so Coop’s parents still had jobs too. So far.
As he reached for the kitchen doorknob, Coop paused to listen. Music … and singing. Lia must be cooking. He’d timed it right. All last summer, Lia and her friend Taylor had talked nothing but desserts, but they’d never brought anything to the activities they all participated in. He guessed the kind of confections Lia made wouldn’t hold up during a river rafting trip. His stomach rumbled as he knocked on the door. Maybe he’d finally get to taste something she’d made.
“It’s unlocked,” Lia called.
Coop opened the door to find her working at the big table, putting the finishing touches on some delicate little desserts. Seeing her there, so obviously happy, gave him an odd sense of “rightness,” like the citadel’s large kitchen had been waiting for someone just like her.
“Hey, Coop.” She wiped at a strand of hair that had gotten loose from her pony tail. In the process she smeared something brown on her cheek.
“Did I come at a bad time?” he asked.
“No, you came at the perfect time. I’m just finishing up.” She lifted one of the delicacies wrapped in a thin waxed paper cup-thing. “Want a taste?”
“Heck, yeah.” Coop didn’t hesitate, taking it from her and removing the paper. He sniffed it and arched a brow.
“Taste it,” she said.
He took a bite and let it linger on his tongue, like he had seen wine tasters do. The flaky crust melted in his mouth and then the flavor of chocolate burst across his taste buds. He felt like a connoisseur. A connoisseur of Dessert à la Lia. He hummed with pleasure.
“You like it.” Lia gave a happy sigh.
It tasted so good Coop didn’t answer but stuffed the rest of it into his mouth. He hummed again and grinned as he chewed.
“Now you’re teasing me.” Lia went to the sink and began to wash her hands.
“Are you just practicing,” he asked, “or are they for something special?”
“They’re for the meeting in the village tonight.” She picked up a towel and turned to face him.
“I’m glad your father wants to check out what Miles already had going before moving ahead himself.” Coop came to stand beside her to rinse his fingers. “I think it’s smart business.”
“Me too.” She handed him the towel.
“You have a smudge.” He pointed to Lia’s cheek, and her face flushed pink. He loved the way she looked, with chocolate smeared on her face, her messy ponytail with wisps of hair trying to break free, and flour dusting her apron. She smelled like all the good things in his life—home, comfort, happiness.
“I always end up wearing whatever I bake.” She took the towel he offered and wiped her cheek.
Coop almost told her she looked cute, even opened his mouth to say it. He paused. Gee, you look cute. If it sounded half as stupid coming out of his mouth as it sounded in his head, he’d better not.
“Why are you standing there with your mouth open?” Lia grinned. “Let me guess. You’re doing the charades version of Oliver Twist’s famous line.”
“I’m not sure I remember that.” Coop frowned. He had tried to play charades with the group last summer but had done a pathetic job of it. His parents didn’t like playing games much, so he didn’t have a lot of experience.
“No way. You don’t know Dickens?” Lia frowned when he shook his head. She said, “You’ve lived a deprived life.” She picked up another pastry. “In the workhouse, the kids are practically starving and h
ungry all the time. Oliver gets up the courage to go up to the guy who runs the place and say, ‘Please sir, I want some more.’” She handed the treat to Coop.
“Did they give it to him?” Coop asked, curious now. He accepted the pastry.
“Nope.” Lia started packing the rest of the treats in a box. “They locked him up and then sold him as a servant to people who treated him so badly he ran away and ended up becoming a pickpocket in London. There’s a lot more to the story though. If you want to know what happens, I noticed a copy of the book in the library. You’re welcome to borrow it.” She closed the lid of the box and reached for a roll of ribbon. “What are you up to this afternoon?”
“I need to order a bunch of stuff for the garden,” Coop said, rinsing his hands again.
“You’re going into Payne?” She looked up, her expression bright. When he nodded, she asked, “Mind if I tag along? I want to check out what kind of pastry supplies they have. You have no idea what it’s like, working with my mom’s stuff. She only brought what she considered the ‘essentials.’” Lia rolled her eyes. “Having to use only her things was like working with stone knives and bearskins.”
“Didn’t seem to hinder you. It tasted just fine to me.” His remark earned him a smile, one that reminded him of the previous summer. “Do you have a passport? You might find a better selection on the Canadian side.”
“I don’t yet. I guess I’ll have to get one.” Lia began shifting the rest of the dirty dishes into the sink.
“Look here.” Coop pulled out his wallet and opened it. “You’ll want to get a passport card for around here. It’s cheaper and easier to use than a book.” When she grinned at the picture, he snapped the wallet shut. “Shut up.” He scowled. “They said I couldn’t smile.”
“Whatever.” Lia continued to smile as she filled the sink with hot water and soap.
Coop picked up the towel and dried the dishes as she washed. She chattered on about baking while they worked. He enjoyed listening to her, impressed with the passion she had for what she did. While he might prefer to work with plants, dirt, and stone, he understood the creative energy behind her words.
A Savage Ghost Page 4
