The Hauntings Of Sugar Hill: The Complete Series

by M. L. Bullock

  Where am I?

  My head pounded, and I realized that I was lying on a twisted blanket on the dirty floor of the gazebo. Panicked now, I whispered for Ambrose. I heard nothing but the voice calling in the distance and the splashing of a turtle or a fish in the pond. The rain had ceased, and the air was warm and heavy with perfumes from the nearby flower gardens. I whispered again and waited.

  Ambrose was gone.

  He had left me in the gazebo. How long ago? What time was it now? It was well after dark, and biting bugs were beginning to circle me. Yes, he was gone, as were my clothes. In a panic, I crawled around the gazebo floor and searched with my hands. I found nothing. Not a slip or a skirt.

  Why, Ambrose? Twisting the dirty blanket around me, I covered myself and searched again for my things. I found nothing. The only thing my lover had left behind was the basket of forgotten food and an empty bottle of wine.

  And an unfaithful left-hand wife.

  Part III

  Chapter Fourteen

  Avery Dufresne

  At some point, I dozed off, and when the phone rang, I felt as if I had been robbed of about six good hours of sleep. It had been a long time since I’d had a house phone. I don’t know why I hadn’t spotted it the night before, but now I was very much aware it was there and demanding my attention.

  “Yes? Hello?”

  “Good morning, Avery. I’m sorry to call you so early.”

  “Who is this?”

  The caller paused as if I should have known who she was. “This is Summer. I have some bad news to pass on. Aunt Anne passed away a few minutes ago. Reed and I would like to come by in about an hour if that’s okay?”

  Sadness washed over me. I had so many questions, and despite the reams of journals and the stack of dusty videotapes, I was sure there were things that only Miss Anne could tell me, especially about Vertie and my parents. That wasn’t going to happen now. “Of course, Summer. That would be fine. And I am sorry to hear about Miss Anne. You two come on when you like.”

  “Thanks. We’ll be there soon.” She hung up and I sat up in the bed, slinging my wild blonde hair out of my face. I blinked against the sunlight that was streaming in through the windows. Despite the sad news, the sun had come up. Life always went on. It didn’t care who you left behind. I flung the comforter back and then gasped. I had closed those blinds last night. Now they were open. Every one of them.

  What the heck? I stomped to the door and pressed the button on the call box.

  “Good morning. Would you like some breakfast, ma’am?”

  “Yes, and I expect two guests. I’ll be down in about thirty minutes if I can find the dining room. This is Robin, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Were you in my room this morning?”

  “No, I just got here. Is everything okay?”

  I chewed on my fingernail and stared at the uncovered windows. Everything was not okay, but I’d proven myself to be nuts enough for now. “Yes, I’ll be down soon.”

  Feeling defiant, I closed the blinds again, dug through my dresser for some semi-casual clothing, and went to take a shower. This was getting strange. I was getting strange.

  Just like Susanna.

  What a heartbreaking situation, but I had to agree with Miss Anne. How could Grandmother Margaret know all this stuff? One thing was for sure; I came from a long line of eccentric women.

  And what about Edith Roberts? Was I imagining her? There had to be a sensible explanation. Obviously, someone didn’t want me here and thought they could scare me away, but I was a reporter. I wasn’t about to run away without investigating the truth. And now my hand was being forced. Miss Anne had died, and I had to make a decision. Was I going to stay at Sugar Hill, or would I go back to Atlanta, pursue my career and repair my reputation? As I patted off my skin with the soft pink towel, I saw the long scar that snaked behind my ear, down my neck, and across my chest. What would Vertie say about this? What advice would she give me?

  Is it worth dying for, Avery? Because the only things worth anything are the things worth dying for.

  And what had been Surrette’s beef with me? According to his letters, he hated my hair, my clothes, my political ideas, my interviews. He just hated me.

  Was that worth dying for? Was being America’s Newscaster worth dying for?

  After blow-drying my hair, I finished dressing. I settled on black slacks and a taupe summer top with lace sleeves and a belted waist. I didn’t bother doing much with my hair. I clipped it back half-dry in a black barrette and put on a pair of diamond earrings and my sapphire necklace. This was as good as it was going to get today. Did I look like a Matrone?

  Now I knew what my decision would be. I’d always known, hadn’t I? Ever since I came here. I would stay at Sugar Hill and get to know my family. When and if I was ready to, I would get back into the business of reporting the news, but only after I got things settled in my personal life. I needed this time, and News Quarter didn’t want me around right now anyway.

  Sliding my feet into comfortable black flats, I sauntered down the stairs, taking my time to look at every detail along the way. One of the most striking focal points was a large oil painting of a young Anne hanging at the top of the landing. It had an elaborate gold frame. Too elaborate for my taste, but then again, I had never lived in an antebellum plantation before. I followed the smells of bacon and other delicious foods and found a small dining room. Pushing the door open, I found a tidy-looking young woman setting a ridiculously long table for three. Wasn’t this the informal dining room?

  “Good morning, Miss Dufresne. I’m Robin. Would you like some coffee?”

  “Yes, please. Tell me, is Dinah here this morning?”

  “I haven’t seen her yet, ma’am, but her car is out front. She must be on the grounds somewhere.” She poured me a cup of black coffee. I loved the formal setting, the silver coffeepot, and the china teacups. It was such a treat. I could get used to plantation living, minus the spooky stuff. “Should I find her for you?”

  “No, but when you see her, please tell her I want to talk with her. Also, I don’t know if you heard, but my great-aunt Anne passed away last night.”

  Robin set the coffeepot down on the linen tablecloth and sighed. “That is sad news, but I am not surprised. Miss Anne’s health has been failing for a while. At least you’re here now to help the family move forward. I am sorry for your loss, Miss Dufresne.”

  “Please call me Avery.”

  “Oh, okay, Avery. Miss Anne liked us to serve breakfast buffet style. Is that how you would like it? I imagine you’ll have specific requests?”

  Robin couldn’t have been much older than eighteen. She wore a gray maid’s uniform with a starched white collar. I liked her friendly face. She seemed like someone I could call on if I needed to. Her brown ponytail bounced softly as she stepped back to put the pot back on the sideboard.

  “Not at this time. Let’s keep things the way they are for now. That will be fine for me.”

  “Good, I’ll tell Regina. She’s the everyday cook.”

  “Everyday cook?” I sipped the delicious coffee and raised an eyebrow.

  Robin shook her head as if she couldn’t believe I was asking this question. She had a good-natured smile, and I liked her even more. “We just call her that because she’s here almost every day. Miss Anne had a special cook for her dinner parties. He did fancy stuff.”

  “Well, when I get situated, Robin, you’ll have to tell me how things work around here.”

  “I’ll be glad to help. Let me check on the food, and I’ll see if the guests have arrived yet. I left the paper on the table just as Miss Anne always preferred.”

  “Thank you, Robin.” Setting the china cup down, I picked up the paper. I wasn’t on the front page, thank God, but my case was on the second, alongside a picture of Roger Surrette. I shivered seeing it and only scanned the article.

  America’s Sweetheart and Newscaster is recovering in her home state of A
labama, although details are sketchy as to her exact location. Avery Dufresne fell victim to an assault on June 4th as she was leaving the studio after a contentious interview with Senator David Greeley. The interview took place the day after a fundraising dinner for the Starlight Foundation, with which Dufresne is actively involved. Jonah Blight, Dufresne’s boyfriend, did not attend the event and was later questioned by police. Blight described their relationship as friendly and casual but later told reporters that he was devastated about what happened to the “love of his life.”

  According to a hospital spokesman, Dufresne died in surgery, but thanks to emergency room surgeon Dr. Peter Amity, she was revived and responded well to treatment.

  There it was in black and white. So it was true, Tenille had been right. I had died in that hospital in Atlanta. I had been dead like Susanna was now. Like Ambrose and Chase. Like Grandma Vertie and my parents. I hadn’t seen a tunnel of light or met God. I hadn’t been sent back to Earth to do some amazing task or reconnect with my soulmate.

  I had simply died and remembered nothing. Further proof that up until now, at least, I had led a selfish, unimportant life. If I had stayed dead, the only one who would have missed me would have been Jonah. And I doubted his sincerity when it came to me. Now here I was, given a second chance at life. I wouldn’t mess it up this time.

  I knew all about my assault. Bits and pieces of the struggle came back to me when I least expected it. I didn’t need the newspaper to remind me of the details. I slapped the paper down and wondered where I’d put my cell phone. I glanced anxiously at my watch. I flipped through the thin newspaper to get a feel for the community but saw nothing too interesting except that a local bridge had collapsed, and a regional tennis conference was coming to Belle Fontaine. One councilman with the last name of Dufresne promised that the conference would put us on the map.

  Let’s hope that the map doesn’t lead people to the collapsed bridge.

  I really hated politicians. I was sorry to hear we had some in the family. I heard Reed’s voice in the hall.

  “Good morning, Avery. Sorry it took so long. Apologies for this intrusion. Mitchell is with us as well, but he’s lingering in the car. Poor fellow has really taken this hard.”

  “I don’t mind at all, and I’m sure this is difficult for Mitchell. I could tell how devoted he was to Miss Anne.” We heard someone crying in the hallway. Apparently, Mitchell had made it inside. He was quite a mess, though.

  Reed pushed the swinging door open and said, “Come have some breakfast, Mitchell. It will make you feel better. Come see Avery.” The hulking man walked in, his sister beside him.

  “Good morning, Mitchell and Summer. Robin is bringing breakfast. I am so sorry to hear about Miss Anne. I had hoped to get to know her better.” Mitchell didn’t speak, but I could see the grief on his face. “Whatever I can do, please tell me.” I touched his hand, and he broke down in tears. I stared at Summer, who didn’t seem moved by her brother’s outburst. Reed walked over and patted him on the shoulder.

  “It’s all right, Mitch. You did the best you could. She was a stubborn woman, and in the end, she did what she wanted to do. You served her well, and I think she loved you more than any of us.”

  “Thank you, Reed. If you’ll excuse me a minute.” Mitchell left the room, presumably to gather his composure.

  “Is he going to be all right?” I wondered aloud. “Were they that close?”

  “Oh, yes, she was his constant companion.” Reed poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Summer. She accepted but didn’t drink from it.

  “It was always a weird relationship,” Summer said sourly. “I think if he’d been a girl, Mitchell would have been Matrone. She always liked him better.”

  “No sense in talking ill of the dead, Summer. Let it go. Let’s talk about the here and now.” It was clear Reed wasn’t as broken up about Miss Anne’s death as Mitchell was. And I could see past Summer’s icy exterior. Nobody pretended to be that uncaring unless they truly cared. She wasn’t fooling me.

  “Miss Anne didn’t want a lot of fuss,” Reed began to explain. “She requested that there not be a funeral, which seems odd since she was always a stickler for tradition. She wants to be quietly laid to rest in the family mausoleum next to her grandmother, Margaret. She left a few things to Mitchell and Summer, but beyond that, there isn’t much to square away. Except for this one thing. I hate to pressure you, but I need to know what you have decided. Are you going to stay at Sugar Hill, or should we look for another Matrone?”

  I looked at Reed, and for a moment, I had a flashback to Margaret’s story about Susanna and Ambrose.

  Here I am, dancing on the blade of a knife…

  “Yes, I am going to stay. I am eager to get to know my family. And if I can help, I want to.”

  Flinging her linen napkin down on the table, my cousin made a sound of disgust. “Excuse me. I think I’ll go check on my brother after all.” I stared after her as she left us.

  “I can see I don’t have a fan there. This is about me being Matrone, isn’t it?”

  “You have to understand, Avery. Summer was groomed for the position all her life. It was always understood that she would be Miss Anne’s successor, but when Miss Anne changed her mind, there was nothing anyone could do about it.” Robin and another young woman entered the room and arranged food on the buffet table. Reed didn’t miss a beat, walking to the sideboard and picking up a white china plate. He loaded a few spoonfuls of this and that on his plate, but I’d suddenly lost my appetite. “Not even Mitchell. I don’t know what happened, and I won’t force Summer to tell me. Those are private matters between her and Miss Anne. I know that Miss Anne loved Summer, but something happened that made her have second thoughts. And now you’re here.”

  My investigative mind went to work. “Has Summer seen the videos you gave me? Did Miss Anne show her those?” I hoped the answer would be yes. Maybe that would be a way to connect with her, compare notes. I still hoped to make her an ally. I needed them. Quickly.

  “Nobody has ever seen those, except Miss Anne.” He sipped his coffee and dug in his briefcase.

  “Really? You weren’t curious at all, Reed? I mean, you didn’t watch any of them? You told me they were interesting when you handed them to me.”

  “Well, that wasn’t based on an observation of the content, Miss Reporter. I just know some of our history, and I find that interesting.” I accepted his explanation but wasn’t completely convinced. He sat down beside me and sprinkled hot sauce on his scrambled eggs. I had already put Reed in the “friend” column, but I couldn’t imagine that he wouldn’t look at the videos. He might be celebrity-handsome and intelligent, but he was also a lawyer. Why wouldn’t he? Who would know? Grandmother Margaret would know, if she could see him the same way she saw me.

  “What if I wanted to show someone the videos? What if I wanted to show you or Summer? Is that against the rules?”

  He moved his fork around his generous helping of scrambled eggs, sausage links, and fresh fruit. Picking up his knife and fork, he thought about it for a moment and then said, “No, I don’t think it would be against any rules, but obviously, she wanted to keep the content exclusive to those who held the role of Matrone. You did sign a nondisclosure agreement. Why don’t you finish viewing them and decide after that? How far have you gotten?”

  “Not far.”

  I changed my mind about the food, mostly because Reed seemed to be enjoying his so much. I walked to the sideboard and picked up lids. Gee, this was a lot of food for just a few people. Perusing the buffet, I agreed. “That’s what I’ll do, then, but I can tell you the truth, Reed. There’s a lot of weirdness in our background. Speaking of that, how reliable was Grandmother Margaret?”

  Help me! I’m shrinking, Annie! I shivered in the warm dining room.

  I scooped up some grits and put them in a small bowl. How long had it been since I’d had slow-cooked grits? I cut off a piece of butter and dumped it on top. It immediatel
y began to melt.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, she talks about ghosts, Reed. Do you believe in ghosts?”

  “Aren’t reporters supposed to be sensible people, like scientists? They only believe what they see, right?”

  “I’ll take that as a no.” I walked back to the table as I stirred the butter into the grits. “Yes, I am sensible, but that was before I came here. Either I was pranked last night, in an epic way, or I saw a ghost. Maybe two.” I thought about the man standing outside. “No, make that three.”

  Reed nearly choked on his fruit. “What? What did you see?”

  Scooping a spoon of grits, I stared at him. “I saw Edith Roberts. She came to my room and brought me towels. In fact, she suggested I take the Green Room. Did you know that was the room Susanna Dufresne stayed in when her mother-in-law’s ghost ran her out of Chase’s room? According to Grandmother Margaret, anyway. Is this some kind of joke, Reed?”

  “I was just about to ask you the same thing.” He dabbed his mouth with the cloth and finally stopped coughing. “What did she look like?” I described the woman in detail, relying on my training.

  “Oh, my God, that sounds like Edith, but that can’t be possible. She’s been dead since…”

  “The spring, yes, Robin told me. And tell me about Dinah. The staff can’t find her this morning. Is she prone to disappearing?”

  “Dinah came to Sugar Hill as a young woman. She has some challenges, but Miss Anne was willing to overlook them since she was trained by Edith and also a family member. However, if she’s not suitable, we will have to find someone else. We can’t have a staff member who won’t come to work or turns up missing all the time. That’s not acceptable.”

  “If the woman I saw was Edith Roberts, why do you think she is still lurking around here?”

  “Well, it sounds as if she wants to continue her duties. She was a kind woman, and it hit us all hard when Handsome found her in the garden. I don’t know if what you saw was a ghost or not. Maybe I should interview the staff and get to the bottom of it. In fact, I think I will.”