by Unknown
The minister greeted people as they left at the end of the service. When Emma would have sneaked past, he reached out to her. “I’m so glad to see you here on this glorious Lord’s Day.”
“Thank you,” Emma managed, taking the hand he offered. She felt foolish, not knowing what she’d expected to gain from attending a church service. She felt out of place and unnecessary.
Stepping out into the bright sunlight, she shaded her eyes and caught a glimpse of Sam escorting his mother to a brown sedan. She handed Sam her cane and slowly eased into the front passenger seat. Sam closed the door and turned, catching sight of Emma. He hesitated briefly before striding around the car and getting in on the driver’s side. She watched the car disappear down Spruce Avenue.
“Miss Mansi?”
Emma jumped and turned to see the smallish man who had been staring at her in church. Thin, with a receding hairline and wire-rimmed glasses, he was dressed in a brown tweed suit and white tennis shoes. He held out a pale hand, the kind unaccustomed to physical labor.
“I’m Ray Sullins.”
Curious, Emma finally took his hand.
“I knew your sister. I was her … friend.”
“I’m happy to meet one of her friends.”
He hung his head. “I loved Lully.” His childlike demeanor made Emma realize that he was shy and a bit slow.
His eyes teared and Emma suddenly felt uncomfortable with his obviously deep grief. She hesitated and then reached out to touch his arm. “Thank you. I … loved her too. I’m sorry for your loss.”
Lully had never mentioned Ray, which made Emma wonder if they’d truly been friends. Perhaps Ray only imagined the friendship, since she’d never known her sister to have a close relationship with anyone. If he and Lully were friends, why hadn’t Lully mentioned him? In fact, Emma couldn’t remember a single person Lully wrote about.
Ray sniffled, and then dragged a handkerchief from his hip pocket to dab at his eyes. “I-I used to go to the house and sit with her. We’d sit in the porch swing and talk. Lully was a good talker and a good listener.”
“I’m sure she enjoyed your visits.”
He nodded, tears rolling down his cheeks. “We had a good time. Sometimes we’d take cheese and crackers out there and have a picnic. I like picnics.”
“I do too,” Emma said, feeling her throat grow tight.
“I like that old house.”
“You know she left the house to me and … and the sheriff.”
He brightened. “Are you gonna keep it? That’s Lully’s house. Lully loved that house.”
“I-I don’t know.” She looked away. “I may have to sell it.”
“Sell it?” His features fell, bewilderment seeping into his eyes. He didn’t seem to understand. She didn’t, either.
“I live in Seattle. Sam, Sam Gold, thinks we should sell the house.”
He shook his head. “Oh, Lully wouldn’t like that.”
“She knew I lived in Seattle. I work there.”
“In a greenhouse. You grow pretty plants.”
Emma was surprised by his knowledge. “Yes. I grow plants.”
“Your momma used to grow flowers in the yard. Roses. Lully couldn’t grow flowers like your momma, but she always said, ‘Ray, those roses will bloom again.’” His eyes shimmered with grief. “I believe her. Lully always told me the truth.”
Ray knew a lot more about Lully and their family than Emma would ever have suspected. The thought made Emma a little curious.
“If there’s anything I can do—any way I can help …” Ray offered.
“Thank you. I’ll let you know if I need anything.”
He fished in his pocket and pulled out a marble, a shiny red-and-black agate, and gave it to her.
She accepted the gift, feeling a little foolish. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Emma realized they were blocking the flow of people coming out of the church.
“Lully was my friend,” Ray said. He shuffled off slowly down the walk.
Emma walked to the car, wondering about the strange little man. He was surely older than Lully—perhaps by as much as ten years. He appeared simple, where Lully always had a thirst for knowledge. Emma tried to picture the two together and decided maybe their friendship wasn’t as odd as she’d first thought. They were both “different.” Opposites in many ways yet alike in others. Perhaps Lully found a soul mate in Ray Sullins. Maybe Ray brought a measure of love, a sense of happiness to Lully’s last days.
That afternoon Emma thought about tackling the dining room when Sam called. “I talked with Ned Piece today.”
Emma nudged Gismo out of the trash with the toe of her tennis shoe. “Who’s Ned Piece?”
“Rockies Realty. He can take a look at the house tomorrow morning if you’re available.”
“I am—before ten o’clock.”
Dead silence followed her remark. Then Sam chuckled. She shut her eyes against the warm memories that threatened her resolve to forget about Sam Gold other than in terms of an unwilling real-estate partner. She could hear a fax machine reeling off a transmission in the background; he was calling from the sheriff’s office.
“Do you self-destruct at ten o’clock?” Sam asked with another chuckle.
“No, I accepted a part-time job.”
Silence followed her remark.
She repeated. “I took a part-time job at the bookstore.”
“At Elizabeth’s Corner?”
“How many bookstores are there in Serenity?”
“I thought you wanted to leave as soon as possible.”
Was that a hopeful tone she heard in his voice? Just your imagination, Emma. “I’m staying until I can get the house cleared out and Lully’s estate settled.” She thought about the jewelry orders and the new shipment of supplies that came in. What was she to do about Lully’s jewelry business?
“What about your business in Seattle?”
“That’s the nice thing about being your own boss.” Emma hefted herself onto the kitchen counter and stared down at Gismo, who seemed to question why she was sitting on the counter.
“Elizabeth doesn’t have enough business to keep her busy. She likes it that way. Why would she hire you?”
“I do have some qualifications,” she reminded, irritated by the question.
“For flower growing.”
Emma bit her tongue. Sarcasm wouldn’t get her anywhere, and she was starting to look forward to their chats. “It’s only through Christmas. It helps Elizabeth during the busy season and gives me something to do for a couple hours a day.”
Another moment of silence. “Mom asked about you this morning.”
Well, that was the last thing she expected to hear. The change of subject threw her. She curled the phone cord around her finger. “How is Edwina?”
“Broke her hip last year. It’s slowed her down.”
Edwina Gold had always been an active woman. As mayor of Serenity she’d been something to deal with, pushing plans through city council with a strong will, practically dragging the city offices into the twentieth century by herself. The woman never particularly liked the Mansi family because they didn’t fit the mayor’s profile of families who fit the Serenity “allure”. And she’d definitely not liked Emma after she and Sam tried to elope. The mayor’s plans for her sons and Emma Mansi differed.
“I’m sorry to hear that. That must be difficult for her.”
“It is.” There was a pause. “Emma?”
She held her breath. The soft slide of his baritone caused a familiar ache in her heart. “Yes?”
“I don’t want to fight you on this house. I’m willing to do whatever it takes for us to make a sound business decision.”
“Me too,” she admitted. “But you know how I feel.”
“I do know how you feel, and I respect it. I want the best for both of us. Okay?”
Why did he have to be so nice? It was less complicated when he blocked her every move. A
nd now she was feeling guilty about Ned Piece looking at the house … . But it hadn’t been appraised, ever, and they needed a base to begin if the worst happened and the new parking lot won out over the tearoom.
“Okay—we’re in agreement.” Vulnerability crept into her voice. She hoped he hadn’t detected it.
“By the way, you’re not having any trouble with pranksters, are you? This time of year they gave Lully a lot of trouble. Ken and I will be patrolling the area on Halloween night more than usual, but the kids are resourceful. They find a way to make trouble, especially in that old cemetery.”
“I’ll be fine. I’d heard Kenny was your deputy.”
“Yes, he is.”
“Working with family must be nice. Any little nieces or nephews running around?”
It was the first personal question she’d asked, and she was sorry the moment the words left her. The less she knew about Sam’s personal life the easier it would be.
“Ken’s still single.”
The logical question would be for her to ask his marital state—Emma hadn’t heard and Lully never mentioned if he’d married or not. But a phone ringing in the background saved her the embarrassment.
“I’ve got to go,” he said. “I’ll bring Ned over about nine in the morning—oh, by the way, I’m not married, either, in case that was what you were leading up to.”
She hung up, heat diffusing her cheeks. “Gismo, you’re looking at an idiot. Where is my brain?” Any nieces and nephews running around? She might as well have asked, “Any ring on your third finger, left hand?” Naturally she’d looked, but some men didn’t wear wedding bands.
She’d been about as subtle as a baseball-size hailstone.
Sam dropped the receiver back in its cradle and stared at the phone, oblivious to the sounds of office equipment around him. Emma had asked if Ken had children, if he had a family? No, Emma. I don’t have a family. You were supposed to be my family.
He drew a deep breath of resignation. What would it have been like to sit beside Emma in church, to share that experience with her? Church and God had been important to him since he’d started going to chapel while in the marines. The surroundings were crude, but it hadn’t made a difference. He’d learned there what a true relationship with God was and never lost the security of it.
He smiled sometimes when he remembered how he prayed to find Emma after she left Serenity, and then prayed for peace when it was clear she wasn’t coming back. Then he prayed she would remain safe and one day she’d return.
Now she had … and he wasn’t sure it was the answer he wanted. What, God? What is it you’re trying to do? Is there something I’m supposed to learn from this?
If there was, he wasn’t getting it.
Chapter Seven
The wind came up late that evening as Emma was getting ready for bed. The howl through the eaves of the old house brought back memories of cowering under the covers with Lully for comfort when she was little. Shivering, Emma stood at the bedroom window, arms crossed over her stomach. Ezra’s headstone shone in the moonlight. She wondered how she had ever considered this a normal setting. The house creaked with age. Lightning flashed in the distance and a low rumble shook the rafters. A full-blown fall storm was brewing over the mountains and would soon sweep down upon the sleeping town.
She pulled the drapes closed and sat on the side of the bed. Gismo settled on the rug next to the bed, his cockeyed gold eyes peering up at her. She bent and scratched behind his ears, and then decided she wasn’t sleepy. Instead, she went back downstairs for a Coke and some popcorn. She’d watch a Cheers rerun on the old television.
A huge thunderclap shook the house as she flipped on the kitchen light. Cringing, she found a package of Jiffy Pop and turned on a stove burner. And then she heard it.
Breaking glass. In the basement.
Her heart shot into her throat. She held the Jiffy Pop package suspended in air. Listening. The refrigerator kicked on. She stood very still, ear tuned for other sounds. Had Gismo somehow gotten into the basement? She didn’t think so. She’d locked the basement door the first night.
She turned slowly. The door was firmly closed. Rats? Could it be? She shuddered. There had been rodents in the basement once, and she and Lully had set traps. That was it. More rats.
Another sound, less distinct. Muffled, as if someone … something … was moving down there.
Kids. It had to be one of the town jokers trying to scare her. Sam warned her that this close to Halloween kids would be playing pranks, trying to scare her. She could call him—No. She couldn’t call him. He wouldn’t be at the office anyway. It was Sunday. He didn’t work Sundays. He was probably with someone. She found the thought strangely disturbing.
She heard the noise again. This time it sounded distinctly like footsteps, as if someone was down there walking around.
A clap of thunder boomed, seeming to come right inside the house, and she jumped. Her glass of Coke went flying, smashing against the floor, splattering onto her robe. Rain lanced the window like needles. Ignoring her fear, she grabbed a cloth and mopped at the sticky liquid. Her slippers were Coke-soaked.
Then she heard it again. Bang! Bang!
That sound she identified as an open window slamming in the wind. All the basement windows were closed. Had been for years but someone had gotten in, and now whoever it had gone but left the window open. The sound of breaking glass must have scared him off.
Locating a flashlight in a drawer, she switched it on, thankful that the batteries were strong. Gathering her nerve, she eased the basement door open. A cold breeze whipped up the stairs, making her wet feet even colder. She had to close that window. The logical thing to do would be to call Sam and ask him to investigate but logic and Sam didn’t mix. She’d take care of this—she was an adult.
The window banged in the wind again, and Emma found herself praying, Dear God, please let it be the window and not somebody down there trying to scare me.
Funny, she hadn’t really talked to God in years. Would he even recognize her name now? Hi, I’m Emma. Remember me? I used to pray … I’m one of your lost sheep.
Lully had used the lost sheep picture hanging in the living room as one of her Sunday lessons, telling Emma that when a sheep was lost, Jesus brought it back to the fold. Emma hadn’t known what a fold was, but she’d guessed it had something to do with the robe Jesus wore. She had been so trusting, so innocent. Lully tried to instill some knowledge of God in her, but Emma guessed it hadn’t taken.
Why would Jesus know her? It wasn’t logical. If he existed he had more worthy subjects to address. This particular sheep was really never in the fold. Not like the sheep in the picture. Back then Emma had wanted so badly to be a sheep. Maybe not the one Jesus held, but perhaps one of those behind him. Jesus’s eyes looked kind and gentle. His hands, she imagined, were strong as he cradled the sheep so gently, as if that one meant more than any of the others.
Lightning flashed and Emma jumped. Thunder rolled as she started down the stairs. She would not call Sam. This was her house. Why should she be afraid? She’d already made it plain she didn’t need help. Closing a basement window wasn’t exactly a crisis. And a thunderstorm didn’t warrant a 911 call. Still, the thought of having a six-foot-plus pillar of muscle standing between her and whatever was down there in the basement appealed to her. After all, her great-grandparents had embalmed people down there—
No. I won’t call him.
She eased down the staircase, sending light into all corners as she descended. A musty smell filtered up and the stairs creaked. When was the last time Lully had gone into the basement? Were the stairs safe?
Bang!
This is ridiculous. Emma descended another step. Holding tight to the wooden handrail, she inched her way down the nine stairs, her sodden slippers making a squishing sound. Finally she stepped onto solid ground. She paused, allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness. The flashlight was unable to penetrate the dark corners.
> Bang! There it was again. The hair on the nape of her neck stood up. Focusing the beam on the window, she immediately saw that it was indeed a broken window banging in the wind. The latch hung almost off the frame.
Several boxes were stacked beneath the window, blocking her intent to somehow manage to close it. She laid the flashlight on the nearest carton and shoved a smaller one aside. The boxes were heavy, and she had to move them by using the calves of her legs to leverage them into an opposite corner to clear a path to the window.
Rain was pouring in, soaking the cardboard. Maneuvering herself toward the window, she bumped into another box, causing the flashlight to roll off and fall to the floor behind the boxes.
Grumbling beneath her breath, she climbed on top of one of the containers, trying to reach the flashlight that was still beaming. She lost a slipper somewhere between two boxes but decided to find it later. The storm raged outside, sending periodic flashes of lightning through the cobweb-covered rafters. The flashes were too brief for her to get a good look at where the flashlight lay. Cold air burst into the basement with every swing of the broken window, creeping into her bones. Images of rats played through her mind.
Reaching with a grunt, she fumbled between the boxes in search of the light. Jammed between the boxes, the cylinder was an inch from her fingers. She flexed her fingers, almost willing her arm to stretch enough to reach the light. She had to get it! She didn’t want to climb those stairs in the dark, barefoot—well, half barefoot.
Straining … straining … the tips of her fingers brushed the metal, but she managed only to dislodge it so that it tipped and rolled farther toward the wall.
Shoving herself upright, she buried her face in her hands. Keep cool, Emma. It’s a basement. A playhouse for you and Lully on rainy days.
A scurrying sound sent a ripple of fear over her skin.
I have to do this. The window is broken; someone could get in—again. Rain will soak these boxes, ruining whatever is inside them. The window has to be wedged closed … tonight. She drew a deep breath. But I can’t get to the window without help. I can call a repairman tomorrow, first thing. But the thought of sleeping all night with the window wide open was not one she wanted to contemplate.
