Tru smirked.
“Death,” Sylvia whispered and tightened her hold on Holly’s arm.
He eyed his stogie. “So I hear.”
“Life as you know it is over. You will fail on my show, and we’re going to troll you with that failure all over the World Wide Web until you crawl under a bridge and die.”
“We?” Holly croaked out.
Sylvia held on to Holly’s arm and nodded as though they were a team.
Tru adjusted his glasses. “Are you two threatening me?”
“We’re promising to destroy you,” Sylvia said as though she meant it.
“Ladies,” He lifted his hand, palms up. “All I do is tell the truth. I’ve got nothing to lose. You on the other hand have a nice cushy j-o-b to lose or a business to dry up after I debunk ‘The Ghost in the Grove. ’” He thumped the stump of a cigar into the azaleas Grandmother Rose had planted when she was a young bride. “I’m willing to gamble. Are you?”
CHAPTER NINE
Holly plastered a sign on the door to the widow’s walk. She stood back and inspected her work. The computer-generated black and yellow caution border around the sign made it look official: DANGER. DO NOT ENTER. UNDER CONSTRUCTION.
Tru couldn’t say he wasn’t warned in writing and in person. If she caught him up there one more time, she’d have every reason to tear up his reservation and boot him to the curb. She dusted her hands of that chore, but she wasn’t finished.
She needed help dragging a four-by-eight-foot sheet of plywood up the stairs to cover the hole Mackie had left in the decking. Miss Alice was too old to help. She wouldn’t think of asking Tru, even if it was for his protection. She couldn’t expect guests to do chores, which knocked out Thomas and Sylvia. That left Nelda, and she wasn’t going to be excited about it.
Holly bounded down the stairs to the kitchen. The scent of comfort trailed up the stairwell. Nelda’s homemade dumplings. She sucked in the rich aroma. At least she could eat guilt free after all the flights of stairs she’d clocked today. The door flapped behind her as she entered the kitchen.
“I told you to get out of my kitchen,” Nelda said, as she stirred a pot on the stove.
Holly stopped short and looked around.
Rhett perked up from his place in the sun and trotted to her side.
The bench sat askew at the planter’s table. A cup of coffee and a half-worked crossword puzzle littered the table. Holly scooped Rhett up and rubbed his head, and studied Nelda. “Who peed in your soup?”
Nelda whirled around, brows pinched. “I thought you was somebody else.” She waved her wooden spoon at Holly. “We need to put that PRIVATE sign back up on the door.”
“Has Tru been bugging you again?”
Nelda turned and stirred again. “He bugs everybody.”
“I know! He’s ticked off everyone here. We need a truce at least until the shoot.”
“Truce? Those folks fight worse than politicians.” Nelda wiped her hands on a dish towel. “I just hope Miss Alice is the only one packin’ or someone is gonna get killed.”
“I don’t think anyone is ready for literal murder. They’re all talk.” She sidled up to Nelda. “But we do have that big hole in the floor of the widow’s walk that could be dangerous. I caught Tru up there smoking his cigar this morning.”
“Good. Maybe he’ll fall through and hurt his back like Mackie.”
“And sue me. Unlike Mackie.”
“Yeah.” Nelda nodded. “You right ’bout that.”
“So I need to fix the hole, but I need your help.”
“Ain’t no carpentry on my résumé.”
“I’ll do the carpentry. It’s just nailing a piece of plywood over the hole. I need you to help me carry it upstairs.”
“Do you know how many sets of stairs to the top of this house?” Nelda’s eyes widened as she counted on her fingers. “One, two, three, four.”
“We don’t have to do it all at once. Just help me get it to the second floor. Then you can rest a while and we’ll take it up another flight,” Holly pleaded. “Please.”
“Humph.” Nelda shook her head. “Since Mackie’s laid up, you ain’t got nobody else to help you, do you?”
Holly sighed. “Just you. He said he needs a day to rest his back.”
“I know you say you don’t want a man,” Nelda snatched off her apron, “but I say you need one and I’m thinkin’ of one in particular.”
“The one that bailed at the last minute?” She didn’t need Jake, not that it mattered. He’d made his feelings clear. “I don’t need a man, I need muscle.”
“So, you’re askin’ me?” Nelda glanced down at her full figure.
“Please?”
“You might as well ask puddin’ to be steak,” Nelda shook her head and yanked off her apron. “This could take all day.”
Holly hugged Nelda. “I’d be sunk without you.”
A few minutes later, Holly and Nelda struggled to carry the plywood up the main staircase in the entrance hall. “Who knew a piece of plywood could weigh so much?” Holly asked.
“I coulda told you it was too heavy.” Nelda said. “This may take days.”
Holly grunted to lift her end over the banister and then the load lightened. She looked behind her and Thomas had added his strength to her heft.
“Where are you going with this?” he asked.
Holly glanced upward. “All the way up to the widow’s walk.”
“You get on Nelda’s end and I’ll take this end.” Thomas lifted the plywood high enough for Holly to pass under to join Nelda higher on the staircase.
“We’ve got this.” Nelda’s face seemed to be swollen in a pout.
“But Nelda . . . muscle.”
“Humph. Since when can’t we do anything we want to?”
Holly leaned in to Nelda and whispered, “Don’t you always tell me not to look a gift horse in the mouth?”
“You and your gift horse tote this piece of wood up four stories. I’ve got supper to cook. Anyway, I got a good back and I want to keep it that way,” Nelda said, not bothering to whisper.
Nelda huffed off, leaving Holly with her end of the lifting.
Heat rose in Holly’s cheeks. What was it about Thomas that ticked off Nelda?
“It seems like Nelda and I got off on the wrong foot,” Thomas said.
“I’ll say.” Holly glanced back at the kitchen door as it flapped shut. “That’s really not like her.”
“It could have been because I wanted decaffeinated coffee this morning and she had to brew a pot.”
“She has been in a mood lately. I’m going to have to talk to her about that and see what’s going on.”
When Holly and Thomas reached the widow’s walk they were both winded and sat down on the painted planks to take a break.
“I really don’t think Nelda and I could have done that without taking a big break between floors. You seem to have good timing about helping out around here.”
Thomas grinned. “Chris says I’ve got as needed ESP.”
“You do.” Holly got up and dusted off her rear end. “Thanks again.”
He pointed to the jagged hole in the decking. “How did that get there anyway?”
“Mackie fell through a rotten spot in the decking. He hurt his back, but it could have been so much worse. He’s hardheaded too. He won’t go to the doctor.” She opened up a toolbox and removed a pair of leather gloves. “If I know him, he’ll be back tomorrow to finish the job, even if he’s gimpy.”
“Is he someone who cares about you?” Thomas raised his brows. “A boyfriend?”
“Lordy, no.” She cocked her head to the side. Was the old guy hitting on her? Surely not. “He’s probably sixty-five years old.” Holly covered her mouth. “Not that that’s old, but he’s old enough to be my father.”
Thomas’s face contorted in confusion. He held his hands up like stop signs. “I wasn’t asking because . . . I mean I wasn’t flirting . . . Uh, I hope . . .”
“I didn’t take it that way.” The little lie may make him feel better. Really, she didn’t get the vibe he was hitting on her, but something was off. And ew, Mackie is Jake’s dad. Jake, the old flame that wouldn’t die, dang it. Her cheeks heated. “He’s my old boyfriend’s dad. I’ve known him almost forever.”
That must be why the question set off her creep alert. She shivered inside. Who wants someone to ask if your crush’s dad is your boyfriend?
“So you’re close?” Thomas asked as if he cared.
“To be honest, I try to take care of Mackie. Everyone in town does. He’s had a tough life, and he doesn’t have any family here.”
“What about his son?”
Holly shrugged. “Out of town.” Out of her heart? Obviously not. “Anyway, I wanted to open the widow’s walk to guests, but the railing is too low for code.” She glanced at the ornate wrought-iron railing. Even though it had a bit of rust, it was still strong. Just like the rest of Holly Grove.
He frowned. “You aren’t replacing it, are you?”
“Mercy, no. It’s too beautiful to replace.” The wind kicked up and blew her hair in her eyes. She did her best to push her hair back wearing oversized gloves. Puffy clouds raced across a bluebird sky that skimmed the tree line along the Mississippi. “I want everyone who comes to Holly Grove to see this view.”
“I wouldn’t have known it was here if I hadn’t stepped in to help.” He rubbed his hand over his bald head and smiled. “This is spectacular.”
“You should see it at night.” She pointed to a box covered in a tarp. “I even bought a telescope for stargazing.”
“Was your handyman supposed to install that too?”
“Unfortunately.” Holly sighed. “He’ll get it done, but it may be a while. In the meantime, I better get to nailing down that plywood.” She dug a hammer and a sack of nails out of the toolbox. “Don’t forget dinner’s at seven. Nelda made chicken and dumplings.”
And she hoped dinner wouldn’t be a brawl tonight. She kneeled beside the plywood and held a three-inch nail in the ready position for hammering. With a quick whack of the hammer she bent the nail, and the hammer bounced off the nail and smacked the edge of her thumb. Pain shot all the way up to her wrist. “Sh . . . oot!”
“You okay?” Thomas took a few steps toward her and put his hand on her shoulder.
“Yeah,” she said, holding her throbbing thumb. “I must not have held my mouth right.”
“Huh?”
Holly glanced over her shoulder at him. “Grandma Rose always said you have to hold your mouth just right to drive a nail.”
He chuckled. “Never heard that one.”
Holly positioned another nail and hammered it in halfway before she bent it flat. “Well, it doesn’t have to be perfect.”
“Um, do you need a hand with that?” Thomas asked as Holly pounded on another nail.
“Thanks, but you’ve done enough,” she said, but he was already kneeling beside her. “Seriously, you’re a guest. You’re here to relax, not work.”
“Can I tell you a secret?” He took the hammer from her.
Holly settled on her haunches.
“I’ve never been good at vacations. In fact, this is the first real vacation I’ve ever had.”
“Really?”
“Yep. You know what I usually do with my time off?” He didn’t wait for her to guess. “Chris and I renovate old houses and flip them. We’ve done about a dozen. So, you see, if you’d let me help you fix up your widow’s walk, you’d make this a perfect vacation.”
Holly sat there gobsmacked. Gift horse, indeed. With as much as she had going wrong, maybe she deserved a good turn of luck. Still, it didn’t feel right.
“I can’t.” She shook her head. “I can’t have a paying guest working. Besides, Mackie needs the money.”
“If Mackie is able to work, I’ll help him with the lifting. If not, this project would help me to relax. Chris calls it my carpentry therapy. I bet there’s plenty of work for a handyman anytime to maintain a place this old.”
“Tell me about it.” If she could afford it, and maybe she could with all the ghost publicity from the show. Her stomach dipped a bit. If Tru doesn’t debunk the “The Ghost in the Grove” and make her look like a big scammer.
Thomas sighed and stared down at her bent nails. “I’d like to do this for you.”
“Why?” She studied his face. “You don’t even know me.”
“I had a daughter,” he said, never looking up at her. “But . . . She’d . . . uh . . . she’d be about your age if . . .” He looked at Holly for a nanosecond before focusing on the mutilated nails again.
The pain in his eyes hit her in a freeze-frame. Something terrible must have happened to her. Holly swallowed hard. Maybe he was unusually nice to her because she reminded him of his daughter. “I’m so sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be,” he said. “It was a long time ago.” It was as though a switch had turned off the flash of pain she’d seen in his eyes just a moment ago. “I’d like to think it’d be good karma to help you.”
She softened to the idea. Maybe it would be good karma for her too. “How about we trade room and board for the carpentry?”
He shook his head. “How about you give me credit for my next stay?”
“Deal.” Holly handed him her hammer. “On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You only work when I can help you. I don’t want anyone else having an accident up here.”
* * *
“I didn’t think I’d ever get back to this beautiful place again,” Liz said as she climbed out of the rented panel van. She flipped a rubber band off her wrist and tied her auburn hair in a ponytail. “I don’t miss this humidity, though.”
“This is nothing. Come back in July.” Holly hugged Liz, the Inquiring Minds producer and her friend. “I’m glad to see you again, but I wish you were just coming for a visit. By the way, you’ll have running water and indoor plumbing this time. I’m putting you in the carriage house next to Miss Alice.”
Bob the cameraman went around the back of the van and started unloading equipment onto a cart without so much as a howdy-do or kiss my grits. She wasn’t sure she’d ever heard him say a word to anyone except Liz or Sylvia.
“Hi, Bob,” Holly said with a wave.
He gave her a good ol’ boy nod as he tossed bags on a cart.
“Where’s Jake?” Liz looped her thumbs in the side pockets of her cargo pants and glanced around.
“Still in Guatemala.” Holly shrugged. “Anywhere but here, evidently.”
“No way. I thought you two were,” she lifted a pale eyebrow, “you know.”
“I thought so too, but you know the old saying. It takes two.” And she obviously wasn’t going to be the one to break the curse on the women in her family with men. At this rate, there wouldn’t be a sixth generation to have bad luck with the opposite sex.
“I heard you weren’t too thrilled about doing the follow-up show.”
“To say the least.”
“You aren’t the only one. Angel wasn’t too pleased about leading another séance. I had to do a little arm twisting.”
“Let me guess.” Holly tapped her temple as though she was thinking. “The option clause.”
Liz winced. “Sorry about that. We have never enforced it before. Never had a follow-up show either.”
“I’m a wreck about doing this.” Holly grabbed Liz’s arm and pulled her to the side. “The show last night was amazing. I’ve got reservations out the wazoo, which is great, but if this show bombs I lose it all.” Holly looked back at her beloved Holly Grove and then clamped down on Liz’s arm. “Everyone will think the first show was smoke and mirrors.”
“I can testify that it wasn’t. Sylvia told me your ghost of an ex is not cooperating.”
“Burl isn’t speaking to me. I can’t even see him.” And won’t for good reason. A twinge of guilt pricked Holly for lying to someone as sweet
as Liz. “It’s going to be a disaster. You’re the producer and I know you want a good show. Can you try to talk some sense into Sylvia? Get her to cancel? Reschedule?”
Liz shook her head. “She’s convinced this show is the leverage she needs for her contract negotiations, which are coming up soon. On top of that, she’s lapping up all the buzz about the challenge like a feral cat. Her picture is going to be in some celebrity magazine with an article about her paranormal experience.”
“But what if there’s not another paranormal experience?”
“She believes since Burl possessed her.” Liz drew quotation marks in the air. “They have a connection and he’s going to show up for her.” Liz rolled her eyes. “She’s that special.”
“What an ego.”
“Tell me about it. I’ve been working for her for three seasons. It doesn’t matter what I say, she won’t change her mind.”
“Why don’t you get a new job?”
“It’s complicated.”
Bob rolled the luggage cart around the van. His wore biker clothes and had symbols tattooed on each knuckle. He just stood there staring at Liz.
She cut her eyes at Bob. “Maybe he could talk her into backing out.”
Huh? Bob talk?
* * *
“What did you mean when you said Bob may be able to talk Sylvia out of the shoot?” Holly asked after Bob left to unload the equipment in the house.
“I was giving him a hard time,” Liz said as they walked to her suite in the carriage house. “He rarely talks at all, but if Sylvia says jump, he’s midair. I swear I think he has a crush on her.” Liz groaned. “Can you believe it?”
Reflecting back on their last visit, it seemed Liz spent a lot of time with Bob, standing close, whispering. . . Holly stopped. “Liz, do you have a thing for Bob?”
“Of course not. I just think it’s funny.”
Or did she? “It’s always the quiet ones that are hard to figure out, huh?”
Liz kicked a pebble on the path with her Birkenstock. “All men.”
“I hear ya, but I was hoping he really did have an in with Sylvia. I don’t know what I’m going to do if my ghost stands us all up.”
Downright Dead Page 8
