A Fitting End: A Magical Dressmaking Mystery amdm-2
Page 25
“I’d like to see the runway for the fashion show,” I said, following Mrs. James and Mrs. Abernathy back into the hallway.
“The walkway to the tent will start just outside the kitchen,” Mrs. Abernathy said, but Mrs. James interrupted. “First the widow’s walk.”
Mrs. Abernathy shook her head. “The rain…” She trailed off as Mrs. James, not waiting for Mrs. Abernathy to lead the way, headed for the second flight of stairs and started up.
Mrs. Abernathy turned back to me with a thin smile. “To the widow’s walk,” she said, then turned on her flat heel and followed.
Good thing I’d left my coat and hat on since we’d be stepping back out into the cold.
“Was it repaired?” Mrs. James asked.
“Of course it was,” Mrs. Abernathy said, speaking slowly for emphasis and stretching out the one syllable words into two.
“Strange.”
Mrs. Abernathy turned, stopping Mrs. James before she could open the door to the platform. “What?”
“From down below, it didn’t look like it.”
Mrs. Abernathy’s cheeks paled. “Impossible.”
She reached past Mrs. James, turned the doorknob, and pulled. A gust of freezing wind shot through the opening. I folded my arms over my chest as I pushed forward, outside, and braved the cold. Mrs. James had her jacket on, too, but Mrs. Abernathy shivered.
Out on the small platform, Mrs. James immediately stopped short. She quickly turned back to look at Mrs. Abernathy. “Doesn’t look fixed to me.”
“But…” Mrs. Abernathy shoved past me and looked at the banister. An entire section was missing, the jagged edges of the painted wood all that remained. Just below the flooring where the roof sloped downward, shingles were torn off. The white tent covered the majority of the yard. A narrow enclosed walkway led from the house, connecting it to the tent. My gaze kept going down, down, down, suddenly stopping.
I spotted a mound of red, half hidden under a shrub to the side of the walkway.
I pointed. “What’s that—?”
The women leaned forward to see what I’d spotted. Mrs. Abernathy let out a high-pitched choking sound. Her hand flew to her mouth and she turned her back on the sight.
I peered through the downpour, trying to see what had upset her. “What is it?” I shouted over the rat-a-tat-tat of rain on the roof above us and the booming thunder in the distance.
Mrs. James pressed in next to Mrs. Abernathy. “Is that a boot?” She leaned further over the gaping hole in the banister.
A boot? My heart shot to my throat. “No,” I said with a moan, just as Mrs. James’s foot slipped on the wet wood. She lost her balance and lurched into Mrs. Abernathy. Mrs. Abernathy careened forward, grabbing hold of the ragged end of the banister.
“Help!” She teetered on the edge of the widow’s walk. Mrs. James had regained her balance and gripped Mrs. Abernathy’s arm. I stepped to the right, trying to edge my body in front of hers to stop her from falling, but her foot slipped out from under her. Her body tumbled against mine, knocking me forward as she fell backward. She landed with a thud on her behind, but her legs jutted out in front of her, kicking my feet out from under me.
I felt myself flying, my legs in the air for a brief second before they crashed against the roof, tearing shingles away. Someone screamed. Me? Mrs. James? I couldn’t tell.
Rain pelted my face. The back of my head thudded against the roof and everything went fuzzy. And then I was falling, headed straight for the red mound below.
Faces flashed like an old-fashioned picture show. Meemaw. Nana. Mama. My brother, Red. My nephews, Clay and Cullen. Mrs. James. Libby Mcafferty. Gracie Flores. Will.
The people who loved me, and who I loved…
And then I crashed. It wasn’t the hard, bone-breaking collision of a body against the ground, but a soft landing against something pliable, almost like a trampoline, and it cradled me, cupping my body as I sunk into it.
“Harlow!”
I tried to shake away the clouds in my head, peering up at Mrs. James’s horrified face. Her arm was stretched over the broken railing, as if she were still trying to catch me.
Just as I caught a glimpse of Mrs. Abernathy behind her, her back pressed against the door, I lurched, the fabric of the tented walkway that held me giving way. It pitched and a second later I was sliding, then falling, until I hit the ground.
Right next to the lump of red we’d seen from above.
I gasped for air, afraid to move. Blinking away the veil of fear from the fall, I peered up at the widow’s walk. Mrs. James and Mrs. Abernathy were gone.
Everything was fuzzy, but I tried to take inventory. I wiggled my toes in my boots. Moved my fingertips. Shifted my hips.
Everything hurt.
Finally, I turned my aching head, just a touch, to look at what I was lying next to.
I registered the fur-lined coat, red and white hat, and black belt.
Remembering what Mrs. James had said up on the widow’s walk, my gaze slowly traveled down until I saw black boots. A wave of nausea filled my gut. Not a what, I realized. A who. I had stumbled upon another body.
FB2 document info
Document ID: b720c556-04fd-4d14-b3e5-50611d037c93
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 8.11.2012
Created using: calibre 0.9.5, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6.6 software
Document authors :
Melissa Bourbon
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