by Darcy, A. J.
Half-Moon Manor
A.J. Darcy
For Jammie C. and Summer B. and the other betas.
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
More by this Author
Prologue
Two Months Ago
The day that Victoria Whitmore brought George Bell home still stood out in Olivia’s mind months later. He was tall, muscular, and easy-going. It did not change the fact that Olivia had an odd feeling about him. It was difficult enough to understand why she felt as if he needed to be in their lives for some inexplicable reason.
This feeling of where people’s things belonged followed her around; it was her birthright, an inheritance of sorts from her grandmother’s family. At least she could counter her odd talent with the ability to cook. Everybody knew her mother could not cook and that they would both starve if Olivia had not learned how to when she was young. Oh, and George could cook – that was his main appeal.
Whenever he smiled at her she felt creepy. It seemed as if he was smiling at her not because he was dating her mother but because he had other sinister thoughts going on in his brain. Something was missing or disconnected from this man’s mind. Even though Olivia noticed although she did not know what it was or where it could be found. Maybe it had never been there.
Regardless, her mother had yet to have any strange visions about him, so he would be sticking around a while longer.
Everybody close to Victoria wondered why she stayed with George and why she was willing to give him the key to her apartment. No one else saw that he was smart, funny, athletic, and charming when he wanted. These were all things that only Victoria (and on the rare occasion Olivia) saw on a regular basis.
Then one day, a few days after she had discovered that she was pregnant and had the news confirmed, Victoria saw a look on George’s face. It was this look that was on his face - that she had seen several times - when he was thinking about sex. The problem was he was not looking at her; he was looking at Olivia. It was the first time she had seen that look directed towards her daughter.
It always starts somewhere. For Olivia Whitmore it started as a yearly summer vacation to her grandfather’s house and evolved into a transfer of schools just as vacation had started. Her mother, Victoria, had decided that the small town was better suited for Olivia than the increasing crime reports growing in and around Memphis.
At least those were the reasons Victoria gave Olivia.
She had her own reasons for moving back home. Martin Whitmore made her feel safe; Victoria hoped that their father-daughter bond had not weakened over the years of neglect.
He had always been there. She ran to him instead of her mother when some of the other kids teased her because of her talents or when Nadine Greene's extremely vocal comments about the Whitmore family became too loud to ignore.
He supported her when she found out that she was eighteen and pregnant, often sending small baby gifts and money. Not once did he try to convince Victoria that she should try to tell Olivia’s father about their daughter.
He was familiar. He was safe. She could not continue running away from home and the people she never should have left behind.
“It’ll be fine,” she had told her visibly upset seventeen-year-old. “Half-Moon Manor will be enough of a distraction.”
“What do you mean?” a tear-streaked Olivia asked.
“You’ll see.”
And she did see. She saw things clearly for the first time in a long time. She understood the real reason her mother wanted to be two hours away from Memphis and George. She saw the relief that flickered around her features with each phone call Victoria had made with Grandfather. It was not even overshadowed by the pain George caused every time he came home violently drunk or by the uncomfortable comments that she tried to ignore. They were same comments that were becoming difficult to ignore when they were increasing in frequency.
“Just pack up things and we’ll ship them one box at a time. We’ll tell George that we were getting them out of our way,” her mother whispered while advising her daughter on the best way out of the situation that they were now facing.
George did not know where Half-Moon Manor was and all he knew was Victoria would be taking Olivia there and dropping her off for the summer. He did not know they were moving permanently and that Victoria would not be coming back. Instead, he mentally made plans for when he would be alone with Victoria and no longer have to hide anything from the too clever for her own good Olivia.
Victoria somehow managed the move within a few weeks that also included two months of pregnancy hormones and morning sickness. George never seemed to pick up on what was happening and Victoria took her daughter away from the more pressing danger that George presented and into a completely different situation; she was taking her daughter back home for good and to where hopefully Weston Greene no longer lived.
Chapter One
The Present - June
Two hours away from the life that she knew, Olivia sorted through her boxes and started to place things into their proper places. The room was blue and the first time she saw it Olivia knew that it was her room. Her mother was across the hall in the peach room. It was the room where she had grown up.
Whenever Olivia would visit for two weeks during the summers she would stay in the green room and it was that room where her grandfather had placed her boxes as they arrived. But this room felt right. One by one she moved the boxes into the new room and started to tackle the thick layer of dust that had collected over everything.
Spreading the windows wide to let a breeze circulate, she started humming to herself. It was a weak attempt at trying to pass the time until she had moved enough boxes around to get to where the radio was packed. Olivia barely registered that she could see into the yard next door and that there was a teenage male back there reading a book. ‘A book!’ she idly thought, turning away and returning to the boxes in front of her. ‘Of all things he can be doing, he is reading a book!’
Not that there was anything wrong with reading. There were three boxes filled with books in the corner next to the bookcase. She just could not figure out why Henry Hayes would be reading a book on a wonderfully sunny day.
Turning back around, “Henry!” she called out the window. “Come on up here, you dork! I have to finish unpacking and you can help me out!”
Henry glanced up from his book, “Why aren’t you in the room next door?” He remembered that her favorite color was green. One summer it was the only color that she had worn. “It’s green.”
Olivia shrugged, “I don’t know. This room just felt right.”
A moment later, Henry disappeared into his house only to reappear after several minutes, sans glasses, at Olivia’s window. “This window has the tree,” he grumbled, grasping at the window frame.
“Grandfather would have let you in.”
“This was more fun,” he grumbled, scrambling to pull himself into the room. “Maybe it was not one of my best of ideas but now I can say I climbed a tree to get into your room.”
“And you won’t be doing it again,” came a stern voice from the doorway.
“No, Ma’am,”
Henry answered. “It’s too difficult and I almost lost my glasses.”
Victoria chuckled. “It’s good to see you again Henry, but next time please use the stairs,” she smiled before disappearing back into her room.
Glancing backwards, she remembered when Olivia’s father had climbed into her bedroom for a visit. She idly wondered if she needed to turn back around and give the two a lecture but decided against it; Henry had plenty of sense, even if some of it disappeared around her daughter.
Closing her eyes, she dreamed. A long moment later, “I’ll tell her eventually.”
Chapter Two
Ten Years Ago
She could get him to do anything that she wanted. Michael, Henry’s older brother, would laugh at the hours Henry would spend next door every summer when the Whitmore girl was visiting. Michael had never even met Olivia and Henry wanted to keep it that way. As long as Michael never made eye contact with Olivia then Henry felt as if he was safe. He thought if they never met then he would not have to deal with the worry that Michael might not honor the fact that Henry had met Olivia first. Then he would never lose Olivia.
He remembered seeing her for the first time when their mother had tried to send Michael over with a plate of cookies for Mr. Whitmore’s granddaughter. Michael had decided to make Henry do it instead of himself and the rest of their friendship was history.
A dark haired, red-eyed girl opened the door.
Even at eight he knew that she had been crying. “Hi, I’m Henry. I live next door. My mom sent me over with some cookies.”
The little girl hiccupped. “What kind?”
“Olivia!” Mr. Whitmore interrupted.
“Sorry, I’m Olivia.” She looked up at the towering figure, “I have a peanut allergy, Grandfather. That’s why I asked.”
“They are chocolate chip,” Henry interjected. “My older brother loves peanut butter cookies so Mom knew these might actually make it over here.”
“Olivia, go show your guest to the kitchen. I’m sure that a glass of milk and a cookie won’t spoil either of your dinners.” With that pronouncement the old man disappeared into his study.
She looked towards where he disappeared and stated loudly, “Grandfather, you need to be taking your pill right now.”
Glancing at his watch, not that his granddaughter could see this action, he called back, “How did you know that…” he started to say. Popping his head through the doorway, he studied his granddaughter for a moment, “I see,” he added before going upstairs. It seemed as if nothing else was necessary in their exchange.
“Come on,” Olivia stated, tugging on Henry’s cookie-free hand. “We are supposed to be in the kitchen.”
Henry paused, “I think I’m supposed to go home after dropping off the cookies.”
Tilting her head and looking at him closely, Henry noticed the green-gray eyes before realizing that she was studying him.
“No…” Olivia paused, “we are supposed to be in the kitchen right now. Then you need to go home.” She stated everything as matter-a-fact as a seven-year-old girl could before pulling him into the kitchen. “Chocolate chip cookies are my favorite.”
“Mine too,” Henry mumbled, momentarily forgetting that he actually favored snickerdoodles. Ever since then, though, he loved chocolate chip.
Eight Years Ago
Somehow Henry had been able to convince his dad to take them to the ice cream parlor downtown. Normally he would have walked, but Olivia’s mother had found out that they had walked everywhere downtown the past summer and insisted that an adult accompany them. Olivia took the order in stride. Henry took it a little harder; he was used to being able to walk to the corner store that was a ten minute walk from his house.
For a few minutes after they had set down, Olivia sat there and reorganized the table while her ice cream melted slightly. The napkin dispenser was moved over an inch. The sprinkle shaker was positioned perfectly next to the napkin dispenser. Once Olivia was finished, Henry saw her look around them as if she was considering doing the exact same thing with the other tables.
Finally, she dug into the scoop of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream that she had ordered in a bowl. Taking a bite out of his cone, Henry wondered briefly about his friend and remembered a few other ‘odd’ instances from that summer and from the past two summers.
Like when Olivia spent twenty minutes reorganizing his mother’s bookcase in the living room instead of watching the movie with him on the sofa.
The spice rack in her grandfather’s kitchen.
He had made a long list of other similar instances. It made his head hurt to think about it. Maybe she was just OCD, he reasoned. His grandmother had to have everything in just the right place.
Five Years Ago
Henry was watching out of an upstairs window as he watched for Olivia’s mother’s car. Once it pulled into the Whitmore driveway, he raced down the stairs and next door. “Here, let me help,” he offered, pulling a suitcase out of the back of the car.
“Henry!” Olivia squealed when she saw who was helping her mother. She did not care that her suitcase landed on the driveway when she wrapped her arms around her best friend. “I’ve missed you!”
She was glad he had been watching for them. Letters and telephone called could never replace having a living, breathing Henry in front of her.
“I missed you too.”
With a sigh, Victoria reminded the twelve year olds about the suitcases. “Let’s get outside before the gawkers arrive.”
The friends both grabbed a suitcase and Olivia led him upstairs to the green room. “That suitcase is supposed to go in the corner,” she corrected him when he went to put it on the bed. “And we are supposed to be downstairs; I think Grandfather has a surprise.”
For a moment, Henry just looked at her and wondered how she could possibly know some of the things that she knew. He remembered the summer before that she did a better job of helping repair the abandoned treehouse that Michael had found than both brothers combined. Somehow she just knew exactly what board fit where. She even knew some of the boards that needed replacing that the boys had overlooked.
Repairs or not, their mother still hated them going to hang out at that treehouse.
“How do you know these things?”
Olivia tilted her head in thought before shaking it. “I can’t tell you yet.”
“When? What can’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know and almost everything.” Without another word, she grabbed his hand and pulled him from the room. “I’ve really missed you,” she smiled. “I can mostly be myself around you.”
Two Years Ago
Henry let the sounds of the lunchroom wash over him as he thought about Olivia. It had only been a few weeks since she returned to Memphis, but he already missed her. Immensely. Surprisingly.
“Hey, Henry,” Savannah smiled coyly while poking him in the arm. “What are you doing Friday night?”
Henry wanted to ignore her. He knew that Winnie, on his other side, was rolling her eyes. A few other people at their table probably were too.
“I have a Skype date with Olivia,” he responded, only giving her the minimum details.
He knew that nobody really believed that Olivia existed. The past few years her mother wanted her to stay away from the town so they stayed near their houses.
“You can always reschedule that,” Savannah answered with a toss of her head. “It’s not as if Olivia will really mind if you have a date with somebody else.”
Henry blinked. “I think that Olivia will mind if I go on a date with somebody else considering she is my best friend and has been my girlfriend since Winnie and I broke up.” He turned away from Savannah.
“I don’t believe you.”
A few of the girls sitting around the table gasped. Even they knew that calling Henry a liar would be the worst possible way to get him to look at any of them differently.
“You have had your relationship status set at ‘It’s com
plicated’ for at least a year. Everybody knows that is a smoke screen for ‘not ready to move on.’ Well, Henry, it is time for you to move on from Winnie.”
Winnie burst out laughing. “Olivia exists or Henry, his brother Michael, and both of his parents are lying.” Looking at Savannah, “I don’t think that Henry’s parents would lie about somebody being real or imaginary.”
“Then why haven’t any of us met her?”
Winnie continued talking, “Maybe because you are always on some trip when she comes to town. I’m at drama camp all summer with my mom.” She started to point at people as she went through their list of why nobody had ever met Olivia. “Dad’s house in Kentucky. Grandmother’s house in Florida. Work. Watching your younger siblings.” Turning to address Savannah once more, “Convinced?”
While shaking her head Savannah answered with a curt, “Sure.”
The Present
A few days after Olivia had gotten settled into her room, there was a knock on the backdoor next to the kitchen. Olivia had already been waiting; a batch of snickerdoodles were almost ready to be taken out of the oven.
“Careful,” she whispered, tugging him into the kitchen. “I have a batch of cookies in the oven.”
Sniffing, “Snickerdoodles. They used to be my favorite.”
“I know,” she smiled shyly at him. “Your mother told me.”
“That reminds me,” Henry started to say before pausing mid-sentence, obviously not wanting to continue with the message he was sent over to deliver. “Mom wants you all over for dinner tonight. She knows that your mother isn’t feeling well and that you are too busy getting ready for school.”
“There’s a month before school starts,” Olivia laughed, freezing Henry to the spot, before turning around to take the cookies out of the oven.
“The timer hasn’t gone off yet,” Victoria pointed out as she walked into the kitchen. “We’ll be happy to come over for dinner tonight. What time?”
“Six-thirty,” Henry answered as Olivia said, “They are supposed to be on the counter now.”
