The air in the large entryway was dry and musty. Dust motes spun up from the intricately woven rug, illuminated by a mere slip of light from the transom window over the door. To my right was a desk with a bell where Great Aunt Edie received her paying guests. For some reason, she never got rid of it even after shutting the doors on the Inn. To the left was the big, formal sitting room. The curtains were drawn and the sofas and chairs were draped with white sheets. A thin layer of dust covered every surface. I reached inside the doorway for the light switch and flipped it on. I was briefly afraid there wasn't any electricity but the crystal chandelier brightened immediately, filling the room with much appreciated light.
Now that I could see it, I was sad at the sight. Although I couldn't escape the overgrown yard, I wondered if it might have been better to save the house's sad flaws until the morning. Seeing how decrepit the house looked, I began to grieve inside.
Cobwebs filled every corner and as I stepped away from the sitting room, I had to make another fast sidestep before entering the spider web that hung ominously from the entryway chandelier. Hurrying past it, I headed for the kitchen, dreading what I would find. What if I saw mice? Or rats? Even worse... no, I couldn't think of anything worse!
I reached for the light switch inside the open arch and flipped the electricity on. Like the sitting room, the kitchen and informal dining area were also coated in a fine layer of dust, but despite all of that, it was still beautiful. The kitchen occupied one wing and the cabinets were painted white. I remembered the huge oven and stove where Great Aunt Edie loved to cook and bake. A solitary pan remained on the stove top and I saw some plates in the sink. I took one look and recoiled. "I am throwing those out," I said to the stale air. "You too," I added when I noticed the long dead herbs in the sink window. They were all dried up in their containers on the window sill. The dehydrated soil was slowly retreating from the edges of the ceramic pots and the stems and leaves were black, gnarled and drooping. My aunt used the herbs regularly to flavor her meals, snipping sprigs of mint for tea or mashing them into mojitos if she weren't mixing together a batch of her famous margaritas!
I turned around, inspecting the disappointing scene. I naturally expected the house to be exactly as it was the last time I saw it. But it looked like no one had stepped inside it for years. The long table on the other side of the kitchen, beside the big French doors that opened onto the veranda, seemed to have been abandoned in a hurry. Paper plates, plasticware and cups were dusty and congealed with ancient debris. Aunt Edie would have been appalled to see such a sight.
Leaving the kitchen, I returned to the hallway and bypassed the rear living room Aunt Edie used as an art studio for her artist retreats. I continued my tour through the formal dining room and the library into the small room Aunt Edie used as her personal sitting room and study. A book remained on the side table next to her favorite chair, and the bookmark was placed on the last page she read. Everything was dusty.
I headed back to the entryway, ducked through the spider web again, and gripped the banister before heading up the stairs. The walls were lined with artwork and, like everything else, all the frames needed dusting. The bedroom doors were open and I methodically stepped into each one, briefly assessing their pitiful states. These rooms, however, were a lot tidier than the rooms downstairs. The beds were made and all the clutter was gone but the welcome baskets Edie always put out to welcome her guests were long out of date.
When I first arrived, I noticed the broken window so I headed down the hallway towards the front bedrooms. These were among the nicest I saw although the view of the street wasn't nearly as pretty as the rear garden. When I was little, Aunt Edie used to put my sister, Tammy, and me in the turret room. We felt like princesses in a castle in our girlish minds. The frilly twin canopy beds were long gone now, replaced by a heavy, ornately carved, king-sized bed with a filmy white canopy. I touched the bed drapes and grimaced when my fingers came away with a gray casting of dust. Sitting down a little too heavily, I jumped up again when a plume of dust billowed up.
I was planning to sleep in this room, and even looking forward to it, but I didn't want to without fully cleaning it first. I wanted to wipe down every surface and wash the canopy and bedding. The antique carpet over the polished hardwood floors needed a good vacuuming. I had the foresight to bring my own linens with me because I was fairly certain there wasn’t anything I could use without washing it first, even in the linen closet.
I decided I would think about that later. As I left the room and crossed the corridor to the other front bedroom, my cellphone rang.
"Hi, Mom," I said, pausing in the hallway.
"Hi, honey. Just calling to check up on you. How's the packing going?"
"All done," I told her. "The shipping company picked it up already but I got all the essentials I needed until they arrive in my car."
"You packed your car already?"
"Yeah..." I paused. "Mom, I drove here already."
"Drove where?"
"To Calendar!"
"What do you mean, you drove to Calendar already?" squeaked Mom.
"I mean, I'm here now. I'm inside Aunt Edie's house."
"You can't be! You're not meant to be arriving here until next week!"
"Nope, today. I told you last weekend when I called that I might move the dates up a few days. You said you'd make a note of it."
"I did, honey. I'm looking at my note right now. You said you were coming Monday. I circled Monday on the calendar!"
"This Monday!"
"No, next week."
I pulled a face in the big mirror. It was childish, I know, but it still made me feel better. "Never mind, Mom. I'm here now. I'm walking around the house and checking it out."
"What?! You're rattling around that rambling, old house all by yourself? Why didn't you come home first? Dad and I can’t wait to see you and your old bedroom is all ready for your arrival."
"I thought I'd come straight here and unload some things but... have you seen the state of the house lately?" I asked.
"No, but I suppose it's a little dusty after being shut up for so long."
"A little dusty? It's like the Marie Celeste! Piles of dust and cobwebs and spider webs are everywhere. There's at least one broken window, and the exterior paint is peeling, and oh, my gosh! Mom, the yard is a horrible eyesore!"
"Do you want Dad to mow the lawn?"
"No, I want him to bring over a big machine that can dig everything up. The blackberry bushes are totally out of control. It's like a jungle here and that's just the front yard."
"Aren’t you exaggerating a little?" sniffed Mom. "It can't be that bad. You've just gotten so used to city living and tiny apartments that don't have any yards to maintain."
"Have you been by the house lately, Mom?"
"Well, sure I have!"
I noted the hesitation in Mom's voice. "When exactly was that?"
"Um, let's see, it must have been after Aunt Edie fell in the nursing home..."
"That was last September!"
"I've been busy! And the house isn't exactly conveniently located. It can't be that bad! Tell you what, honey, finish your walkthrough, then lock it up, get into the car, and come back home for the night. Dad and I will drive back with you tomorrow and we can all take a good look together at whatever needs doing so you can get it done and put it on the market like you insisted."
"Thanks, but I'm tired after all the driving. I think I'll stay here overnight."
"You said there was a broken window. That doesn't sound very safe."
"I'm taking a look at it now," I said, stepping into the room. The drapes were pulled back so I could see it clearly when I walked around the bed. I went over to the bay window, which was covered with a thick sheet of plywood. I knelt on the padded window seat and knocked the panel with the back of my hand to see how sturdy it was. I tried pulling it but it was nailed tight. "Someone must have patched the inside of the window with a temporary plank and it fee
ls pretty secure. It looks much worse from the outside. I'll call a contractor tomorrow and see about getting it fixed."
"Good. You can't have broken windows when the realtor comes to take photos! Have you decided which one you're going to use yet? I’ve heard Gwendolyn Cooper is very professional and very aggressive in her marketing."
"I haven't thought about it yet. I'd like to get the house cleaned up first before I hire any realtors." I yawned widely. "Mom, I have to go now. It's been a long trip and I need to get a few things from my car before I clean up a little and drop into bed."
"Okay, honey, but are you absolutely sure you don't want to stay here?"
"I'm sure," I snapped. I looked forward to seeing my parents but my mom was a fusser and I knew if I went there, I would be interrogated with a million questions that I didn't have any answers to. The questions I could answer were my business and I wasn’t ready to share them. Mom would first ask me about Barry and why it ended, then she would inquire about my job and ask why that ended and then she would ask was I looking for a new one? When she finally got around to asking why my apartment lease ended so suddenly, I would be reduced to feeling like a giant failure.
"Tammy can’t wait to see you too and the kids are more than excited to see their sensational Aunt Vanessa and hear all about your thrilling life in the city. They loved visiting you last year."
"Really?" I didn't believe for one minute that Tammy was looking forward to seeing me. Although we were twins and we closely resembled each other physically speaking, that was where our similarities ended. Tammy got married to Grant Henderson right after college and quickly settled down to raise two lovely children. She adored everything about our hometown. If there were an activity, or a new board, or a special meeting, you could bet Tammy was running it or campaigning for it. She was practically a poster child for JCrew chic and the kind of person who made other mothers feel like no matter what they excelled at, they couldn't be a supermom next to her.
I, being Tammy’s polar opposite, left town immediately after college. I walked straight into an awesome job that I desperately longed to prove myself worthy of. I'd risen through the ranks, moved firms a couple of times; and what did I receive for my troubles? No boyfriend. No job. And no home. Tammy would have been elated!
"You two are much more alike than you think," said Mom. "You just have to respect your differences. When shall I come by tomorrow morning? Shall I bring brunch and we can sit out on the back veranda?"
"That would be great! Can you also bring some disposable plates and cups too?"
"Why? What's wrong with using Edie's dishes?"
"They are all under an inch or more of dust."
Mom laughed. "You're exaggerating again, but don't worry, I'll bring everything we need. See you at ten o’clock sharp!"
"Bye, Mom."
Reassured that the window wasn't letting in the outside elements, and finding no other damage to the room, I crossed back to the princess turret room. If I intended to sleep in here tonight, I had to clean it. First thing was the bed. Since it was already so dusty, I didn't hesitate to stand on top of it in my sneakers. I had to in order to reach the canopy, which I took down carefully and tossed into a heap on the floor. I hopped off the bed and yanked off the sheets and blankets, adding them to the pile. I stripped the pillows and cushions and lay them in a neat pile on the window seat in the turret. The mattress was too awkward and heavy for me to lift and flip over, so I left that alone. Tomorrow, with my mother’s help, I planned to air the mattress properly.
I grabbed the heap of bedding, bundling it together as tightly as I could before dragging it into the laundry room down the hallway. Fortunately, Edie had installed a brand new washer and dryer only a year before she moved to the nursing home. I gazed at a shelf laden with laundry products and stain-fighters. I ran the washer on a normal cycle, just in case the machine was musty-smelling from lack of use, and left it to run. There weren't any other cleaning supplies in the laundry room, so I headed downstairs. I grabbed a few supplies and set them on the stairs before I ran out to my car and brought in several boxes of my things. I intended to store everything I owned in the turret room for the night. Some of it I probably wouldn't even bother to unpack.
Jogging downstairs, I hopped off the last step into the hallway. I was turning towards the door when a movement from the kitchen caught my eye. No, it was a movement from outside. A shadowy figure passed the kitchen window and bent down at the French doors. I stepped closer, my eyebrows knitting together in closer inspection when I realized the door handle was turning.
With one hand, I reached for my cellphone as I edged forwards. With the other hand, I reached for anything I could use as a weapon. Whoever thought they could break into Aunt Edie's house had another thing coming! I grabbed something I felt on the counter, a heavy piece of wood, and I raised it just as the door opened and the figure stepped in, straightening up. I hurled the slab as hard as I could at his head.
"Hey!" yelled the man as he raised his arms in self-defense. He batted the slab to the side where it landed with a loud thud on the floor, then he looked up and stared directly at me. "What the hell was that for?"
I froze. I would have known his voice anywhere. "Nate?"
The man moved another step closer, showing his face beneath the light. "Vanessa?"
Chapter Three
Nate handed me the wooden cutting board that he scooped off the floor. "Thank your lucky stars that your aim is so pathetic," he said, scowling. "You could have broken the French doors."
"I was aiming for your head!" I yelled.
Nate squared up to me, fixing his eyes on mine and looking very cross. "This is why they didn't want you on the softball team at elementary school!"
"They wouldn't let me play because Tammy threw a tantrum!"
"Because you hit her in the eye so badly she had to get stitches!"
"I didn't mean to!" I tossed my head back, thrusting my chin upwards, but it was no use. He was bigger, broader and just as annoyed as I was. He was also breaking into my house! How dare he! "Why are you breaking into my house? Did you snap the handle?" I asked, rushing past him to examine it. "If you broke it, you're paying for it!" I bent down as I rattled it. It didn't look broken but I couldn't be sure.
"I have a key," said Nate, dangling a ring of keys in front of me. "I'm not breaking in."
"Then what are you doing here so late?" I asked, my annoyance fading to confusion.
"I was driving past, saw the light on and figured someone must have broken in. I was going to surprise the intruder and kick them out before they did any damage."
"Consider me surprised." I pushed the door closed against the cool night breeze and crossed my arms. I hadn't seen Nate Minoso in a long time. I accepted the possibility that I'd run into him when I got back to Calendar but I hadn't banked on it happening quite so soon; never mind while I was covered in a thin film of dust! I was hoping if I did run into my old friend, my ex friend, I would not only look fabulous but also manage to make a fast exit to save us both from any stiff moments of awkwardness. I couldn't make an exit now and I definitely looked less than fabulous. Not that I cared what Nate thought — why would I? — but it didn't help that he looked as handsome as ever.
He stood a head taller than me, and his shoulders and biceps strained in the plain, black, zip-up hoody he wore beneath a down vest. He hadn't shaved in a couple of days and the new stubble covered his strong jaw with a light shadow. He pulled off his ball cap and ran a hand through his short, nearly black hair before putting it back on again. The only thing that was different about him was his aftershave, which was definitely an improvement. I wondered if there was a girl behind it and I surprised myself when the thought of that resulted in an unpleasant pang in my chest. There was never any shortage of girls after Nate in school and our close friendship occasionally caused a few issues. We became friends in toddler daycare, and our friendship lasted all through high school and into college. However, it abrup
tly changed the day before I was due to fly out to start my new job; and we hadn't spoken since.
"Why didn't you tell me you were coming home?" he asked. Did I detect a note of hurt in his voice?
"I'm not home. I'm just here. You must know Aunt Edie died?"
"Yes, I knew. I went to the funeral."
I blinked back my surprise. "You did?"
"I was standing at the back so maybe you missed me," he explained.
"Why didn't you say hello?"
"I had to leave directly afterwards; otherwise, I would have."
"Huh." I was stumped into silence. How could Nate have been so close to me without me sensing it? The truth was: I did look for him and failed to find him but he didn't need to know that.
"I'm sorry about Edie. She was a sweet lady. I heard she left you the house."
"Yes, she did. Wait, how did you know?"
"I ran into Tammy in the supermarket a week ago. She mentioned it. Are you going to put that thing down?"
"What?" I frowned.
"Whatever that thing was that you hurled at me."
"Oh." I looked down to see I was still holding the wooden chopping block in my hands. I stomped past him and laid it on the counter next to the sink.
"Tammy said you're probably going to sell the house," he continued.
"I guess so. I can't keep the maintenance up. I can't stay either."
"Figured you'd say that," said Nate, his tone darkening.
I whirled around. "What does that mean?"
"Nothing. I just figured you wouldn't stay. You've said it often enough."
"I have a life, you know. I have a job, and an apartment, and some great friends and... and..." I trailed off, uncertain why I felt the need to justify myself to Nate by stating a total lie. He was right. I said many times that I refused to live in Calendar and I’d stuck to it since graduating college. Just because Aunt Edie left her beloved house to me didn't change anything. This time was no different than any other and if Nate thought it was, he was wrong! "Hey, why do you have the keys to the house?" I asked.
Alibi in April (Calendar Mysteries Book 4) Page 2
