DANGEROUS, Collection #1

by Patricia Rosemoor

  “Aunt Addy, are there blueprints for Dunescape Cottage?”

  “Of course. Somewhere. Donahue would know. Ask him.”

  Avoiding feeding into her fantasy, he asked, “Do you remember if they detailed everything? The passageways and hidden rooms?”

  His aunt wagged a finger at him. “You’re not supposed to go there. You know your father told you not to.” She was going off into her own world again.

  Bram took her hand to ground her. She felt so fragile, unlike the woman who’d held him so fiercely after finding him unconscious in the attic. “That’s when I was a child. Father wouldn’t mind any more.”

  Her gaze refocused. “Yes. You are grown up.” She cackled. “You wouldn’t get lost now.”

  Bram grinned. He had gotten lost once. Locked in one of the hidden rooms. It had been Addy who’d found him then, too. So, she did remember things.

  “If you don’t know where the blueprints are, maybe you could show me the hidden rooms yourself.” Bram wasn’t even certain why he needed to see them, he only knew he did.

  “And give up the house’s secrets?” She shook her head vehemently. “No. Not that again. A mistake.”

  “What do you mean, not again? Who did you show before?” One of the supposed psychics who had ripped her off? Echo?

  But she had shifted gears and was on another tangent. “All Hallow’s Eve is almost upon us. Have you chosen your costume?”

  Bram doubted she was referring to the Halloween fundraiser. “For the fancy-dress ball? Not yet,” he said, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to indulge her. He also saw his opportunity to get to the other subject on his mind. “Didn’t someone lose a button at the last ball?”

  “Do you remember the costume you wore then? Katherine picked it out without asking you, of course.” She shook her head. “How you hated that cape. Called it ‘dopey.’”

  “Aunt Addy, about the button. Your friend Echo found it downstairs yesterday.”

  He squeezed her hand, but she shook it free and popped out of the chair. “I don’t know anything about buttons!”

  But he could tell she did know something. He rose and pressed the issue. “Yes. You saw it. You said it was an omen.”

  Her mouth opened and silently worked. And in her eyes, he read what could only be fear. Of him?

  “I’m sorry, but I promised. It’s for a good cause, Donahue. It’s for the children. They’ll take it all away. In a week, you won’t even know anyone has been here.”

  There she went, mentally off kilter, mixing him up with his father’s ghost.

  “I’m Bram, not Donahue,” he reminded her. “And the fancy-dress button was here in this room last night. In the desk drawer.” His gaze flicked over the contents still splayed across the desk top. “I know, because I locked it away myself. Now the button’s gone. Did you take it?”

  She shook her head. “No, I swear!”

  “Then who? Who would have been poking around in here?” he asked more of himself than of her. “And in the hidden staircase that goes to the coal bin? Someone has been in there, too, and just recently.” He directed the next question to his aunt. “Do you use those stairs?”

  Her eyes went round. Head still shaking, she backed away from him toward the open door.

  “If it wasn’t you, Aunt Addy, then who could have been sneaking around this house.” Bram followed as she backed into the foyer. “Prying where they shouldn’t?”

  Wild-eyed, she suddenly turned and fled up the stairs.

  And Bram cursed himself for frightening her. He hadn’t meant to. He just wasn’t a particularly patient person. Meaning to apologize and settle her down, he went after her, taking the stairs two at a time.

  “Aunt Addy, wait, please.”

  But she scooted into her bedroom and slammed the door in his face. Bram took a deep breath and counted to ten. Maybe she was spooked because of admitting her “mistake” in sharing the house’s secrets with someone.

  Echo St. Clair had been in the coal bin. Checking out the hidden staircase? And what else? Had she been poking around, looking for the secret rooms, as well? He also wondered if she knew anything about the missing button. He didn’t really think she’d stolen it, but he needed to be sure. He was attracted to her, wanted to see her again, wanted to trust her. He had to trust someone.

  Once he calmed Aunt Addy down, Bram decided, knocking softly, he would make it his business to pay a visit to Echoes and find out how intimately the owner of the New Age shop had gotten to know his ancestral home.

  ANGRY AT YET ANOTHER disturbance in her home, Lena Rundle stepped out of the shadows of the staircase.

  She’d heard everything that had gone on in the library. She didn’t like it. She liked none of what was going on these days. Not the invasion of the townspeople. Not Bram Vanmatre’s return. Certainly not his mother’s.

  “Lena, where are you?”

  On her way to her quarters next to the kitchen, Lena was stopped by that imperious voice she’d learned to hate nearly forty years before, when Mr. Donahue had first brought his new bride to Dunescape Cottage.

  “I’m here, Miss Katherine.” Playing her role of the dutiful servant to that woman made her burn with fury. As if the witch had rights!

  Bram’s mother stepped around the back of the staircase, making Lena wonder where she’d been and how much she’d heard. “I would like my breakfast now.”

  “Already made. Scrambled eggs, French toast and bacon are in warmers on the kitchen counter.”

  “You may serve me in the conservatory.”

  Normally she didn’t serve anyone but Miss Adrienne. But under the steely green-eyed gaze, she found herself saying, “Yes, Miss Katherine.”

  Lena’s eyes narrowed in hate as the other woman retreated. She’d known this one was going to be trouble from the first. And she hadn’t been wrong. Muttering to herself in her own language, she scurried to the kitchen where she put together a tray with the breakfast items plus coffee and juice. She crossed to the oval conservatory and found Mr. Donahue’s widow sitting at one of the small tables situated amidst the tallest of the plants. The silver-haired witch was taking it easy as she always had, reading a newspaper.

  Katherine looked up at Lena’s entrance. “So what’s this I hear about Dunescape Cottage being turned into some kind of spook house?”

  “The local high school teenagers are holding a fundraiser,” Lena grumbled with a sniff.

  “My son gave them permission?”

  “Miss Adrienne did.”

  “I see.”

  A wealth of disapproval was conveyed to Lena. Who did this one think she was, passing judgment? And why had she returned after vowing not to?

  Lena’s uneasiness grew. All was as it should have been for nearly three decades. Now Mr. Donahue’s widow had returned and would stir things up. Make trouble like she had before, all those years ago.

  Lena knew all the secrets of Dunescape Cottage.

  And she intended to keep them.

  No matter how.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “SO, WHAT’S your secret?” Echo asked the moment her sister entered the shop to relieve her for lunch. “How do you work part-time, run a household, volunteer for civic and school committees, deal with two kids and have enough energy left over to be creative?”

  She indicated the new display using incense burners from the Southwest. Izzy had taken the clay pueblo buildings, hornos or beehive ovens, and teepees and turned them into a smoking city on a snowy hillside.

  Hanging her jacket on a tree near the front counter, Izzy laughed. “They wore you out in one day, huh?”

  “Actually, it was more the situation and Bram Vanmatre than the kids,” Echo admitted, stifling a yawn.

  “Ah, the ogre of Dunescape Cottage.”

  “He’s not really an ogre.”

  Or so Echo hoped. He hadn’t promised anything when it came to his aunt’s care.

  “I hear he doesn’t look like an ogre, either.”

&nb
sp; “He’s... interesting.” When Izzy’s brows shot up, Echo cut her off before she could comment. “Don’t start.”

  “What?”

  Before they could get into it, the windchimes signaled an arrival. Echo turned to see the customer practically fill the doorway as he stepped through.

  “Travis Ferguson,” she murmured.

  Passing her on the way to the stockroom, Izzy whispered, “You didn’t tell me about him.”

  Echo ignored Izzy and greeted Travis. “I didn’t expect to see you quite so soon.”

  “A visit was long overdue.”

  To her or the shop? “Looking for anything in particular?”

  “That I am.” The way his hazel eyes assessed her made Echo think she was the reason he was there until he said, “A present for a young lady. My niece’s birthday is next week. What would a fifteen year old like?”

  “Young woman usually like jewelry.” She pulled out a tray of pendants.

  “I hear you’re in charge of the Halloween fundraiser.”

  “One of the organizers. I’m helping the kids turn Dunescape Cottage into a Haunted Mansion.”

  He laughed. “It doesn’t have far to go to make the grade, does it?”

  Not wanting to criticize the place knowing Miss Addy’s financial circumstances, Echo didn’t comment.

  “What about this pink crystal with the unicorn.”

  “Hmm, I’ll keep that one in mind,” he said as he made a cursory study of the other pieces on the velvet-covered tray. “So, you have the run of the place, right?”

  “Most of it. The rooms that aren’t being used by the residents.”

  “Even the lower level?” he asked. “I remember how spooky I thought the cellar was as a kid. I imagined part of it was an old dungeon.”

  “The coal bin.”

  “So you’ve been in there.” His lips quirked but no smile lit his eyes. “What about the secret rooms?”

  Echo narrowed her gaze. What was Travis’s purpose in seeking her out? Had he really wanted to see her or buy something, or drill her for information about Dunescape Cottage. Before she could figure out his interest, the front door opened again.

  “Can I help you?” Izzy volunteered as she breezed back into the shop.

  “I’m here to see the owner.”

  At the sound of Bram’s voice, Echo whipped around, vaguely registering Travis’s growl of frustration.

  “Wait your turn, Vanmatre,” the sandy-haired man said.

  Bram ignored him, fixed Echo with his intense gaze that shot adrenaline through her. “We need to talk. Now.”

  Though she felt like showing Mr. Bram Vanmatre who was in charge in her shop, she figured he wouldn’t have bothered making a special trip to see her unless it was important. It had to be about the fundraiser. Her adrenaline dropped along with her stomach.

  She flashed Travis a conciliatory smile. “Would you mind if Izzy finished taking care of you?”

  “Vanmatre hasn’t left either one of us a choice, has he?” Travis’s jaw muscles clenched. Hard. Making him look less attractive. “I really was enjoying our chat. Maybe we can continue it later. Over dinner?”

  “I’ll be busy with the youth group.”

  At least she hoped so. Bram’s scowl was anything but reassuring. What now? Had Miss Addy put up a big enough fuss to throw a wrench in the works, after all?

  “You’ve got to eat,” Travis insisted. “A late supper?”

  For some reason, Echo wasn’t certain she wanted to dine with the man at all. He was attractive, she couldn’t deny that, but she didn’t feel totally comfortable with him and suspected he had an ulterior motive in seeking out her company.

  Just in case her objectivity was being colored by Bram’s presence, she suggested, “How about a raincheck?” Now both men were scowling, making Echo wonder if they were merely annoyed with each other or with her, too. “Izzy, would you take over?”

  Her sister gave her a “you’ll have to tell me everything later” look as she moved to help Travis. Echo rounded the counter and stopped a safe distance from Bram. He was a potent male presence, and her physical response was automatic, her pulse suddenly zinging without her permission. She hadn’t had this decidedly disturbing reaction to the sandy-haired man.

  “So what’s up?” she asked.

  “We need to talk in private. You have an office?”

  She did, but Echo stubbornly refused to give him total control. “I was planning on running home for a break.” Having forgotten bills to be mailed on the kitchen table, she’d thought to fetch them while catching a quick lunch. “We can talk there.”

  A couple of steady customers arrived, and she told them to see Izzy when they’d picked out their purchases. She noticed that Travis didn’t seem to be finding anything he wanted to buy.

  Pulling on the sweater jacket with an abstract orange, yellow and magenta design that she’d saved for all last winter, she went straight to her hatchback. Bram eyed the well-used vehicle warily, but without comment eased into the passenger side. Home was two blocks from the lake, about three minutes away from the shop, enough time for Echo’s nerves to stretch taut, especially when Bram tried to give her advice.

  “I’d stay away from Ferguson, if I were you.”

  Though she wouldn’t necessarily follow up on the rain check, she didn’t care for Bram’s interference. “You’re not me.”

  “He’s volatile. Had a nasty temper even as a kid.”

  “Are you saying Travis abuses women?”

  “I wouldn’t know. I just don’t like him.”

  Echo figured the feeling was mutual. She pulled into her gravel drive wondering if Bram could be jealous of Miss Addy’s neighbor for some reason.

  “We wouldn’t have the same perspective on that one, now would we?” she asked.

  “We may not have the same perspective on lots of things.”

  “As in?”

  “Honesty. You told me what I see is what I get. So why were you in the coal bin?”

  She popped out of the vehicle. Glaring at him over the roof of the wagon, she said, “I told you.”

  “Did it take you long to find the hidden staircase? Or did Aunt Addy show it to you?”

  Travis questioning her about secret rooms, now Bram about hidden staircases— what was going on?

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Though all kinds of rumors had shadowed the old mansion, and Mrs. Ahern had mentioned its having an escape route for prohibition era bootleggers.

  She took the wood chip path to the front door of what looked like a real cottage set in a clearing of a small stand of trees and bushes. The modest two-bedroom house was of neat wood, its hand-crafted trim painted muted greens and reds. She’d bought the land shortly after moving to Water’s Edge, had been able to afford having the place built barely two years ago. Maybe in another couple of years, when she got one-up on her mortgage, she would be able to afford a new vehicle, a four-wheel drive SUV that would look right at home parked in the naturally wild-looking landscape.

  She had the door open before Bram started in on her again.

  “And you don’t know about the button, either, right?”

  She glanced over her shoulder to flash him a look of annoyance. “I gave it to you, remember.”

  “Then took it back?”

  “No, of course not.” She resented the implication. “I may not be wealthy like you are, Bram Vanmatre, but I have enough. Everything I really want.” She stepped into the big, open-spaced living area of her home, sparsely appointed with natural wood furniture and couches and colorful accessories, all beautiful to her eyes. “I don’t steal.”

  Gaze locked with hers as if he were trying to read her very soul, he nodded, accepting that. “You seem to have an attachment to my aunt.”

  “I like her, yes, and I sympathize with her. But we’re hardly close.”

  “Not close enough so that she would share the house’s secrets with you?”

/>   Throwing her sweater-jacket on the textured buckwheat couch near the fireplace, she asked, “Good grief, what secrets?”

  “Hidden rooms and stairwells for a start.”

  “The only thing Miss Addy shared with me was a pot of tea. I know you have problems where your aunt is concerned, Bram Vanmatre, but stop assuming I have anything to do with them.”

  He finally seemed satisfied. “All right.” And backed off.

  That was it? She was off the hook so easily, and after he’d made a special trip to confront her? Suspicious, Echo wasn’t able to forget the interrogation. But it wasn’t in her nature to remain annoyed with anyone for long. And it did seem Bram was concerned for his aunt. And that he’d come for a reason more complex than merely confronting her. She told herself to relax. To give the man a chance. To find out what he really wanted.

  “Would you like some coffee?” she asked. “Kenyan?”

  “Great. Black.”

  “How about starting the fire and I’ll put the coffee on.”

  She’d set up both the fireplace and the brewer so they’d be ready for her that evening. The night before, she’d foraged through the refrigerator standing up, after which she’d fallen into bed. Bram attended to the fire, and she moved to the open kitchen area where she switched on the coffeemaker and put together a couple of sandwiches— thick-sliced whole wheat bread, turkey, Swiss cheese and a range of vegetables. A good wholesome lunch to which she added definitely unwholesome salty potato chips.

  Loading a hand-crafted tray with the plates and mugs of steaming coffee, she joined Bram who’d made himself comfortable on the couch. She set the tray on the coffee table, a rectangle of glass attached to a segment of bark-covered tree, and sat cross-legged on the area rug opposite him. The warmth of the nearby flames soothed her as did her first sip of coffee.

  “You didn’t have to go through all that trouble. But thanks.” He held his mug under his nose and inhaled the strong aroma of the coffee. He eyed her appreciatively when he said, “Gets the juices flowing,” making her wonder if he meant the coffee or her.

  Flushing, she said, “So the button is missing.” That still had to be on his mind. “Could you have misplaced it?”