Mind Your Manors

by CeeCee James

  She opened the door and exclaimed, “Ah, my extra help!”

  Two young men appearing to be in their late teens or early twenties entered. They glanced around sheepishly while Kari explained to me. “I put out a hiring sign at the local college. I figured we needed to make sure anyone in here doesn’t make off with the fine art or something.

  She clapped her hands. “All right guys, if you can just hang out upstairs. Your job is to accompany people without looking like you’re spying on them. Can you do that?”

  They nodded and walked up the stairs, heads swiveling as they tried to take in everything.

  Let’s hope there were no more skeletons.

  “Have you been up there?” I asked Kari.

  “Up…?”

  I bobbed my eyes toward the ceiling.

  “Ohh. You mean where they found Slim.”

  I groaned at the nickname she gave the skeleton. “Well, yes.”

  “I did go check it out. Everything appears to be in its normal dusty mundaneness.”

  “So I’m safe to wander around?” I was curious about that skeleton, but preferred not to run into zombies, thank you.

  “You want to wander?”

  “I just want to acquaint myself better with this huge place. My last visit was kind of cut short. I ended up having a headache.” Yeah, it was a lie. I didn’t feel like going into the whole jingle bells creepy-crawly feeling right now though.

  She laughed and waved her hand. “You go right ahead. Be sure to answer questions if you see one of our many looky-lous. And keep an eye out no one fills their pockets.”

  “You got it,” I said. And then, sucking in a deep breath for courage that she’d never understand that I needed, I headed down the hallway.

  Chapter 16

  As soon as I walked past the library doors, a shiver the size that would be caused by a spider dropping on my head ran through my body. I didn’t think I was brave enough to go in there alone, again. I quickly headed up the stairs.

  They were so solid they didn’t even creak, despite their age. The banister’s finish was worn away at key spots from where hands repeatedly grabbed it, but it had a lemon scent from polish. The two college students peeped over the stairwell. When they saw that it was me, they went back to their conversation.

  “Everything okay?” I asked as I passed them.

  “Yeah,” said the first, while the second guy interjected, “It’s kind of freaky up here, isn’t it?”

  “Oh? It’s just an old house.” I laughed, trying not to sound nervous. “What’s going on?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck and then pointed down the hallway. “There’s a weird noise coming from that room.”

  Dear heavens. Slowly, I turned in the direction he was pointing as every hair on my neck stood upright, like soldiers at attention. A long line of doors stared back at me. I swallowed hard. Was he referring to the one at the end? The playroom?

  I held my breath to listen. There it was. I could hear soft banging coming from the third door down. And was that…music?

  I released my grip from the handrail, where I realized I’d been hanging on for dear life and straightened my shoulders.

  “I’ll go check,” I said, exhaling a deep breath out. I was done with this and ready to confront whatever had been haunting me. As I marched, I fumed. I was done with being scared.

  Of course, having two people watching me, ready to spring to my side if I needed help, supported my bravado.

  At the doorway, I glanced back. Scratch that. The two young men hovered around the top of the staircase like they were ready to jump down the whole flight, depending on what I unearthed behind the door.

  That’s fine. I’ll take care of it myself.

  I wrenched open the door with a yell, “Hello? Who are you?”

  The room was quiet and dark. A window shutter gently banged against the house siding in the breeze.

  I ran over and grabbed the window shutter to pull it closed. Outside, a small wind chime hung from a branch. I smiled at seeing the source of the music. There, all that fear for nothing.

  I wonder why the window was left open in the first place? Maybe the cleaners did it?

  Slowly, I spun around to make sure everything appeared as it should. Not that I would notice anything missing.

  A sheet shrouded the bed. There was a chair and a desk in the corner, and an ivory-colored dresser.

  I walked over to the dresser and was charmed to see a worn pair of saddle shoes tucked out of the way. I wondered whose room this used to be.

  The desk was a roll top. I hesitated for a second and then carefully pushed it up. It was rough, and the rumbles vibrated through my arms. It took a little bit of persuasion but it soon rolled back into its compartment.

  There was a blotter protecting the wood surface, covered in tiny ink splotches. A nest of drawers stacked against the back, along with a few shelves.

  My eyebrows lifted at what was placed in a line on one of the shelves.

  Little glass figurines. Like the one that Mrs. Crawford had given me.

  I picked one up and studied it. A tiny elephant. The glazed porcelain was cool to my palm. I carefully placed it back. Gently, with my finger, I opened a drawer. I realize I was beyond snooping. But this mystery had me so sucked in. Who were the Valentines?

  There were several papers inside. On top was a newspaper article. The headline spoke of a debutante ball to be held at the Valentine Manor. Underneath it was a black-and-white picture of eight young women, all dressed in white. I flipped it over. There was a list of names, including Gladys Valentine. All these people who were friends with her. How did she end up so alone now? Marla, Mary, Pauline—these were her friends.

  Underneath that picture was another photo, this one of a wedding. I recognized Gladys as one of the bridesmaids. She wore a long dress with a very unhappy expression on her face.

  In shaky, thin handwriting across the back it said, Marla Springfield and I.

  Marla Springfield. I’d heard of that name before. It took me a second when I remembered there was a Springfield Diner on main street. Was Marla or her family a part of that?

  Suddenly, a cold chill went up my back. I held my breath to listen. The house was silent. The feeling grew, heavy and oppressive. Every instinct told me someone was watching me. I swallowed and carefully slid the pictures back in the drawer. The skin burned on the back of my neck. I pushed the drawer shut and then, slowly, turned to look behind me.

  Nothing.

  The door slammed shut.

  I screamed and ran for the door. There was pounding in the hall and the door opened just as I reached it. One of the college students stared at me, his eyes wide.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  My heart beat in my chest like a dove frantic in a cage. “The door shut by itself.”

  He stared hard at me, then glanced down. His cheeks flushed and I realized he was embarrassed. It took a second later to register he was feeling that way for me.

  He cleared his throat and then mumbled, “Yeah, uh, someone came in downstairs. I guess when the front door shut, it created a vacuum.” His eyes met mine briefly. “These old houses are drafty. But creepy, to be sure. I can see why that scared you,” he added.

  I closed my eyes. Took a few deep breaths. Counted to five. “Well, I guess I was on edge since you said you heard noises coming from this room.”

  “Did you figure it out?” he asked, glancing around.

  I walked back to the desk and gently rolled the top down. “The window was left open and the shutter was banging. I closed it.” I checked it again. “It’s kind of strange though. I wonder who left it open. The Valentines said they don’t even come up here.”

  He groaned. “The job description said this would be an easy couple hours of work. It didn’t say anything about ghosts and weirdness.”

  I could see how this house was affecting him. His face was pale. In fact, he unbuttoned his collar and puffed his cheeks like he was f
eeling overheated from nerves. The last thing I wanted was for him to freak out and leave. I needed him here for my own security. I smiled confidently and said, “Oh, we’re fine. Like you said, old houses are weird. Kari probably opened it earlier to air it out. Besides, no ghost would want to take you guys on.”

  He rolled his eyes as we walked out into the hall. His buddy glanced from over by the stairwell. “Everything okay?”

  I nodded. Just then, Kari’s voice rang up the stairwell. “And up here, we have more bedrooms than you can shake a stick at.”

  I realized she was leading potential buyers to this floor to check things out. I plastered on my professional smile.

  But that cold feeling still lingered.

  Chapter 17

  That afternoon, we had more potential buyers stop by than a dog had fleas on a hot summer day. Although, how many were looky-lous, as Kari called them, was hard to say. Retired people came through who’d once had dinner there, or remembered a holiday celebration. I heard similar comments over and over. Things like, “Remember how brightly lit this was on Christmas Eve?”

  “Remember the dances?”

  “Remember the celebrations?”

  Remember, remember, remember. That word was repeated in something like eighty percent of the conversations. Every time I heard it, I’d smile and nod, and try not to feel discouraged. I was so ready to have this house in my rearview mirror.

  We said goodbye to the last potential buyer at a quarter after four. I gathered up the shoe booties, the cookie trays, and the pitchers of juice. Kari ran the electric broom around. We both wanted to get out of there before the Valentines returned.

  As we cleaned up, I asked Kari if she’d ever eaten at the Springfield Diner.

  She was enthusiastic in her response. “Definitely! You going to stop by after this?”

  “I was thinking about it.” My stomach growled to tell me it might be a good idea.

  “They have the best hamburgers. Still the original owners.” She packed up the coffee machine.

  “Really?” I wiped off the counter.

  “Yep. In fact, Marla still works there, if you can believe it. She’s this peppy old gal that knows everyone. I remember my grandparents taking me there as a little girl, and they’d chat so much, she’d forget to take our order. It will be a sad day when she retires.”

  Those words energized me more than any caffeine drink.

  A car rumble roared outside to announce that the Valentines had returned. I finished packing the box. “You care if I take this outside and then head out?”

  “Go ahead. Thanks for your help today! Open houses aren’t usually as crazy as this. But like I warned you, I knew it would grab the interest of people who’ve been dying to see the inside of the famed Valentine Manor. Anyway, have a good night.”

  “You, too,” I said.

  “Hey, and get the bacon burger! You won’t regret it!” she called before the door shut completely behind me.

  The Valentine sisters were slowly making their way out of the car as I hurried over to mine. I really didn’t want to have a conversation. Instead, I waved my hand and sent them a smile, only to be received by a blank stare by Richard.

  I shivered and climbed into my car. It was cold tonight, and the seat was like ice. I blasted the heat and shifted the gear. As I drove down the driveway, I glanced in my rearview mirror.

  He was still staring at me. But what really grabbed my attention were his car headlights.

  Round, like I’d seen following me last night.

  It was him!

  But that was crazy, right? How could he have known I was going to Mrs. Crawford’s house?

  Things were getting weirder and weirder.

  I drove into town and up to the Springfield Diner. The outside restaurant lights highlighted flower boxes that hung from all the windows. As I walked up to the entrance, I saw they were filled with red geraniums. I loved red flowers. Not just geraniums, but dahlias, Transvaal daisies, and poppies.

  I yanked open the door, noting how smooth the brass loop handle was from all the customers who’d come in before me. The atmosphere was cozy inside, not brilliant from overhead fluorescents, but illuminated by tiny hanging lights covered with small, caramel-colored glass shades.

  I waited a moment, wondering if this was one of those places where you seated yourself. The restaurant was filled mostly with the older crowd. Even at this time of night, the scent of coffee was strong, and the conversation muted, mixed with the comforting sound of clinking forks on plates.

  After no one showed up, I spotted a booth and seated myself.

  A moment later, a waitress came by. She appeared to be in her mid-forties, with her bleached-blonde hair harshly pulled back into a ponytail. She set down a glass of water and a menu.

  “Can I get you anything to drink?” Her apron was dirty and she smelled of hash browns. The tag on her shirt said Tammy.

  “Uh, no. I think I’m good. But I was wondering, is Marla here?”

  Tammy frowned with a hand on her hip. She clearly wasn’t worried about her tip. “What’cha want to talk to Marla about?”

  I was a little taken back by her defensive reaction. I could hardly say that I’d seen Marla’s wedding picture at the Valentine house. I opted for subtle instead. “I’m new in town. My friend, Kari Missler, mentioned that Marla might be someone I’d like to meet.” Yeah, I’ll admit it, I name dropped. Hopefully, it would work.

  She narrowed her eyes at me, and I smiled nervously back. I was just about to give up when there was a ding from the back. A man barked, “Order up!”

  The waitress finished placing the napkin and fork in front of me. “I’ll let her know. She might come out, she might not.”

  I nodded as a warm flush of relief filled my chest that the weird stand-off was over. “Thank you.”

  She rattled off the specials and then sashayed to go pick up the order.

  I opened the menu, now completely uncertain if I wanted to stay. I glanced toward the back and saw Tammy talking with the cook. Her hands waved animatedly and I could only imagine what she was saying. I wasn’t sure if I was even welcome.

  But, to my surprise, a few minutes later an older woman came out. She looked to be in her eighties and had on a flowered apron and a hair net. I was taken aback to see she was still cooking.

  “Hi, there, young lady. I heard you were asking for me,” she said. She leaned against the table on a bony hand, her knuckles poking out like lumps of clay.

  “Hello!” I smiled, caught up in a strange feeling that I was being graced by royalty. “Thanks for coming out to talk with me. I can see you’re busy.”

  “Oh yes.” Marla glanced around and nodded. Her voice was gravely, like she’d spent many years with a cigarette going nearby. “We are busy. Been busy since the doors opened, nearly fifty years ago.”

  “Wow! That’s impressive.” I smiled and stuck out my hand. “I’m Stella O’Neil, by the way.”

  She shook it. I was surprised by how soft her hands were. “O’Neil. O’Neil,” she rolled my name over her tongue, as if trying to taste what it was that it reminded her. Then her eyes cleared and she clasped my hand tighter. “You’re the one up on the hill. Selling the Valentine’s place? I’ve seen that flamingo of yours popping up all over these parts.”

  “Oh, thanks. Business is good, I guess.”

  “Yeah, the people are selling out. It’s a shame.”

  A prickle grew under my collar. I swallowed. “I can imagine you’ve seen a lot of changes around here.”

  “Mmhmm, honey you have no idea.” She eased some of her weight off her feet by leaning against the side of the table again.

  “Did you know the Valentines?” I asked.

  “Well, you sure could say I did. Went to school with Gladys Valentine.”

  “I, uh, I saw a wedding picture of you.”

  “You did?” Her eyes narrowed.

  I nodded. She wasn’t looking so friendly all of a sudden.
/>   “Hmph. I didn’t think there was any left of those,” she murmured.

  I wracked my mind, trying to find a way to suggest that she might be able to get a copy of the photo from the Valentines, when she blurted out, “Wish that one would burn too.”

  Uh oh.

  “That boy was nothing but bad news.” Her mouth puckered in distaste. “I couldn’t be rid of him soon enough.”

  “So you got a divorce?” I asked. “That must have been hard.”

  “We weren’t even married a year. I divorced him while he was away in Korea.”

  Interesting.

  “I was best friends with Gladys. Of course, that ended badly too. In the end, I had nothing more to do with the Valentines. Not my fault. They just wouldn’t talk to me. Even Mr. Valentine looked awfully sheepish when he saw me go by.” She sighed. “I remember him helping my ma change a tire years ago, when I was a bitty thing. Thing was so bald it was practically a rubber band held together by threads. He ended up buying a new tire and everything. Wouldn’t take a dime for it.” Marla shook her head. “He was a good one, but he was never the same after his wife died.”

  She was best friends with Gladys Valentine? Why had her friendship ended? I nodded, sympathetically. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. My ex was a cheater and I was better off.”

  The kitchen dinged the bell. Marla glanced back that way and then at me. “Sounds like you have a little more digging to do. I like you. Spunky. Inquisitive. But be careful. You may be curious, but you ain’t a cat. You don’t come with nine lives.” She patted me on the shoulder. On the last pat, her hand rested. “I mean it, I’m warning you. The Valentine’s aren’t people to mess with in these parts.”

  The bell dinged several times in a row. “I’m coming! I’m coming!” Marla hollered. Then to me she muttered, “Calling me like some busboy. Geez, you’d think I didn’t own this place.” She continued to complain as she tottered back.