Hargrove House: The Haunted Book One

by Allie Harrison

  “Of course not. I’ve already had a few light fixtures put in other rooms, just like the chandeliers of the ballroom and in the foyer, since it had to be done as the walls and ceilings were repaired and the plaster was refinished. I know I did it sight unseen, but I had the help of Dave Lambert, the electrician, I hired. I hope you like the chandelier in the foyer above the staircase.”

  “Yes, it’s beautiful, as are those in the ballroom. I’m sure you’ll get around to making your way up there.”

  “I’m sure I will,” Torrie said. “And I know some of the lighting that I ordered for the kitchen after seeing the plan is not 1900 circa, but will work better and be more efficient. There’re also new lights in the bedrooms and bathroom, and I did what I could to keep with the era of the house.”

  “So far, I like what I see. But then I wasn’t too worried about it.” He turned and took in the fireplace. Torrie followed his gaze.

  “Those small light fixtures on either side of the fireplace are perfect. But you do understand, however, that nothing would fit that fireplace better than the solid oak mantel like what was there in the photograph.”

  “I understand,” she replied, and she did.

  “Do I need to give you tour of the house?” he asked.

  She didn’t think she needed a tour, but she didn’t like idea of being left alone in it despite the workmen she was certain would soon be moving about. She thought he probably had other things to do than to babysit her. “No, I’ll be fine. I think I’ll start in this room, maybe get the tour as I finish. Do you need to see my ideas before I order anything more? I felt terrible that I ordered so many of the lights without any input from you.”

  He met her gaze, and Torrie again felt as if she could drown. The spell wasn’t broken until he blinked. “No, I trust you, and I give you free rein. Enjoy yourself. And the house is yours. ”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Stay as long as you want, come as often as you need. Feel free to even set up a cot in here if you like or sleep on a bed in one of the upstairs bedrooms when there is one. All I ask again is that you avoid the master bedroom upstairs. It’s at the end of the hall. I’ve set up housekeeping up there so to speak.”

  He’d already said that and was now making sure the point was made. It was. “Of course, and thank you, but I doubt I’ll go so far as to set up a cot anywhere.” She didn’t add that if she slept overnight in Hargrove House, it would be because she’d fallen asleep on the job or because she could no longer walk.

  “Well, the offer is open. Besides, there will probably soon be a sofa and other furniture, so you could always sleep on that,” he offered with a smile. “Here’s a key. You don’t have to tell me when you’re leaving or when you’re coming. Just remember to lock up on your way out. I’d hate to have any of those kids doing dares coming in here. I might scare them as I came out of the shower or something.” He grinned. Then he took a deep breath. He held a key out to her. “It fits the front door, back door and lower garage locks. I’m planning ahead, hoping that as soon as the house is done, we can do something with the garage. Of course, demolishing it and starting over might be our best bet.”

  Torrie smiled at his teasing, light manner, trying to feel at ease about taking his key. This wasn’t the first time a client had given her the key to his home. Why did this key feel so heart stopping? Torrie had no idea. All she knew was that as she reached out and took the key from him, she felt as if he were giving her something more than a simple key to the front door.

  He turned to leave. “By the way, I need to know.”

  “What?”

  “You did one of those dares didn’t you?”

  She couldn’t meet his gaze. Nor could she lie to him. “Yes I did. I stepped into the foyer.”

  His expression was no longer teasing. “Did you see any ghosts?”

  “No.”

  “Hear any chains rattle?”

  “No.” She didn’t add that she heard something more terrifying.

  “Did you get in trouble?”

  “I had pity on my side with my parents since I was a bit hysterical.”

  “I see.”

  Torrie doubted it.

  “Where are your parents now?” he asked.

  Torrie let out a heavy breath, grateful for the change of subject. “Retired to Florida.” Again, her phone vibrated.

  “Feel free to answer that, I’ll leave you to your business.”

  Seeing again it was Nick, to whom she hoped never again speak, she ignored it. “I don’t need to answer it.”

  He offered her a small smile. “Well, I’ll be about the house if you need me, and the door is open for the workers. They’re putting in trim upstairs. Don’t let them startle you.”

  A moment later, he was gone, and Torrie was alone. The key felt hot in her fist, and for a long moment, she didn’t have the vaguest idea where to begin. She had done all right for the past several years with her business, sometimes up and sometimes down. Will Dalton had caught her on a down time—definitely since she’d had to cut Jane’s work time down. But she’d never had a job this big. It was obviously what had her heart hammering in her chest. She told herself it wasn’t being in this house alone. No, she was a big girl now; ghost stories didn’t scare her any longer.

  Besides, she had already begun. She had lights installed and the wiring and plumbing redone. She was well into the job, none of this should scare her. And yet, it did because he’d given her free rein and was allowing her to make the decisions. Never had a client done that. Every other client had at least had an idea about what he or she wanted—green walls or colonial furniture. With every other client, Torrie gave ideas, and got the okay before moving ahead with them. But Will Dalton had left her wide open to using her own ideas.

  She took a deep breath and let it out in a huff. Then she put the key in her purse where she wouldn’t lose it. Considering what he was paying her, it was time to get to work.

  She opened the cases up and pulled out samples. She had two books of Victorian wallpaper she had planned to look at with him. Now, it seemed she’d be looking at wallpaper alone. Then she smiled broadly. He trusted her judgment. She wouldn’t let him down. In fact…

  She flipped the second book open and turned several pages of paper until she found the one she liked the most. Ironically, it resembled the paper she saw in the photograph of this parlor. Well, that was easy. Then she pulled out her wheel tape measure and quickly measured the room. She heard movement and hammering and the sound of a nail gun above her as the workmen started placing trim. She ignored them. Within minutes, she was on her cell, and the paper was ordered. Next she called Susan Schmidt. Susan could start putting up the wallpaper the end of next week. It should be in by then. She might as well pick out a few others for other rooms while she had Susan available.

  Next, she called Ray Hartford, a craftsman who owed her a favor because she’d been able to get his dining room sponge painted at a discount. Yes, Ray could make a mantel. She gave dimensions and sent him a picture she took with her phone. She looked at her watch, surprised it was way past lunch already. The morning flew by as she studied, measured and decided on colors and samples. She was studying the floor thinking about a hardwood design when she heard the noises below her.

  Swish…Pause…Swish…Pause…

  It was digging. Torrie knew digging when she heard it.

  Someone was using a shovel and digging…Beneath her…

  The only thing beneath her was…

  The cellar.

  Torrie moved to the door and stepped out into the freshly plastered hall. Moving toward the kitchen, past the new bathroom fixtures in the mudroom, the sound diminished because the shoveling and digging sounds were no longer directly beneath her. She was vaguely familiar with the layout of the house and actually took the long way around to the cellar door which was on the other side of what was now the kitchen, using the faint sounds of the shovel to guide her. She did, however, notice the new light
fixtures—two smaller chandeliers instead of one large one—in the dining room on her way through. How perfect, she thought. Always the decorator, she absently thought white paint would work well in this hall to keep it as bright as possible.

  The kitchen would need the most work because in the past, it was only part of a kitchen. It had been called a breakfast room. Dishes and utensils had been kept there. The true kitchen with a stove and an oven had been down in what was now the cellar, to the left of the stairs where there was wood for a floor instead of earth. The small, crumbling building out the back door had also held a stove and oven and was used as a summer kitchen. But it was no longer feasible to put the kitchen down a flight of stairs or outside even though the dumb waiter was still in place. So Torrie had designed the kitchen in the old breakfast room. And now looking at the new kitchen, she thought she should have started in this room first and not the parlor. At least the plumbing was in place, even though it stuck out with just pipes and no fixtures. Countertop needed to be ordered. Cabinets needed ordered. A deep sink would look best, she thought, amazed she could multitask like this while searching for the digging sounds. And marble counters, too. These things all took more time than wallpaper. Torrie planned to move to this room next and have things ordered before the end of today.

  But first…

  The faint sounds of digging continued when she stopped to listen. And they grew louder as she approached what had to be the door leading to the cellar at the far end of the kitchen. Without a sound, she pulled open the door.

  Swish…Pause…Swish…Pause…Swish…Pause…

  The digging sounds were very loud now, sounding as they came from right at the bottom of the open, rail-free naked-wood stairs. The brick of the house made a wall on one side of them. A sweet, musty, earthy smell drifted up to her. Her stomach roiled suddenly, and there was something about the cellar that made her shiver, something down there hiding in the dark she thought she never wanted to see. But she couldn’t for the life of her think what it could be. It was just a cellar, just another part of the house, where roots and vegetables had once been kept, where cooking had been done during the winter. But Will was right, it was musty.

  Not that she could see anything anyway. The light that filtered down from the bright kitchen only went as far as a few feet in diameter around the bottom of the stairs. The rest of the cellar was lost to the dark.

  And it was a darkness that made her cold and sent her heart pounding. She could never venture down into the abyss.

  The hair on the back of her neck stood up. She had always been terrified of the dark. Whoever was down there digging was digging in the dark. For a long moment, she didn’t breathe.

  “Excuse me, Ms. Reynolds?”

  Torrie might have jumped three feet in the air had she not still been holding on to the cellar’s doorknob. She did let out a startled cry.

  The digging sound stopped at the same time. The sudden stillness was nearly as frightening as the digging in the darkness.

  She turned and took in Rex Walker, the construction foreman she’d hired to work on the house. “Yes, Rex, what is it?”

  The cellar was dead silent.

  “We’re finished with the trim on the second floor, and we thought we’d move to the third floor.”

  “That would be fine.” Her words were breathy as she worked to calm herself.

  “Are the painters coming soon?” he asked. “I got a call about some of the flooring that was ordered, and we’d like to start that, but not until the walls are done.”

  “The painting should be done this week,” she promised. “I happened to notice a few buckets of it were already delivered and in the hall. And I know there are some buckets of white. I thought the hall should be painted white to keep it light.”

  He nodded. “I like this schedule.”

  “Rex?” she grabbed his attention before he could turn away. “Do you have anyone down in the cellar digging?”

  “Why would I have anyone doing that?” he asked.

  “I thought I heard someone down there.”

  “I haven’t heard any noise from down there. But given all the noise me and my men are making, I doubt I would. I look forward to meeting this Mr. Dalton and thanking him for this job. Like I said, this schedule is great.” He turned and left.

  Money sure gets things done, Torrie thought. But then that initial check Will had written to her had gotten her moving, so she couldn’t complain. She looked down at the cellar steps and earth floor which all but disappeared into darkness. There was no light switch. Either she had imagined the sounds or whoever was down there digging was doing it in absolute darkness. Perhaps one of the workmen or utility men was doing something outside the parlor and that had been what she heard. She suddenly wasn’t so sure. “I absolutely refuse to think a ghost might be down there digging,” she muttered out loud. “I don’t care how haunted a house might be, ghosts don’t dig.” And if it was Will, what would he be digging for? Treasure? Yeah, right.

  Well, she didn’t hear sounds any longer, and she wasn’t about to venture down into the unknown in the pitch black. Just the idea of being swallowed by that dark made her chest feel tight. Slowly, she closed the door.

  For a long moment, she leaned against the door, turned her head and pressed her ear to it for a few moments.

  The shoveling noise did not resume.

  In fact, the only thing Torrie heard in the still kitchen was the sounds of her own breathing.

  Chapter Two

  “I can’t believe how well this job is coming together,” Torrie muttered more to herself than to Will several days later as the two of them stood in the parlor before the work crews arrived. What she really couldn’t believe was how easy it was to work within Hargrove House.

  “You sound as if you’re worried about it,” he pointed out.

  She didn’t tell him that despite the magnitude of the job, work on Hargrove House went easier than any other job she had ever done. Nor did she point out that everyone she called for favors or for work was readily available—something that had never happened before. And while there might have been a few mutterings, no one really had a harder time entering the so-called haunted Hargrove house than Torrie did. Nor was it hard to find workers for jobs that needed done. To top it off, everything she ordered was shipped shortly afterward. She also didn’t let Will know that the easiness of it rather frightened her, actually. “Well, I sometimes feel as if I just walk around waiting for the ball to drop. I mean I can’t believe that after only a week, Susan’s well into wallpapering the dining room, having finished the parlor.”

  “I rather like the smell of fresh paint or wallpaper paste that is in every room,” Will informed her. “And I also like the sounds of hammering and sawing that come regularly from the third-floor ballroom. The new roof looks great, and I don’t think that we need to worry about one of the shutters falling off and killing someone as he enters the house anymore. The blue paint on the outside is the perfect color.”

  “I do wish I could get the kitchen done faster, though,” Torrie put in. At least she hadn’t heard any more shoveling, which was one of the reasons she didn’t feel afraid to be here. Will was right, she didn’t need to be afraid of any ghosts. She hadn’t heard or seen a single haunted thing in the house. She paused and looked out the kitchen window. It was another spectacular fall day.

  “I thought these cabinets would look good in this room. I meant to ask sooner, but I couldn’t find you yesterday or the day before” she said to Will. Today, he seemed to be just over her shoulder every time she turned her head.

  He studied her and watched her so intently, Torrie continuously felt the need to pull her skirt down and check to make sure it wasn’t tucked in her underwear or something.

  She pointed to arched cherry cabinets she’d found in a catalog. “We need to get them ordered or everything else will be done and installed and the kitchen will be empty,” she informed him. She didn’t tell him she worried that th
ey’d already waited too long.

  “Feel free to order whatever’s needed,” he replied, hardly looking at the picture.

  “You didn’t even look at them.”

  “I already told you, I trust your judgment and your ideas. You haven’t let me down thus far.” He idly moved away.

  Torrie followed him into the glassed conservatory. With its domed glass ceiling and east wall of windows, it was always lit by either sunlight or moonlight. Torrie thought the conservatory was a wonderful room. However, it wasn’t hers, so she tried not to think about it much.

  Absently, Will looked out the window. Torrie followed his gaze.

  “I know you said you trusted me, but cabinets are a bigger investment than paint color. And you’re paying for them. You should order what you want,” she insisted.

  He shrugged as if it were nothing. “Order what you like.”

  “You’ve said that before, and just as before, I’ll remind you, it’s not my house.” But more and more as it came together and she saw what she thought was her finest work and she was no longer terrified, she wished it could be.

  The nonchalant look he gave her told her he didn’t care.

  “I thought you said this was your dream home,” she reminded him. Yes, they’d had this conversation before. But until now, she hadn’t brought up his past or anything he’d said in her office about his wife.

  “It is. And you’re doing a wonderful job decorating it for me.”

  “While being given free rein to do what I want with a house as grand as this one, with something close to an unlimited bank account, is my dream come true, you’ve hardly put in one single idea,” she argued.

  He met her gaze. His eyes sparkled as if he was amused. “I don’t need to. I asked you to help restore it to its original splendor, and so far you’ve surpassed your reputation.”

  How could she argue with that compliment? She didn’t even know she had a ‘reputation.’ “Thank you.”