Hargrove House: The Haunted Book One

by Allie Harrison

  She pushed the end button before she heard another word. The phone shook because her hand shook. Hell, every part of her shook. She told herself it was because she was trying to keep her rage from shooting the top of her head off.

  Yet, she couldn’t deny the sound of his voice had unnerved her.

  “Bastard…” she muttered out loud. Legally, she knew she was going to have to give it back to him, but why make it easy for him. Being the cheater he was, he didn’t deserve anything handed over easy.

  Suddenly she didn’t even feel like a burger from the Rain Drop Inn. Anything she would eat would probably churn and boil until she was sick. Now, she felt what she needed was a stiff drink, something that might burn down her throat hotter than the bile that suddenly burned there. The nice bubble bath with candles she’d contemplated no longer even sounded inviting. But then, she decided to give it her best shot. Why should she let a jerk like Nick Miller ruin her evening after all she’d accomplished today?

  Her hand was on the door knob when she heard the shoveling sounds again from the cellar below.

  For a long moment, she didn’t breathe. She merely listened.

  Swish…Pause…Swish…Pause…

  She knew no utility worker would be down there this time of early evening. Neither would any construction crew. They were long gone. The only one who could be here was Will.

  That wasn’t necessarily true, either, she thought. It didn’t have to be only Will. Will could invite anyone he wanted into the house. Perhaps someone he hired was down there. He had hired her and had given her her own key; he could have hired someone else. And it was his house. He didn’t have to report to her when or if he did hire someone to do work in the cellar. It was none of her business.

  She should just leave. Whatever he was digging for in the cellar was none of her business. Again she contemplated he was searching for hidden treasure down there. Rumors about the Hargrove lost money were as abundant as stories about ghosts.

  She shouldn’t think about why he’d be down there digging. It wasn’t her concern. Decorating the house and getting it livable again was her business, nothing more.

  So why did the sounds of his digging call to her?

  Why did no one else ever mention hearing them?

  The door knob beneath her hand felt hot as the fury coursing through her and nearly burned her skin. She pulled her hand away quickly. She concentrated to breathe.

  In…Out…

  Swish…Swish…

  In the quiet, her breathing sounded almost as loud as the digging. Her heart seemed to beat in the same rhythm as the shoveling sounds.

  She closed her eyes and fought for control.

  Without another thought, she pulled the door open and fled into the falling night. She forced herself to drive to the Rain Drop Inn and get a burger. Neither Nick Miller nor the sounds of shoveling she still heard in her mind would stop her. But she found that in the midst of other townspeople in the Rain Drop Inn, mixed in the sweet, greasy spoon aroma, the haunted coldness that came to her with just thinking of the cellar in Hargrove House and what those sounds of digging meant, lingered. She ordered hot cocoa. Nick Miller would never drive her to drink by God. Yet, despite the heat of the chocolate that burned her lips and her tongue, as well as the hot bath she stepped into later, she couldn’t get warm, which seemed strange considering the heat of her anger earlier.

  She longed for the warmth of Hargrove House. But not the cellar.

  Chapter Three

  Torrie arrived at Hargrove House early. There was no sense in staying home wasting time. She’d already wasted all night tossing and turning. When she closed her eyes, it was Will she saw. It was the sounds of his shovel she heard. Her skin tingled needing his touch. When she flexed her fingers, she thought she could almost feel his hand in hers. Her ideas and vision for the first bedroom burned within her like a fire in the pit of her soul and she needed to rub her hands together and get started on it.

  Yet, all through the night, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get warm—couldn’t feel the warmth she so often felt when Will was close or when he touched her.

  To make matters worse, Nick called four more times. Torrie answered none of his calls. It was after eleven when she turned her cell phone off.

  She didn’t even bother to stop in at her office to leave a message for Jane or to see if Jane had left any messages for her. She merely called Jane’s cell and left a message on her voicemail.

  Will was in the kitchen looking bright and alert and ready for a work-filled day, which was far from how Torrie felt after her sleepless, cold, empty night.

  “The appliances should be delivered today,” she informed him.

  “That’s wonderful news.”

  “You seem exceptionally happy this morning,” she pointed out.

  He let out a heavy breath. “I am,” he confessed. “That’s a beautiful sweater,” he said.

  “Thank you.” She didn’t mention that it was also the heaviest one she owned and it still hadn’t kept her warm during her commute here.

  He reached out and took both her hands in his. His touch was electrifying. For the first time since she’d left the night before, she wasn’t cold or fighting down a shiver. Nor was she wanting to throw something in Nick Miller’s direction. She shouldn’t be holding his hands. She had a job to do and was eager to see it done. She told herself she should pull away. She couldn’t. It was as if she had no will of her own when Will Dalton was within ten feet. His hands were callused, but gentle, and she wouldn’t have let him go if her life depended on it.

  Torrie could only imagine what it would feel like to have him touch her skin with those warm hands. She knew she wouldn’t need a sweater.

  He looked deeply into her eyes, and she couldn’t help but smile back at him.

  “I am exceedingly happy, and I owe it all to you.”

  She let out an embarrassed chuckle. “Me?”

  “Yes, you. You have made all this possible. And you’ve done it so quickly. My house is becoming a home. I look around at it, and I’m in awe at the work you’ve accomplished.”

  Still, she was embarrassed. “Well, to tell you the truth, I’m a little in awe of it, too. I’ve never before had a job come together so easily. But I didn’t do it alone. I’ve had a lot of help—work crews and electricians and people to redo the pipes and construction workers. I’d venture to guess there isn’t a workman within a twenty mile radius who hasn’t had his hand in this house in the past two weeks.” She didn’t point out that his money would get things accomplished.

  “Still,” he said. “I couldn’t have accomplished half of this without you. The parlor and the dining room look magnificent. And I see where there’s work going on in the ballroom up on the third floor.”

  “Yes. It’s a little slower than the rest. There’s just so much space. And the floor needs completely redone,” she admitted. “I had so hoped to avoid that. I had wanted to use the original floor. I’m sorry about that, but apparently there had been some vandalism up there and parts of the floor were completely destroyed. It looked almost as if someone at some time tried to start a fire.”

  “Well, that can’t be helped or changed, but it can be fixed.”

  “And I hope you don’t mind that I’m having a design put into the hardwood floor of the dance floor.”

  He rolled his eyes. “How many times must I tell you this house is yours? I trust you.”

  He still held both her hands in his. Their bodies were almost touching. She still felt his heat. She was drawn to it like a moth to flame. “I still have to tell you my plans. And by the way I picked out the dining room set yesterday like you told me to, and it will be delivered today.”

  He grinned at her broadly. “I can’t wait to see what you ordered for the dining room. And if you insist on having to tell me your plans, that’s fine. But I think the best thing is…” He let go of her hands.

  “What?”

  He held up a steaming
mug. “My hot water dispenser is great! I made you a cup of tea. You’re going to love it.”

  Torrie laughed as she took the mug from him. His heat radiated through her as her hands brushed his when she took the mug.

  He grew suddenly serious. “But there’s one thing I need to discuss with you…”

  Torrie couldn’t imagine what. The job couldn’t go much faster or better in her opinion. “What?”

  “The bedrooms.”

  “I hope to start on the upstairs bedrooms in the next day or two,” she admitted. “I’ve already spent time in the first one—the one at the top of the stairs that has the neat nook above the stairs and the window seat. I ordered furniture and things for it yesterday. I hope you don’t mind that I planned it to be pink.”

  He didn’t answer for a long moment. Then he smiled broadly and his smile nearly melted her heart. “I don’t mind at all. Pink would be wonderful—perfect. Thank you again, for all your hard work.”

  She didn’t want to ruin the moment and remind him it was her job and he paid her to do it. “You’re welcome. But what did you want to discuss with me about the bedrooms?”

  “I just wanted to know if you had had any ideas about them, but it seems you have. Do you have any ideas for the other two yet?”

  “Not yet, but I’m sure something will come to me. It was the strangest thing, though.”

  “What?” he asked, still standing close.

  She explained how she looked in the room, envisioned it perfectly as to how she wanted to fix it and then stepped on the doll in the blue dress. “I was so excited about the idea. I couldn’t sleep.” She didn’t tell him thoughts of him and anger about Nick didn’t help, either.

  “Don’t lose sleep over this job, Torrie. That would be as bad as skipping lunch.”

  She chuckled at the way he tried to sound like a stern boss. “I don’t mind. It was a good, excited loss of sleep.” She didn’t dare confess that every time she tried to close her eyes and sleep, Will Dalton filled her thoughts. “It was like anticipating Christmas or something.”

  “Oh, Christmas is coming isn’t it?”

  “Don’t change the subject. Besides, I can’t think about Christmas yet. My thoughts are on this job. I still can’t believe how the ideas for that room came together so quickly and perfectly. Don’t you think that’s strange?”

  He leaned closer and talked softly. “You are in one of the strangest houses in the state,” he reminded her. “Perhaps a ghost is giving you the ideas.”

  “Don’t try to laugh this off.”

  “I’m not,” he grew serious again. “But have you seen any ghosts?”

  His question threw her for a moment. “Ghosts? Perhaps that had been what she heard in the cellar—a ghost. A shiver moved up her back and Torrie did her best to ignore it. “No, I don’t think so,” she replied after a slight hesitation.

  “Have you heard any strange noises, perhaps bumps in the night?” he asked.

  His question threw her. Torrie had the feeling he knew exactly that she’d heard strange noises. Perhaps he even knew she’d heard her name when she’d ventured into the house as a child. “Maybe.”

  “That sounds as if you’re uncertain,” he pointed out.

  “I don’t want to talk about ghosts. I’m talking about the big picture ideas coming to me in a flash of about ten seconds. That hasn’t really happened before, especially when I haven’t had any input from the client.” Torrie swallowed hard and felt her unease slip away as she talked about her business.

  Will seemed to recognize her need to change the subject. “You don’t need my input. I don’t care how your ideas come to you, I’m just glad they do. And I also don’t care how you get them whether it be from a ghost or not, as long as the house comes together.”

  “It certainly is that.”

  “Have dinner with me this evening,” he invited. “We’ll celebrate.”

  It was Torrie’s turn to be speechless for a long moment.

  “Besides if the dining room set is delivered today, we need to try it out,” he insisted.

  She let out the breath she’d been holding. “I shouldn’t.” But oh, she wanted to.

  “Why not?”

  “I work for you. I have a job to do.”

  He raised a brow as he stared at her. “That’s a pretty lame excuse.”

  She couldn’t argue with him, after all, spending the evening with Will Dalton would make her day complete.

  “Consider it part of your job then,” he insisted.

  “What?” Leave it to him to come up with an alternative!

  “Consider it a business dinner. We can discuss more of the bedrooms. I can tell you my ideas for them. I also want you to be the first to use the new dining room when the table is delivered.”

  “What? You plan to give me ideas, when you’ve given hardly any before now?”

  He grinned and shrugged. “I’ll make up a few. Please stay.”

  “Do you plan to serve me a microwave dinner since your kitchen isn’t really in working order yet?”

  He shrugged as if the fact the kitchen wasn’t in working order was no big deal. “It will be better than that. This leads me to the next thing I need to tell you.”

  “Is it about the kitchen? Are you upset about the cabinets I ordered? Do you want something changed?” With what he paid her, he could afford to change his mind a dozen times, she thought.

  “No, nothing like that at all. I just wanted to let you know there’s a housekeeper here.”

  “A housekeeper?”

  “I hired her. Her name is Alice. So if you see her around, don’t be alarmed.”

  He reached out and grasped her hand again. And holding his hand, feeling his touch seemed like the most natural thing in the world to her. “A housekeeper?” she asked again. The idea seemed so unlike him. He was much too private to have a housekeeper who might invade his privacy.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you need a housekeeper? I mean you eventually might or will, I’m sure. And, of course, this is your house. You can hire anyone you like for anything you like. I just thought with all the work still going on, I don’t know how much a housekeeper can do right now.” Torrie knew she was rambling, but the thought of a housekeeper seemed odd to her. And she hadn’t seen anyone in the house besides the workers she had hired. She couldn’t begin to imagine when he might have found the time to interview any potential housekeepers. At the same time, Torrie supposed a housekeeper could sweep the floors, but there was still no sink or counter or appliances.

  He grinned at her. “You’ll like her. She starts today. And if there’s anything you need—including lunch since you continuously forget to eat it—feel free to ask her.”

  “She works for you, not me,” she felt the need to remind him.

  “I already told her about you.”

  “Well, I certainly hope you didn’t hire her to make my lunch. Neither you nor she needs to be responsible for my eating lunch.”

  “I hired her to be my housekeeper.” Then he winked, as if there was more to it than that.

  He let go of her hand, and Torrie felt a shiver move up her at his lack of warmth.

  Alice came into the parlor about an hour later and introduced herself to Torrie.

  She wore a black dress, black stockings and black shoes. Her dark hair—that was highlighted with strands of gray—was pulled into a tight, formal bun at the back of her head. She looked to be about sixty with sharp features, a thin face to match her thin, wiry body and a pointed nose. And although Torrie had lived in Liberty her entire life and knew most of the area residents, she had never met Alice before or seen her around town. Alice stood straight and stiff, and was thin enough to look as if a strong wind might blow her away. And Torrie didn’t know what was most disconcerting—her black garb or the fact that Alice ended every answer with, ‘ma’am.’ Yet, then, Torrie found it was just a little entertaining to watch Alice sweep up plaster dust from the floor.

  Lat
er, Torrie stood in what would soon be the pink bedroom, as she now thought of it. “Can you get started on painting the trim tomorrow?” she asked Rex Walker.

  “I believe a few of my men can have the trim finished tomorrow afternoon,” he replied. “Are you sure you want the trim white?”

  “Positive,” Torrie replied. “The room has to be pink and white. And you can get started on the wallpaper then, Susan?”

  Susan looked around the room. “I can’t believe you got that paper here so fast, Torrie. And it’s so pretty with those tiny pink flowers. I agree it will look perfect.”

  “It worked out great that it was in stock and didn’t need to be special ordered. It seems like it was ordered a few weeks ago by a customer who changed her mind. Lucky for us, huh?” Torrie didn’t add that nearly the entire job had worked out this way. She didn’t want to jinx anything.

  “Sounds very lucky. How shall I work this ledge over here?” Susan stepped closer to the nook over the stairs. “Cute doll, by the way. It goes with the room.”

  “Yes, I thought it did, too, when I found it.” Torrie studied the doll before moving on to look at the ledge where the stairs were for a long moment. “What if we papered to here,” she pointed to a straight part of the wall, “and then just painted the rest of the nook pink?”

  The other two were quiet for a moment.

  “I think that would work,” Susan put in.

  “I can have my men paint the pink when they do the trim,” Rex added.

  “We’ll go with that, then.” Torrie could easily envision the room. At this rate, it would be done in a few days. The smile that spread across her face was contagious. “Will told me I had run of the house. I might have to spend a night or two in this room when it’s done. I think it will be beautiful.”

  “I think the entire house is beautiful. Every time I step in to put up more paper, I can’t believe it’s the same creepy house that sat empty for so long,” Susan added. “I sure hope to be invited to the holiday party. I can’t wait to see it all decked out.”

  “Take pictures for me,” Rex said. “I’ll go get a crew together to paint tomorrow.” A moment later, he was gone.