I unwrapped the tissue and tugged on the ribbon to release the surprise. “Renee, this is the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen. I love it. What a beautiful quilt!”
“I’m so glad you like it. My neighbor Betsy works on quilts on the side, and I thought this would be perfect for Harper’s room. Don’t you love those cherries? That’s a retro print. Feel the weight? Makes me want to snuggle up with it right now. If it wasn’t so warm.”
I spread the fabric out to get a good view of the complicated patchwork. “I love it, but I’m not sure I can accept this. This had to set you back a bit. I mean, look at this workmanship. Really, Renee, it’s too much.”
“I don’t think you understand the meaning of the word ‘gift,’ Jerica. This is my late birthday and early Christmas gift to you. Now let’s put it on the bed. I even brought sheets to go with it. I’m dying to see what it looks like in here.” Renee’s big smile made it impossible for me to refuse her thoughtful gift. I would never have dreamed of putting something like this on the bed, but Renee was right, those vintage cherries were perfect for Harper’s room. She used to have a dresser with cherry embellishments, and I knew for a fact that she always loved that romper of Jeopardy’s. We spread the quilt over the freshly sheeted bed and sat back in amazement. It looked perfect.
I wiped a tear from my eye and said, “Harper would have loved this. I love it, Renee. Thank you.” It wasn’t like me to dole out hugs, but I couldn’t help but hug her. We were both teary-eyed as Jesse walked in the room, his eyes gleaming with excitement and not about the quilt. He had a dusty box in his hand.
“Look what I found in the attic. Can you believe this? I guess you know who this must have belonged to. After all this time, I found it.”
Staring at the dusty wooden box, I knew exactly what he was talking about. This belonged to Jameson McIntyre! This was the very treasure box that Jacob and Jameson had been protecting. “Let’s go into the kitchen and open it, Jesse. It’s too dusty to open it in here. Did you see the gorgeous quilt Renee brought?”
Jesse complimented Renee, and together the three of us headed to the kitchen to look inside the treasure box. With shaking hands, he put it on the table and opened it. I don’t know what I was expecting, maybe a box of little skeletons or bottles of poison or pieces of hair or maybe even bloody garments, but that wasn’t what I saw. There were a few ribbons and, yes, a curl or two of hair, but besides that it was nothing like I expected. There were some pieces of paper, and I picked one up and began to read it. “You are cordially invited to attend…”
Jesse broke in and said, “This is for Mariana’s birthday party. It’s an old invitation! This must have been written around the time when she was murdered. Why would he keep this?”
I tried to read the faded writing, but it was difficult. “Look, guys. It says Pennbrook. Could that be the name of the old house before they rebuilt it? Is that the original Summerleigh? I’ve never heard of Pennbrook before. Have you, Jesse?”
“No, I haven’t, but that doesn’t mean anything. Remember, all of those old records were lost. Pennbrook doesn’t ring a bell, but now I have something to research. With this name and maybe some of this other information, I can turn up something.”
Renee swallowed and said, “I hope finding this box doesn’t stir things up around here. I’d be really worried for you if it did. Are you sure everything is okay, Jerica? You seem a little distracted today.”
“Well, I did see someone on my porch last night, a young man. But it wasn’t a living person because he vanished into thin air. He was standing in the yard, and then quick as a flash, he appeared on the porch. And then he vanished. I thought it must be a glitch with the camera, but I’ve never heard of a glitch projecting an image that isn’t actually there.”
Jesse asked, “What did he look like?”
“He looked a bit like Jacob; I think it may have been Jameson, but I can’t be sure. A shadow obscured his face, like he was deliberately trying to hide his identity from me. Sounds crazy, huh?”
Renee let out a sigh. “Please, from what we know of this place, that doesn’t sound crazy at all. It sure doesn’t surprise me. What about you, cousin?”
Jesse was staring at me accusingly but said nothing. He closed the box and said, “I’d like to take this home and check it out later if you don’t mind. But in the meantime, we’ve got furniture trucks arriving, and I think the telephone guy is here. Can you show him where to install everything while I help Emanuel move the furniture around?”
“I’ll do the bossing,” Renee said sweetly in an attempt to lighten the mood. The installation man was walking in, and I quickly greeted him. For the next hour, we were all so busy that I didn’t have much time to think about the contents of the box or anything that had to do with Pennbrook or the McIntyre family. The tech knew his business and quickly ran the necessary lines we would need for the house.
“You guys have it looking great in here. Must be exciting to see an old place brought back from the dead. I always wanted to see it fixed up.”
I smiled at his choice of words. “Yes, we’re all very happy about it.” I heard the furniture trucks drive away and peeked out the window to see the dusty air stirring up behind the exiting vehicles. Renee poked her head in and said, “I’ve got to get to the diner, but I think everything is where it should be. See you later.”
That was disappointing. I had hoped to spend more time with my optimistic friend, but I couldn’t keep her here forever. “Sounds great. Thanks for your help, Renee. And thanks again for the gift!” I called to her as the kitchen door closed. To my surprise, Jesse’s truck cranked up too. Either he was still upset with me or he had that box on the brain and wanted to go home to start plundering it in earnest. Maybe I would surprise him with a visit? No. Probably not. I was the one who wanted some space.
Either way, it quickly became apparent that the phone installation man and I were the only ones left at Summerleigh. I followed him into the Great Room, and we watched the modem finally light up. He tested the connection on his tablet, and I signed the appropriate paperwork. Yes, it was all quiet in here now.
“Yeah, this is a real nice place you have here, Mrs. Poole.”
I blinked at hearing that name. I might need to have that changed soon. I never wanted to think of being a Poole ever again. “Please call me Jerica.”
“My older sister is getting married next summer, and she’s been looking for a place for the reception. This looks like it would be large enough to have a nice wedding reception. I see you guys are going to be open soon. Would it be possible to get a business card or brochure or something?” The words had barely left his lips when we heard footsteps above us.
It was the sound of high heels clicking across the wooden floor upstairs. I could have played it off as normal, pretended that there was someone up there walking around in old-fashioned high heels, if not for the extreme coldness invading the room and the absolute feeling of wrongness that overwhelmed me. And by the look of the tech, he was feeling it too. His expression was all the assurance I needed that there was something supernatural happening right this very moment.
“I can get you a card. I have some in my purse. Be right back.” Anxious to keep things normal and to pretend that there was nothing happening, I scurried off into the kitchen, opened a cabinet door and dug out a card from my purse. It took me more than a few seconds to find one, and when I returned to the Great Room the installation man was gone. And I hadn’t even heard the door open or close. The paperwork was on a nearby table, but beyond that there was neither hide nor hair of him. And then I heard the truck pulling away.
I don’t know why, but that really ticked me off. We were doing so much around here, so much work, we’d put in so much effort to bring life back to Summerleigh. We’d worked hard to clear the proverbial air and help those spirits that wanted to be helped. And now it looked like my work wasn’t done yet.
“Great. Just great,” I said to the empty house. But it
wasn’t empty. Who was I kidding?
Obviously, I was talking to the ghost of Mariana McIntyre.
Chapter Eight—Jerica
With my princess telephone in my hand, I dialed Hannah’s number but then quickly hung up. Was I ready to get involved with the psychic again? Would she even take my call? This wasn’t the time to do that. I was a big girl, as I kept telling Jesse. It was time to take things into my own hands. I washed the supper dishes and put them back in the cabinet knowing all the while exactly what I was going to do. I took the key off the latch and headed out the door toward Summerleigh. There were no phantom lights glowing in the windows, no shadowy figures and no beckoning ghosts. Just the growing sense that I wasn’t alone.
And that I was expected.
But by whom? That was the question.
I half expected to see my boyfriend’s beat-up old truck tooling down the driveway, but it didn’t happen. Well, at least he was respecting my wishes. What more could a girl want?
I slid the key in the back door, opened it and stepped inside to enjoy the view. The renovated kitchen was inspiring. We put so much work into restoring those old details that it really felt as if one of the Belles might come in at any moment and invite me to help make a pan of biscuits. A stack of white and blue china plates waited neatly in the glass front cabinets, and there were jelly jars in a basket on the counter along with a collection of colorful red and white napkins. It was a lovely space with precious details.
We would open the Summerleigh Bed-and-Breakfast in a few weeks, just in time for the holiday season. It was exciting, tiring and nerve-racking all at once. Word had gotten out around town about the new venture, and we already had a few reservations thanks to Renee, who was really skilled at drumming up business. I was glad about the prospect of money coming in. Although Jesse and I were technically partners, I was footing the lion’s share of the bills. But that’s not to say he wasn’t doing his share of the work. Nobody could ever say that Jesse Ray Clarke wasn’t a hard worker.
I moved a few of the items around the countertops before walking into the parlor. We had not been successful in acquiring one of those old radios, but we found a nice reproduction and the space was roomy, perfect for entertaining multiple guests. Jesse and I had toyed with the idea of hosting some historical chats in this room. In my mind, I could see Ann Marie Belle perched on the couch, her knees tucked up under her, giving me a disapproving look while she absently thumbed through a magazine and looked bored.
For some reason, I felt like something was out of place in this room, not quite right. I moved a few things around but couldn’t shake the feeling. I’ll think about it some more. Then I stepped into the empty Great Room. The fireplace was beautifully restored and filled with vanilla-scented candles. The bookcases were painted white and stuffed with interesting pieces that we’d discovered in the attic. It was a nice room but not as cozy as the parlor. I walked through and headed to the hallway that led to the bedrooms. I smelled paint and carpet adhesive; strangely enough, it was a satisfying combination.
I went into Harper’s room, amazed again at the beauty of Renee’s quilt. Everything was in order in here, I thought as I flipped on the light and glanced around the room. In fact, besides hanging an odd picture or two, I checked the room off in my mind. Yes, this room was perfect. Besides the kitchen, Harper’s room was the one that made me completely happy. I had to pinch myself—this wasn’t a dream. This was my life, and it was a good one. I took a quick survey of the other rooms and then headed up the stairs. No one silently stalked me, but then again, the boy ghost was gone now. I paused in the hallway outside the nursery door and shivered, then took a deep breath and stepped into the room.
Nope. It was still uncomfortable in here, despite the fresh paint, the new door and the new light fixtures. So uncomfortable. I wasn’t convinced that any amount of redecoration would help this place. It had been here that I’d offered the ghost boy Marisol’s purple bear. Shaking my head and rubbing my arms against the chill, I left the room and closed the door behind me. The other bedrooms on this floor were neat and tidy with new hardwood flooring and period furniture but with modern touches like electric lamps and top-of-the-line mattresses. I especially liked the room that overlooked the backyard. It had a comfortable, peaceful feeling. I went into that room, shifted a small table, placed a book of poetry on the nightstand and left, happy with the arrangements. The other rooms were nice but not completely furnished yet. And then my eyes fell on the attic.
Jesse and I had decided to keep this room private. It had a new door with a lock, and although we had spent a great deal of time cataloging and storing many of the antiques up here, there was plenty of stuff left. No, we could never rent this room out.
This would always be Jeopardy’s room. And also Mariana’s, I suddenly thought. That knowledge inspired me.
“Mariana, are you here? It’s me, Jerica. I’m not here to disturb you. I just want to talk to you.” I sat on a nearby stack of plastic tubs and waited. Why hadn’t I thought to bring a digital recorder up here? Hadn’t I learned anything about paranormal investigation? I should be an old pro by now.
I watched the sun go down, and the room darkened quickly. I felt apprehensive but not fearful. I expected to see or hear Mariana; I talked a bit more and invited her to speak with me, but in the end, nothing happened. There was the groaning of the old attic floor, the occasional shifting of the air, but no ghost, no voice, nothing at all.
Leaving the attic behind, I retraced my steps to make sure I’d turned off all the lights. Everything was in order here on the top floor. I was tempted to head back home but on a whim decided to check out the bottom floor too. Turning off the light in the Great Room, I hurried down the hall that led to the bedrooms. The only light on was Harper’s.
Hmm…I don’t think I left that on. Maybe…
I pushed open the door and waited. Nobody was there, but something had changed.
The quilt had been turned down, just like Harper used to do right before bed. Like she used to do for all her sisters and her mother. I walked toward the bed, wide-eyed and holding my breath. With shaking fingers, I touched the cool fabric and glanced over my shoulder.
“Harper?” I asked as I sat on the edge of the bed. But I didn’t really have to ask. I knew what this was.
This was an invitation.
I wasn’t remotely tired, but I kicked off my shoes and slid under the quilt. After thirty minutes of waiting and watching, my eyes grew heavy and I fell asleep.
Chapter Nine—Mariana
The night before my party, Father came home, and he was in a fine mood. He was happy and kind and loving to me once again. I couldn’t understand the change in his attitude. Father did not avoid me, or at least he did not avoid looking into my eyes. He even dressed for dinner and wore a new, dark blue suit, refrained from smoking at the table and drank only one glass of brandy when offered to him. To be fair, though, his cheeks were quite red during our dinner, as if he had previously imbibed. I noticed he carried a new gold watch that he repeatedly removed from his pocket to check the time. He laughed, and Claudette gave me an awkward shrug. I felt like I was missing some secret, but I could not discern it.
At least the letter sent by Mrs. Tutwiler explained why she had been absent. Her own son Donnie had pneumonia, and the prognosis was not hopeful. Donnie was a nice boy with blond hair and big blue eyes; he was as stupid as Old Edward, Father’s stable hand, but it would be sad to lose him. I prayed silently for him as we waited for the first course of our dinner.
As the pumpkin soup was served, Jameson gave me a sideways smile at seeing my confusion. He and Father talked a good long time about the furniture business, and Claudette asked a few polite questions about Bermuda and the processing of the cedar from that wild place. Their chatter continued through the soup service, to the pork loin and potatoes and through the dessert, a vanilla pudding with caramel sauce. I realized that I was not as hungry as I had expected to be. I sat as quietl
y as a porcelain doll and listened to them talk to one another, almost as intimately as Claudette and I might from time to time.
Then my father remembered his manners and complimented me on my dark green gown. He asked if the new rose gown pleased me, and I shot a look at Jameson that said, See there? I told you he wouldn’t want the gown cut up.
“It is a fine dress, Father. Fit for a queen.”
“Or the Lady of Pennbrook, Mr. McIntyre,” Claudette added.
“Please, call me Michael. Or Bull, whichever you prefer,” he said, tipping his glass to her. I was shocked to see him then squeeze her hand briefly. His face flushed as he released her.
She touched her face with the hand he touched and leaned forward slightly. I heard her whisper, “I pwefer Michael.”
Any sympathy I may have felt for her regarding her handicap had vanished. I suddenly hoped that she would lisp and stutter her way through the rest of dinner.
What is going on here?
I sat quietly as Father pretended to be a young man and flirt with my oldest and dearest friend. I felt sick, sick like a cat that had eaten a bad mouse. In fact, I wanted nothing more than to throw up and go to bed. Surely I had entered a nightmare.
Rising to my feet suddenly, I said, “Please excuse me, Father. I do not feel well. I think I need to rest until this passes.”
“Should I call for the doctor?” my father asked, seeming genuinely concerned about me; it was the first time he had really noticed me at all tonight.
“No, Father.” I pressed the white linen napkin to my lips to prevent myself from becoming ill. “Please enjoy your dinner. I am going to bed. Thank you for the gift.”
“I will walk you up, dear sister.”
“No thank you, Jameson. I can walk just fine.”
“Let your brother help you, Mariana. Jacob, stay right where you are. You promised to read to Claudette, did you not?”
The Ghosts of Summerleigh Collection Page 31
