by Wendy Webb
Kevin finally admitted to the affair and confessed that, perhaps, married life just wasn’t for him. He had been itching for something new soon after they had walked down the aisle, and Valerie had not been the first.
In the end, they parted—if not as friends, then as friendly as possible. Kate’s heart was still bruised by their failed love story and by his actions, but she knew, down deep, that it was simply his way. That’s who Kevin was—a man who loved the thrill of a new relationship but got bored with maintaining one. She couldn’t ask him to be someone he wasn’t, nor could she be surprised when his true nature came out.
He stood to leave, and Kate threw her arms around him, pulling him into a hug. “I loved you, Kevin, I really did,” she said, her voice wavering. “And I wish nothing but the best for you.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her ear, his own voice cracking with emotion.
They stood there for a long moment, holding each other. And then he walked away, Kate watching until he disappeared from view, not knowing if she would ever again see the man she, at one time, believed she’d grow old with. She didn’t know what the future would hold, and she never knew that he wouldn’t marry again until very late in life, and that on his deathbed, Kate’s name would be on his lips.
Meanwhile, renovations had begun in earnest on the third floor. As the workmen were refinishing the wood floors, installing bathroom fixtures, painting, and coming and going with furniture and window treatments, Kate was busy finding and framing photos of the past.
Simon had taken the photo of Addie, Jess, Harrison, and Celeste—the one that had ultimately led them to the truth about what had happened all those years ago—to a local artist, who painted a portrait of Addie and Jess using the photo as a guide. Simon intended to hang it over the fireplace on the third floor, newly dubbed Addie’s Ballroom.
One snowy night, Kate opened the door to find Nick holding a bottle of wine in one hand, a bouquet of flowers in the other.
“Wherever did you get lilacs at this time of year?” Kate asked, taking the flowers from him and lifting them to her face to drink in the scent, which would forever remind her of Addie and Jess.
“I have my ways.” Nick smiled and pulled Kate into a kiss. They lingered there, on the doorstep, snow lightly falling around them, the delicate chill in the air caressing their cheeks.
“I like your ways,” Kate said, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.
“I knew we’d be christening Addie’s Ballroom tonight, and I thought lilacs would be a nice way to honor her,” Nick said.
Kate’s eyes lit up. “Wait until you see it,” she said. “I’m so glad I didn’t let you up there during renovations until the big reveal tonight. It’s really gorgeous.”
She took him by the hand and led him inside the house, where they found Simon and Jonathan in front of the fire in the living room.
“The long arm of the law has arrived,” Simon said, flashing Nick a smile. “Welcome, Detective.”
“Thank you, citizen,” Nick said. “But I have to tell you, I’ve been here for all of two minutes, and I do not have a drink in hand. I think that’s a felony in some counties.”
“Shoddy hosting,” Jonathan said, crossing the room to pour a pint of Scottish ale and handing it to Nick with a wink. “It’ll get you two to four years, hard time.”
And the evening had begun. The four of them chatted over drinks for a bit, then retreated to the dining room for a dinner of salad, boeuf en croûte, roasted brussels sprouts, and red potatoes. Dessert and champagne were to be served upstairs in the ballroom.
A feeling of celebration wafted through the air—the inclusion of Addie and Jess in the history of Harrison’s House with the completion of Addie’s Ballroom just felt right.
But not all the occupants of Harrison’s House felt the same. As Kate, Simon, Jonathan, and Nick made their way through dinner, a storm was brewing on the third floor.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
“I can’t wait for you to see it,” Kate said to Nick as the four of them made their way up to the third floor. “It all came together so—” But her words stopped and hung in the air as they all walked through the doorway into the ballroom.
Most of the photos that Kate had painstakingly chosen and had framed were now on the floor, their glass panes shattered. Furniture was upended. Champagne bottles, which had been chilling on ice, were cracked and lying in a pool of still-bubbling liquid. One had been thrown against the wall, a wet stain spreading out over the fresh paint. Several of the new window shades were torn down, and the doors to the turrets were standing open, signaling that the carnage had spread there.
“No!” Kate cried as she noticed the portrait of Addie and Jess sizzling in the fireplace, their faces melting in the flames. She rushed toward it and grabbed the frame, only to drop it again, its heat burning her hands.
Nick was at her side in an instant with the ice bucket. “Here,” he said, guiding her hands into the slush.
Kate could sense a presence, the same one she had encountered in this room weeks before, a malevolence that seemed to permeate every corner, every alcove. It was a blackness that seemed to grow as her fear grew, stronger with every beat of her heart.
None of them was able to find any words. It seemed that they were frozen, looking around the room that was in shambles, unable to process what they were seeing. It wasn’t until the only photo still hanging on the wall flew across the room and hit Kate directly in the forehead that they were startled out of whatever it was that entranced them.
“Okay, we’re getting out of here,” said Nick, pushing Kate toward the stairs and dropping the ice bucket in the process. He turned to Simon and Jonathan, still staring in stunned silence. “Move, you two.”
The four of them hurried out of the room, almost tripping over each other, and didn’t stop until they were on the first floor, breathless and panting.
“My God,” Simon said, staring at Kate’s forehead. “Jonathan, run and get a washcloth.”
As Nick guided her to the sofa in the living room, Kate reached up to her forehead and felt a trickle of blood with her shaking, stinging hands.
“What was that all about?” Nick said, taking the cloth from Jonathan and holding it to Kate’s forehead. “What happened up there?”
Simon sat down in one of the armchairs next to the fireplace with a thud, shaking his head. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, unsure of words to describe what he had seen.
“Obviously, somebody broke in,” Jonathan mused. “But who? Who would do such a thing?”
“When is the last time any of you were up on the third floor?” Nick asked, looking from Kate to Simon to Jonathan and back again.
Kate just shook her head. Simon ran a hand through his hair.
“It was earlier today,” Jonathan said. “For me, at least. I ran up there to put some champagne on ice not long before you got here. Five o’clock, maybe?”
“And everything was—”
“Fine. Perfect. Just as it should be.”
“Was anybody coming and going since then? Workmen? Employees? Hotel guests? Nobody heard anything?”
Jonathan shook his head. “Nobody. Charles left as soon as the dinner was served, and we don’t have any guests, not tonight.”
Nick stood up. “Can you show me the back or side doors?” he said to Jonathan. “Any other entrances, first floor and basement windows, that sort of thing. Fire escapes.”
Nick rubbed Kate’s shoulder as he examined her wound. “I don’t think it needs stitches. You just stay here and tend to that head. I’m going to take a look around.”
She covered his hand with hers. “Thank you,” she said.
When Nick and Jonathan had left the room, she turned to Simon. “I think we both know this wasn’t any workman.”
Simon leaned forward. “Do you think it’s that same—whatever it was—that attacked you on the third floor?”
“What other explanation could the
re be?” Kate said.
They exchanged glances. “You said that the only spirits in this house are family,” Kate said. “You don’t think—”
“Yes, I do. I was thinking exactly the same thing.” Simon lowered his voice. “Celeste . . . ?”
“She’s the only one who would be upset that Addie’s memory is being kept alive, that the truth about the babies and Addie’s death is finally out in the open. We can’t be sure, but I think it’s her.”
Simon let out a sigh. “I haven’t told Jonathan about your experience up there while he was away,” he mused. “I guess now’s the time.”
“The portrait of Jess and Addie,” Kate wailed, covering her face with the washcloth.
“He’s just going to have to paint another one, that’s all there is to it,” Simon said. “I didn’t think he captured her eyes, anyway.”
Kate dabbed at the cut on her forehead and noticed the blood was lessening. “I don’t know what we’re supposed to do now,” she said.
“Well, I know one thing,” Simon said, pushing himself to his feet and walking to the sideboard to pour himself a Scotch. “We can’t have that hateful shrew up there wreaking havoc with our new ballroom. What if it happens when it’s full of guests? I just won’t have it, Kate. She has to go.”
“Agreed,” Kate said, setting the washcloth on the end table and joining him at the sideboard, her stomach tightening. “But how in the world do we go about getting her out of here?”
“Getting who out of where?” It was Jonathan, along with Nick, back from their tour of the house.
“Did you find anything?” Kate asked, knowing that what had just happened was not the result of a break-in.
Nick shook his head. “This place is tight as a drum. There’s no way anyone got in or out, unless they walked through the front door. And we’d have seen or heard them if they did.”
Kate shot Simon a look. “Then I think you guys had better sit down,” she said.
An hour later, Kate and Nick were walking in clockwise circles through the ballroom, carrying a smoldering bunch of sage, which was giving off a thick, aromatic smoke.
Kate had explained her previous paranormal experiences to Nick and Jonathan, who had jumped onto the computer to research “how to get a ghost out of your house.” He found a treasure trove of ghost-busting information, and they decided to use it all.
While Kate and Nick were dealing with the sage, Jonathan was spreading salt across the doorways, windowsills, and stairs leading to the third floor, and Simon was anointing those same areas with oil. Kate would’ve preferred to have Alaska by her side, but she decided to keep the dog downstairs, away from the smoke, the salt, and the oil.
When they had done it all, Kate looked around the room. “Now what?” she said.
“This one’s new to me, kids,” Nick said, shrugging.
“Is this all there is to it?” Simon wanted to know. “Are we supposed to do anything else?”
Jonathan was squinting at the screen on his phone. “It says here we should address her. The spirit.”
“Address her?” Simon furrowed his brow.
“Talk directly to her,” Jonathan said, still looking at the phone. “Tell her what you want.”
“Just like that? Evict her like a troublesome houseguest?”
Jonathan looked up. “That’s what it says here.”
“I think it should be you,” Simon whispered loudly to Kate.
“Me?”
Simon pointed to her forehead. “You’re the one experiencing all of this weirdness. It’s all directed at you, Kate. You need to be the one to tell her to go.”
She knew he was right. “Okay,” she said. “Here goes.” Kate cleared her throat. “Great-Grandmother Celeste Connor, who lived and died in this house, please leave us in peace. We’ve put a lot of work into restoring this house to the beautiful mansion you built. Please know that we will honor your memory in this place.”
She shrugged, not knowing what else to say. Kate looked around the room.
“Does anybody feel anything?” Kate asked. “Any presence at all?”
“Like I said, this is new to me,” Nick said. “I’m still thinking about a real-life intruder, if you want to know the truth.”
Jonathan and Simon exchanged a glance. “I don’t feel anything,” Simon said. “Is she gone, do you think?”
“No idea,” Jonathan said, putting a hand on Simon’s shoulder. “But maybe we should call it a night.”
As Kate flipped off the main light switch and the foursome descended the stairs for the second time that evening, nobody noticed Harrison sitting on the turret steps, his arm around a young Hadley’s shoulders.
“Sage, smudging.” Harrison sighed. “If only it were as simple as that, Hadley, my dear.” He shook his head. “I think it’s time we call in the big guns. Death hasn’t changed her at all. She’s still as stubborn as she always was.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Kate opened her eyes with a start and took in a quick breath. What was that noise? Scratching? She sat up and listened, but all she heard was the soft hiss of the steam radiators, which had come to life because of the chill in the air.
She looked around the room—nothing was amiss. The fire that Simon had set in her room’s fireplace had burned down, and all that was left now were gently glowing coals casting a soft light around the bedroom and strange shadows on the walls.
Her door was slightly ajar. Alaska, she thought. Sometimes the dog nosed out of the room at night in search of her water dish or to patrol the house, both of which were fine with Kate.
Nick was sleeping in the next room. When they had finished “ghost-busting,” he had called the precinct and asked a squad on duty to watch the house, still convinced a real-life intruder had trashed the ballroom. As he was readying to go, Kate tugged on his jacket and asked if he would spend the night.
Nick looked slightly stunned. “I thought we were taking it slow.”
Kate laughed, and Simon and Jonathan muffled their own chuckles. “I wasn’t giving you keys to the fantasy suite,” she said. “I was just thinking we all might feel safer tonight with a big, strong policeman under our roof.”
“Oh.” Nick ran a hand through his hair. “In that case, I—”
“We have an entire house full of empty guestrooms,” Simon said as he turned Jonathan toward their master suite. “If you choose to stay, feel free to take your pick. Charles will be here to make breakfast in the morning for all of us. Good night, kids.”
“I can make a call to get someone to walk Queenie,” Nick said, a slight smile on his face.
And with that, Kate and Nick were alone. They had spent the next hour or so in the living room, talking about the evening, sharing kisses, and staring into the fire that was blazing away in the fireplace. When Kate had started to nod off, Nick’s arm around her, her head on his shoulder, he nudged her awake.
“I think it’s time to go up,” he said, stealing one last kiss by the fire.
He led her up to her second-floor room, Hadley’s Suite, and they stopped at the door, Nick leaning against its frame.
Kate draped her arms around his neck. “I’d love to invite you inside,” she whispered.
He smiled. “I’d feel better about it if I knew Mr. and Mr. Busybody weren’t down the hall.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Kate smiled. “If we emerged from the same room in the morning, they’d demand a play-by-play.”
“We would not!” came a voice from down the hallway.
Kate and Nick shared a laugh, and he kissed her good night. “If you hear anything, I’m in the next room.”
“Okay,” she’d said and slipped inside her room, shutting the door behind her.
Now, Kate snuggled back down under the covers and exhaled, thinking of the man in the next room and wishing he was lying beside her. She watched the shadows play on the walls for a bit and then closed her eyes, not realizing that the coals in her fireplace were too small to
cast shadows.
An hour later, Nick found Kate cowering in the corner of one of the turret rooms above the third floor, a massive dog standing over her, growling. Nick had awakened because of Alaska’s barking and followed the sound up to the third floor. Jonathan and Simon pounded up the stairs a few moments later.
“Alaska!” Nick yelled. “Down! Down, girl!”
But the dog didn’t move. Her yellow eyes were trained on Kate’s face, a fierce snarl coming from the dog’s throat, her teeth bared.
Nick tried to reach Kate, but the dog stood in his way, a low growl warning him off.
“Kate! What—”
It was then he noticed Kate’s demeanor, as though she didn’t even know the dog—or he—was there.
Instead of the bright hazel in her eyes, Kate’s pupils were black. She was staring off into space, her arms crooked as though she was holding a baby.
“She cries so,” Kate said, in a paper-thin voice not her own. “I cannot get her to stop crying! Why won’t she sleep?”
“Kate,” Nick called to her. “Kate, it’s me. Look at me, Katie.”
“That’s not Kate,” Simon whispered, reaching for Jonathan’s arm. “Alaska would never growl at Kate.”
“Hush, little baby, don’t you cry . . . ,” Kate sang in a whisper.
“Let me try,” Simon said to Nick. He nodded.
“Celeste,” Simon said, his voice wavering. “Celeste, what have you done?”
At this, Kate’s head snapped in Simon’s direction. “What have you done?” she said to him, slowing pushing herself up to a standing position. “This is all your fault.” But she wasn’t looking at Simon. She was looking beyond him, down the turret steps into the empty ballroom below. Simon didn’t realize Harrison was standing there. “You brought her into this house. My house. I want her out. She’s not a Connor.”
Simon, Nick, and Jonathan watched as Kate tumbled—or more exactly, was thrown—down the turret steps, Alaska barking ferociously at her heels. Kate landed with a thud on the ballroom floor.
