“You’re absolutely right,” Sam said. “Particles like neutrinos have always existed but we only recently found ways to see them. Ghosts could be a form of energy we don’t know how to see…yet.”
“What about the stuff we can see? What else did you see inside?” Libby asked, leaning in. “I bet the furniture was beautiful.
Maybe some Windsor chairs and a settee with those adorable claws on the legs.”
Sam stared at Libby. “How do you know about that stuff?”
Libby rolled her eyes. “You know, you aren’t the only one in the world who likes information.”
“I guess,” Sam said, rubbing his head. “I just didn’t think you’d care about historical data.”
“Why? Because I’m just a dumb blonde?” Libby teased.
Sam cringed, remembering that was exactly what he’d thought.
Libby laughed it off. “It’s not like I haven’t heard that before. You see, my dad’s an architect and he’s taught me a lot about architecture and furniture styles. I love the old styles. When he does restorations I help him hunt down some stuff, like hinges and molding. We go to lots of auctions and explore abandoned houses looking for usable pieces. That’s why I soooo want to go into Henry Humbolt’s house.”
“We could go back today now that Mr. Henley isn’t dogging us,” Sam suggested.
Eliza shook her head. “You really shouldn’t be sneaking around an old run-down house after nearly drowning.”
Sam sighed. He’d almost forgotten about that.
“That’s okay. Maybe tomorrow,” Libby said picking up the article she’d deciphered.
“Hey,” Rocky said. “What’s that on the back?”
“It’s a copy of our itinerary. I guess I grabbed it with the paper I brought to the office,” Sam said.
Libby flipped over the paper. “Let’s see: snorkeling—check.” She glanced up at Sam. “No mention of near drowning, but I can pencil it in.”
“No. That’s okay. Let’s keep that to ourselves,” Sam said,
then stiffened as the others chuckled.
“Good one,” Rocky said. “I didn’t think you knew how to make a joke.”
Sam relaxed, realizing that joking about nearly drowning
took the edge off it. Or maybe it was from having someone to joke with.
“Moving on then. Lunch. Check. Next, the museum with a presentation by local historian Betty Stover.”
“Stover? As in Bart Stover, seaman first class?” Rocky asked.
“And it’s located in the historic Stover home, originally
owned by Captain Stover,” Libby added.
Sam checked the time on his phone. “It starts in thirty minutes, so let’s eat up.”
Chapter 13
Sam was feeling pretty good, until they headed back out into the bright sunshine. It seemed to suck the energy right out of him. The air was still and soaked with humidity as they walked inland to the Stover house. Sam felt like he was breathing through a sock. But at least he was breathing.
“This place looks fabulous,” Libby said slowing down as they approached the library.
Sam checked his cell phone. “We have ten minutes before the lecture, so we can go in if you want.”
Rocky looked at Sam and raised his eyebrows.
“Those articles Libby deciphered show there’s more to the mystery of the Dragonfly than a missing treasure. If they’re going to help us figure it out, they need all the information they can get. They need to see how Harold lived, and I want to see what they think about the portrait of the brothers.”
“As always, you’re right,” Rocky said leading the way up the wide brick walk and onto the porch. Before he opened the door, Libby reached out and touched the etched glass insets just as Sam had.
“Incredible detail,” she said respectfully.
Their footsteps blended together as they walked across the tile floor towards the portrait. Sam still felt the stares but this time it didn’t bother him so much. Mrs. Madison was nowhere in sight when Eliza stepped up to the circulation desk and contemplated the portrait. “They look almost like twins,” she said looking from brother to brother. “But I just don’t like the looks of the man on the right.”
“Yeah, something about him gives me the willies,” Libby added.
“He’s got that Wild West look to him,” Rocky said. “Like he’d enjoy shooting you if you got in his way.”
“I agree,” Sam said. “That one is Harold, and that’s his daughter Margaret. Henry and Genny are the other pair.”
“Harold’s daughter doesn’t look very comfortable next to him,” Libby said.
Out of the corner of his eye, Sam thought he saw Genny nod in agreement. He looked around at the others, but the look on their faces told him they hadn’t seen anything unusual. Either he was seeing things from swallowing too much salt water, or Genny was trying to give him more information. Sam loved collecting data, but he had no idea where how this data fit into the solution. Regardless, he stored it away hoping it would make more sense later.
Rocky and Eliza walked towards the staircase and Sam followed Libby as she wandered through the front rooms. She was admiring the woodwork around the doors when she realized Sam was behind her. “It’s amazing how much detail they put into the most ordinary things,” she said. “See how each panel matches up exactly with the next one? And look at the scrollwork at the top. It must have been hand carved to make it look like ocean waves. He had a lot of nice things.”
Rocky and Eliza came up behind them. “Gramma used to say that wearing a nice hat doesn’t make you a nice person any more than riding a horse makes you a cowboy.”
“There’s usually a bit of truth in those old sayings,” Eliza said, looking around. “I wonder just how nice Harold really was.”
“Maybe we’ll find an answer at the museum,” Sam said checking his cell phone. “The presentation starts in 5 minutes.”
Sam thought it was even hotter than before as they walked to the museum. His legs seemed to weigh a ton and his feet scraped along the sidewalk as he forced himself forward.
Eliza turned around at the sound. When she saw Sam’s face, she stopped and waited for him to catch up. Libby and Rocky stopped and waited too.
“Sure is hot. I’m having a hard time moving in this heat…and I’m from Texas.”
“It’s the humidity that gets me,” Libby said. “I know it’s always humid in North Carolina, but today seems worse than most days.”
Sam was self-conscious about their concern but comforted too. Something had changed since this morning and it felt good.
“The museum is just two more houses up,” Libby said. “And it should be air conditioned.” They walked on slowly and in just a few moments Libby was reading the plaque on the Stover house. “Established 1775. That means the Stover family was here before the shipping company began. It didn’t get turned into a museum until 1960.”
“It’s a nice enough place,” Rocky said. “How come it doesn’t have a porch? All houses should have a nice front porch to sit on.”
Before Sam could answer, Libby replied. “This home was built more in the style of the houses in colonial Williamsburg. They weren’t into front porches back then.”
Rocky held the door open and Sam sighed with relief as the cool air hit his face.
“Well, well…look what the cat dragged in.”
“Will! What are you doing here?” Sam asked.
Will stood behind the welcome desk and crossed his arms. “I’ve been helping run this place since I was a kid. In fact, it was only a few odds and ends until I found the old letters and stuff in the attic.” He turned sideways so Sam could see the display cases full of clothing and tools and china and jewelry. “I’m thinking this museum probably has almost as many facts as your precious library.”
Sam looked ar
ound, his head pounding. Obviously, he’d misjudged Will too. He wasn’t just a story-teller. He was well educated on history, especially the history of Safe Harbor.
Eliza stepped up to the counter and Will’s cold expression warmed into a smile. “I guess you’re here for Betty’s lecture?”
Eliza nodded.
Will gave Sam one more icy stare and called out, “Betty, your next group is here.”
A crackling sound came from the back room, like someone closing a potato chip bag. The curtain opened to reveal a tall thin woman in her twenties. Her hair curled around her face much like Will’s had at the beach.
“You’re the historian who’s speaking to us today?” Rocky asked.
Betty laughed. “I guess you were expecting someone older, but I have a degree in American history and am working on my Masters,” she said, resting her hands on her hips. “Feel free to look around while I set up the show.”
“I want to buy some postcards of the Humbolt houses,” Libby said turning the postcard racks.
“Postcards?” Sam asked. “There’s got to be something more interesting here than that.” A bluish glow in the far corner caught his attention and he headed towards it with Rocky close behind.
A narrow glass case, lit from the inside, illuminated a collection of various artifacts. On the top shelf was an old pocket watch, random pieces of jewelry, and a collection of crazed and faded sepia photographs. Next to the jewelry was a dark mahogany box with a lighter wood inlay around the edge. The inlay pattern wasn’t the box chain or scroll design Sam was used to seeing. It was unusual, yet somehow familiar. The description card next to it said it came from Harold Humbolt’s house, but had been commissioned by Rebecca Humbolt for her husband Henry on their tenth wedding anniversary.
“Of course,” Sam said, pulling Rocky over. “Look at the pattern on the edge of the box. It’s a sequence of H’s, one upright, the next one lying on its side.”
“It’s a nice box, but it’s no treasure,” Rocky said.
“Cool box,” Libby said as she and Eliza joined them. “And look at the note that was inside.”
“They sure wrote with lots of swirls and twirls back then,” Rocky said.
“It’s pretty faded,” Libby said. “But it looks like it says, ‘Dearest Henry, Let us keep our greatest treasure safe so we can watch it grow and grow. Lovingly, Rebecca.’”
“Sounds a lot like what Henry and Bart said before they died,” Eliza said, remembering the story Will told them on the beach.
“It certainly does,” Sam said. “But there were at least ten years between the events.”
Before Sam could figure out the connection, Betty called for them.
“Ready for y’all.”
Chapter 14
They followed her into a room set up with chairs and a projection screen. Sam sat up front and was surprised when Rocky sat next to him. No one had ever done that unless they wanted to cheat off him. Sam hoped Rocky wasn’t befriending him just to find the treasure. He wanted this friendship to be real.
Betty closed the heavy brocade drapes and flicked on the projection screen. The opening slide was a painting of a ship sailing on calm seas. Her two masts were outfitted with triangular and trapezoidal sails, puffed full with the wind.
“You may recognize this ship as the Dragonfly. She was built by H & H Shipping to aid in privateering.” She clicked to the next slide. “This is a painting of the christening of the Dragonfly. Henry Humbolt is shaking hands with Captain Stover and beside him is his son Bart Stover, who later married Henry’s daughter, Genny. This next slide is a painting of the owners of H &H shipping. Henry was the founder and was later joined by his brother Harold Humbolt. Henry is with his daughter, Genny, and Harold with his daughter, Margaret.”
Rocky squirmed in his seat and his hand shot up like he was in school.
“You have a question?” Betty asked.
“Ma’am,” Rocky asked. “Why do they have their children with them but not their wives?”
“Mrs. Harold Humbolt died in childbirth. Historians presume that because symmetry was an important element of art during that time period, that Henry’s wife Rebecca, was also left out.”
“You don’t sound convinced,” Sam said.
Betty smiled. “Historical reasons are often a best guess when there aren’t any facts to go by.”
“Do you think there was another reason she wasn’t in the painting?” Libby asked.
“There was speculation that Harold and Rebecca didn’t get along. Harold’s opinion of women was not, shall we say, very progressive.”
“What can you tell us about Henry’s house?” Sam asked.
“Y’all seem to know a bit about the Humbolts’ already.”
“Yes, Ma’am. Me and my buddy here were at Mr. Henry’s house and took a look inside.”
“You got close enough to look inside?” Betty asked, the remote slipping through her fingers and hitting the floor.
“Yup, we walked right up to it,” Rocky said.
Betty picked up the remote and peeked outside the door, then softly pushed it closed. She turned on the lights and sat down opposite the group. “Will would strangle me if he heard me talking about this,” she said quietly. “He doesn’t like outsiders poking their noses into what he thinks is our business. But since you’re the only ones who’ve been able to get near Henry’s house since the day Rebecca left, you might be able to help.”
“Us? Help with what?” Rocky asked.
“Figuring out what’s going on over there. After Rebecca left, the house stayed closed up until she passed on. After that people tried to get in to sell it or tear it down, but the closer they got to the house, the stronger this wind got. No one could get within ten feet of the house before the wind knocked them over or pushed them back.”
“I walked closer than that and only felt the ocean breeze,” Sam said.
“That’s why I think there’s something special about you. I couldn’t even get that close and I’m a relative.”
Sam exchanged glances with Rocky. “You’re related to the Humbolts?”
“Yup. Me and my brother Will. Harold’s daughter Margaret married Bart’s brother William Stover. They had a son and so on and so forth. We’re the only relatives left that we know of.” She smoothed out her dress in her lap. “Too bad we’re related to the bad Humbolt brother and the captain who sailed the Dragonfly to her demise. Needless to say, we aren’t very popular in this town even after 200 years.”
“That explains the huge chip on Will’s shoulder,” Sam said, mentally checking off an unanswered question from his list. “The wind explains why Rocky’s hat kept blowing off. But it doesn’t explain where the wind comes from or why it didn’t blow us away like everyone else.”
“A few people have gotten closer than others,” Betty said. “They said it felt like the house was evaluating them and when they didn’t stack up, the wind came up and blew them away.”
“Alright. That means we passed the test,” Rocky said.
“Yes, but what kind of test?” Sam asked.
“There are theories that the house is looking for its heir. Others say it’s looking for someone to right a wrong. There’s even one saying it’s a hoax by the environmentalists to keep the land from being developed,” Betty explained.
“No offense, but I’ve been working on my own theories. Do you have more facts about the Humbolts?” Sam asked.
“Sure. Henry and Rebecca met in Charleston. Henry’s family disapproved of Rebecca because she wasn’t from a prominent family. He married her anyway. By the time Genny was on the way, they’d already moved to Safe Harbor to start their new life together.
“Meanwhile, Harold wasn’t about to be beaten at anything by his younger brother, so he got married and they had Margaret. Harold desperately wanted a son and soon after Margaret was
born his wife was pregnant again. Probably too soon since both she and the baby died in childbirth. Harold didn’t have any use for his daughter and eventually sent her away to live with an aunt. Then, he forced his way into Henry’s shipbuilding company, which became H & H Shipbuilding.”
“Why did Henry let Harold into his business? Eliza asked. “Harold sounds like a mean man.”
“Because Henry was a nice guy. When Harold wanted to work there, he gave him a job. Henry was known for doing good deeds like that. The company grew and prospered and Henry put Harold to work as the liaison to the ports their ships sailed to.”
“Did Harold make more money than Henry?” Rocky asked. “Harold’s house was right fancier than his brother’s.”
“Records show Henry gave him a decent salary, but nothing extravagant,” Betty continued. “Henry was simply a nice decent humble man while Harold was always trying to prove he was better than everyone else.”
Sam recalled the detailed etching in the front doors and the expensive marble fireplace. “He must have spent a lot of money on his house,” Sam said.
“Yes. Supposedly, he had the most extravagant house in the county,” Betty said.
“Harold never remarried?” Libby asked.
“No,” Betty answered. “It seems he replaced people with money and things. He rarely saw his daughter. The painting in the library was commissioned the only summer Margaret spent with her father and that was because of a malaria outbreak in Charleston. The only other time she was here was to bury her father. That’s when she met William Stover.”
“Is Will named after him?” Eliza asked.
Before Betty could answer, the door creaked open.
Will’s eyes narrowed. “Why was the door closed? Is everything okay in here?”
“Yes,” Rocky replied, grabbing a postcard from Libby. “Ms. Betty was just showing us the difference in the architecture on these houses.” He pointed to Henry’s house. “These here windows have a pediment, right Miss Betty?”
Libby took the other postcard. “And that’s the same here on Harold’s house, since they were built during the same time period.”
A Ghostly Twist Page 8
