The stalemate she had with her house and her inability to move on toward a new future did not have anything to do with caring for Elaine or Woodmont. It had to do with Libby.
Margaret had been waiting for the girl to return. And now that her father had passed, she hoped the young woman would sink her roots deep in this valley. Libby being here would be good for everyone.
The tea tasted too bitter. She considered adding more honeysuckle syrup but decided it was not worth the bother.
She tipped her head back, tracing her finger over the chipped edge of her mug as she stared at the stars. “I don’t know where you are right now, Dr. Carter. But if there’s any justice, you’re burning in hell.”
CHAPTER TEN
LIBBY
Tuesday, June 9, 2020
Bluestone, Virginia
Hours before the sun rose, Libby’s eyes popped open, and she was fully awake. She was back in her father’s home and sleeping on the couch in the living room. Glancing at her phone, she confirmed it was 3:24 a.m. Willing herself to enjoy the remaining hours of sleep, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply several times. The harder she tried to sleep, the more awake she felt.
She stared at the tiny luminescent stars that she had glued on the living room ceiling when she was in sixth grade. The stars had annoyed her father, but her mother, who had watched her affix them all, had declared them delightful. By then, he never went against his wife’s wishes, knowing it always led to an argument. So the stars remained. She was surprised now—and a little pleased—they had survived last year’s renovation.
Libby did not have to be at Woodmont until eight. But the longer she stared at the stars, the more worries nibbled at her. Another worst-case list materialized. Elaine forgets she’s hired me. More rain. Overcast skies. All my shots are boring and expose me as the newbie photographer that I really am.
More aggravated with each passing wakeful moment, she finally tossed back her covers and got up. Carefully, she folded the quilt and draped it over the couch.
Grabbing her pillow, she climbed the stairs and carefully placed the pillow on her bed. In the adjoining bathroom, she turned on the shower. As steam rose, she glanced in the mirror at her hollow cheeks and pale skin. On her return home last night, she’d had a few more glasses of wine, making the grand total too much.
No amount of hydration or coffee was going to soften the dark circles or hollow cheeks. “Damn it, Libby.”
She stripped off her oversize T-shirt and stepped under the hot spray, willing it to pummel the stiffness and fatigue from her body. She lathered her hair in rose-scented shampoo and washed with fragrant bodywash. If she did not feel great, she could at least smell good. Twenty minutes later makeup was applied, and she was dressed in black jeans, a loose white T-shirt, and sneakers.
She brewed a pot of coffee and, after filling her cup, moved out to the front porch, where she checked her email on her phone. The tree-lined street was quiet as the nearly full moon hovered just above the horizon.
The emails in her in-box were standard. One client wanted a retouch, complaining her pictures had made her look too heavy. One bride thought she did not look tanned enough and wanted to be photoshopped. There were three new inquiries from potential brides-to-be. And a local real estate group that wanted headshots for the newest members of their million-dollar club. All good for the company, but still boring.
Her mind drifted to the greenhouse covered in moss and dead foliage, concealing a broken fountain and a pack of small animals that had likely lived for generations in the shadows of silence.
She checked the time. Over two hours to go before her appointment. Still, Woodmont was a working farm, and everyone would be up early.
After pouring her morning coffee into her travel mug, she grabbed her cameras and put them all in the back seat of her car. As she started the drive out of town, she tried to script what to say to Elaine and Colton when she arrived two hours early.
Pulling into the long driveway past the twin pillars, she determined her early arrival was attributed to the morning light. For a photographer, it was the purest, and she would capture the best of the greenhouse’s domed roof.
Libby parked in the circular driveway and then climbed out of the car, grabbing her cameras and flashlight from the back seat. She strung two cameras around her neck and, after clicking on the flashlight, retraced the path she had driven with Colton and Elaine yesterday. Trees ripe with foliage blocked most of the remaining moonlight, making it tougher to track.
As she eased down the dark road, she calculated how long it would take for someone to find her if she fell. If her body was on the road, less than a few hours, she thought. If she rolled into a gully, it could be considerably longer. After doing the calculations, she moved closer to the middle of the road, knowing rescue crews would have a better chance of finding her and getting an ambulance to the scene so she could be carted to the trauma center in Charlottesville.
Too curious about the greenhouse, she pushed aside fear and followed the glow of the flashlight. The dark road narrowed as it sloped toward the river. The dirt, now mud from last night’s rain, stuck to her shoes, staining the sides as she left impressions of her footsteps.
“Damn it.”
The morning air was already warm, and by the time she saw the structure, her shirt was damp. The sun was nearing the horizon and bringing with it streaks of gold and orange light.
She angled her body through the open door and moved to the center of the greenhouse. Enveloped by the thick, moist air, she shut off her flashlight and tucked it in her back pocket. She snapped a few pictures of the dome but knew with one glance into her viewfinder the light was not right yet. Good photographers understood the right moment could not be rushed, and if captured, patience and speed were essential.
Seconds grew into minutes as the sun shyly nudged up over the sloping eastern horizon. The hints of light were brilliant.
She moved to the fountain and raised her camera to the dome. She clicked once or twice and glanced at the image. The right time was close. Water dripped, an animal scurried, and somewhere a glass pane rattled slightly in the breeze.
The air thickening, she sensed someone was standing behind her. She turned, expecting to see Colton or Elaine, ready with a babbling explanation about timing and light.
But no one was there. There was only the whisper of wind in the trees that stirred an odd sensation within her.
“Don’t be silly,” she whispered to herself.
And then, as if a curtain on a magnificent stage had opened, the sun tipped above the horizon and made its entrance. Orange and yellow light kissed the glass dome and expanded into a rainbow of colors. Her mind calmed as she raised her camera, knowing she would get the shot.
She rapidly snapped images, quickly checking the position in her viewfinder before shooting until the sun’s first light was spent. When she finally lowered the camera, she was slightly breathless with excitement. Satisfied that she had something special, she was glad she had pushed beyond the day’s rough start.
The sunlight illuminated the pane of glass etched with Sadie’s name. She crossed to it and ran her fingers over the rough edges.
“Sadie, are you the one haunting this place?” Of course, she did not expect an answer, but when a tree limb outside cracked and fell to the ground, she took that as a yes and hurried outside.
The morning sun made for an easy return journey up the hill toward her car. Ahead, light glowed from the last and largest of the cabins. She knew Colton and his sons lived on the property, and unless there was another family here, it had to be his house. Curious, she kept walking toward his cabin, uncaring that it might look off if Colton saw her.
As she approached his house, the front door opened, and Colton stepped out onto the porch. He scanned the dawn, his face tight with suspicion, as if he had sensed that something in his sphere did not belong. His gaze settled on her.
“Good morning,” she said quickly. Her voice,
still rusty with sleep, sounded graveled. She cleared her throat.
“Libby, you’re early.”
“I wanted to see the greenhouse at dawn.”
“Why?”
“The light. It’s always a little magical this time of day.”
Rising early for the sake of magic seemed to amuse him. “Magical?”
“Yeah. It was special. It’s a stunning structure. I can see why Elaine wants to save it.”
“This is my favorite time of day,” he said. “I’m drawn by the solitude. The calm before the storm.”
“I’m convinced the two are intertwined,” Libby replied.
He grinned. “I’ve fresh coffee brewed if you’d like a cup. The boys are still asleep for another half hour. No chaos, I promise.”
She stepped toward him, feeling another tremor of excitement. “The boys aren’t so chaotic.”
He held the door open as she climbed the steps to the wide front porch. “Then you must be hard of hearing or a saint.”
This close she could see his hair was still damp from the shower, and the scent of soap clung to his skin. A tingle warmed her belly.
The cabin was large and spacious but simply decorated with a worn overstuffed couch, a recliner, and a wide-screen television. Kids’ shoes lined up neatly on the hearth, hats dangled from hooks on a rack by the door, and wall space was filled with pictures of the boys. There were no pictures of Colton and the boys’ mother.
“How long have you lived here?” She followed him toward the small kitchen.
“Two years now.” He filled a cup and held it up. “I have milk and sugar.”
“Black is fine.” She accepted the warm earthenware mug. “And you like living in the country?”
“I was afraid I’d hate it,” he said. “But it made sense for the boys having my mom close. Now I love it as much as she does.”
She sipped her coffee. She was happy for him and the boys. Always best to enjoy the smooth waters while you could, because choppy ones lurked over the horizon. The seas in her life had been so full of gale-force winds the last few years she welcomed even a small respite.
Her gaze rested on Colton’s forearm and the T-shirt snug over a full bicep.
“Crews arrive at eight. They’re removing the contents and stripping away all the vines on the outside.”
“Shame to see the honeysuckle go.”
“It’s tangled up in the ivy that’s eating into the stone foundation. I’m betting there’ll be plenty of repointing with fresh mortar. Once all that is done, we’ll shift to the glass.”
“You’re moving fast.”
“That’s Elaine. Once she sets her mind to something, it’s full steam ahead.”
“I’m very intrigued about what story it’ll tell.”
“That’s almost exactly how Elaine put it. She can’t wait to figure out why her grandparents suddenly closed it up.”
“It would have cost a fortune to build it. So whatever reason they had for walking away must have been powerful.”
“Hopefully, we’ll figure it out.”
“Is Elaine like this with all the projects?” She was intensely curious about Elaine.
He regarded her over the rim of his cup. “I’ve only worked with her here for a couple of years. She’s owned Woodmont for at least twenty-five years, and Mom said she had little interest in the place until recently. I’m glad she’s tackling the renovations. Old places like this deserve full attention.”
“Does she spend a lot of time here?”
“Since January, a few days a week.”
“Do you think she’ll make this an event space?”
“I hope she does. It’ll ease the money situation, and Woodmont deserves to be admired.”
She swirled her cup as more questions churned. “I’m curious,” she said. “Nosy, as my mother used to say.”
A slight smile tipped the edges of his lips. She noticed a tiny remnant of shaving cream below his sideburns and was so tempted to reach up and brush it away. She would have done exactly that with Jeremy.
Instead, she drank coffee, wondering if she should drive home and take a cold shower.
Small footsteps hit the floor in one of the bedrooms, and then came the steady stream in the toilet. There was a flush and a turning on of the tap. Seconds later, Sam appeared. His hair was sticking up, and a black Batman T-shirt skimmed his knees.
“Dad,” he said, yawning.
Colton set down his cup. “Hey, buddy.”
Sam yawned again and then rubbed his eyes, his gaze now locking on Libby. “What are you doing here?”
“Having coffee,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Oh.” The boy padded across the floor and scrambled up on the barstool beside hers. “That’s Jeff’s chair.”
“I’ll be sure to move when he gets up,” she said.
“He never lets me sit in that chair.” Sam scratched his belly.
Colton filled one of the bowls with oat cereal and then milk before setting it in front of Sam. “Eat up, pal. Is your brother awake?”
Sam scooped out a large spoonful of cereal. Milk dripped on the countertop. “I don’t know.”
Colton shifted his attention to Libby. “Be right back.”
“Take your time.”
Colton vanished around the corner, and she could hear the low rumble of his voice mingling with the crunch of Sam’s cereal.
“Did you have a sleepover?” Sam asked.
Libby looked at the child, realizing quickly the meaning of his words. “I didn’t sleep here last night. I slept at my house.”
Sam sniffed and rubbed his nose. “Are you Dad’s girlfriend?”
She sipped her coffee, feeling her cheeks flush a little. “We just met.”
“Oh.” He took a second bite and regarded her closely. “Do you know Elaine well?”
“I just met her too,” she said. “But I like her.”
“Oh.”
“I like you, Sam.”
“But we just met last night,” he said with a puzzled expression.
“Sometimes it works that way.”
The toilet flushed, and seconds later Colton appeared with a fully dressed Jeff. His hair had been dampened and combed, but a thick black cowlick stuck up in the back.
“She’s in your chair, Jeff,” Sam announced.
“It’s okay,” Colton said.
Jeff looked up at his dad, as if the boy would argue. And then, catching a slight look of warning, he said, “It’s okay.”
Libby rose up out of the seat, sensing that she was intruding on their morning routine. “That’s very nice of you, Jeff, but I’m tired of sitting. Take your seat.” And then to Colton, she said, “I didn’t mean to intrude on your breakfast.”
“You’re not. Nothing exciting happening here this time of day.” Colton inspected Sam’s empty bowl. “Wrap it up, pal. And then put on the clothes I laid out on your bed.”
Sam took another bite, chewing slowly as he regarded Libby. “Dad, is she your girlfriend?”
“No, pal.”
“Sam and I just had this discussion,” Libby said. “He isn’t taking my word for it.”
“He doesn’t take anybody’s word for anything,” Colton said, amused. “I’m convinced he’s going to be a lawyer or a policeman when he grows up.”
Sam grinned at Libby. “I could carry a badge.”
“Yes, you could,” Colton said.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” Sam asked.
“Sam,” Colton warned. “Enough with the third degree.”
Jeff scooted into his chair. His body relaxed a fraction as Colton set a cereal bowl in front of him and then pulled two brown-bag lunches out of the refrigerator. Each boy’s name was written in neat block letters.
When Libby was a kid, her mother had often overslept, and her father had always been working. Being the best pediatrician in the area had left little time for his own family. Breakfast had generally been a banana or a piece of fruit as they had
hustled out the door. Lunch had been from whatever money her mother could scrounge from her wallet or sometimes the bottom of her purse. She had never gone without, but there had been no routine.
“You’re very organized,” Libby said.
“Blame it on the navy.”
“It’s good,” she said. “Chaos can be draining when you’re a kid.”
“Sounds like experience talking.”
“Most of my life has been a little unorganized. Hoping small-town living will tamp it down a notch or two. Once I get past the next two weddings, the plan is to set up my old photography equipment stored in Dad’s shed.” How many months had she been making that promise to herself?
Outside, the dogs barked. The sounds grew louder and louder until she heard the thud of footsteps on the porch and then a knock on the door.
“I thought Kelce and Sarge were your dogs.”
“They are. But when Elaine’s at the big house alone, she likes to have them sleep in her room.”
The barking grew louder.
“The day has arrived,” Colton said. He crossed the small living room and opened the door to Elaine.
She wore jeans, a dark-blue sleeveless shirt, and work boots. Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail, and a splash of rouge added much-needed color.
“Good morning,” Colton said. “Looks like everyone is ready to get to work on the greenhouse.”
Libby stood. “Morning.”
“Libby?” Elaine asked, clearly puzzled.
“I decided to come early this morning,” she added a little too quickly as she set her coffee cup down. “I thought the light might be better at dawn.”
“You should have called me. I would have gone with you,” Elaine said.
“It was so early.”
“I’m a terrible sleeper,” Elaine said. “Knock on the front door anytime, and there’s a ninety-nine percent chance that I’m awake.”
“Sure. Okay.”
“Ladies,” Colton said. “I’ve got to get the boys ready for school.”
“Which means we need to get out of his hair,” Elaine said, smiling. “Libby, come up to the main house, and I’ll give you a tour while Colton wrangles the boys.”
Honeysuckle Season Page 11
