Chapter 9
Lesley applied a green tea mask to her face and pulled down the covers on her new mattress. The Christmas tree pajamas she donned were a little out of season, but her favorite. The soft cotton balanced her. Not to mention, they were the only pair left that were somewhat clean. How in the world the appliance store could be out of washing machines was beyond her. Back order. Something she would have to get used to living in such a rural town.
There were a lot of things she would have to get used to. Being in such a big house, for one. Working with John every day and his moods, along with having new roommates.
Nothing in her life seemed normal.
At least the worn fabric against her legs gave her that warm, fuzzy feeling she’d longed for and missed over the past several weeks with all of life’s changes. And because the new window unit blew out blessed cold air, she could wear her old friends, and get a good night’s sleep at the same time.
Clang! Crash!
The sudden noise made her jump, and she darted her focus to the door.
Did Bakersville have a high crime rate? Something she should have checked out before she moved here.
Shoving her feet in her house shoes, she grabbed the closest weapon—an umbrella. Her hands shook as she gently crept into the hallway, careful not to step on any of the creaky boards. At the staircase, she glanced up. No lights shown from the hallway near Bea and Leo’s room…but a yellow haze glowed from the kitchen.
Lesley braced her back against the wall and silently extended her umbrella. Her heart hammered in her chest as she exuded all her will power not to wet herself. If there really was an intruder in the house, an umbrella might not do much damage. But maybe if she caught them off guard, a good whack could knock them out. Or, if she were lucky, maybe one of the spokes would catch him in the eye and temporarily blind him while she rushed to grab Bea and Leo to make their great escape.
Whispered voices came from behind the wall she leaned against. Two intruders? Pulse racing, she fully extended her arms up and back, holding the parasol like a bat.
Breathe. You can do this.
Rounding the corner, she jumped into a ninja stance, umbrella at the ready and screamed, “Hiya!”
A long arm came out and blocked her weapon as if she had aimed a cotton swab at them.
“What the heck are you doing?” John protected Bea with his body.
Lesley examined her umbrella, the pole bent in half. “Protecting me and my own.” She thrust the crooked parasol at him. “What are you doing here?”
“I forgot my phone.” He held up his cell. “Ms. Bea let me in. We were trying to be quiet, but Angel had other plans.”
Glass shards from a coffee mug littered the floor, while the cat lay under the kitchen table, licking his paws as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
Her heart rate slowly lowered. “You scared the living snot out of me. It’s late.”
“Yeah, well, I needed my phone. Sorry.” He placed the device in his pocket.
If he was here so late, where were his children? “Where are your kids? Shouldn’t they be asleep?”
“They are asleep. Emma is watching them until I get back home.” He drew his brows together and leaned in closer. “What’s all over your face?”
“My face?” She moved her head back a little to put space between her and his intrusive stare as she raised her hand to her cheek. Grit covered her fingertips. “Oh, it’s a mask.”
“A mask for what?”
“You know,” she said matter of fact, “to help me be pretty.”
“How does applying dirt all over your face make you pretty?”
Apparently, he didn’t know, from the way he stood there, staring at her like she was a lunatic. Maybe his wife hadn’t needed facemasks.
Heat crept up her neck, daring to rise to her cheeks. He’d seen her trip, blush over him, and now grit-faced and doing ninja moves. All in the same day.
End.
This day needed to end.
Now.
She ducked her chin. “Oh, forget it.”
“Okay, I will. I have to get going, anyway. See you tomorrow, princess. Good night, Ms. Bea.” He leaned to kiss the old lady on her leathered cheek.
Her housemate hugged John back. “Good night.”
How could he be so nice to Bea and so…annoying to me? Lesley marched behind him to the front door and shook the broken pole at him. “You owe me an umbrella.”
“You think so? And just what exactly did you plan on doing with that thing?”
“I don’t know. I thought I should have some sort of weapon.”
“A weapon, huh?” He glanced over her pajamas. “You hoping for snow?”
How dare he poke fun at her pajamas? Her favorite pajamas. She bristled and gave him a cross stare. “I think it’s time for you to go.”
“I’m leaving, but let me give you a tip, princess.”
He leaned in closer, invading her personal space. That stupid, warm shiver tingled through her again, and she refused to enjoy the heat of his body so close to hers. “Yeah?” She cocked her head and stood her ground. “What’s that?”
“Invest in a bat, and next time…”
His lips came extremely close to her lobe, and she sucked in a breath.
“Swing low,” he finished in a whisper before pulling back. “Just make sure it’s not me you’re swinging at, and maybe wear something a little more menacing than Christmas pajamas. No one’s afraid of an elf.”
Into the tense silence, a sudden, elongated horn blasted through the still night like a cruise ship dared to plow through the manor. Lesley dropped the umbrella and grabbed her chest with one hand, gripping John with the other, digging her fingers into his arm. “What is that?”
“The night train,” Bea offered from the kitchen. “It’s been coming through here for nearly a hundred years. The tracks butt up to the edge of the property line.”
The glass on the windowpanes above Lesley’s head rattled, threatening to pop loose from the century-old putty keeping them in place. “It sounds like it’s about to blow through the house.”
“You’re nice and safe inside,” John placated.
The last round of vibrations rumbled through her chest. “Why didn’t it come through last night?”
“Never comes through on a Thursday night,” Bea said with a shrug.
John removed her hand and shook his arm. “Now that I have feeling back in the top half of my arm, I should probably be going.”
“Oh.” She stood tall again and pulled her shoulders back, hoping to mask her moment of fear. “Yes, well…good night.” She held the door open for him.
“’Night, elf.” John turned for the door then stopped and glanced back at her. “And another thing…”
Lord, will this man never leave? “What?”
“Take that dirt off your face. You’re better looking without it.” He tapped a finger to her nose and walked out. Before she shut the door, he hollered back, “You better work on your ninja skills, too, if you really want to scare someone.”
Irksome man. She slammed the door as he hopped in his truck. More baubles fell from the small sofa table and shattered. Glass shards scattered all over the floor. “Crap.”
Bea turned on a tableside lamp and bent to retrieve the mess.
“No, here. Let me.” Lesley grabbed for the woman’s frail hand and stopped her.
“I’ll get a can and a broom.” The housekeeper shuffled to retrieve the small wastebasket and sweeper still in the corner from earlier.
Lesley gently lifted the big shards and placed them in the offered trash can. “Bea, why are you still up?” She grabbed the broom and swept. “It’s getting late. Go on to bed.”
“Naw, that’s okay. Leo, he’s snoring. He’s enjoying that new air conditioner you got us. But besides his snoring, that bed’s not comfortable. I like to sleep out here on the couch.”
For the first time, she noticed the thin pillow and blanket on the sofa and wanted to smack herself with the handle of the broom. Obviously their bed wasn’t comfortable. If her aunt didn’t have a good mattress for herself, then why would the help’s be any better?
“Well, not tonight, you’re not.” Lesley propped the broom against the wall and placed her hands on her hips. “You’re sleeping in my room.”
“No, miss. I can’t do that.”
“Yes you can, and you will.” She took the lady’s wrinkled hand and pulled her down the hall. “Go on. I’ll take the couch.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Bea patted her hand. “You’re mighty kind.”
“It’s Lesley. Now, go on to bed.” She ushered the housekeeper toward her bedroom.
The frail woman continued down the hall; her pale pink slippers slid against the wooden planks as her matching nightgown shuffled between her slender legs.
Once Lesley finished cleaning the mess, she placed the basket and broom next to the fireplace. The letter from Milton still sat on the mantle, next to her aunt’s Bible. She reached for it and made her way to the sofa. Making herself comfortable, she fluffed the old couch cushion, and a cloud of dust billowed in her face. As she’d already given up her bed, it was too late to go and retrieve her pillow.
She sighed, settled in on the sofa, and ripped open the envelope from the lawyer. A vintage, brass-plated key fell onto her chest. The top had a circle of scrollwork while the barrel only contained one tooth. She turned the key over to find the initials SWT etched on the back. Who or what was SWT?
Reaching back into the envelope, she pulled out an old, slightly yellowed piece of paper and unfolded the note. An unsteady scrawl scripted the page.
Dear Lesley,
If you are reading this, it is because you have decided to stay at the manor. Good choice.
I am sure you have many questions by now, and you may be wondering why I have lived most of my life as what some would call a recluse.
All of your questions, you now hold the key to the answers. You will understand all in good time.
Best of luck,
Aunt Myrtle
What did that mean? She hadn’t heard from her aunt in years, and the only form of communication the lady had left behind was a mysterious letter? Maybe Myrtle was a bit different, as John had called her.
Lesley held the brass up to the light and examined it. The key wouldn’t fit into any normal lock. She imagined it wouldn’t fit in any other lock in the world beside the one it was made to open.
She shifted her legs and the Bible fell to the hardwood floor, making a loud plop. Her finger touched the clasp as she bent to retrieve the heavy book.
The key fit the Bible’s lock. She shoved the one toothed, brass stick into the hole.
The fastener didn’t budge.
There were two buttons on the lock—one on the top and one on the bottom. Lesley pushed down on the knobs with her fingers and the clasp popped open. The Bible wasn’t locked at all.
So, what does the key belong to?
Inside the old book, thin sheets of paper had been inserted. Journal entries. She flipped through the old pages, checking to see where Myrtle’s letters had been placed. Pages were added all the way from Genesis to Revelations. The edges were cut to match that of the scripture, so when the book was closed, nothing looked amiss.
Curious, she found the first entry and positioned the Bible to read…