Dreams of Fire (Maple Hill Chronicles Book 1) (18 page)

“Yes, but it was the norm for the time,” Marianne pointed out, curious at Kelly’s emphatic reaction.

“I know. I don’t have to like it, though,” Kelly said moodily.

Marianne looked at her curiously.

Sarah said matter-of-factly, ladling a small second helping of potatoes onto her plate, “Kelly and I had a past life regression done on us once. In one of her past lives she was a really talented artist, could draw and paint anything, and she gave it all up to get married because her parents insisted.”

Marianne’s eyebrows went up in disbelief, and she was suddenly reminded of that morning’s conversation with a certain handyman. She drew them down again and thought, why should past lives be peculiar? They believe in them, so the least I can do is give them the benefit of the doubt. She tried to imagine the beautiful Kelly as an artist, working with paint on canvas. Marianne could more easily see her as the model. Instead she said aloud, “It’s not the same, but you are an artist with people’s hair.”

Kelly shrugged. “I don’t have an ounce of talent with a brush or pencil now. But you’re right, I do like being creative with hair, and I like to take photos sometimes. Still, what a waste in that past lifetime just ‘cause I was a woman. If I’d been a man, I would have been famous!”

Sarah nodded, “You probably would have been as famous as the men of your day!”

Marianne changed the subject back. “I wonder if I’m the first person to have a piano in the house after all those years? It might explain the ghostly piano playing. I hope she’s not offended by my bad playing!” She laughed.

“If she taught piano all those years, I doubt she’s bothered by your efforts. She probably appreciates that you’re willing to practice!” Sarah chuckled wryly.

Marianne retrieved her notebook. “I was wondering if you knew anything about the other leads I had. Do the names Sundergard, Adam Sullivan, or Markus Bordman ring any bells?”

“Sundergard does. Kim and Jason were in high school with us. I had no idea they’d lived in your house,” Kelly said with interest.

“Their parents died in a car accident not long after Jason graduated high school.” Sarah remembered. “They were run off the road by a drunk driver out on Pig Hill Road. Kim was already in college, and Jason planned to go in the fall. They were really upset for a long time. Their parents stayed to make sure they would recover and then eventually moved on.”

Marianne, still getting used to the idea of the dead occupying the same world as the living, said, “How did you know?”

Sarah gave her a sad, knowing look. “I went to the funeral and could see them sitting with Kim and Jason. During the reception, they asked me to tell their kids that they loved them and were sorry.”

“Did you? Did Kim and Jason believe you?” Marianne asked softly.

Sarah shrugged. “I had a reputation by then as the weird girl who said she could talk to ghosts. Kim and Jason believed me, I think, but their uncle got mad at me and hustled them off. I’m pretty sure he thought I was exploiting their grief somehow.”

“Do you get that a lot?” Marianne asked quietly.

Sarah shrugged resignedly. “It seems to come with the territory. People are often skeptical of things they can’t perceive themselves.”

Kelly stood to clear the table and announced, “Marianne offered to take us to Sweet’s for ice cream!”

A broad smile transformed Sarah’s face. Marianne was pleased she could make her look so happy.

They strolled down the sidewalk on the way back to town, listening to the birds as they roosted for the night. Marianne resumed her conversation. “I’ll see if I can find out more about Anne’s life tomorrow. I also need to find out more about the angry ghost. I don’t feel great about staying in that house overnight till we can get him to go away.”

“Definitely find out as much about him as you can. It will help us when we talk to him and may provide a key to asking him to move on,” Sarah confirmed.

“Do you suppose I should try to find Anne’s grave? There are a couple of places I can look.”

 
She nodded. “Sure. I know the person who takes care of the Maple Hill Community Cemetery. I’ll call him tomorrow and let him know you’re coming.”

“Thanks, I’d appreciate it.”

Sarah shrugged. “John Irving understands about what I do, so he’ll help you.”

When they reached the more crowded Main Street, they turned to lighter subjects by unspoken agreement.

Jonathan Sweet’s was full of Thursday customers. They stood in line waiting for the mix of locals and visitors to shuffle past the cases. Most of the inside tables were full. The three women talked about their favorite flavors as they waited their turn. Marianne was eyeing the coffee Oreo and mint chip and contemplating two indulgent scoops in a waffle cone when a familiar voice said, “Hey, Marianne!”
 

She looked up to see Ruari holding a dish of ice cream in one hand and wearing a friendly smile. Her gut responded with a pleasant lurch, and her answering smile lit up her face. She said shyly, “Hi.” His glaze flickered to her companions as they turned to see who it was.

“Hi Kelly, Sarah.” He nodded pleasantly as though he knew them but not well.
 

Marianne noticed that a shorter woman with coppery red hair cut in a spikey short ‘do stood next to him. She looked at the trio of women and her lips tightened. She said a toneless “Hey” by way of greeting, punched Ruari lightly on the arm and muttered, “Let’s go outside. It’s too crowded in here.”

“See you tomorrow,” he said with another smile and followed the other woman out.

I knew he had a girlfriend, Marianne thought as her stomach plunged in disappointment.

“How do you know Ruari Allen?” Kelly asked, her face a mix of annoyance and curiosity.
 

Marianne felt the heat rise to her face and shrugged. “He’s the handyman for my rental. He came to fix the dishwasher and the broken window.”

Kelly’s expression transformed into one of mischief as she said triumphantly, “You like him! I don’t blame you--he’s a total hottie!”

Marianne ducked her head, mortified, which only made Kelly laugh out loud.

Sarah elbowed her good-naturedly. “Quit picking on her, Amazon. You’re up. What’re you having?”

Kelly ordered, and Marianne got her coffee Oreo in a dish. She picked up the tab for all three as promised, and they retreated to the less crowded sidewalk. Marianne surreptitiously looked for Ruari and his date and saw them walking away on the far side of the street, clearly in conversation. The woman turned and grinned at him, punching him playfully on the arm again. He laughed in response, and they continued out of sight.

“How do you know Ruari Allen?” Marianne asked as they sat down at a little wire table on the sidewalk.
 

Sarah answered neutrally, “We went to school with him and his sister.”

“His sister? Was that--?”

“Yeah,” said Kelly in disgust. Her face had clouded again. “He’s okay, but Erin’s a complete bitch. She was one of the girls who tormented Sarah all through elementary and middle school. At least she quit doing it openly after I had a few ‘conversations’ with her,” she said with grim satisfaction. “Now she limits her commentary to a few snide remarks.”

Sarah sighed. “It’s amazing how junior high never leaves some people. Mostly I don’t care anymore. I have established a good professional life, and my other talents don’t usually come up.”

Kelly scraped the bottom of her ice cream cup and grunted, “Huh. Word is that she was working at some fancy firm out west, and they fired her,” she said with vindictive pleasure.

“Probably more due to the economic downturn than anything else,” Sarah said mildly.

Marianne was still experiencing a sense of relief that the unknown woman was Ruari’s sister not his date and only dimly registered their remarks. “So that wasn’t his girlfriend?”

“Nope. As far as I know, he doesn’t have one.” Kelly sucked the last of her ice cream off the plastic spoon. She smiled slyly. “Not that lots of women haven’t tried. From what I hear, he’s dated but never settled down.” She shrugged. “I’m pretty sure he’s straight. You can try, girl, but don’t get your hopes up.”

Marianne said ruefully, “I’m pretty sure that’s not going to happen. I took a chance and told him my haunted house story, and he just laughed at me. He was being polite, but he wasn’t all that receptive.”

“Well, Erin is one of the town’s most vocal non-believers in that sort of thing. She’s always considered Sarah a freak and a liar, at worst. His parents are pretty straight laced too, so, if he grew up with that attitude, he wouldn’t be inclined to believe you, would he?” Kelly observed. She saw the crestfallen look on Marianne’s face and said more kindly, “Wait and see. You never know. When is he supposed to come back to your place?”

“Tomorrow morning to fix the window before it rains again.”

“Well, I’ve got to work tomorrow,” Sarah said, finishing the last bite. “Thanks for the treat. We love this place and don’t get here that often.”

Ruari and Erin walked back toward his workshop in the gathering twilight.
 

“So who’s the new chick with Crazy Woman and The Fist?”

Ruari winced and said, “That’s so rude.”

“Yeah, well, The Fist used to beat me up all the time, so what of it?” She said aggressively.

“Only because you were so horrible to Sarah,” he pointed out.

Erin snorted and waved her hand dismissively. “So, who’s the new girl?” She asked again more insistently.

Ruari had to stay on his toes whenever he was with his sister. She changed subjects and moods blindingly fast sometimes, particularly when she was stressed. “She moved into one of Gloria’s rental units, and I’ve been by to fix a couple of things.”

Erin finished the first flavor and dug into the second. “Huh. I wonder if she knows Sarah is a total freak?”

Ruari shrugged but began to wonder about his conversation with Marianne earlier today. Maybe her ghost story was true, if she was hanging out with Sarah and Kelly? In spite of Erin’s emphatic disregard for the supernatural, Ruari supposed stranger things had happened. It would be nice if she wasn’t making things up to cover her own mistakes as renters sometimes did. She really was the most interesting and fine looking woman he’d met in a long time, and he wanted to get to know her better.

Erin elbowed him hard in the ribs, interrupting his reverie. “Ow! What?”

“I asked if you’d seen Pat Whalen recently,” she repeated.

He yanked his attention back to his sister and frowned, “I saw him a couple of days ago at the town offices. Why?” They continued their conversation touching on people and places Erin had known in school.

Ruari unlocked the workshop door and slid it aside so he and Erin could enter. He flipped the lights on illuminating the open space, the tools and tables, and thick layer of wood shavings and sawdust on the floor. As always the scent of wood cleared his head.

“How can you live in this dump?” Erin asked as she tossed her empty ice cream cup in the trash by the door.

“How come you’re living at home with Mom and Dad?” He shot back in self-defense.

She shot him a dirty look that fell short of ‘The Look’ Dad could level when he wanted. Ruari was profoundly glad he was not still living at home, and even though Erin got along with their parents much better than he did, he could still sympathize with her.

“I’m sorry, that was unfair,” he said contritely.
 
“Look, I don’t need a fancy place. I just need a place where I can do my work.”

She strolled between the half dozen projects, snooping the way only a younger sister would, poking at some things, picking up and putting down others. “What are you working on? Have you got any new commissions?” She asked.

He had picked up a broom and was half-heartedly sweeping woodchips and debris out of the main path between the door and the stairs to his one room apartment above. “Yeah, a couple, a bed frame and a small side table.”

She came across his hooded “muse project” and reached up to pull the cover off.

“Hey! Some privacy please!” Ruari objected, leaning the broom hastily against the railing and heading across the room.

“What is it?” She asked both curious and teasing.

“Just something I’m working on—an art piece. It’s not done yet and I’d appreciate—“

Erin slid the cover off and picked up the half finished carving. She peered at it and turned it this way and that in the light. “Not bad, big brother,” she said grudgingly. “It’s a little weird, though. It’s a person coming out of an egg right?”

Hastening across the room, he gently removed it from her hands and placed it back on the table. “Something like that. Like I said, it’s not done yet. I’ll show you when it’s done.” He laid the cover back over the work.

After a moment Erin said resentfully, “How come you got all the talent in the family?”
 

Ruari shook his head mentally trying to catch up with his sister’s mercurial mood swings. “What do you mean?”

“I mean how come you got all the talent? I can’t paint or draw or carve to save my life.” She looked away. “Sometimes I wish…”

“Whoa, sis.” He turned her to face him and read her mulish, frustrated expression. “You have plenty of talent. You understand numbers and math way better than I ever will. You can look at a spreadsheet, and it talks to you. It just looks like a big jumble of numbers to me.”

“That’s not talent,” she said dismissively.

“I beg to differ,” he retorted. Trying a different tack, he said, “Mom and Dad really respect your skill with numbers. Just because your boss didn’t renew your contract in Arizona doesn’t mean you aren’t really good at what you do. Living with Mom and Dad is only temporary until you find another job.”

She shrugged and looked at him with unaccustomed vulnerability. “Yeah. I just wish I could land something now. I got my 203rd rejection letter today, and it sucked big time.”

He hugged her spontaneously and said, “Something will come up. Don’t worry.”

“Thanks.” She hugged him back fiercely and then pushed out of his embrace and walked quickly to the door. She paused there and said dramatically, “Big brother, you are never going to keep a girlfriend if you live in this place. My advice to you is: get a real place.” And she swept out the door. He watched her spiky hair bob away through the row of little windows in the sliding door. He shook his head half amused, half troubled by her parting shot.