Dreams of Fire (Maple Hill Chronicles Book 1) (6 page)

Marianne chuckled appreciatively. The statuesque, blonde woman in front of her turned and smiled at her in a friendly way. Emboldened Marianne said, “The announcements here are great!”

The blonde nodded, and Marianne noticed two lavender locks framing her face. “Yup. Arlo is a riot!”

“That’s one person? It sounded like three different people.”

“Yeah, he’s local talent,” she said proudly, then added, “Are you new to Maple Hill?”

Marianne nodded.

“It’s nice to meet you.” She stuck her hand out. “I’m Kelly Walker. I own Hair Magic, if you ever need a new hair dresser.”

Marianne shook her strong, tanned hand and said, “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

It was Kelly’s turn at the register, and she began putting up her groceries and an assortment of odd things including candles, incense, and some tiny bottles of essential oils.

Marianne left with her purchases and debated going back to Jonathan Sweets’ for more ice cream but decided that she’d better not make a habit of eating there every afternoon, or she’d regret it. Reluctantly, she turned back toward the house.

The smell of paint was still powerful, and she opened the windows to air the room out. The house had warmed up during the day, so there wasn’t a lot of overnight cool left anyway. Oscar had retreated to the sofa in the living room away from the hot squares of sunlight on the floor in back of the house. Stretching luxuriously, he jumped to the floor with a soft thud of his big paws.

It was time to explore the basement and see what was down there. She hadn’t seen any laundry facilities, but thought Mrs. Thomas had mentioned them over the phone during their initial conversation.

“Hey, Oscar,” she called, “let’s go see what’s in the basement.” He strolled over to her and rubbed against her legs a few times before accompanying her to the cellar door.

She flipped on the light. The stairs were illuminated where the basement ceiling ended near her feet. They were wooden and worn with a narrow metal handrail on either side that looked like pieces of old pipe. The whole contraption wobbled as she descended halfway to a small landing that turned and led the rest of the way down. Oscar slunk cautiously down the stairs behind her and began exploring the cellar.

Basements were always a little creepy to her: dark and mysterious and vaguely ominous. The basement of her old apartment building had been full of clanks and thumps but was much better lit. This one was silent and somehow oppressive. She felt the underground cool on her bare skin, with an accompanying smell of rust and old water and damp cement. There were only a couple of bare bulbs down the center. The stone foundations outlined the footprint of the house above. Tiny, age-fogged windows let in very little light. The one in the middle of the south wall was bigger than the others. This one was angled outward at the bottom and opened onto a wooden sided stall the size of a walk-in closet. She wondered what that was and made a note to ask Mrs. Thomas next time.

Her sandals tapping across the cement floor, she walked cautiously to a white washer and dryer, both brand new front loaders. They sat in the gloom, looking modern and out of place halfway between the stairs and the wooden bin. Beyond the bin the shadow was deeper, big enough to hide something at least the size of a table. She made a mental note to come down later and replace the burned out bulb on that side. Vague images of things lurking and scurrying out of sight crept into her mind. She shivered.

The huge silent bulk of the furnace sat in the middle of the basement like a sleeping dragon, taking up an inordinate amount of space. A network of pipes emerged from it and ran along the underside of the ceiling through the supporting boards of the floor above, and Marianne could imagine hot water circulating like blood to each of the radiators. She’d lived in apartments with radiators before and remembered all the pinging and clanking and knocking sounds they made. No doubt a symphony of noises awaited her when the weather got cold.

Her chilled skin goosebumped, and she was more than ready to be back upstairs. As she turned to go up the stairs, the hairs on the back of her neck rose. She peered beyond the wooden bin and wasn’t sure if there was a deeper shadow there or not. A bubble of fear welled up in her chest.

“Hey, Oscar, let’s go upstairs okay?” Her voice sounded thin to her ears, and she suppressed the urge to bolt up the rickety stairs. She forced herself to walk up calmly. It was so silly to be afraid of a basement! She told herself. Geoffrey would have laughed at her. Still, she had never liked basements. This one definitely had a major creep factor to it. It was going to be hard to do laundry if she was afraid to go down and use the machines!

“Oscar?” she called one more time. “C’mon, Oscar. Kitty, kitty.” There was a sudden scramble of paws on cement, and the orange tabby streaked up the stairs looking twice his normal size. As soon as he passed the door, she slammed it shut, her own heart beating faster. There was a bolt style lock on the door, and she slid it into the lock position without hesitation.

She found Oscar under the sofa in the living room backed up against the wall. Something had definitely scared him. She lay on her stomach and talked soothingly to him until she’d coaxed him out and into her arms. They sat on the couch together until he relaxed and began licking his fur back into place.

Oscar’s behavior was unnerving. Maybe it was just being in a new place. Marianne hoped they would both get used to living here. They were stuck here for the duration and would have to make the best of it. If worst came to worst, she could find a laundromat in town rather than go into the basement again.

When she’d returned, he’d followed her.
Her fear of the dark and silent basement radiated in waves off of her. Women were so weak and easily handled. He was sure he could have her running to his beck and call in time, and that would begin to make things right again.

Chapter 5

It was mid afternoon already, and since she had promised to visit Grandma Selene in the little town of Vandenberg, she got into the Flea and made her way through town. She drove out into the hot, green countryside and zenned her way up into the hills overlooking the river. It had been some time since she’d been there last, and that time, her mom had done the driving. Geoffrey had not been keen to leave the city much in the last five years and hadn’t accompanied her. With the windows rolled down, there was a breeze in the car, but it only moved the hot air around. Marianne wished the car had A/C.

Grandma Selene and Grandpa Clare moved to the Hudson Valley when they retired, and Marianne had visited them nearly every summer during her childhood. Vandenberg was spread out and mostly rural with a small post office, a bar, a sleepy gas station and not a lot more to speak of. Maple Hill was a big town by comparison. Since her last visit, Marianne noticed a lot more grand homes tucked away in the trees as she wound up the hill. The fancy entrances spoke of money from the city and getaway homes in upstate New York. Once upon a time, they’d all been farms. She felt a bit sad that development had changed her childhood territory but reflected that at least large expanses of identical tract homes had not been built.

She passed another small, rural cemetery along the way. Her Grandpa Clare was buried there, and she thought she’d like to pay him a visit in the next few weeks. Maybe Grandma Selene would like to go.

At last she bumped down the familiar driveway bordered by trees and set back from the road. The big white house appeared around the last corner, and she pulled into the parking area near the big old black Cadillac. She got out and breathed deeply, enjoying the slightly cooler air under the trees and up the hill from town. A two-seater, wicker swinging chair with its comfortable, rose patterned cushions hung from the porch roof beams, dominating the space, and the inner door was open to allow the cooler air in.

She got to the top of the steps just as Grandma Selene arrived at the front door.

“Marianne! How lovely to see you! Come in, come in before the mosquitoes find you.” Traces of a British accent tinged her words.

Marianne entered, allowing the screen door to bang closed behind her. She embraced her beloved grandmother warmly. Selene was taller than Marianne by a few inches and moved with grace despite her age. Her iron gray hair was still thick and wavy and pulled back into a tidy bun held with a silver pin, and she was dressed fashionably as always. In spite of her nearly ninety years, she hugged Marianne with the strength of a younger woman.

“Let me have a look at you.” Selene stood back and gazed critically at her granddaughter’s pale face framed by dark wavy hair. She said with concern, “You look peaked, dear. Has that wretched man been harassing you again?”
 

Marianne shrugged and gave a half smile. “I think I made a clean getaway. No one knows I’m up here except you and Mom. So, I’m really hoping he won’t think to look here and won’t find me for a long time, if ever.”

“Well, we can hope,” Selene replied doubtfully. “Would you like to have some iced tea? I just made some.”

“I’d love that,” Marianne said gratefully.
 

“Stay here, and I’ll get it.”

Marianne breathed a deep sigh and relaxed a little. The wide vertical wood paneling was warm and comfortingly familiar. Landscapes, ships, and painted family portraits adorned the walls like old friends all around the room. She sat in her favorite spot on the blue and cream couch in front of the fireplace and listened to the sounds of glassware and liquid.
 

A few minutes later Grandma Selene emerged with a tray of cookies, a pitcher with ice cubes suspended in perfect amber liquid, sugar cubes, and two glasses. Marianne stood and took the tray, so she could place it on the table. Bending with heavy trays was on her grandmother’s list of no-nos.
 

They held their ritual of pouring tea for each other and choosing cookies. It was a ceremony they’d been doing for each other since Marianne was four, and she loved all the well-worn movements and murmured words. It made her feel that everything was right with the world.

At last Marianne sat back and said, “Thank you so much, Grandma, for finding a place for me to live. I thought I might camp out in your guest room for a couple of weeks at most, and instead, you found me a whole house!”

Selene sipped her tea. “I’m glad you like it. Lily has been beside herself worrying about that empty house for the last year, so I’m glad you will be taking care of it for her. How is it?”

“It’s in decent shape, just dusty and old feeling. Mrs. Thomas gave me permission to paint the inside, thank goodness, so that’s what I’m doing now. My stuff is still in boxes in the meantime, but I’ll get unpacked eventually and have you over.”

“I’d like that very much. Are you doing everything yourself?”

Marianne nodded. “I don’t mind. I don’t have any research projects right now, though I’m hoping to contact a friend in the history department at NYU and see if they need anyone to teach a class this fall or in January.”

Grandma Selene smiled warmly. “Oh, that sounds like fun! You always enjoyed tutoring when you had a chance.”

They talked for another hour until Grandma said regretfully, “I have to finish packing, Lovie. I promised my friend Margaret a month ago that I’d visit her, and she’s not been in good health so I daren’t put it off. I’ll be gone for a few days, but I promise to call you when I get back and see how you’re settling in. It’s wonderful to catch up with you, and I’m so glad you’re right down the road.”

They hugged each other and Marianne headed back down the drive in the late evening shadows. Belatedly, she realized she had not mentioned the strange feelings of being watched.
 

Ruari Allen wearily slammed the door of his white truck and started the engine. It had been another long day of mindless repairs to things he’d fixed many times before. At least he wasn’t on the housekeeping staff. Sometimes renters left behind the most godawful messes. His personal favorite had been the story about melted popsicles, soda, and beer coating the inside of a freezer. It had coalesced into a dense, gooey layer that had taken a couple of hours to remove. He’d sympathized heartily with Michaela and her cleaning crew.
 

Nevertheless, Talmadge nagged him to fit extra appointments into every available space, and as the only handyman for Gloria’s, he had to take every one. When the business was smaller he could manage, but it had grown to thirty properties. He was going to have to get some help or quit. This summer he’d taken to not returning to the office for anything unless he had no choice. But she called him relentlessly on his cell phone anyway. In spite of that, he’d gotten done half an hour earlier than he’d expected and felt a glimmer of hope that he could do a little work in his studio before bed.

He inserted his key into the padlock on the old door and slid it across, revealing the woodshop with its machinery waiting quietly for him. The clean scent of wood shavings wafted out into the humid summer evening and cleared his head. He caught the scents of maple and pine, the sharp undercurrent of cedar, and the fruity aroma of cherry. As he walked through the shop, each project came to his hands like trusting animals in a barn. He stroked each one briefly and made his way to a table that held a mysterious object under a cloth amid a myriad of shavings. Carving and sanding tools lay where he’d put them down last night.

He pulled the cloth aside and gazed at the as yet rudely formed piece underneath. There were hints that it would be about a foot high and rounded, maybe oval, but it had not revealed itself to him enough yet to tell what it was. He picked it up and perched on the metal stool nearby and held it in his hands waiting for it to speak to him. After a time he picked up a tool and began to work on it.

The smoky wisp drifted and curled insubstantially through the house. Although it was doomed to stay here eternally, that didn’t mean it had to let this new woman become trapped as well. It wasn’t safe for her to stay. The danger was coming soon, a vortex inexorably drawing closer.