Possessed by a Stranger (12 page)

Hannah filled her wicker basket with
strawberries as a peace offering to the elusive Presley family. She
most definitely would wash them, not sure, what her bunny might
have deposited in or around the patch. She was slightly
apprehensive over her visit to the estate. On the other hand, she
was excited to see the mansion featured in various magazines. The
Presley’s had pristinely maintained the estate keeping its
historical value intact.

Hannah relaxed, soaking in the tranquilly of
the two mile stroll to the expansive estate. Neatly trimmed hedges
lined the bricked driveway. Some of the bricks were replaced with
the newer bricks standing out like a sore thumb. With all their
money, they should have searched for suitable older
replacements.

The rooftops of the mansion were her only
previous glimpse of the late eighteen hundreds home that now rose
up before her. It was maintained with expert care in its original
design. She hoped the inside, if she got that far, still had the
artistic woodwork of the artisan that painstakingly built the
historical structure.

Awe struck, Hannah stood in front of the
oversized double doors. She held back the urge to use the original
doorknockers, ringing the doorbell instead. Of course, she had run
her fingers over the lion head that held the large round knocker.
When she touched a piece of history, she imagined herself drawn
back in time. Not that she wanted to live during that period; she
only wanted to visit as an observer. The scratchy confining
undergarments alone were enough to keep her planted in the modern
world. The reality of outhouses, the lack of personal hygiene,
archaic medical facilities, and the all-around hard life compared
to today, kept her grounded to modern conveniences. Her education
took the romantic aspects out of any notion of living in the past.
Romance novels depicting the eighteenth century leave out the
horrific smells of raw sewage and body odor.

The door opening startled Hannah out of her
daydream. A lovely older woman impeccably dressed in a stylish
pantsuit smiled widely. “Hello, I’m Hannah Greer and I’m restoring
the Abernathy cottage.” She introduced herself.

The woman with translucent white hair stood
back to allow Hannah to enter. “Come in. We had heard you look just
like Louise and you do. We actually met you at your grandmother’s
funeral. How many years has that been? You were about six or seven
years old if I remember correctly.”

The hospitable greeting wasn’t what Hannah
had expected. Mrs. Presley seemed genuinely thrilled to see her. “I
was six. I didn’t realize you had kept in touch with my family
after they moved to the city.”

Mrs. Presley led the way to an adjoining room
off the foyer. “Come in here and have a seat.” She accepted the
basket of strawberries Hannah almost forgot she brought.

The tall ceilings crowned with handcrafted
molding, the spiraling double staircase, the original hardwood
floors and the wainscoting encasing the walls had her enthralled.
She felt like she entered a history book.

“This house is gorgeous. You’ve done a
wonderful job modernizing it without taking away from the
historical features. That’s what I’m trying to do with the cottage
but I’ve ran into some difficulties with the contractors.” Her
words gushed out of mouth. She wanted to touch and inspect the
whole mansion.

“I know. You’re the talk of the town.
Everyone I know from town has called snooping for information. They
want to know why you’re sinking so much money in that old cottage.
These town folks think newer is better. They don’t appreciate the
craftsmanship.”

Finally, someone that understood. “You’ll
have to come and see what I’ve done with the cottage. I should have
introduced myself sooner but I was afraid to leave for a second.
They might have knocked down a wall while I was gone. I’ve heard
our families had a long history going back generations.”

“Oh yes, the Louise and Grant affair. I’ve
heard all about that. My father-in-law, Pops and Abbey grew up
together. They stayed friends even after they both got married and
Abbey moved away. Pops insisted on going to her funeral. I would
say it was ancient history but Pops won’t let it go. Wait until he
sees you.”

Hannah’s heart leaped into her throat. “He’s
still alive. May I talk to him?” That sounded tacky; of course he’s
alive if he could still see her. Hannah cringed at her blunder.

Mrs. Presley giggled. “Oh
yes. I know it’s hard to believe. He’s ninety-two and remembers the
past better than what happened a minute before. He bears his Uncle
Grant’s name. I’m warning you, he loves to talk about the
fortune.
Of course, you realize that is
folklore. Although, you won’t convince him it’s not
real.”

“My grandmother was the same way. At age six,
she had me convinced there was a hidden treasure. After I learned
about that period in history, I knew it was an improbability.
Although, I discovered Louise’s paintings were real. In today’s art
market, they may be the real treasure.”

The women conversed for a good half an hour
about the local gossip. Mrs. Presley praised her for having the
good sense to hire local contractors. Apparently, in this small
community, friendship could be bought. Hannah was finally escorted
upstairs to meet the only living person she knew, that had known
her great grandmother. Mrs. Presley went into the bedroom first to
alert her father-in-law about his visitor. Hannah’s close
resemblance to Louise presented a concern.

The elder Mr. Presley’s male nurse invited
Hannah in the room. The hospital bed in the center of room was
raised to a half sitting position. The frail man’s previous large
stature was evident. His once strong bone structure was covered
with thin wrinkled skin. A smile brightened his aged features below
a head full of tufted gray hair. His gleaming eyes held tight to
the life his body had deserted.

“Come over here where I can get a better look
at you. Louise, you’re as beautiful as I remember.” His voice
quivered with age.

Hannah walked to the side of his bed, taking
his weathered hand in hers. “Mr. Presley, I’m Hannah, Abbey’s
granddaughter.”

He reached his other hand over, to pat the
top on her hand. “I know, honey. My sweet Abbey, I should have
married her when I had the chance. We made a pact to find the
fortune and run off together. We were in our teens then. Broke my
heart when she married someone else. She was eighteen and I was
sixteen at the time. I’m so glad you came to see me. Where do you
live now?”

“I’ve moved into the family cottage.”

“Well good, now you can come see me more
often. Abbey would be so proud of you. She always said you were the
link to her past. You look exactly like Louise.”

“Do you remember Louise?”

“Once you saw Louise, you didn’t forget her.
She was a beauty just like you. Strong willed with a free spirit. I
stayed down at the cottage most of the time growing up. It was fun
there. That house was full of love and you always felt welcomed. We
would question her about the gold, plotting ways to extract the
information from her tight lips and she always laughed. She would
say, ‘Fill your heart with love and you will find the treasure’.
Abbey would get furious. She had quite a temper at times. As far as
I know, Louise never told a living soul where to find the treasure,
not even her husband.”

Mrs. Presley excused herself leaving Hannah
and the nurse with her father-in-law. Hannah stayed for several
hours, listening to tales of his and her Grammy’s childhood
adventures. Pops, as he insisted she call him, was as sharp as a
tack.

She soaked in his memories of her family,
finally getting a feel of her ancestry. His recollections of her
ancestors reinforced her decision to move to her family home. Her
cottage was where she belonged. She would have been loved there.
With Pops tiring, she promised to return after inventing an excuse
to leave. She thanked Mrs. Presley for allowing her the opportunity
to speak with him. Mrs. Presley graciously invited her back, any
time.

Hannah, walked back to her cottage, lost in
new memories of her childhood bedtime story. The muscle-tightening
scare of almost being clipped by a speeding car rounding a blind
curve snapped her back to reality. She clutched her chest to stop
her thumping heart from breaking free of the confines of her rib
cage.

The car that skidded to a stop squealed its
tires, now going in reverse. She stepped closer to the hedges since
the backwards moving car was aimed straight at her. The sports car,
with a maniac at the wheel, stopped inches from slamming her into
the hedges. The top of the line, red metallic BMW, X-six-M
compensated for some mid-life crisis. Whether it was a limp dick or
balding head, that idiot was about to have his sagging balls handed
to him.

Hannah, shook with rage. She clenched her
fists, placing them firmly on her waist, prepared to blast the
reckless driver. The car door opened. Mr. Garret stepped out of the
car. Her sharp intake of air was the only thing she had time to do.
Without any time to react, Hannah found herself slammed against the
car with the wind knocked out of her. She was flattened on the back
of the car with him crushing the full extent of his weight down on
top of her. Her arms stretched above her head with his hands
digging into her forearms. His furious face was a breath away from
hers. Her stomach twisted with fear. A dizzy haze clouded her
vision as she felt the blood draining from her head.

“What in the hell are you doing at my house?”
Garrets blood boiled with his overprotective nature on high alert.
No wonder, his resources hadn’t located her. She was stalking his
family. She was just like all the others, setting her trap to try
and win his heart and all that followed with the name of Presley.
Now, that her motive was evident, she would pay.

Panic had a firm grip on Hannah. She was
forcibly trapped under his weight and fury. “Let go of me. You’re
hurting my arms.” She pleaded, unsuccessfully fighting back
tears.

He squeezed harder on her arms. “What are you
doing at my home?” He demanded furiously.

Her voice scraped her throat with barely
enough air in her lungs to force a whisper. “Your house? This is
the Presley estate.”

He saw the terror on her face but he couldn’t
stop with his family involved. Damn, she had crossed the line. “You
know I’m a Presley, so cut the bull. My family is off limits to
everyone.”

Wait a frigging minute; she was being
assaulted because he misled her about his identity. Her heated rage
boiled from her gut bubbling up through every tightened muscle. She
strained to lift her body off the car with rage feeding her
strength.

“I most certainly did not. And how would I
know that Mr. Garret. I don’t remember you correcting your name.”
She stopped her futile attempt to escape. He seemed to enjoy her
struggling.

The fire in her eyes sparked of the truth.
“You’re a smart lady. I think you were pissed enough to find out
everything you could about me.”

His crushing weight eased. Justified by his
ignorance she lashed out with the truth. “You are the one that lied
about your name. Are you so full of yourself, that you thought I
went to the trouble of finding out who you really are? Why would I
do that when I thought you were P. Garret? Although I did Google
Prick Garret and was surprised your picture didn’t pop up.” He
loosened his grip. His lips formed a wicked grin on his face laced
with curiosity.

“Then why are you here?” The storm of his
anger waned, faced with the veracity of her questions.

“I’m restoring the Abernathy cottage, not
that it’s any of your business. Let go of me.” Her temper rose as
his subsided. She was still trapped under his overpowering body. If
he leaned any closer, she plotted to sink her teeth into his lip
since she couldn’t rip his face off with her fingernails. Although,
if biting his lip freed her, his face was next in line to feel her
anger along with a good kick in his balls.

“You’re coming from my house. What were you
doing there?” His eyes remained poignant but his raging tone became
less terrifying.

The disguise of her professional calm
returned. When all else failed she reverted to what normally
worked. “Meeting the neighbors. I talked with your grandfather.
He’s a treasure trove of information about the Abernathy family.”
The mention of his grandfather changed his manner. He stiffened to
an upright position, setting her free. She jerked herself upright
going into attack mode but he was already at his car door.

He slammed the door as he warned her. “I’ll
deal with you later. Stay away from my family or I’ll get a
restraining order if I have too.” Fucking hell, why had she turned
out to be a stalker? He wasted resources, money and time trying to
find that sweet piece of ass, all for nothing. As soon as he
checked on his grandfather, he would be on the phone ruining her
company. The fun and games ended with Hannah Greer. Let her
discover how hard it was to stalk when she was flat broke.

Garret peeled away from
where she stood trembling. Relief flooded over her, pooling in her
tremulous legs.
The withheld tears escaped
flooding her cheeks. This situation was the first time she had felt
helplessly in fear for her safety. It was a warning she intended to
heed. She crossed her arms in front of her stomach, rubbing back
the blood circulation.

His dangerous air wasn’t as attractive when
directed toward her. Garret Presley wasn’t the man she thought he
was. She didn’t deserve nor would she tolerate that kind of
treatment from anyone. Her cat and mouse game with Grant Presley
ended now. Distance was her only safe recourse when dealing with
him. Why had he turned out to be such an ass?