Summer Shadows (14 page)

“Come on, Dylan,” Katy groaned.

“It’s not like they have anything better to do,” Dylan shot back. He turned to Ron and Dana. “Come on, guys! How often is it that you have a real live ghost in your backyard? This is, like,
epic
!”

Dana looked pleadingly at Ron. He didn’t get her at all. When he’d suggested investigating the house, she told him that he was nuts. Then Dylan suggests it and now she’s for it. To say that she was changeable and confusing would be putting it mildly.

He hesitated. He did want to investigate the house, and hanging out with another guy would be cool. Ron had been wishing for someone to hang out with, who knew how to shoot hoops and do guy things.

But there was Dana to consider. She was so easily swayed by other people, and Dylan seemed like he might be trouble. Cops usually didn’t like it when people hung around boarded up houses and, if they got in real trouble, it might interfere with Aunt Julia’s guardianship.

Of course, except for Officer Wilde, he hadn’t seen a patrol car near the street and Ron thought it was more than likely that they’d never be caught. If he agreed, he risked getting into trouble with Aunt Julia and the law. If he didn’t, he’d look like a coward. It didn’t take a genius to see that Dylan would never let him live it down, even if Dana did.

Ron was spared making a decision. Just then, Julia glanced at her watch and exclaimed loudly about the time.

“We have to get going, too,” Sheila O’Reilly said. “Lots to do today. We should get together sometime. Are you coming to the Fourth of July picnic?”

Julia shook her head. “This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

“You should definitely come. It’s the highlight of the Franklin social calendar, and we’ll all be there. There are games, food, and a fireworks display, provided it doesn’t rain.”

“Like it did last year,” Katy said flatly.

“That was disappointing. You should come. It’s a good way to meet the neighbors.”

“I’ll think about it, thank you,” Julia said quietly.

“And don’t forget about my Tupperware party tonight,” Sheila added

“Oh, I don’t think I can make it. I’m sorry.”

“No worries. It was nice to have the young ones meet today. We should get them together again sometime, right, guys?”

Dylan jumped right in. “
Totally
,” he said. “Actually, we were already planning to hangout so we can trade skating techniques, right, Ron?”

He shot Ron an anxious look, and Ron nodded. “That, and shoot some baskets,” he agreed.

“Absolutely.” Relieved, Dylan feigned a toss and then gave him a victory sign. “Got to get ready for the Celtics. They’ll be calling any day now. Okay with you, Grandma?”

“I don’t have a problem with it,” she said. “How about you, Julia?”

“No, that’s fine.”

“Takes a load off of my mind. Do you have any idea how hard it is to occupy two teenagers for an entire summer? It’s more than this old lady can handle. Come on, you two. We need shingles. Later, guys.”

She walked away. Dylan gave Ron a thumbs-up signs as he and Katy followed.

Julia didn’t say anything until they were in the minivan and driving towards Concord.

“Sheila’s grandkids seemed nice,” she said.

“They are,” Dana answered. “Dylan knows all about…”

Ron shot her a cautionary look, but she pretended not to notice and continued, “…skateboarding. I can’t wait to try it!”

“I don’t want anyone getting hurt on the skateboards,” Julia said. “They make me nervous. You can do them for now, but if I say ‘no more’ that’s it.”

Ron felt irritated. He wasn’t stupid – if they started getting hurt on the skateboards, they would stop right away, on his say-so. They didn’t need hospital bills on top of everything else. And, anyway, when had he ever disobeyed a direct order?

“Yes, Aunt Julia,” was all he said.

“Yes, ma’am,” Dana said quietly. But her eyes, as they met Ron’s, glittered with excitement.

17

“G
rande peppermint tea?”

It was late in the afternoon, and the youthful barista glanced around the little café with the steaming cup in his hand. He looked new and a little out of place that afternoon. Despite the fact that he’d been the one to take Julia’s order, he didn’t seem to recognize her when she stepped up to claim it.

“This yours, ma’am?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Cream’s over to the left,” he said, and turned to go back to work.

Julia held the cup under her nose and took a deep breath. The steamy sweetness was like an embrace from the inside out, and she could already feel herself relaxing in response. Still taking in the fragrance, she made her way back to the little table where her laptop was waiting for her.

It was a slow afternoon at the bookstore. Even the presence of a local author, with a stack of books and a hopeful expression, failed to disturb the aura of calm. The cool, quiet atmosphere was just the tonic Julia thought they all needed. It had been a long day of shopping.

After the hardware store, they’d gone to a department store to pick up necessaries like light bulbs, lamps, and seeds for Dana’s garden. Dana was very excited about her garden and kept up a steady flow of questions about planting, harvesting, and whether or not Julia thought Amelia would be interested in gardening with her. While there, they ran into Mrs. Jurta and Amelia.

“What a coincidence!” Mrs. Jurta beamed. “Twice in one day.”

“Astonishing,” Julia agreed wryly.

“We’re helping Mrs. Ojacor,” Amelia said, smiling at Ron. “We’re shopping for the food pantry. You know Mrs. Ojacor, don’t you?”

They had to admit that they didn’t and went with them to meet her. Caroline Ojacor was a beautiful Kenyan woman with dancing eyes and a wide smile who spent most of her time helping refugees get acclimated to New England.

“She’s a living, breathing saint,” Mrs. Jurta said.

Mrs. Ojacor simply smiled and asked Julia if she was bringing the children to the Fourth of July picnic.

“We haven’t made any plans yet,” Julia answered.

“Oh, you
have
to go to it,” Mrs. Jurta said. “It’s the social highlight of the annual calendar. Lots of fireworks and food and fun – your kids will love it.”

“I’m going, too,” Amelia announced.

“You really ought to go,” Mrs. Ojacor agreed, and the matter was settled.

It was after lunch at a local diner, where Jack dumped his soda on Dana, that Julia decided that they needed some quiet time. They mopped Dana up and drove to the bookstore, where Julia could check her emails and the kids could wander around.

“Stay together,” she’d said when they first arrived. “You can look at the books, but if you damage anything, you’ll have to pay for it out of your allowance.”

“Naturally,” Ron said.

“I’m still wet,” Dana pouted.

“I’m sorry, but we can’t do anything about it until we get home. Why don’t you see if they have the second book in that series you’re reading?”

They scampered off with Ron taking charge as usual, and Julia settled down to business. It had been a week since she’d had an opportunity to check her email, and she was anxious to see if she’d gotten any replies to the job applications she’d sent out just before leaving Springfield.

Julia drummed her fingers on the table as her computer connected with the Wi-Fi. It had been foolish of her to wait so long to check. She was either going to have to make this a regular thing or find a way to cheaply set up internet at the house. Perhaps there was a computer at the local library. She would have to look into that.

Her mail box was full of messages. Julia scanned them quickly, weeding out the junk mail and sale notices. There were several emails from Sherri the real estate agent, three from Julia’s mother, Rachael, a few from friends, and then some from the job application sites. Heart pounding, she clicked on those first.

To her intense disappointment, all of these emails were form replies:
Thank you for your interest in this position. Your application has been received and will be reviewed by a member of our staff. You will be contacted should further information be necessary
.

Julia tried to be philosophical. In this economy, she told herself, it would be a miracle to get a position on the first round of tries, and she could reasonably expect a wait of a few months before something came her way. She had to be patient, which was tough –only two weeks since her dismissal and she was already biting her nails with anxiety.

She archived the job emails and tackled Sherri’s next.

Hi Julia –

Hope you’re enjoying Franklin and this lovely weather! How’s the house? Be sure to send me photos as you finish the rooms. I’ll put together a portfolio and see if we can’t drum up some interest in the place.

With regards to your Springfield house, I’ve got a couple who are very interested in moving into that neighborhood. They’re a young family with a two-year-old and another on the way and, really, this house would be perfect for them. I don’t think I’d be talking out of turn if I told you that money is no object for these people. I’d like to give them a tour – they already said that they were interested in it – but I wanted to get your approval first. Let me know ASAP: they’re in the area and leaving shortly. Thanks, toots!

Julia sighed and took a sip of her tea. Letting Sherri show the house had been a bad idea. She’d done it only to get the persistent woman off her back, but as usual, her inability to stand up to Sherri put her in the more embarrassing spot of having to tell her that she wasn’t selling yet.

On the other hand, if a lucrative offer did come in, didn’t she also owe financial security to the children? They did have an emotional attachment to the place, but with the job market looking so poor, would she really have the right to refuse a legitimate offer?

She replied:

Hi Sherri,

I’m still not comfortable with selling the place yet. If you think it’s a good idea, go ahead and show it, but please make it clear that we’re not sure about letting it go. Thanks for everything you’re doing for us!

She sent it and got a reply almost immediately.

Great, will do. I’ll keep you informed of developments re: Springfield. Hope the kids are enjoying the lake!

Sherri G.

Julia made a note to take some pictures of the Franklin house, then she opened the email from her mother. It was a long and chatty message, filled with stories about their Florida adventures. Dad was starting to fish and was hoping to catch an alligator “by accident”, so he could have some photos for the park newsletter. Mom was jogging with some of her friends and had already started losing weight. Both sent their best wishes to the kids. Mom worried that Julia hadn’t written, but understood that she would be busy.

The last email she opened was from an old college roommate, a woman named Markie Parks. Julia was surprised to hear from her: she and Markie hadn’t communicated since Markie’s wedding two years earlier. Markie had an enviable job at a top Boston advertising agency, a gorgeous husband, and little time for friends. The email was written in Markie’s usual clipped and businesslike style:

Julia,

Hope this finds you well. I heard about your sister – please accept my profound sympathies. I’ve heard that you are job hunting. My firm is currently in need of an assistant research project director and I remembered that you have had training in this field. It would be a starter salary, but with the possibility of advancement. If you are interested, here is the website. Be sure to let me know if you do decide to apply so I can speak with the HR department.

Hope to see you at one of our dinner parties real soon.

Yours,

MP

Excitement caught in Julia’s throat. Assistant Research Project Director? This could be a huge break for her. She was surprised that Markie had remembered her after all these years. Although they had shared quarters and a few classes, they hadn’t exactly been close. From the start, Markie had been driven on the fast track to success, and Julia was on whatever the other track was. It felt good to know she hadn’t been forgotten.

Julia followed the link and filled out the application, then she wrote to Markie, thanking her and letting her know that she had applied.

She felt much better after that. She closed down her email box and opened up a job search site, standing to stretch before scrolling.

While she worked, she saw the kids hurrying though the shelves towards her. Behind them, the window framed a rapidly darkening afternoon sky. Gathering clouds looked ready to open up at any moment.

Julia checked her watch. An hour had passed since they entered the store and the kids were probably getting bored.

She glanced at her screen in indecision. She wanted to apply for a few more positions, but the kids had been patient for a long time. By waiting, she worried that she was stretching them beyond their limits.

She had yet to make up her mind when Dana plunked herself down in the chair in front of her.

“I’m tired,” she said.

Jack and Ron were fast on her heels.

“Aunt Julia!” Jack said, running over to her and burying his face in her shirt. He acted as though she’d been missing for months. “Aunt Julia!”

She stroked his head, whispering “Shhh.” She looked up at Ron. He looked tired as he sank into the other chair.

Outside, thunder rumbled above the soothing new age music and quiet chatter. Rain would come soon. Had they shut the windows before they left the house? Julia tried to remember.

“Did you have a good time wandering around?” she asked, affectionately rubbing Jack’s head.

He nodded into her shirt, and Julia adjusted his grip a little to make sure he wasn’t causing any immodesty on her part. It was definitely time to go.

“Why don’t you three go to the bathroom before we leave? I’ll pack up my laptop and meet you at the front door, all right?”

Ron nodded wearily and reached for Jack. “Come on, string bean.”

Jack’s head popped up. “I’m not a string bean!” he protested. “I’m a
boy
!”

“Sorry,” Ron grinned as they walked off. “I forgot because you
look
like a string bean.”

“No I don’t! I look like a boy.”

Julia shut down her laptop and drained the last of her now tepid peppermint tea. She slid the computer back into its case, grabbed her purse, and headed for the front doors, searching for her car keys as she went. They had fallen among the things in her purse and she had to dig around a bit.

By the time she pulled them from the mess, she was standing in front of the author’s table. Business had not been brisk. Stacks of hardcover books were piled up on the table and on the floor the front of it. A large poster with the cover of the book, and a picture of the author in a Hawaiian shirt on it, declared that the novel was “Fascinating”, “Gripping”, and a “Page-Turner” by the critics from newspapers and websites that Julia had never heard of.

A book stood on its spine in front of her. The cover was a graphic painting of an old, sinister looking house, silhouetted in black against a purplish-blue background. A big bay window in the middle was lit up, showing the figure of a screaming woman, leaning back with one arm up to ward off a knife held by an obscure figure. The title was,
Picturesque in Death: A Novel, by A. Glen Bernard
.

The author watched her hopefully out of the corner of his eye. He looked exactly the same as he did on the poster, right down to wearing the same Hawaiian shirt.

Julia didn’t really want to speak with him. She was sorry that he was so alone at his signing, but she didn’t want to buy the book and she didn’t want to lead him on. But tacky as the cover was, she couldn’t take her eyes off of it. There was something eerily familiar about it, something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on…

“Hello!”

Darn!

Mr.
A. Glen Bernard flashed what he doubtlessly thought was a winning smile. Now she had to talk to him.

“Oh, uh, hello,” she said. She adjusted her purse strap and made sure that her car keys were in full view.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Good, thank you. You?”

“I’m doing great.” He extended a huge hand and enveloped hers in it. “A. Glen Bernard, at your service. And you are…?”

“Julia. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you. You live around here?”

“Just in for the summer.”

“Nice, nice. I see you’ve been checking out the book. They did a good job on the cover, didn’t they?” He rubbed his hands together. “It was my suggestion, but it came out much better than I thought it would. Sometimes I think it’s better than the actual book.”

He laughed too heartily. Julia forced back a wince – if the cover was better than the book and the cover was tacky…

“I’m sure your writing justifies the cover,” she said.

Mr. Bernard brightened. “You’ve read it?”

“Uh, no…”

“It’s based on a true story,” he said, picking up a book and leaning against the table. He looked like a salesman on a home shopping channel. “Set in the fictional town of Cheltham, New Hampshire. It’s my first published effort.”

“You must be very proud,” Julia said. There was no sign of the kids. She didn’t look at her watch, but it felt like a lot of time had passed.

“Oh, I am. I did a lot of research to write this book. It’s based on a story a colleague of mine covered when I was just starting out in the newspaper business. A wealthy young actress, found murdered in her Victorian house, surrounded by the blood spattered posters of her movies. And who did it? Her jealous husband, who was losing his business and money hand over fist? Her co-star and lover? Or his jealous ex-wife?”

A clap of thunder from outside the building accentuated his statement. Rain began to pound against the windows and a chill ran down Julia’s spine. She stared at the book cover and suddenly knew what was so familiar about it.