The Ghosts of Peppernell Manor (4 page)

“Good. Now, where's Phyllis? I'd love some coffee,” Harlan said.

Phyllis came in shortly bearing a tray loaded with cups and saucers. She left and then returned a moment later with cream and sugar. A coffee urn stood waiting on the sideboard.

“Phyllis, there is a large stain on my napkin, and I noticed that there are spots on several other napkins, too. Can you please make sure that these napkins are cleaned properly the next time?” Vivian asked acidly.

Phyllis looked at her with big dark eyes and replied quietly, “Yes, Mrs. Peppernell.” Everyone else remained silent, though Graydon shot his wife an angry look, shaking his head.

Talk for the remainder of the meal was of the weather and the farm. Everyone seemed to agree that the heat and humidity wouldn't break until sometime in September.

Later that evening after Lucy had spoken to Brad and fallen asleep and the downstairs was empty of other people, Evie and I each sat with a glass of wine in the drawing room. I asked Evie about Harlan's investor proposal.

Evie sighed. “Harlan wants to bring in a group of investors who will pay for the restoration. But they aren't doing it just to be nice, of course. They want something in return. And Harlan's idea is to open up Peppernell Manor to paying visitors. Tourists.” She spoke the word as if it left a bad taste in her mouth.

“How would that work? Could strangers just come in and roam around? Where would your family live?”

“He wants the downstairs to be public. The family would continue living here and the upstairs would still be private, of course, but our access to the downstairs rooms would be limited. We certainly wouldn't want to be down there enjoying a glass of sweet tea with people walking through the drawing room.”

“And Cora-Camille is against the idea?”

“I think she wants the manor to remain in the family. She doesn't want a bunch of strangers to have a financial interest in her home.”

“Why is Harlan trying to persuade her to go with the investors?”

“Because this manor will probably belong to him and Heath and me someday. If it's a big tourist destination, it will be worth even more money than it's worth now.”

“What do you think?”

Evie shrugged. “It's Gran's house. She should do with it what she wants. The whole investor idea has some positives, though. For one thing, if the manor was managed by an investment consortium, no one would ever have to worry about spending the money for its upkeep. Second, lots of people would be able to go through the manor and see what life used to be like for the people who lived on plantations back in the nineteenth century.”

“What do the others think?”

“Heath thinks that Gran should go with her heart. And Daddy doesn't really weigh in because it's his mother's house. Mother loves Harlan's idea, though. She thinks Peppernell Manor would make a great tourist destination.”

We sat in silence for a little while, enjoying the last of our wine, before bidding each other good night.

The next morning I went to a home store to get some of the supplies I would need to start the ceiling restoration in the entry hall. I was going to work from the top down. I had contacted a Charleston plasterer before leaving Chicago, so he met me at the manor during the afternoon to begin supervising the repairs. We didn't get too far the first day, but we got the materials organized and formulated a plan to tackle the cracks and bows in the ceiling. The ceiling border contained beautiful decorative detailing of leaves and vines, and it would take a good deal of time to just repair the small cracks in the details.

Thankfully, Cora-Camille and Ruby entertained Lucy while I worked. It would only be a few more days until she started nursery school, but it was a big help to have built-in babysitters at the manor whom I could trust with my daughter.

Dinner that evening was noisy, almost festive. Besides the people who had been there the previous evening, we were joined by Heath, Harlan's twin brother. Like Harlan, Heath was very tall, well over six feet. He was handsome in a scholarly way, with lanky limbs and tortoiseshell glasses. He and Harlan clearly enjoyed each other's company and liked to tease one another. Watching them and Evie, it was evident that they loved to dote on her and that she loved the attention.

After I put Lucy to bed Evie, the twins, and I retired to the drawing room to talk. Heath sat down and said to me, “I think I remember you from the first time you visited here. You and Evie were always going somewhere, never content to just stay home. And always talking about your boyfriends!” I blushed. It didn't sound like he remembered me fondly and I was embarrassed. Luckily he changed the subject; he seemed very interested in the specifics of the work I was doing on the entry hall ceiling. I explained my plans, then asked him about his work.

“I practice law in Charleston,” he said with a sigh, “but my heart belongs here on the farm. If I could sell my practice and farm full-time, I'd be a happy man.”

Evie smiled. “Why don't you just do it?”

“Because I wouldn't make any money. It's hard to make ends meet as a farmer. And I'd hate to leave my clients high and dry.”

“Harlan, what do you do?” I asked.

“I'm a real estate developer. My office is also in Charleston. Right next door to Heath's, in fact. We work together on real estate projects occasionally.”

“What have you seen of Charleston this trip, Carleigh?” asked Heath.

“I haven't really seen too much of it yet,” I admitted. “I've seen the insides of some shops that specialize in restorations and textiles and things like that, but I haven't done any sightseeing. I'll take Lucy one of these days and spend some time looking around the city. It's beautiful.”

“I'm sure Evie can give you some good sightseeing ideas. She knows every nook and cranny of Charleston.”

“Maybe I'll even go with you,” Evie suggested.

“Great!”

Talk then turned to Lucy, her age, her interests, and how she was adjusting to life on a plantation in South Carolina. No one asked about Brad, and for that I was thankful. We were all having such a nice evening together; I would have hated to spoil it by having to discuss the divorce.

Eventually the small party broke up and Evie and I went upstairs, Heath went back to his carriage house, and Harlan left for his home in Charleston.

I was immersed in my work for the next several days. Lucy played with Cora-Camille and Ruby, spending time indoors with tea parties and doll dances, and outdoors walking around and picking flowers. Her clear, sweet voice was never far away, and I knew I would miss her terribly when she went to nursery school.

I was right. That first day of nursery school was a hard one for me, much harder than it was for Lucy. She smiled and waved as I stood in the doorway of her classroom, tears streaming down my face. I spent the rest of that miserable day wandering around downtown Charleston, looking into shops, ordering lunch only to find myself too depressed to eat, and counting the minutes until I could pick her up. When I finally got her back at the end of her school day, I cried again. She chattered excitedly all the way back to Peppernell Manor. She talked about the artwork she did, about her teachers, and about her new friends, none of whose names she could remember. She asked what I thought Ruby and Miss Cora had been doing while she was at school. I told her that Ruby was probably baking and that Miss Cora was probably waiting anxiously for Lucy to get home. She seemed thrilled. She enjoyed repeating her stories to Cora-Camille and Ruby, then again at dinner, and finally again to Brad that night on the phone.

As the next few days passed, it became easier for me to drop off Lucy and work while she was in school. During those days, I worked diligently with the plasterer on the ceilings in the entry hall and drawing room. He was an older man with a great talent and I learned some valuable skills from him. We had decided that it made sense to start work on the ceilings in the drawing room, withdrawing room, and dining room before moving forward with the restoration of the walls and floor in the entry hall.

But as much as I was learning and enjoying my work, the best part of my day was always when I picked up Lucy and brought her home.

I
was working alone in the drawing room on a quiet, drizzly day when there was a knock at the front door. I was on a scaffold so I hoped there was someone else around who could answer it. But no one appeared, and as I was stepping down from the scaffold, the door swung open and Harlan stepped in, beckoning to someone behind him.

I was surprised to see not one, but several people walk into the entry hall. Besides Harlan, there were four men and one woman. Harlan saw me at the bottom of the scaffold and stepped into the drawing room, inviting the others to join him. My hands were covered with a powdery film from the plaster; I tried to wipe them off onto my cutoff jeans as I glanced down at my flip-flop-clad feet, sharply aware of how I looked compared to all these polished professionals in suits and expensive shoes. I wiped a few strands of hair out of my eyes and made a feeble attempt to straighten my ponytail. Harlan smiled and turned to the somber-looking group behind him.

“I'd like you all to meet Carleigh Warner, the genius restorer behind all the work being done at Peppernell Manor.” Embarrassed by his praise, I smiled and received several thin smiles in return, but nobody attempted to shake my powdery hand.

“Carleigh, this is the group of investors I was talking about the other night. I thought it would be helpful for them to see the manor in person before we move forward with discussions about setting up a funding schedule for the restoration.”

I looked around at the group. “If you have any questions, I'll be happy to answer them,” I said.

Nobody spoke.

“If we have questions after the tour, we know where to find you,” Harlan declared.

I got back to work. I didn't know Cora-Camille had changed her mind about the investment group. Then again, maybe she hadn't. She hadn't seemed enthusiastic about their participation in the restoration and funding. She was spending the afternoon in the new barn down the road; maybe Harlan had chosen this time for the tour because he knew Cora-Camille wouldn't be around.

I could hear Harlan discussing the history of the old home and its dependencies as the group made its way slowly around the first floor. Then they all trooped down to the basement and came up again several minutes later. They were a little more animated now, asking questions of Harlan and engaging each other in conversation and speculation. Harlan brought several of them back into the drawing room, where they proceeded to ask me several questions about the length of time it would take to complete the restoration work, some of the techniques I would be using, and the estimated costs of certain aspects of the project. I answered their questions as best I could, then Harlan saw the group to the front door. He came back into the drawing room alone. “I'm not sure how that went,” he began. “They didn't seem too happy, did they?”

“They didn't look happy to me, but maybe investors are always sour,” I told him with a grin.

“Maybe you're right. I'll talk to them tomorrow. Say, are you busy for dinner tonight? I thought you might enjoy a meal at one of Charleston's fine eateries.”

“Uh, I don't know,” I stammered, suddenly in a panic.
Is this man asking me out on a date
?

Harlan spoke again. “Evie can come if you'd like. We could make a little party of it.”

I sighed inwardly with relief.
Not a date, just a dinner with friends.
“Okay, that would be fine. I have to make sure someone can help Lucy with her dinner, though.”

“There'll be someone here to look after her, and you'll be back before her bedtime. Shall we meet in Charleston at around six?”

“Sure. Where in Charleston?”

“I had a place on Broad Street in mind. An old, old restaurant with excellent food. I'll write down the address for you. Sound good?”

“Okay.”

No sooner had he written down the address for me than Cora-Camille walked in the front door.

“Who were all those people?” she asked Harlan. So she didn't know about his tour after all.

He appeared uncomfortable as he shifted position, flicking a glance in my direction. “I thought I'd bring out a few of the people who are interested in possibly helping to fund the restoration. They just wanted to see the place.”

Cora-Camille frowned. “Darlin', I've been thinking about it and I just don't believe that it's a good idea to bring investors into this project. I have more than enough money to pay for the restoration. If we invite your investor friends, they'll want to see a return on their money, and my home will end up being used by people looking to get rich.”

“But Gran, just think of all the good we could do if this house were used to teach people about the antebellum South.”

That's when Cora-Camille dropped her bombshell.

“That may happen anyway, Harlan. I'm thinking about changing my will and leaving the management of Peppernell Manor to the state of South Carolina. That way people will be visiting this home for many years to come, but the proceeds will go to the state. Not a bunch of people looking to make a quick buck.”

Harlan's eyes widened. “I didn't know that, Gran. I hope you'll forgive me for bringing those people through here.”

“That's all right, dear. I know you were just trying to help.”

I interjected. “Cora-Camille, maybe we should sit down and talk about this. If you're thinking Peppernell Manor may be opened up to the public, that will change how I go about my work. We'll need handicap access—”

“Let's worry about that when the time comes,” she interrupted. “For now I just want you to restore my home.” She smiled.

Harlan gave her a hug and she went into the kitchen, his eyes following her. He turned to me and said, “See you tonight.”

“Sure. I'll be there at six.” With that, Harlan let himself out the front door. I ran lightly upstairs and knocked on Evie's door. She opened it a moment later and I asked her if she had time to go into Charleston for dinner with Harlan and me. Unfortunately, she had a conference call with colleagues on the West Coast, so she would be busy at six o'clock. She smiled broadly at me. “You have a date with Harlan? That's great!”

“No,” I hastened to clarify. “It's just a friendly meal. That's why we invited you, too.”

“Oh. Well, I'm sorry I can't go.”

Now that Evie couldn't go to dinner, I didn't want to go anymore. But I had already told Harlan I would meet him at the restaurant, so I didn't have a choice. A few hours later I put on a crisp, white, silk tank top and a pair of capris and left the manor, promising Lucy I would be back before her bedtime.

When I got to the restaurant, I was dismayed to see Harlan waiting for me outside wearing a three-piece suit. I was obviously not dressed appropriately for dinner. He looked me up and down and suggested that we go to another restaurant down the block, one that was a little less formal. I apologized to him, explaining that I hadn't realized we were going to a fancy restaurant.

During dinner Harlan and I talked a little about the restoration, but Harlan mostly regaled me with stories about his job. He seemed to love his work, but I privately thought that all the meetings about money . . . and the stress over money . . . and the searching for new sources of money . . . sounded dreadful. Eventually the conversation got around to the investors he had brought to the manor earlier that afternoon.

“I'm going to have to talk to the folks who went through the house this afternoon,” he said. “Gran's announcement certainly came as a surprise to me. The plans of the group may have to wait.”

Sounds like they'll be waiting forever,
I thought to myself. He must have read my thoughts.

“I think Gran will come around. Family is the most important thing to her, and eventually she'll realize that investor funding is the best course for the family after she passes.”

“How do you figure?” I asked.

“She's always talking about what will happen after she dies. You've even heard her. The best way to assure that the family continues to get an appreciable income will be to accept an infusion of cash so we can modify the property to become a travel destination for folks who want to know more about the South before the War of Northern Aggression.”

“I guess you have your work cut out for you, then.”

He smiled wryly. “I sure do.”

After dinner, he walked me to my car and bid me good night, taking my hand and bowing over it as he had when we met. Even though Harlan had suggested that I invite Evie to this “little party,” I felt through the entire meal like I was on a date—but all I wanted from Harlan was friendship. I was so relieved that he didn't try to kiss me that I actually felt weak-kneed when I got in the car. I was happy to get home to my very wound-up daughter who had spent most of the evening riding Graydon's back as though he were a horse.