The House on Tradd Street (27 page)

“I’m giving it a year, tops. And then I’ll be able to sell it.”

I watched as Amelia’s eyes met Jack’s over my head. “A year, hmm? I’m thinking you’ve never worked much with contractors, have you?”

I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling defensive. “Not really. Which is one of the reasons I always prefer to live in new construction.”

“I see,” she said, and those two words seemed to mean a lot more than I could translate at the moment.

We continued on our way up the stairs. “I’d love for you to take that grandfather clock in the downstairs drawing room. It chimes every fifteen minutes all through the day and night, and it is driving me crazy. Sophie wants to get started on the ceiling and walls in there, but it’s going to be hard to work around it.”

Mrs. Trenholm stopped at the top of the stairs and looked at me. “Oh, no, Melanie. You shouldn’t move that clock. It’s bad luck—or haven’t you heard?” She put her finger to her chin, a small line forming between her brows. “There’s some sort of story, made up years ago, I’m sure, about that clock. It’s been here since about the time of the War Between the States, and has never been moved. The story says that it’s cursed or some such nonsense and that anybody who tries to move it meets with some horrible fate—but I have a feeling that whoever started that story was probably somebody’s husband who didn’t want to break his back because his wife wanted to rearrange the furniture again.” She winked. “You know how men can be.”

Jack grunted, but everybody else remained silent as we made our way to the attic. We crowded around the space inside the door as Jack went ahead to flip on the single bulb.

“Oh, my goodness,” exclaimed Mrs. Trenholm as she studied her surroundings. “It’s like finding treasure.” She walked over to a low chest with a bowed front and elaborate brass fixtures. Kneeling in front of it, she slid open a drawer and peered inside. “French, seventeenth century at the latest. Very well made.” She stood and patted the top of it the way a mother would before sending her child off on his first day of kindergarten. “It needs refinishing but other than that it’s in good shape.” She faced me. “Melanie, you really need to get it out of this humid attic. I’ll have my museum friend contact you tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” I said, adding that to my never-ending and growing to-do list.

General Lee ran past me toward the buffalo and began barking. Chad laughed. “Look at that. He thinks he’s found a friend.”

Sophie stepped forward, her attempt at sending Chad a withering glance failing miserably. “No, actually. He seems to be barking at the desk next to Mr. Buffalo.”

She sneezed as Chad joined her and picked up the dog. “What’s wrong, big guy? Something spooked you?”

General Lee responded with a resounding yap and twisted in Chad’s arms to face the desk again.

Jack and I joined them near the desk as Sophie stepped forward and opened the desk drawer. “Look—there’s a stack of papers in here.”

Jack reached in and lifted them out. “I know. Mellie and I found them last night. When I get a chance I’ll go through them, although at first glance I don’t think there’s anything of real significance here.” He moved to stick them back in the drawer when I remembered what I’d thought about the night before as I’d gone to sleep. I put my hand on his wrist. “Wait a minute. I want to look at that deed again.”

For a moment I had the extraordinary thought that he was going to refuse. “Sure,” he said, riffling through the documents until he pulled out the right one and handed it to me.

I scanned the document, my eyes settling at the bottom, confirming what I’d thought before. “I know the person who witnessed this.” I looked up, meeting Jack’s eyes, and it became apparent to me that he already knew. “My grandfather—Augustus Middleton.”

General Lee let out a bark as Sophie and Chad gathered around us to get a closer look at the deed. Sophie took the paper from me and squinted at the small print. “I guess it makes sense since your grandfather was not only a friend but also a lawyer. But why would Mr. Vanderhorst deed the property to his wife?”

Chad reached down to pick up General Lee, who was jumping up as if to get a better look. “It sure is a mystery,” he said, looking around. “But I bet if we put our four heads together we could figure it out.”

Mrs. Trenholm made a strangled sound in her throat, and then coughed. “Jack, what was that silly cartoon with the dog and his four friends that you used to watch every Saturday morning? They would solve mysteries and drive a van.” I watched as a grin spread across Mrs. Trenholm’s face.

Jack’s brow furrowed. “You mean
Scooby-Doo
?”

Sophie snorted. “With Shaggy, Fred, Velma, and Daphne?”

“Yes! That’s it.” Amelia put her hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.

“Ruh-roh!” said Chad, obviously getting the joke that so far eluded me.

When Jack and Sophie began laughing, too, my annoyance turned into peevishness. “I guess some of us had better things to do than sit in front of a television set on Saturday mornings,” I said, remembering how I’d used that time to sit by my father’s bed with a bucket so that when he threw up after his Friday night binges, I wouldn’t have to clean up.

Marc cleared his throat. “The resemblance is a bit uncanny. But wouldn’t you need a ghost, too?”

That quickly sobered everyone up, and I wondered if they were all remembering the flying picture frame in the drawing room. I avoided Jack’s eyes as I turned back to the deed. “Didn’t I hear somewhere lately that Magnolia Ridge had been purchased recently?”

Marc coughed again. “I own it, actually. Sort of my first foray into historical real estate investment. Magnolia Ridge plantation had been abandoned and then owned by the state for years and was about to go up for auction. I guess you can say I was in the right place at the right time.”

“What a coincidence,” Jack said with a tight smile.

“Yes, wasn’t it?” Marc smiled, then turned back to me. “I’m sorry to be leaving so soon, but I’ve got another appointment. I’ll ask for my tour another time, Melanie, when you’re not so busy. And I’ll pick you up at five o’clock on Friday, all right? All you’ll need is a toothbrush and a bathing suit.”

All eyes turned to me, and I felt my cheeks burn, feeling guilty that I could be considering time off when everybody else had been working long days with only a minor stipend—my father’s idea—and good food provided by Mrs. Houlihan as payment. Except for Chad’s motivations involving Sophie, I wouldn’t entertain the possibility that people would restore an old house for fun. I looked down at my chipped fingernails, courtesy of scraping decades of paint layers from the corkscrew spindles on the central staircase, and remembered that I’d missed yet another appointment with my hair colorist because I’d been waiting on the electrician again.

“If it makes you feel any better, I promise you that it won’t all be leisure,” Marc added. “We can finish our discussion about historic real estate in Charleston and maybe come up with a list of houses to see in the next week.”

The talk of doing work did assuage my conscience somewhat, and when I spied my neglected fingernails again, my mind was made up. Defiantly, I raised my chin. “Yes, that would be great. I’ll be ready.”

His look of surprise was quickly hidden behind a smile. “Great. I’ll see you then.” He kissed me briefly on the cheek, his warm breath teasing my nerves and making me blush. I was grateful for the dim lighting.

“I’ll see you out,” I said, following Marc to the door.

“Me, too,” said Jack as he followed us both to the stairs. I didn’t bother sending him a scathing look, knowing that it wouldn’t make any difference.

Marc paused halfway down the stairs. “This is such a beautiful home. I’ll admit to being a bit disappointed that it’s not for sale. Then again, look at all this work. I’m not sure if I were in your position I’d be willing to see it through.”

We reached the front door. “Believe me,” I said, “I have second thoughts every day about my sanity in deciding to stay here.”

Marc smiled, his eyes warm. “There’s nothing wrong with your sanity, Melanie. You made a promise to an old man, which shows you have a warm and generous heart. That’s a very good thing, you know.”

I thought he was about to kiss me, and I wasn’t opposed to the idea, when Jack spoke up from behind us. “That’s our Mellie. Heart of gold.” He stepped around us and pulled open the door. “Thanks for stopping by, Matt. We’ll see you later.”

A flash of loathing appeared in Marc’s eyes and then just as quickly was gone. Marc looked at me again, his brown eyes penetrating. “I’ll see you Friday.”

“Looking forward to it,” I said as I watched him head down the piazza, wondering if he really would have kissed me if Jack hadn’t been there.

I closed the door, then turned around, almost jumping in surprise to find Jack standing so close. He wasn’t smiling.

“Remember what I said about coincidences, Mellie? They don’t exist. Regardless of what he wants you to think, it is not a coincidence that Marc Longo not only owns Magnolia Ridge, but also showed up on your doorstep asking to buy this house.”

Irritated, I pushed away from him and headed back to the stairs. “I told you, he’s a businessman. It would only make sense that he’d want to invest in real estate in his hometown.”

Jack followed me, his heels digging into the floor with each step. “But why you? Why this house? Don’t you think there’s something else here?”

I stood on the third step and turned around to face him. “Like what? That he found out his grandfather and Louisa really did have an affair? Why would that make him want to buy up all the real estate that had anything to do with her? Marc Longo is simply not the kind of man who would get sentimental over an old love story or a past scandal. He’s a businessman, remember? He’s looking for ways to make money.”

I was shaking now, angry beyond reason as I turned back around and began running up the stairs. Jack tugged on my arm, jerking me back and bringing me to a halt. “He is using you to get to something. I-I’m not sure what, but it has something to do with this house. I’m guessing he looked for whatever it is at Magnolia Ridge, and when he didn’t find it, he assumed it’s here in this house.”

I jerked my arm away but Jack didn’t back down. He continued. “I’ve been asking around town and found out that Marc Longo is deeply in debt and needs some cash flow. My own mother will tell you how he stiffed the AIDS charity they were talking about earlier. He’s never paid up. He’s got creditors crawling out of the woodwork.” He leaned toward me. “He wants something, Mellie. And he’s not the kind of guy who takes no for an answer.”

My chest tightened, the familiar feeling of disappointment filling the space, and I twirled around and began running up the stairs. “Is it too much for you to believe that an attractive and intelligent man could possibly be interested in just me?” I swallowed, embarrassed to hear the tears in my voice.
Was I really that desperate?
I paused on the top step, trying to catch my breath. “Okay. So what if his motives aren’t so honorable? At this point in my life, I don’t care. He’s attractive and attentive, and he likes taking me out. We’re both having fun and not planning a wedding, for crying out loud.” I took a shuddering breath, trying not to sound as desperate as I felt. “Look, I’m a big girl, and I can take care of myself. Did you ever stop to think that maybe I just want to have a little fun with a good-looking guy? Is that so wrong?”

His voice was soft behind me. “Would it be too difficult for you to believe that I care about you and don’t want you hurt?”

I was too angry and upset to believe anything he said, and I wanted to hurt him as much as he had hurt me. I turned back to face him as I grasped the banister. “Why did your fiancée leave you, Jack?”

His face remained impassive but I saw the light dim in his eyes and knew I’d reached my target. At first I thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then quietly, he said, “She told me that she didn’t love me. That she had never really loved me.”

Any satisfaction I would have felt evaporated quickly at the hurt and loss that filled his eyes. “Jack, I . . .” I had a split second to register the familiar putrid smell around me before the words were knocked out of my mouth by the distinct feeling of two ice-cold hands punching me in the back, sending me toppling forward straight into Jack. He managed to break my fall with one arm while holding on to the banister with the other.

“You’ve got to stop throwing yourself at me, Mellie,” he began before I felt another shove aimed at the middle of my back, sending us both sprawling down the stairs toward the marble floor. Jack pressed his arms around me, twisting himself so that he landed on the hardwood stairs, taking the brunt of the fall. Our momentum carried us down the stairs at a growing speed, and I sensed Jack trying to turn us around so that we wouldn’t land headfirst.

Then, just as suddenly as the push from behind, we stopped abruptly on the last step. Jack’s face was less then an inch from mine, so close that I could see the beads of perspiration gathering on his forehead. “What the . . . ?” I felt the rapid rise and fall of his chest as we lay pressed together where we’d landed. He didn’t try to move me off of him, his arms still wrapped around me. In a different situation, I might even have enjoyed it. “Are you all right?”

Too stunned to speak, I nodded, taking a mental inventory of all my limbs. I already felt the bruising in the two places the unseen hands had made contact with my back.

“How did that happen, Mellie? You were standing still, and then all of a sudden you were flying at me, as if you’d been pushed.”

My teeth began to chatter, and he tightened his arms around me. “I’m—I’m just clumsy. I trip easily.”

He stared at me for a long moment, his breath warm on my cheek. Neither one of us attempted to move.

Jack continued. “And I could have sworn that somebody—or something—just broke our fall. It felt like we landed on a pillow.”