A Stranger in Wynnedower (31 page)

“Probably the water
pipes. When air gets into pipes, it can sound like thunder.” He put an arm
around her shoulders. “Okay, now?”

She nodded, reassured.
“Thanks, Brendan. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Why don’t I walk you
back to your room?” He tightened his arm around her in a companionable way.

“No, thanks. I’m fine
now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She stepped away
and patted his arm. “Thanks, but I can manage on my own.”

Brendan laughed. “Good
night.”

She waved and walked
away, a bit uncomfortable, but not so much at Brendan’s coziness. As unlikely
as it seemed, she had the tiniest feeling that he might be toying with her.

****

“Mrs. Sellers, I think
tomorrow morning is the best time for us to have brunch in the conservatory. I
have my work table set up out there. We can use that.” Rachel crossed her arms.
“Well, I can see you disapprove. I hope you’ll join us.”

“Miss Helene will be
uncomfortable with all those windows. Almost as bad as being outside for her.”

“The conservatory is a
step in the process. Not quite outside, but not shut away in these dark rooms,
either. There’ll be nobody but us around her.”

“What if David Kilmer
comes back? You saw what happened when she caught a glimpse of him.”

“Yes, I did and why is
that? I understand she might not like him and might get angry, but she was
hysterical.”

May pressed her lips
together, thin like a ribbon, and then opened her mouth only to close it again.
Rachel could see those words struggling to erupt, whether to tell Helene’s
secrets, or to hurl devastating insults at her for being nosey and high-handed.
Rachel didn’t know which, but she was amused by May’s discomfiture at not
wanting to blurt it out.

“Well, for heaven’s
sake, Mrs. Sellers, either speak or not. It’s up to you.”

“He’s a snake, that
one. Mind you, Miss Sevier, not to be too dismissive of him. He’s a man with a
will and no regard for the well-being of any other person. You’d do well to
avoid him instead of….”

“Instead of what?”

“Meeting him out on the
grounds. There’s lots of windows in this house, missy.”

She must have provoked
May, indeed, for ‘missy’ to have escaped those lips.

“I don’t meet him. On
the few occasions when he has approached me, I tried to be courteous but not
encouraging. He isn’t my friend, and is barely an acquaintance, so do not
imagine meetings that never happened.”

“People think because
I’m old that I don’t see. I see how he waylays anyone who’ll talk to him, even
Brendan. He’s thinking about himself. Only himself, and he doesn’t care who
gets hurt.”

“Rachel? Is now good?”
Brendan asked.

May looked back and
forth between them.

Rachel explained,
“Brendan’s going to help me move some boxes and stuff around upstairs.”

May turned back to the
kitchen counter, dismissing them.

“Lunch at noon, then?”

They climbed the stairs
together. Rachel thought he seemed less lighthearted than usual.

“Are you okay? Not
coming down with anything, are you?” She resisted reaching up to check his
forehead for fever.

“I’m fine. Fine,” he
added with emphasis. Brendan moved to the nearest mound and lifted the sheet.
“It’s like ghost furniture. And it’s going to waste. I was a kid when they
moved most of it up here.”

“I assumed they moved
it before that.” I waved at a nearby settee. “See those? Can you put them with
the other boxes?”

“Sure can.” He hoisted
a box. “I was a kid back then. It was right after Jack got married. His wife
wasn’t about to live here. She preferred New York. Still does.”

Rachel gripped the back
of a chair with one hand and put the other to her own forehead. She felt
light-headed.

He rushed to her. “Hey,
what happened?”

“I think I’m ill,
Brendan. Let’s stop.” The dim light was her friend. She pretended to cough with
the dust. “Do you mind?”

He took her arm gently.
“Are you dizzy? Is it your stomach?”

“I’ll be okay. I’m
going to lie down for a bit.”

He assisted her down
the stairs. “I’d offer to get May for you, but if you agreed to accept May’s
help, I’d be so scared I’d call 9-1-1 instead.”

She managed a small
smile at his sweet joke. She tried not to ask, but the words came out anyway,
“What’s her name? His wife?”

“Amanda.”

“That’s right. He
mentioned her name, but I couldn’t recall it.” A lie to protect her pride—the
façade of her pride. He’d called Amanda his agent.

“Thanks, Brendan. I’m
going to lie down. Don’t tell May.”

“I’m going to take off
for a few hours, then. Go into town. You sure it’s okay to leave?”

“Yes, I’ll be fine.”

He left. Rachel lay on
the bed and cried like a heartbroken teenager whose first crush asks some other
girl to the dance. Tears trailed across her cheeks.

Hadn’t she known it was
all too good to be true?

Jack hadn’t come
looking for her; she’d put herself in his way. She’d been the one who drew him
from friendship to that passionate kiss.

Now, he was in New York
with his art show and his wife. She imagined them discussing the arrangement of
the paintings, the lighting, the beauty and excitement of it. His arm would go
around her. She would touch his shoulder as she laughed, sharing his
excitement.

Rachel squeezed her
eyes shut, but it didn’t soften the image.

And yet, maybe there
was an explanation. A wife. His wife. Brendan hadn’t specifically said Jack was
currently married, right? She dashed the thought. She wouldn’t have accepted
such rationalizing from Jeremy, and she couldn’t accept it from herself.

Rachel allowed herself
an hour for shock and self-pity, then rose from the bed and began to
systematically gather the notes, materials and estimates she’d collected for
Jack.

Her heart gave a
wrench. How could a house get under one’s skin as Wynnedower had burrowed under
hers?

But the house didn’t
belong to her, nor did Jack. She could see the truth now. She’d fastened upon
Jack because she was losing Jeremy. Jeremy was right to move on with his life.
To make his own decisions. It would be too sad to think she’d raised a brother
who couldn’t separate his life from hers even if it did mean he was throwing
away so much of what she’d worked for on his behalf and leaving a big, gaping
hole in her life. That was her problem, not his.

She organized the
papers by room, and then re-arranged them by category. Keep busy, she told
herself. Continue as if nothing unhappy has occurred. Then leave.

Hadn’t she agreed to
stay? Well, agreements were made to be broken.

But brunch was already
arranged. She didn’t want to hurt Helene.

She’d put on a good
face, one that would hide her hurt. She’d wrap up her notes and inventory and
be ready to scoot out the door as soon as Jack returned.

It was all about
business and that was all it had ever been about.

****

May scowled and
muttered, but cooked brunch. As long as she kept her opinions to herself, there
wouldn’t be a confrontation. Rachel carried the plates and utensils out to the
conservatory to set the table.

It was an exquisite
morning despite her lack of sleep. A warm, gentle breeze swayed the trees
tossing their foliage back and forth making the shadows move and creating
whispery sounds.

Helene arrived with May
and the food, and the aroma of bacon and hot, fresh cinnamon rolls.

“Here’s your chair.”
Rachel gestured to the lyre back dining room chair, one of the items she’d
brought down for convenience. “May, you are welcome to join us. I hope you’ll
reconsider.”

“No.” May dropped the
food on the table and vanished.

Rachel arranged the
food with more thought. “Juice, Helene?”

The late summer light
was kind and made a halo of the fine fluffs of hair that escaped Helene’s
barrettes.

“Ladies, good morning.”
Brendan entered.

Startled, Rachel nearly
jumped to shield Helene, then realized how casually he’d spoken.

“Do you two know each
other?”

Helene gave him a
quick, bright smile, then looked down at her hands.

“Sure do. I’m glad
you’re getting out more. What about you, Rachel? Feeling better?”

“I’m fine.” It was
clear that she, Rachel, had been the only one in the house who didn’t know
about Helene. Well, okay. Apparently, she, Rachel, was the only stranger at
Wynnedower. The odd one out. The one who didn’t belong.

“Will you join us?”

“I can’t. My brother
needs my help with a repo.”

She detected tension in
his voice and his smile seemed forced. “A repossession? Isn’t that dangerous?”

“We use our brains, and
we’re careful. Most of the repos aren’t a big deal.” He smiled at her and
winked at Helene.

“They blow everything
up on TV. To make it more exciting, right?” Rachel suggested.

“Yep.” He grabbed a
roll from the basket. “Well, you ladies have a fun brunch, and I’ll be back
before supper.” He mimicked a bow and left.

After the last
croissant was consumed and while they lingered at the table, Rachel saw him.

They’d taken this big
leap with breakfast in the conservatory, and who should come around skulking in
the shrubbery?

Heat flooded her body in
a hot rush of anger. If not for Helene’s presence, she would’ve chased after
him with her fork, or maybe she would’ve reached for her phone and called the
police.

Call them before he
can do harm. Even if the harm is no more than annoyance.

Helene’s back was
toward the area of shrubbery in question, and a screen of dead vegetation in
the dry fountain helped shield her from view. She hoped so, anyway. When Helene
stared at Rachel’s hands, she realized her fingers were rat-a-tat-tatting the
table.

All they needed to do
was to wrap up their lovely meal, then she could escort Helene safely back
inside. Helene would never know and thus couldn’t be upset.

“Helene, are you done?
I’m chilly. Let’s go in.”

“Breakfast was lovely.”

Rachel rose, pretending
they had all the time in the world. “I’m so glad you enjoyed it. Go on to the
kitchen. I’ll be right there.” She maneuvered Helene away from the exterior
door and windows and practically pushed her into the house. “Will you ask Mrs.
Sellers to make us some coffee?”

Helene nodded and went.

With a quick glance
over her shoulder to make sure Helene was out of sight, Rachel walked briskly
toward the exterior door. Kilmer stepped forward, apparently in haste to reach
the door and perhaps assuming she was coming to join him, but instead she gave
the lock a quick flip.

Something scary slipped
across his face, flushed away by a good guy grin.

He spoke through the
glass panels of the door. “Rachel? Is something wrong?”

“You aren’t supposed to
be here.”

“What are you talking
about?”

“Jack said so. He told
you and spoke with the police, too. He got a restraining order.”

“Rachel.”

She stared at him. Was
that pity in his eyes?

“Jack and I spoke, but
it wasn’t about me staying away. He was concerned about Helene. Talk to the
police? I’m sure he didn’t. Perhaps you misunderstood?” He appeared to
consider, then shrugged. “Is he home now? Call him out here, and we’ll talk.”

“You know where he is.”

“Where he is…. Oh,
that’s right. His showing. A fancy gallery in New York. Very impressive
considering he only started painting seriously a few years ago. But talent’s in
the blood, isn’t it? It’s the perseverance that can be hard to come by. Was
that Helene sharing lunch with you?”

“Leave this property.”

“I understand. No
problem. Jack will return soon. We’ll work it out then.” He didn’t smile but
tilted his head as if examining her face. “In any relationship there’s give and
take.”

Despite the implied
threat, despite him being unwelcome, it was on the tip of her tongue to ask if
he knew Amanda…and what did he know about her and Jack? But shame kept it in.
She shook inside and was amazed at the calm in her voice. “Go, or I’ll call the
police, and you can sort it out with them now and with Jack when he returns.
And one last thing—you lied to me about being friends with Jeremy. I won’t
forgive that. Keep away from Brendan, too. You’re nothing but trouble.”

Rachel walked away,
leaving the French doors between the conservatory and the house open to signal
confidence that he would do as instructed. She intended to return and lock them
as soon as he was out of view.