A Stranger in Wynnedower (5 page)

“Flowing hair. Strong,
aggressive good looks. Sounds like he stepped off the cover of a romance novel.
One of those historical ones. Is he showing any bare chest?”

“No, definitely not.”

“Not wearing a kilt, is
he?”

“Not nice, Daisy. Stop
teasing me.”

“But it’s so much fun,
and I’m not entirely teasing. The whole situation sounds suspicious. If you
need me, let me know. I’ll be there right away.”

“Daisy, you’re the
best. That’s why I put up with your strange sense of humor. In reality, his
reason for asking me to stay locked in the room is simple. He says looters
break in.”

“What? Wow. Well, then
stay in the room.”

“He just wants me out
of the way.”

“What are these people
after? It’s a big house, right? But lived in, so what’s going on?”

“He mentioned copper
pipes.” She shrugged. “The man didn’t say this, but Jeremy told he’d heard
rumors about something valuable being hidden here at Wynnedower.”

“Like what?”

“He said something
about artwork. Paintings or something. He teased me, saying we could go on a
treasure hunt.”

Daisy laughed. “That
sounds right up your alley, both the art and the treasure hunt.”

“Well, that was before
he got angry with me, and apparently, moved without telling me.”

After a pause, Daisy
changed the subject. “If you only made it as far as Wynnedower, should I ask
about the museum reception?”

Rachel pulled her legs
up into the chair and sighed. “No, didn’t make the reception. It’s okay.
Tomorrow is another day, per Scarlett.”

“Don’t let it get you
down. Always remember what’s important. Anything else is nice-to-have. And
Rachel, have some fun.”

Daisy was always saying
stuff like that. She and Daisy were very different personality types, but
friends. Her best friend. Only real friend.

“I have fun. Often. And
this is an interesting place. For a night, anyway. After I find Jeremy....”

“After. Always
after
.
You’re too much in your own head.”

“I’m solitary, true,
but in my own head? I’m interested in lots of things.”

Daisy started laughing.
At first, Rachel was annoyed, uncertain, but then couldn’t help laughing with
her. She didn’t understand the joke, but she trusted Daisy’s heart.

They said goodnight,
and she laid her phone on the nightstand. Lying there in the dark, suddenly she
felt lost in the near silence. Only cricket noises came through the window.
Country life? It seemed almost too quiet too sleep. In the distance, a train
rumbled past. A long train. As the sound faded away, so did she. She fell off
to sleep without noticing.

She woke the same way,
with the sudden realization that she was awake. The time on her phone read one
a.m.

Lying still, listening,
she heard a creak from somewhere outside the room. Creaks were to be expected
in an old house.

Another sound,
difficult to identify and location hard to pin down.

Could it be Jeremy?
Suppose he’d returned? He wouldn’t know she was here unless he recognized her
car in the dark.

It would be fun to
surprise him. He’d say, “Rachel, when did you get here?” and she could tell him
about getting trapped in his room.

Cautioning herself not
to be disappointed, she felt along the floor with her feet, searching for her
slippers.

She moved the
furniture, unlocked the bedroom door and peeked out into the empty sitting room.
When she turned the key in the sitting room door, the sound of the mechanism
unlocking sounded like a shot in the silent night. Breath held, she eased the
door open. There was no light peeking from beneath the other doors, including
Jeremy’s.

He wasn’t there. It was
disappointing, but while she was up she’d retrieve her pantyhose.

The door was still
unlocked. One quick moment and she had her hose. She shoved them into the
pocket of her robe. As she stepped into the hallway, a faint scent tickled
Rachel’s nose—a tantalizing wisp of flowers that was quickly gone.

In the far alcove, a
whitish shape moved and vanished. Instinctively, Rachel surged forward, and
then stopped. Was she really going to chase after a blur? It was probably
nothing more than lint on her eyelashes. She spun around to return to her room
and bumped into a solid wall of warm body. Hands grabbed her arms.

“How hard was it to
respect my one request? That you stay in your room? Believe it or not, it’s for
your own safety.”

He released her arms.
She rubbed them.

She asked, “How did you
get over here behind me?”

“What are you talking
about?”

“I saw you go into the
alcove. I saw someone in white.” Rachel pointed at his white t-shirt. He was
wearing the same jeans as earlier.

“You saw someone?”

“Just a shape.”

He shook his head.
“You’re lucky. It could’ve been an intruder.”

“I was hoping my
brother had returned.”

“Go.” He waved in the
direction of her room.

A couple of steps
along, she stopped and turned back. “Jack?”

She could tell by the shift
of his shoulders and his sudden stillness otherwise, that she’d startled him.
“You said to call you Jack.”

“That’s fine.”

“Why is Jeremy’s door
unlocked? Every other door in this place is locked tight.”

“Rachel. May I call you
Rachel?” He stepped closer.

The hallway was small.
Claustrophobia touched her. Her stomach did a little jump.

His voice dropped, low
and tightly controlled, “Rachel, your brother left without notice and took the
key with him. I won’t bore you with the details of the key situation here, but
until I find one that fits, it will remain unlocked. Any more questions?”

She scooted back to her
room. She looked back. He was standing there watching.

“Goodnight,” she said.

He barely acknowledged
the ‘goodnight’ and headed down the stairs, apparently in pursuit of whomever
or whatever she’d seen. Rachel closed her door and turned the key, this time
reassured by the sound of the internal mechanism as it slid closed. She hoped
it was enough to guarantee a safe night’s sleep.

Rachel wondered…if Jack
thought she’d nearly run into a looter, wouldn’t he rush off to catch him
instead of staying to lecture her?

The elusive scent. The
blur of someone disappearing into the alcove…someone feminine?

Perhaps Jack had
another guest at Wynnedower—one he hadn’t chosen to mention.

One who was none of her
business.

Rachel stood at the
bedroom window willing the tow truck to appear, hoping to spot the dusty plumes
it would throw up as it traveled the dirt road to Wynnedower. Nine a.m. It
should be here anytime now. While she waited, she rehearsed the call to Martin
Ballew.

She visualized him at
his desk. His day would just be getting started. He’d be doing interesting
museum stuff, not thinking about their interview scheduled for eleven a.m.

The job was at a small
museum, and didn’t pay much, but it was in the Richmond museum district and
connected to a much larger museum. This job could be a stepping stone to a
better future.

It was important to
strike the right blend of professionalism and courtesy. Rachel carried her
phone as she went downstairs. With her newly short, but neatly groomed
fingernails, she was as good as new. No red suit, but that wouldn’t have been
appropriate for the interview, anyway.

Today she wore a dark
blue slacks and blazer outfit with a cute but elegant pleated dress shirt. The
blazer was cut loose and gathered. It had large interior pockets especially
nice for carrying stuff.

She saw no one on the
way out and left via the unlocked front door. She wandered down the steps and
across the yard, speaking aloud as if Mr. Ballew strolled alongside.

The morning was
beautiful; the grounds were dismal. The grass was peppered with tufts of tall weeds,
and littered with sticks, pine cones and gum balls. As she walked, Rachel
explained to Mr. Ballew that she arrived in town yesterday and was looking
forward to the interview, but had some car trouble and was hoping they could
meet later in the day. He was very receptive—in Rachel’s head. She was
successfully wrapping up the imaginary call, and Mr. Ballew was promising to
keep his schedule open for her, when she found the terrace.

The brick and stone
terrace was appended to the western end of the house. It was semi-circular and
paved with large flat stones. Waist-high brick walls and brick columns with
big, round concrete balls bordered it. Access to the house was through a room
that was also curved and appeared to be constructed mostly of glass. Dirty
glass, of course, and a few panes were cracked, but it snared her interest.

Rachel did a slow spin.
The woods began many yards away to the east and west. Between the forested
areas a broad expanse of green carpet sloped down, far down, to the river. The
wide sweep to the river had been hidden by the angle of the house and woods, not
to mention that she’d been staring at the ground and talking to an imaginary
Mr. Ballew. Here and there, a few colorful shrubs created islands of red and
pink.

The ground sloped over
a distance and appeared to drop off abruptly. Below the drop off, the James
River flowed past.

The beauty drew her.
Did she have time for a walk down to the river? Tingling began between her
shoulder blades. That watched feeling. She shook it off along with the scenic
distractions. Back to business. It was time for the live show.

The receptionist
answered the phone. She said Mr. Ballew wasn’t in.

Rachel sat on the top
step. Not in. She hadn’t anticipated that. “But I have an interview scheduled
with him this morning.”

“Yes, ma’am. I was
about to contact you. Mr. Ballew was called out-of-state on an emergency late
last night. I’m canceling and rescheduling his appointments for the next few
days.”

“Next few days?”

“Yes. He doesn’t know
how long he’ll be gone. When he returns, shall I call you to reschedule?”

Rachel sagged, flat as
a blow-up snowman with a bad leak on a cold morning.

What was she supposed
to do? Stay in a hotel? Four years of college for Jeremy weren’t cheap, plus
she’d paid the deposit and fees for the upcoming graduate program.

No need to panic.
Focus on the important part. The rest will become clear.

Rachel put on her
professional voice. “Yes, that will be fine. May I call you in a day or so and
see if there’s an update on his schedule?”

“Certainly, Ms. Sevier.
You’re welcome to call me. My name is Carina.”

“Thanks.”

Disconnect.

She dropped her face to
her knees.

Now what? Rachel
wrapped her arms around her knees and head. If she could’ve curled up in a ball
like a roly-poly bug, she would’ve. She emptied her mind and regulated her
breathing. This would be okay. It would work out. An answer would come to her.

“Are you sick?”

Rachel peeked sideways
and saw his paint-splattered, rundown loafers. The slacks looked better than
yesterday’s jeans. She raised her head and smoothed her hair.

“I slept well. Thank
you. And thank you for your hospitality. I don’t remember whether I expressed
my appreciation to you yesterday.”

“No problem. Mike’s
Towing called. They’ll be here soon.”

“Thanks.” She looked
away. She wanted him to leave, knowing she couldn’t hide the despair in her face
or voice.

After a pause, he
nodded and walked away.

****

Mike’s Repair and
Towing arrived mid-morning. Rachel saw the big, flat-bed tow truck through the
window. As it stopped next to her car, a youngish blond-haired man jumped out
of the passenger seat and strode up the steps and into the house. Another man,
a bit older, exited more slowly from the driver’s side. Rachel went straight
out to the porch.

“Hi. I’m Rachel Sevier.
I guess you’re Mike? Thanks for coming.”

“Yes, ma’am. Mike
Mills. Wynne told me the car won’t start?” He popped the hood. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. I know
nothing about cars.”

“Well.” He looked
around the open hood and said, “It’s a good idea to keep the cables connected
to the battery.” His expression was curious.

“What are you talking
about?” She rushed to his side. She couldn’t recognize much in a car engine,
but she knew those clips shouldn’t be dangling. “How would that happen?”

He reattached them.
“Not likely to unhook themselves. Likely someone was messing with it. Let’s try
starting the car now.”