Dragon's Touch (Book 1 Linty Dragon Series) (3 page)

One lone door stood closed at the end of the narrow corridor. I tried the handle, figured the door might be stuck and gave it a shove with my shoulder. The thick oak didn’t give under pressure, and I rattled the door handle hoping it would magically open. The door remained closed to me. There had to be a key ring somewhere in the house.

I skipped down the flight of stairs to the first floor by way of the back staircase the help had once used, and entered the kitchen. Rummaging through drawers, cabinets and closets, I found every supply imaginable, except the key I sought. My curiosity ratcheted up a notch.

My search extended to furniture and curios, along with various desk and table drawers throughout the first floor. Certain the key, or a ring of them, lay somewhere in the mansion, I flopped onto a nearby sofa and gave its possible location intense thought. Where would Gran or the housekeeper have stowed the key to that room? Why was it locked in the first place? Was there even a key for the door?

More questions, with no answers, brought on a downward spiral to a mood already on the rocks. The doorbell rang, which startled the daylights out of me, and I jumped from the sofa, scurried into the front hall to peer through the stained glass windows inset in the thick wooden door. The dragon family crest, depicting a dragon and warrior standing together, ready for battle, lay centered in the leaded glass.

A man stood on the stairs. He glanced from side-to-side and then caught sight of me peeking at him through one of the glass panes. Reluctantly, I opened the door and asked, “Can I help you?”

“You certainly may, Linty. Since we haven’t seen one another in years, you probably don’t remember me. I’m your Uncle Charles.” He reached out to shake my hand, and I felt obliged to invite him in.

A long ago memory fluttered back to me. Charles and his wife, what’s-her-name, had been at the house several times, when I’d visited Gran as a youngster. If my memory served me correctly, there’d often been harsh words between Charles, what’s-her-name, and Gran. “Come in, the weather is horrible and even though the rain has let up, you’re pretty damp. I’ll turn up the heat and make some tea.”

His smile wide, Uncle Charles dipped his head in agreement and followed me into the living room. While he settled in, I went to the kitchen and put the kettle on, pulled teabags from the container Smythe had left open, and assembled cups with a matching teapot on a tray. Ready to serve, I brought the load to a coffee table across from Charles and poured us each a cup of Earl Grey.

From above the rim of his cup, Uncle Charles studied me while he sipped appreciatively. “This hits the spot, Linty. Thanks. It’s been a long trip from London. I’d have brought Elizabeth, but she’s at a conference until the weekend. You remember Elizabeth, don’t you, my dear?”

Ah yes, that’s her name. Elizabeth. A tall, gangly woman with prominent front teeth, a horse-face shape to her features, and she walked with a slight limp. In direct contrast, Uncle Charles was short, portly, and had a belligerent jut to his jaw. His mustache seemed bushier than all the hair on his balding head combined would ever be, and his blue-eyes beadier than I remembered.

Wishing I had a pair of scissors handy to trim the ragged hairs that dipped into his tea every time he tipped his cup up, I watched Uncle Charles drink the brew. He made a slight slurping noise after each sip. His bottom lip came up over his top lip and he sucked the moisture from his mustache hairs. Yikes, that was nasty. An intense need to give those hairs a snip increased as we sat there. I wondered if they ever got caught between his teeth when he ate? My stomach acted all squirrelly at the mere thought of it.

With a smile, I asked, “I take it Mr. Smythe called to let you know Gran has passed away?”

He gave me a nod. “Indeed. He thought it wise to notify all of us that she’d been taken to the hospital and had expired this morning. I’m surprised you arrived so quickly from Boston.”

He’d known I was in Boston? How would he know that? Had Smythe told him, and why? 

As though he read my mind, Charles continued. “Smythe said you’d been asked to return home. I suppose it’s a bit much to think your father would accompany you, isn’t it?”

Annoyed at his question and the tone of his voice, my own attitude kicked in. “Just as your wife isn’t able to be here immediately, neither is my father.” I gave Uncle Charles a cool stare. “He’ll be in attendance for the funeral.”

With a mild grunt, Uncle Charles glanced into his teacup, sipped, slurped, and then remarked, “I’m sure he wouldn’t want to miss the reading of the will.”

“As I’m sure you and Aunt Elizabeth wouldn’t. Where are you staying, by the way?”

His calculating gaze traveled the room and left me positive that he’d never stay in this house if I had anything to do with it. The estate was mine, and mine alone to care for. If this man thought for one second he would clean the place out and walk away, he could think again. Why I even considered his doing so was a mystery, but somehow my life was growing increasingly weirder by the moment. It suddenly occurred to me that I’d made an unconscious decision to maintain the estate as Gran had wanted.

I glanced at Drake, whose eyes gave off a slight glow. Even at this distance, he emanated power and strength. I shook my head slightly at the foolish thought.
Not so ridiculous, Linty. You are the only one to take over.
I stiffened and focused on the dragon, his golden eyes became a little brighter, or maybe my imagination had gone wild. I blinked hard and glanced away, then turned to my uncle.

“Are you all right?” Uncle Charles asked.

“Of course, why do you ask?”

“You seemed far away, lost in thought. I know you and Mother were close. I suppose this must be extremely difficult for you.”

“I would just like to be alone for a while, I guess. I have jet lag, I didn’t sleep on the plane to and from Boston, and then I rushed here from Aberdeen Airport. It was an exhausting trip actually.”

“Sure, that’s understandable. I’ll be at Sutter’s Inn on Cairn Road until the funeral is over and Mother’s estate is settled. Do you plan to remain here until all is set?” he asked with keen interest in his eyes.

“Gran would have wanted me to. I’m loath to leave the house empty now that she’s no longer here.” My breath caught in my throat. Gran was truly gone forever, except she’d always be in my heart.

When I looked up, Uncle Charles had risen from the sofa. He openly admired the dragons encased in the cabinet, and my heart hardened when a cold and greedy expression crossed his features. I was surprised he didn’t express a cha-ching sound as he mentally tallied the worth of Gran’s antiques and her dragons. The dragons were wonderful, yet fearsome, creatures that had been handed down through generations with the stipulation that they never be sold, destroyed, or given away. I wouldn’t break the dragon-keeper chain for anything in the world. These were now my dragons, I adored every one of them, and had my entire life, especially Drake.

I walked toward the collection, listened to Uncle Charles explain how each dragon had been acquired, and even though I already knew how we’d come by the magnificent creatures, I let him ramble on. When he hadn’t explained their history, but only spoke of their acquisition, I was about to ask if he knew each dragon’s background when we’d reached Drake. Suddenly, Uncle Charles took a cautious step back and visibly paled. A sheen of sweat covered his face, drops of moisture dribbled down from the corner edge of his brow. With undivided attention, I watched as Charles sucked in a breath while looking at Drake.

“What it is, Uncle Charles? Are you ill?”

He shook his head. “I thought this dragon’s eyes just flashed like flames of fire. Did you see it?”

Wary of admitting that I had, I smiled gently and laid my hand on his arm.

“I think you must be tired from your trip. Drake is a statue, as are all the others. Maybe the way the overhead light reflected in his eyes caused you to think that.” I motioned Uncles Charles toward the foyer and into the sitting room. “Why don’t you take a seat, you’ve had a long journey.”

Over my shoulder, I sneaked a narrow-eyed glare at Drake. It seemed I wasn’t the only one seeing things.

“I’m sure you’re right.” Charles checked his watch. “It’s late in the day, a meal and a good night’s sleep is what I need.” Uncle Charles scurried away from the dragons, hauled his top coat on and made tracks toward the door. Moments later, he’d backed his car from the parking spot and turned down the drive as though he couldn’t get away fast enough.

Instantly, I marched toward the dragon. Drake’s eyes grew bright when I ran my hand over his scales. “You’re so beautiful. You nearly gave Uncle Charles a heart attack,” I murmured softly and pet-like, I stroked his body.

We have to protect the secrets, Linty. You and I are bound by tradition to do so.

Wait a minute, I’d just spoken to a dragon statue and he actually replied. Holy shit. Had he communicated with me by way of mind whispers, or had I imagined those raspy words like the ones before? Had I lost my marbles? Had my cheese slipped off my cracker? Had my cracker crumbled? If anyone became aware that I spoke to Drake, I’d be locked away in the nearest insane asylum. I had to be careful.

My thoughts were interrupted when the phone rang. I answered the call with a pensive hello.

“Linty, I’m so glad you’ve arrived, my dear,” Mrs. Douglas said. “You must be tired from your trip, and hungry, too. I’ll be over shortly with a bite of supper for you.”

Before I could utter a sound, the line went dead. I shook the phone, said hello again and realized Mrs. Douglas, Gran’s housekeeper, had hung up. With a sigh, I set the phone in the charger, shuffled to the sofa and sank into the deep confines of the soft cushions. What a day. I leaned my head against a pillow and closed my eyes for a moment.

How long I’d been asleep is anybody’s guess. It wasn’t until footsteps sounded on the wooden floor that I awakened with a start. Mrs. Douglas stood in the doorway, her expression kind as she stared at me, and I glanced around.

“Mrs. Douglas, I’m so glad to see you,” I said as I flew off the sofa and hugged her. The woman had been Gran’s housekeeper for many years, and I’d grown up thinking of her as family.

“I’m so sorry about Essie. She tried to hang on as long as she could, in hope that you’d get here before she passed.” Mrs. Douglas looked me over, shook her head, and said, “You’re tired, why don’t you sit and relax, I’ll bring a tray in for you.”

“Don’t go to any trouble. I’d just as soon eat in the kitchen as long as you keep me company,” I answered.

“If that’s what you prefer, I’d be happy to do so.” Mrs. Douglas wrapped her arm around my shoulders and we strolled toward the kitchen.

Seated at the table, I waited for what I knew would be delicious fare. Mrs. Douglas, a rail thin woman with graying hair wound into a bun on the back of her head, was the best cook ever. Many a time she served Gran and me wondrous meals, followed by home-baked cookies and milk. We’d watch the sun set and enjoy the light snack on the rear patio. I’d never been disappointed over the meals she prepared, and wasn’t now.

A bowl of hearty vegetable stew and thick slices of wheat bread were set before me. I asked if she would join me, but Mrs. Douglas shook her head.

“I’ve already eaten. Mr. Douglas and I had this for our lunch. I stowed some away so there’d be enough for your supper.”

I grinned, dipped a corner of the bread into the thick gravy and ate like I’d not eaten in days. It felt that way, even though I’d had a snack on the plane. Food is comforting, in life and in mourning, and I knew I’d feel better once I’d eaten. Mrs. Douglas spoke of the days when I’d visited Gran. She went on about Gran’s love of Dragon Hill and that her one wish was that I would take over the estate upon her death.

Surprised to hear that she knew of Gran’s wishes, I put the spoon down, sat back in the chair and asked, “She really said that?”

“She did. I would never lie about a thing like that. Essie was determined to keep Dragon Hill intact. She knew your father was a wanderer who’d never been happy to stay put for long. He wanted to know, and see, what lay on the other side of the hill, the world, even.” She shook her head. “And then there’s Charles. Essie figured he’d cash in on Dragon Hill as fast as he could. She made sure he couldn’t do that, Linty.” With a slight harrumph, Mrs. Douglas finished drying the stew container.

“How’s that?”

“She made a new will on her deathbed that gives you everything, of course.” Mrs. Douglas lifted the teapot, refilled my cup, and set the cozy over the pot when she’d returned it to the thick knit warming pad. She fumbled in her pocket and withdrew a folded envelope that she slid across the table to me.

A bulging, cream colored, vellum envelope sat next to my bowl. It had my name scrawled in Gran’s handwriting on the front. I touched the paper, ran my fingertips over the smoothness of it, and was reluctant to open it lest it contain words that would reduce me to a tearful idiot. I hadn’t had much time for that sort of thing and wasn’t about to fall apart in front of anyone again, as I had with Mr. Smythe.

Slipping her coat on, Mrs. Douglas said, “Go ahead, take it, you can read it later. If you have any questions, give me a call.”

I slid the envelope into my sweatpants pocket and finished the bowl of stew before it grew cold. As Mrs. Douglas placed the bowl and silverware in the sink, she said, “If you want me to keep house for you, just let me know.”

“Please, consider the job yours. It’ll take a few days for me to acclimate, but I’d like you to stay on,” I assured her. No way could I manage the house and grounds alone. “Do you know who’s been keeping the grounds? They’re in terrible shape.”

“Essie let them go to wrack and ruin. She’d become a tad paranoid these last months and wouldn’t allow the lawns and flowerbeds to be cared for. She thought the less people who came here, the better. I have no idea what prompted that mindset, and she never said. Maybe it’s in the letter.” Mrs. Douglas dipped her head and then left with a promise to return with groceries in the morning.