Dreams of Fire (Maple Hill Chronicles Book 1)
Read Dreams of Fire (Maple Hill Chronicles Book 1) Online
Authors: Elizabeth Alix
For Austin my first, best reader.
Dreams of Fire
Maple Hill Chronicles 1
Elizabeth R. Alix
Copyright © 2015 Elizabeth G. Wilmerding
All rights reserved.
Edited by Jacqueline Beam
Cover illustration and layout by Victorine Lieske,
http://bluevalleyauthorservices.com/
This is a work of fiction.
Names, places and events are either products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead or actual events is coincidental.
ISBN
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic or printed editions. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
Supported by Palouse Digital Press, Pullman, WA USA:
palousedigitalpress.com
Chapter 1
“You’re nothing without me,” Geoffrey said with the amused, pitying expression that he’d worn for the last year. White-faced, holding back tears, Marianne Singleton silently threw her clothes and personal possessions into boxes. He pretended to watch a ballgame on TV, while she struggled to and from the elevator multiple times, hauling her stuff out of their fancy apartment. The doorman was the only kind person, watching her things and holding the doors for her while she loaded the car. She’d run that day, and she was still running. She shook her head to escape the memory.
The mid August heat of the Hudson Valley shimmered off the roof of the house, and humidity made the air heavy. Sweating, she emerged from her car and slammed the door. She stood at the edge of the weedy front yard, noting the peeling paint and general air of neglect.
How disappointing, was her first thought. When Mrs. Thomas said it needed a little work, I wasn’t expecting something from Sad Homes and Empty Lots. I hope the inside isn’t as shabby as the outside. All the same, she amended, maybe it’ll be the perfect disguise, and Geoffrey won’t look for me here.
The realtor was supposed to meet her at eleven to give her a key, but there was no one here. Marianne wondered briefly if she’d mistaken the day or the place, but a quick check of her note said she was in the right place. Sweat trickled down the small of her back as she stood there. Rolling down the windows of her mother’s car, “the Flea”—her car now, she supposed—she gave poor Oscar some air before carefully working her way past the peeling picket fence and along the overgrown path to the front door. The movers were on their way up the Thruway now. What if the lady from Gloria’s Valley Homes and Properties didn’t get here in time? Marianne could just picture her furniture heaped on the weeds in the yard or left in the street of the cul-de-sac.
As she fumbled in her pocket for her cell phone to see if she could find the realtor’s number from her previous calls, a car came down the street and stopped in front of the house.
It was a sleek silver Lexus. She tensed, and her heart started to beat a little faster. Geoffrey had a silver Lexus.
The car rolled right up to the curb by the house, but to her relief, a plump, middle-aged woman in a well-tailored, fire engine red linen suit got out and hustled up the walk.
“I’m sorry to be late!” she huffed, trying to hitch a smile on her face in spite of her sweatiness. “Mrs. Thomas told me you were coming today only yesterday.”
“Oh,” Marianne said in some confusion, “I told her last week I’d take it. I thought…”
“Mrs. Thomas, bless her heart, is a little forgetful,” she said cheerfully. “She’s had a some trouble renting this place.” The woman fumbled in a capacious handbag and came up with a key on an old piece of string with a worn paper tag.
“Really?”
“No matter, it’s a great little place. You’ll love it!” After a few moments of fiddling with the key, she managed to turn it.
The realtor threw her a hundred watt smile. “The lock works. It’s just a little tricky. It turns just fine when you find the sweet spot. You’ll figure it out.”
A plaintive yowl came from her car. Marianne said, “Just a sec. I think my cat is overheating.” She dashed back down the steps and waded through the vegetation again. “Sorry, Oscar. Let’s get you inside. I sure hope it’s cooler.”
Struggling with the carrier through the long grass back to the front steps, she made it up through the open door into the shade of the house. Sadly it was not much cooler inside. If anything, the air was stale and smelled of old house: musty, dusty, and somehow, like old people. She’d had a neighbor in the city whose apartment smelled like Ben-Gay, Eau de Toilette, and cabbage. This place held the stillness of long emptiness. “Miss….?” Marianne called. Her voice fell flat in the gloom and heat. It was as if the woman had vanished.
A sound from the back of the house indicated that the realtor had gone into another room. Marianne put the cat carrier down on the hardwood floor and Oscar yowled and rattled the cage door in complaint. “Sorry, mister. I’ll let you out in a minute.”
Marianne followed the sounds to the kitchen and met the realtor bustling back in her direction. “I was just making sure the electricity was turned on. You’ll have to run the water a little to clear the pipes and you might want to open some windows.”
“When was the last tenant here?” Marianne asked in dismay, noting the dust and particularly deep silence of an unoccupied house.
“Oh, about August I guess.” The woman said vaguely, rummaging in her bag.
“Just a couple of weeks then?”
“No, last August,” the agent said quickly and handed her the key. “Here’s the key. Mrs. Thomas said you would be paying reduced rent in return for cleaning up and painting and getting the yard in order.”
“Yes, she mentioned something like that. I can’t really afford the full rent…” The place had been empty for a year? That explained the dust and the yard.
“That’s just fine. If you have any questions, you can call the office,” the realtor said sweetly. “We have a handyman who does basic maintenance and repairs. If you need more, let me know, and I’ll refer you. You have the number? Good. I have to get on to the next appointment. You can swing by our office on Main Street and drop the rent check later today.” She waved a hand over her shoulder.
“What’s your name? I’m sorry I didn’t catch it.” Marianne stood on the front steps watching the realtor head back to her car.
“SueAnn Talmadge. Just call the office, if you need anything!” The car door was already shutting, and the Lexus nosed out of the cul-de-sac with a sleek purr.
That was weird. She’d left with almost indecent haste. She must be very busy, thought Marianne, or she didn’t want me asking any more questions. Well, one didn’t examine the horse’s mouth when one needed a gift like this so desperately. The house and yard needed some serious TLC, so the deal of doing work in exchange for reduced rent might not be the bargain she’d thought it would be. Grandma Selene said her friend needed the favor as much as Marianne needed to get out of the city, so she’d just have to take it.
The metal door to the carrier shook loudly as Oscar yowled again. “Sorry, Oscar! Okay, mister. Here you go.” She squeezed the catch on the door, and the big, orange and white tabby pushed his way out into her waiting hands. She stroked his fur and rubbed his chin as he enthusiastically bumped his head on her hands.
“Well, Oscar, this is our new home. The shelter booklet said you shouldn’t go out yet. So maybe when the movers come, you can go in the bathroom or something.”
Oscar gave her a look that said, “We’ll see about that” and strolled off to explore the room waving his crook-tipped tail. Marianne watched him fondly for a moment as he sniffed the floor and padded around the empty room.
“I’ll go and get your stuff.” She went back out to the car to retrieve the litter box, bags of litter and cat toys, food, dishes, and miscellany and brought them inside. He had almost as much stuff as she did, she thought with amusement.
She headed down the little hallway to the back of the house and found a bathroom halfway down on the right. A quick look showed that there would be room behind the door for the box so she filled it with litter and put it there for now. Later she’d have to find a better place, so she didn’t end up with kitty litter toes after every shower.
Running the bathroom sink tap, she waited for the spurting, slightly brown water to run clear before filling a dish with water and putting it under the pedestal sink near the litter box. The toilet looked clean, so she relieved herself as well.
Her cell phone rang in the silence, making her jump a little. She glanced at the number and answered, “Hi, Mom. I just got here.”
“Oh good, the car got you there in one piece. I was a little worried. How is the house?”
“The car was no trouble at all. Thank you for letting me use it indefinitely. The house seems really nice. I don’t think anyone has lived here for the last year, though. I’m so glad it was available.”
“Your grandmother will be pleased this worked out for you. Be sure you call her and thank her.”
“I will, Mom! The movers are going to be here any minute so I’ve got to go. Thanks for calling.”
“I’m just glad you’re away from the city and that awful man.”
“Me too, Mom.” She hung up, sighing at her mother’s choice of words. When Marianne had gotten married, her mother had been so excited for her. Because she seemed to be marrying up in the world, her mom had overlooked some of Geoffrey’s faults for a long time. Though, to be fair, she had been very supportive of Marianne for the last year.
Maternal reassurance completed, Marianne returned to the front door to start her tour of the new house. She kicked off her sensible sandals and flexed her toes as she pushed back her wavy brown hair, its curls going wild in the humid heat. Extracting a rubber band from her pocket, she quickly made her hair into a ponytail, pulling it through only halfway on the last turn to get it up off her shoulders. Her shorts and white tee shirt clung to her curvy frame, and she pulled at the fabric to release it from her damp skin. She took a deep breath, let it out, and took a long critical look at her new surroundings.
The living room was the first room to the right inside the front door. The walls were a faded pink Marianne hoped she’d be allowed to repaint. At least they weren’t peeling, but it was like being inside a Band-aid box. August sunlight filtered through the dusty front windows onto a dull hardwood floor. Maybe with some work, the wood would clean up. The proportions of the room were decent, and there was a fireplace on the center of the south wall with a beautiful ornamental mantle piece and trim around it. A set of floor to ceiling built-in bookcases flanked either side. She smiled as she imagined her books and knick-knacks filling the shelves. She could picture her grandmother’s rosebud china tea set and a vase with a sprig of flowers in pride of place on the mantelpiece.
To the left of the front door a narrow staircase led up to a second floor. She decided to explore that later. The stairs to the basement were behind a door next to the stairs going up. She chose to save that dark musty space for later too. A funny little pantry or walkthrough closet with rows of narrow shelves painted a dark gray-green color came next. There were a few dusty jars webbed together with spider artwork. Grandma Selene had a canning room like this in her old house. It would make a great place to store things.
The kitchen was decorated in hearty red and yellow paint, bordered by a strip of faded wallpaper with a repeating design of an old fashioned coffee pot, and sugar and flour containers up near the ceiling. It was ‘vintage,’ she told herself, and good enough for now. She really hoped Mrs. Thomas would let her repaint as part of their arrangement. At least the fridge was humming and cold inside. There was an electric stove, and an ancient dishwasher squatted under the counter. She leaned over the double white enameled sink to see out the window and spotted the huge old maple tree behind the detached garage.
