Sometime Yesterday (3 page)

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been dropped into a different life.”

“I know it hurts, honey.” Mary patted her hand gently. “But I can’t say I’m sorry you left the jerk and moved here. I’ve missed you terribly. Do you want to talk about it?”

Natalie waved off the question. “Absolutely not. No sad talk today. We have work to do. By the way, where did that painting come from over the fireplace? Did you buy it?”

“Nuh uh. It was here when I started getting the place ready.”

“I’ll have to ask the real estate agent then. If I’m not mistaken, I hear the moving truck. Let’s roll, buddy.”

*

Six hours later, with the movers finished and gone, the afternoon found them sitting on a dark gray, low back sectional couch in the corner of the parlor with their feet on boxes.

“God,” Natalie said, “I feel like that truck ran me over before it left.”

“That’s because we worked our asses off.”

“I wish I had some champagne.”

Mary blew her bangs out of her eyes. “You do, Nat. Bottom shelf in the fridge.”

“Well, shit, what are we sitting here for?”

Laughing, they ran into the kitchen and popped the cork on the Dom Pérignon Mary had left chilling for their reunion.

After toasting Natalie’s new life in the house, Mary gave her a hug. “I have to go get the kids, and it just wouldn’t do to have Mommy reeking of alcohol in the afternoon. Now that they’re teenagers, they would never let me live it down.” She looked at Natalie hopefully. “Maybe you could come over and have dinner with us?”

Natalie briefly thought about how great it would be to see the kids and Mary’s husband, Steve. They were her second family. Then the thought came that she just couldn’t stomach the pity. Well intentioned as it may be, she didn’t want to talk about the divorce or how she was feeling. She just wanted to move past it.

“I would love to take a rain check on that,” Natalie said. “I’m not ready to face everyone yet.”

“Okay, Nat.” Mary hugged her good-bye. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Thank you so much for everything. ” Natalie was grateful that Mary let her refusal stand so easily and didn’t try to persuade her.

She stood in the doorway watching Mary’s car go back toward the town of Bayside and out of sight. She looked at her watch. Her back was sore and she was tired, but it was still early afternoon and she should head into town herself. She had a long list of things to buy. Natalie jumped when a door slammed shut somewhere in the house. Her nerves came back to greet her. Her fear the night before had seemed silly in the light of day, but now that she was here alone again, she was a little jumpy.

This is ridiculous.
Natalie chided herself, squared her shoulders, and marched to the stairs with determination. She would
not
be scared in her own house.
When
she reached the landing, she looked along the hall to see which door could have made the noise.

They were closed, every single one of them.

Natalie felt the hair on her neck rise. Goose bumps prickled her skin. Obviously, with all the windows and doors open, something was bound to slam. She checked every room, shut each window, and made sure she left every door open. Nothing spooky jumped out at her. When she was done, she washed her hands, changed her dusty clothes, then gathered her purse and went out to her car. As she slid the key into the ignition, she made sure to look and see if the window to her bedroom was closed. It was. She quickly backed out of the driveway and headed to town, dismayed to have a sense of relief at leaving her new home for a little while.

*

Natalie opened her window to let in the sea air while she was driving. The coast was beautiful. The highway hugged the cliff, and to her right was nothing but the ocean. The view of the water was broken with white caps and several large rocks that jutted out in between the waves. She loved the water and always had. The notes and melodies in the eighties music playing on the radio sang to her soul and reminded her of her younger years when her dreams reached to the sky and anything was possible. She spied a bald eagle as he tipped his wings to fly over the cliff. And that, at least, was a good omen.
She adjusted the radio and beat the steering wheel in time while singing her favorite Bon Jovi song.

At the next turn in the road, she could see the town nestled in the small valley. When she got closer, she let out a happy sound. It was beautiful with wide, clean streets. A small church spire rose in the air next to an idyllic park where children were playing. The yards all looked manicured and well cared for; colorful flowers spilled out of porch pots and lawn borders. It was postcard perfect and she already felt a sense of pride that she belonged here now.

Natalie turned left on to Main Street.
How quaint is that?
She followed it to the hardware slash home store on the corner and pulled her little red Mercedes into the lot. Half the stuff on her list could be found here, and the other half at Samson’s, the local general store on Cedar Street, two blocks away.

She pushed her cart through the immaculate aisles and quickly filled it with odds and ends, making sure to choose a new latch for her bedroom window. The elderly man behind the counter introduced himself.

“Well, hello. Here’s a new face.” He thrust his hand over the counter to shake Natalie’s. “I’m Stan and this is my store.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Stan. My name is Natalie and I am a new face. I just moved here, yesterday.”

Stan ran her items over the scanner and placed them in bags. “Oh, yeah? Which house, if you don’t mind me asking? You know these small towns.” He gave her a playful wink. “Always gossiping and knowing all your business. I need some new tidbits to share with the boys at the poker game tonight.”

Natalie smiled and instantly liked him. “It’s the pink Victorian on the cliffs overlooking the ocean. Do you know it?”

His face went dark and his mouth set in a grim line. “The old Seeley place? Yeah, I know it.”

Natalie was surprised at how quickly his mood changed. “Is that who owned it?”

“Karen Small didn’t tell you about that house before you bought it?” He shook his head and picked up her bags. “Do you need help out with these?” Not waiting for her answer, he barreled out the door to her car.

Natalie rushed over to unlock the trunk. “Is there something I should know, Stan?” She gave a nervous laugh. “What, were there people murdered there or something?”

“Miss Natalie, what’s done is done. You own the house, and you should know its history. There’s a lot of folk here be willing to tell you all about the old Seeley place and you’re likely to get just as many very different stories. But you get your own answers, hear? Give Karen a call and ask her.” Stan shut her trunk. “Now then, it was very nice to meet you and I’ll be sure to tell the boys tonight that we have a pretty new resident. You need anything, you give me a holler.”

Before Natalie could say a word, he nudged her toward the car and went back into the store.

Natalie sat in her car for a moment then dialed Mary’s phone.

“My house has a history,” she blurted the second she heard her voice. “How come you didn’t tell me my house had a history?”

“The house is a hundred years old, Nat. Of course it has a history.”

“Well, Stan, the guy who owns the hardware store? He practically crossed himself and threw salt over his shoulder when I told him where I lived. What’s up with that?”

She heard Mary’s heavy sigh before she answered. “Okay, I should have told you, but you only called me after you’d already written the check, remember?” There was a slight pause. “Rumor has it the house is haunted.”

Natalie felt both nauseous and vindicated. She knew there was something strange going on. “Whole story. Spill it, girl.”

“You don’t really believe in ghosts, do you?”

Natalie rolled her eyes at the hopeful tone in Mary’s voice. “Hel-lo, have you met my mother the witch?”

“You know, not to change the subject or anything, but I’ve never understood that. How come you went to Catholic school?”

Natalie chuckled. “We Irish like to cover all our bases.” She heard a loud crash on the other end of the line and the boys screaming in the background.

“Gotta go, Nat. I’ll call you back.”

The line went dead. Her lovely house had a haunted history.
Crap. Now what?

Natalie flipped her phone shut and pulled out of the store’s parking lot. She turned right at the stop sign and continued on to the grocery store.

Van Easton lowered her sunglasses so she could better appreciate the sight of the trim figure bent over the trunk of a sporty little car.
Nice pockets.
She caught a glimpse of red hair as the owner sped out of the grocery store parking lot.
And the car ain’t bad either.
She grinned and slid the case of water into the bed of her truck and headed back to work. She would be putting in some more late hours as the opening madness of the spring rush would be in less than a month.

She was dog-tired but felt her chest fill with pride at the first sight of the business she co-owned and worked with her father. Set back from the highway, V & V Landscaping was her baby. Since she was added to the letterhead, so to speak, the company had grown from the nursery to include landscaping and custom designs, her specialty.

She flipped the radio off and could hear her tires crunching along the long gravel driveway until she pulled into the side parking lot. She absently waved to a customer who was leaving.

More by habit than anything else, she stopped to straighten a few of the flat carts that were crooked and flashed on a memory of her father handing her a shiny quarter to make sure they were all lined up like little soldiers in formation. The main building was a white two-story farmhouse her parents had converted years ago. She paused at the bottom of the low, wide ramp. Her father had been busy. Large cement planters flanked the railing and burst with riots of colorful violas and purple faced pansies. Red geraniums hung from the overhang of the large porch. She noticed a pretty new fairy wind chime with cobalt wings dancing in the breeze and ringing merrily.

Dad’s rocker was empty, as were the other rocking chairs on the porch that usually held one or two of his retired buddies. She glanced at her watch, noticing it was much later than she originally thought. She entered the front door and was struck with a sense of home. For a moment, she could almost see her mother on the other side of the old wood counter, polishing it with loving hands, smiling at her.

The illusion shattered when Jenny, the cashier, greeted her.

“Working tonight, boss?”

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Um, Van? It’s closing time. Are you okay?”

She nodded and managed to find her voice. “Go ahead and finish, Jen. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Van intended to go to her office but instead turned right at the stairs to the second floor, where she had grown up and her father still lived. She ran her hand lovingly along the smooth banister and saw herself, a young girl, sliding down it.

What was with her tonight? She rolled her shoulders and tried to free herself of the melancholy, yet it followed her up the stairs.

The living room still held traces of her mother, dead now over a decade, but present throughout in the sweet, simple touches scattered throughout the house. There, a colorful afghan folded over the couch and here, a cheerful teapot collection.

Memories of another loss closed her throat and she immediately cut them off. She wasn’t going to go there tonight.

“Vannie?” her father called from the kitchen. “Is that you?”

She found him making snack platters. “Poker tonight, Pop?”

He nodded and grinned. “Yep. The boys will be here soon. Wanna stay and see if you can double your paycheck?”

“Not with you, old man, you cheat. Besides, I write the payroll now.”

He laughed and turned to wash his hands in the sink. Van noticed how stooped his once broad shoulders had become.

“Did you finish the Whitney job today?”

“Yes, and thank God for it.” She grabbed a beer. “If that harpy wanted us to change six things, she wanted us to change a half dozen of another.”

He patted her shoulder. “Now, Vannie, Stella Whitney isn’t that bad.”

Van turned her chair sideways from the table so she could stretch her denim clad legs out and debated whether she should tell him about Ms. Whitney offering her silicone inflated double Ds as a bonus to the final check she was writing. It had been a sticky, ha-ha situation, and Van considered herself lucky she got out with the payment and a pretty harmless pinch on the ass. Instead, she lifted her beer and mumbled, “Mmm,” figuring her dad didn’t need to know that bit of gossip. She gave him a brief rundown of what else was scheduled that week and then tossed her empty bottle into the recycling bin. “I’ll leave you to your game, Dad. I’m going out for a while.”

Once out on the highway, she passed the turn to her house and continued to her favorite bar. She felt uneasy and kept checking her rearview mirror. When she reached the door, she turned to look over her shoulder. There was nothing there, but the feeling of being watched stayed with her all night.