Read The Strangers on Montagu Street Online
Authors: Karen White
Tags: #Romance, #Psychological, #Contemporary, #Fiction
The Strangers on Montagu Street (23 page)
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She wiped the back of her hand across her face, then stared up at me. I was surprised and happy to see that she wasn’t looking at me like a two-headed sideshow freak. “Your mom knows about you?”
I nodded. “She’s actually psychic, too. And Jack and Sophie know, but that’s about it. It’s not the sort of thing I’m comfortable telling everybody.”
“I think it’s cool. In a creepy-weird way, but cool. I mean, you get to help people who get stuck here, you know? There’re probably not that many people who can do that.” She shifted out of the quilt covering her, and I realized the temperature in the room had returned to stifling. “Mellie?”
“Mm?” I wiped her damp hair off of her forehead.
“Can you stay here until I go to sleep?”
I smiled. “Of course,” I said, knowing it wouldn’t be too much longer. Her eyes were already drooping.
Her words slurred when she spoke again. “I still love my dollhouse, but it’s creeping me out now. Do you think we can move it to another room tomorrow?”
“Definitely.” I continued to sit on the bed and watch as her eyes finally slid closed and her breathing became slow and even. Gently, I stood, waiting a moment to make sure I hadn’t awakened her before walking silently to the door, a shaft of light from the hall illuminating the bed in a yellow triangle.
“Mellie?”
I stopped and turned at the sound of Nola’s voice, heavy with sleep.
“Yes?”
“I think you and Jack have the hots for each other. It wouldn’t make me hurl if the two of you hooked up.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Are you really that interested in seeing us together or are you just trying to get Rebecca out of the picture?”
A soft snort came from the pillow, and then silence. I waited for a moment but heard only soft, gentle breathing.
I closed the door silently, then turned to find the hallway empty. I pushed back my disappointment, telling myself I had just been eager to tell Jack that I’d told Nola my secret and that she seemed to be okay with it.
I walked across the hall to my room, untying my robe as I did so, my eyes heavy with exhaustion. My hand was on the light switch when I stopped abruptly. General Lee had been replaced by Jack, who lay fully clothed—fortunately—on the top of my bed, his fingers laced behind his head. A spark of electricity zinged through my blood as I looked at him on my bed, the realization hitting me that all I had to do was take a few steps forward and then I wouldn’t have to think about anything at all.
“That was sweet,” he said.
Instead I leaned back against the door and closed my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see him. “How much did you hear?”
The bedsprings creaked, and when I opened my eyes again Jack was standing in front of me, his arms pressed against the door, effectively trapping me between them.
“All of it,” he said softly.
“She seemed to handle all of what I told her pretty well.”
“Mm-hm,” he murmured, lowering his face so that our noses nearly touched. “Is that really how all your list making started? Because you needed to find some sort of control in your life?”
“Pretty much.”
He let out a small breath. “That explains a lot. But you still managed to become a nurturer to those around you who need nurturing.”
I shook my head. “If you’re referring to Nola, I think I did what anybody would have done. It’s so obvious how much she needs somebody to talk to.”
“Rebecca doesn’t see that at all. She thinks what Nola really needs is a boarding school. In another state. Preferably another country.”
Half of my mouth turned up. “Yeah, I can see her point. Until you really spend time with Nola and get to know her better. Because under the makeup and neon clothing, she’s a pretty neat kid.”
“Of course she is. She’s half mine.” His nose nuzzled mine and my lips parted involuntarily. I’d meant to use the next opportunity when we were alone to discuss what my mother had said about his being in trouble, but found now that I couldn’t form a single coherent thought. “And she thinks we have the hots for each other.”
I stumbled over words in my head, trying to come up with a response, and failed miserably.
He was standing so close I could feel his chest rumble when he spoke. “Remember when we were on the kayak and I told you that you and I weren’t over yet? This is what I was talking about.”
My chin tilted up as his lips angled toward mine. I closed my eyes in anticipation, just in time to hear the front door open downstairs and my parents’ voices as they climbed the steps toward my mother’s room next to mine.
My eyes flicked open, meeting Jack’s amused ones. I put my finger to my lips as we listened to my father say good-night to my mother, then retreat—luckily—back down the steps and out the front door again.
I glanced meaningfully at the connecting door to my mother’s suite of rooms and made a flicking gesture at Jack so that he’d know he needed to leave.
Leaning very close to my ear, he whispered, “And that was almost-kiss number six.” He straightened and I pulled away from the door, trying to recall my former equilibrium.
He turned the knob very slowly and stepped out into the hallway, the light from under my mother’s door guiding his way to the steps. As if in afterthought, he turned and said, “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
My heart skidded and thumped in my chest. Without thinking, I blurted, “To finish the kiss?”
He raised an eyebrow, his face creased in a smile. “To move the dollhouse.”
I stepped back, straightened. “Good. Because I was going to tell you not to bother if it was about the kiss. You’re dating my cousin, remember?”
“Good night, Mellie,” he whispered, then headed toward the stairs. I could hear his soft laughter and retreating footsteps as I closed my door, wondering how Nola could see so clearly the one thing I couldn’t bring myself to acknowledge.
CHAPTER 14
I
struggled home the following afternoon after a horrendous day at work. It had started with Charlene, the new receptionist, swapping out my latte for green tea, leaving me with a caffeine deficit that nobody appreciated. Then I’d spent the entire day showing historic homes in the Radcliffeborough neighborhood to a couple from Mount Pleasant, only to be told after touring house number seven that they weren’t ready to move just yet. But the icing on the cake of my day had been my trip to the home of Sophie’s friend Carmen, from her yoga class, who was making the bridesmaids’ dresses. My dress was little more than a toga with a leotard underneath. Even a Wonderbra couldn’t help me look like anything but a male nymph stuck in time. My headpiece would be a crown of flowers, and the length of my dress wouldn’t matter because I would, indeed, be barefoot.
struggled home the following afternoon after a horrendous day at work. It had started with Charlene, the new receptionist, swapping out my latte for green tea, leaving me with a caffeine deficit that nobody appreciated. Then I’d spent the entire day showing historic homes in the Radcliffeborough neighborhood to a couple from Mount Pleasant, only to be told after touring house number seven that they weren’t ready to move just yet. But the icing on the cake of my day had been my trip to the home of Sophie’s friend Carmen, from her yoga class, who was making the bridesmaids’ dresses. My dress was little more than a toga with a leotard underneath. Even a Wonderbra couldn’t help me look like anything but a male nymph stuck in time. My headpiece would be a crown of flowers, and the length of my dress wouldn’t matter because I would, indeed, be barefoot.
I paused on the front walk of my mother’s house, studying the two cars parked at the curb. The first was Jack’s Porsche. I’d planned to not be at home when he came to move the dollhouse, although now I realized that he couldn’t move it alone and most likely would have had to wait until Chad was finished teaching for the day. My gaze strayed to the porch, where I recognized Chad’s bike, the identifying peace sign on the back fender faded from the sun.
I considered retreating to my car for a much-needed nap, but the car parked behind the Porsche captured my attention. It was a bright red Beetle with curb feelers protruding from the wheel wells, a red-and-green fuzzy cover over the steering wheel. A small Christmas wreath was affixed to the front grille, and a handicap tag dangled from the rearview mirror.
Curious, I walked a little faster, almost jogging up the front steps and into the house. Dropping my briefcase and purse in the foyer, I followed the sound of voices into the front parlor with the large stained-glass window. Normally, the window was the topic of conversation for new visitors to the house, but I could tell from the tone of the conversation that they weren’t talking about a window.
My mother met me in the doorway. “Mellie, I’m glad you’re here. We have company.”
With a worried frown, she led me into the room. A square block of glass, something I recognized as a remnant from the garden that had been left behind by the former occupants, sat in the middle of the room in the same spot my grandmother’s Chippendale table had sat as of earlier that day. Julia Manigault sat in her wheelchair in front of it with her house manager, Dee Davenport, next to her and Nola on the other side. But the oddest part of the entire tableau was General Lee casually sniffing the rear end of the shaggy dog I’d seen before, who insisted on vanishing as soon as he caught me watching him.
I stepped forward to greet Julia. “This is a surprise, Miss Manigault. I didn’t expect to see you again.”
Her gaze held nothing of the venom I’d seen the previous day. “I wanted to tell you how sorry I was for my behavior. I don’t handle surprises very well, and your mention of the dollhouse . . .” She paused. “And I needed to see the dollhouse. To make sure it’s the same one.”
I glanced at Nola, who just shrugged. “The same one as what?”
“The same dollhouse that was given to me by my father in 1931, when I was ten years old.” I waited for her to say more that might unlock part of the mystery surrounding the dollhouse, but she pursed her lips tightly, as if afraid something she didn’t want revealed would escape.
Dee stood and took my hand. “I’m sorry to come unannounced, but Miss Julia insisted on coming right over. She wanted to apologize in person for the . . . misunderstanding yesterday.”
I raised my brow.
Misunderstanding?
The woman had screamed at me to leave. “I see,” I said, my Charleston upbringing not allowing me to demand that she define
misunderstanding
in a language I could understand. “How did you know how to find me?”
Misunderstanding?
The woman had screamed at me to leave. “I see,” I said, my Charleston upbringing not allowing me to demand that she define
misunderstanding
in a language I could understand. “How did you know how to find me?”
Dee grinned. “Your real estate ads are in the papers all the time. Not the best picture of you, Miss Julia pointed out, but we recognized you. We called your office, and when Charlene Rose answered the phone—she used to live two doors down from Miss Julia—I asked her for your home address.”
I made a mental note to confront Charlene about how it wasn’t a good idea to be handing out my home address to anybody who asked—neighbor or not.
She continued. “We went to your house on Tradd Street and the most peculiar man with pants that didn’t fit him very well told us we could find you here at your mother’s house. Which was a bonus, seeing how Miss Julia wanted to see Mrs. Middleton again anyway.”
I sat down on the sofa opposite them and nodded to Mrs. Houlihan, who’d just brought in a tray of sweet tea and cookies and began passing glasses and plates around to the small group.
Miss Julia’s eyes bored into mine. “I knew I’d seen you before, though, when you showed up on my doorstep. You were involved in that business with Nevin Vanderhorst’s house and the dead bodies buried in the garden. The papers didn’t mention anything besides what the police told them, but people in this town talk, and a lot of them were saying how you could see ghosts and that’s how you found out about what happened to poor Louisa Vanderhorst.”
I felt my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth, suddenly glad that I’d already had the conversation with Nola about my “gift.” “Yes, well, you can never believe what you hear, can you?” My voice trailed off as everyone’s attention was directed toward the foyer, where the sounds of heavy footsteps and men’s voices became louder and louder.
I stood and turned to see Jack and Chad with the dollhouse between them, their faces strained from exertion as they carried the large structure to the glass block and set it down in front of us.
My mother stood to get out of the way. “Since Nola didn’t want it in her room anymore, we figured it would be easier moving it down here than bringing Miss Manigault upstairs to see it.”
Chad gave us a quick good-bye and left, Dee’s gaze following his backside as he walked toward the door. Nobody else noticed, as all attention was focused on Julia Manigault as she examined the dollhouse. She pressed her hand against her heart, and her eyes widened in what I could only describe as fear. Whether she would admit it or not, she knew this dollhouse well.
“I want to see it close up,” she barked, and Dee stood immediately before wheeling her charge toward the rear of the dollhouse. Julia’s head jerked back and forth as she studied each room in detail, each cushion, each window treatment. She even stuck her finger inside and hit the small piano, an odd tinny sound adding to the strangeness of the moment.
“Where are the people? The family that goes inside?”
Nola sat up straight. “I put them all inside their beds last night. They should still be there.”
“They’re not,” Julia said, her voice low as she turned her attention on me.
Feeling chastised, I stood. “Maybe you took them out and forgot,” I said, hoping Nola knew I wasn’t doubting her. “I’ll go look.”
“I’ll help,” Nola said, shooting out of her chair.
We excused ourselves and climbed the steps to Nola’s room. As we stood outside her door, she grabbed my arm. “Do you think my mom moved them? Because they were still in their beds this morning when I left for Alston’s house.”
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