We Interrupt This Date (34 page)

I glanced into the kitchen and saw Diane push
open the back door and say something about one of her people
needing to help her get the other table out of the parlor. I was
reminded of the couch in the attic and the broken door lock. “Not
quite finished, Jack. There’s one more detail--that lock on the
attic door.” I glanced away from him. I’d almost sounded bitchy and
I hadn’t meant to. Now that I wasn’t his buddy anymore, I somehow
seemed to have lost all sense of how to speak to him and not come
across sounding like a shrewish ex-wife.

“Not fixed? I asked one of my men to either
repair it or put on a new lock. If you’ve got any tools around,
I’ll take care of it right now.”

“It’s no bother. You can do it Monday.”

“No, I promised to have the Blackthorn House finished
by preview night. Surely you don’t expect Jack Maxwell to go back
on his word,” he said, plastering his hand over his heart and
assuming a fake look of horror.

“It’s not a big deal, but since you insist on
playing the gallant contractor who leaves no detail undone, go
right ahead. If there are tools here, they’re bound to be in the
storage boxes I saw up there when the men moved the furniture. In
fact, I distinctly remember seeing an old hammer.” I’d rather have
stored things in the carriage house, but it was in bad shape and
Veronica had put off restoring it for now.

“Let’s go, then.” He peeled himself off the
wall and motioned for me to follow.

“What’s this we?” He could find his own tools
because I did not like that attic.

“You’re the Blackthorn House manager. I have
no idea where the storage boxes are.”

“They’re not that hard to find. Honestly. You
act as though the attic is the size of Carnegie Hall.”

Grumbling that being the manager did not mean
I had to do every single thing, I led the way through the kitchen,
up to the second floor, and then up the attic stairs. Being careful
to leave the door propped, I flipped the light switch. After giving
myself a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the dim light, I
walked in ahead of Jack, and slipped past the shrouded furniture. I
tried not to shudder as I stepped over the dark blotch that was
supposed to be a blood stain from where Devilhearted Eli had
supposedly killed his wife’s lover.

“This place creeps me out, so let’s not take
too long. Around the corner near the far wall I’m sure I saw some
old cans of paint along with a couple of boxes of tools and odds
and ends. There was even an old doorknob or two in one box, so
there might be a lock you can use in place of the broken one.”

The light, partially blocked by stacked
furniture, was dimmer in the corner so Jack knelt on the floor to
see the tools. Behind me, something banged and I gulped, promising
myself to stay out of the attic from now on unless I was with a
tour group. Safety in numbers.

Jack stood. He held up a piece of rusted
metal that might have been a screwdriver. “You don’t go in much for
home repairs, do you, Nic?”

“What’s that suppose to mean?”

“Stop being so huffy. It means there’s not a
single thing of use in these boxes. Everything’s about a hundred
years old and rusted to pieces.”

“I said there were tools. It’s not my fault
they’re ancient.”

“This has turned out to be a big waste of
time. I guess I’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

“I told you not to bother. Monday’s soon
enough.” I put my hands on my hips.

“Of course. I should have remembered you’re
always right.”

“Me? You’re the one who—“

“Never mind. Let’s not spoil the rest of the
evening by fighting. Like I said, I’ll fix it tomorrow.”

I shook my head. “I’m not fighting. But
tomorrow I’m driving to Virginia for an open house at Christian’s
college. And Veronica won’t be by the house until at least Tuesday.
She’s tied up with that Ashley project and probably about a dozen
others I don’t know about.”

“I still have a key.” He fished in his pocket
and held up a key ring. I recognized the oversized brass key to the
house dangling next to his car keys.

“Come back anytime you like, then. You can
even come back tonight if you want.”

“Tomorrow’s fine. I have to admit, you’re
right about this place being a little creepy. At night, anyway.” He
rubbed at the back of his neck. “I keep thinking I feel something
touching me.”

I raised an eyebrow. At this point I could
have made snide remarks about him being afraid of ghosts, but I
certainly didn’t have room to talk. Besides, I did not need to
waste time picking on Jack when I had to get on the road. I could
have waited until morning to leave, but I was wired about seeing
Christian and about the drive and knew I wouldn’t sleep anyway if I
went home because of Cole’s keeping us awake with his teething
pains.

I motioned for Jack to lead the way. If there
were any ghosts between the exit and us, he’d encounter them
first.

Except it wasn’t a ghost that brought Jack to
a stop at the door. I plowed into him before I could help myself,
and he reached back to steady me and managed to keep me from
pitching backward and falling over a blanket shrouded end
table.

“What’s going on?” I didn’t have to ask. I’d
heard the doorknob rattle uselessly when he shook it.

“Who in the world closed the door?” He
thumped the door with the side of his fist. “Hey, anybody here?
Open the door.”

“Open the door,” I parroted uselessly.

God, where were Diane and her crew? Gone, of
course. While Jack and I had been busy sniping at each other like a
couple of kids over a box of broken tools, they’d left, not
realizing we were up here. That bang I’d heard earlier—it must have
been the sound of the door shutting. Trapping us. In an attic that
might be haunted, if there were such a thing. Right now, I believed
in heart and soul in hauntings. Someone or something had to have
closed that door. It could have been a draft—though I hadn’t felt a
hint of a breeze when we came upstairs--or it could have been
something otherworldly.

I let out a thin whimper. Jack tried to pull
the door toward himself. It didn’t move even a fraction of an
inch.

“Damn,” he said. “That door is at least
two-hundred-years-old and solid as iron. Let’s sit down and think
about how we’re going to get out of here.”

“Yeah, we’re smart people. We can solve this
problem.” I felt so brave. Of course, if Jack hadn’t been here I’d
have been hysterical.

Forgetting that only a few moments ago we’d
been arguing, together we explored every inch of the space, banging
and prodding and looking for I didn’t know what. A secret door,
maybe? The walls were solid and nothing was even remotely promising
as an exit. The windows were tiny and stuck shut and besides we
were on the third floor with nothing between us and the ground
except thirty feet of empty air. There was no door other than the
stuck one leading back to the stairs.

“
Looks like we’ll be here for a while.”
Jack pulled the cover off the sofa and settled himself on the
nearest cushion. “Might as well get comfortable.”

“Might as well.” I wanted to scream. What
kind of fate had led to me getting locked in a haunted attic with a
man who’d made it clear he liked me about as much as he liked
poison? Could have been worse. What if T. Chandler had driven up
from Atlanta for my ghost touring debut and he’d been the one who’d
come up to the attic with me? I shuddered.

“You okay?” Jack raised an eyebrow.

“I’m fine.” I set my lips in a thin line and
plunked myself down on one side of the couch. “Please tell me you
have your cell phone with you.”

“Don’t you think I already thought of that?”
He shook his head. “I left it in the car. Besides, I forgot to
charge it, so it wouldn’t have done us any good. But what are you
worried about? I’m sure your mother and your sister will need you
any minute for one disaster or another and they’ll send out a
search party when you don’t show up to sort things out.”

I jerked my chin up. Now he was the one being
bitchy, only he was a man, so it was no doubt called something
else, like leadership or strength of character.

“No, they won’t. First of all, you’re being
unfair. I already apologized for the other night and I told you I’m
not letting Mama and DeLorean rule my life anymore. So why are you
even bringing that up?”

He shrugged. “True, you did. I’m sorry. I
shouldn’t have been sarcastic.”

“Thanks. And second of all, I was planning to
go to Virginia tonight, so they won’t be expecting me home until
Sunday evening, by which time…” I stifled a sob. “by which time
I’ll be a basket case, especially if there really are ghosts in
this stupid attic.” I narrowed my eyes to peer at a pale patch in a
corner and concluded it wasn’t a ghostly mist, but just lighter
paint on the wall.

He turned in my direction. “Aw, Nic. There
aren’t any ghosts. I’m more worried about hunger and thirst, though
I’m sure we’ll survive until Sunday evening when someone lets us
out after you don’t return on time. Meanwhile, let’s make the best
of things.”

“Oh, sure, when life hands you lemons, just
make lemonade.” My voice shook. “Do you have anything else useful
to say, Mr. Happy Face, or can I just wrap myself in the furniture
cover and try to stay safe?”

“You didn't happen to pack your pockets full
of crackers or store any provisions up here for emergencies, did
you?”

“Of course not. It wasn’t as if I planned to
spend more than a few minutes in this stupid attic. Ever.” A tear
rolled down my cheek before I could stop it. “I don’t know why I’m
being so emotional about this. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault we’re trapped.”

“I know. I guess I meant I’m sorry about
blowing up at you the night I had the flat tires at that motel.”
Funny how I couldn’t get that night out of my mind. No, not funny.
Wanting Jack to still be my friend even after we’d clashed over a
stupid family crisis meant I had some kind of feelings for him.
Even someone who was as romantically dense as DeLorean said I was
could figure that out. And I had.

“You’ve already apologized, remember? You’re
sorry, I’m sorry, we rub each other the wrong way and all that.”
Deep man sigh--most likely indicating frustration followed by sad
acceptance.

“I know, but it’s only that we’re in danger
and who knows what will happen and I wanted you to know how I felt.
I didn’t mean to get so angry with you that night, but you didn’t
get it. Only it wasn’t you who didn’t get it, it turned out it was
me.” Normally I would not have blabbed all this, but who knew if
we’d ever get out of here? By Sunday evening we could have been
taken captive by ghosts. Could they do that? Why hadn’t I paid more
attention to Patty’s ramblings? But I had to stop torturing myself
with horrible what ifs or I couldn’t possibly stay sane.

“What are you saying, Nic?” Jack didn’t sound
nearly as upset as I was.

“I was mad because I liked you and I wanted us to
stay friends, but I thought you didn’t understand about families
and how they should help each other.”

“Why would you think something like that? I have a
family, too.”

“I don’t know. I guess because I wasn’t making any
distinctions between real emergencies and going overboard. That’s
all I have to say. I apologize for—well, for everything.” I grabbed
part of my dress and twisted it into a tight knot.

“Hey, Nic, you’re just a bundle of sorries tonight,
aren’t you? Want me to break out the apology violins?” He
pantomimed a violinist playing with elaborate bow strokes.

I glanced down at the floor and when I looked up
again he was grinning and he’d somehow crossed the space between us
on the couch without seeming to move. And somehow I’d ended up in
his arms and then I was sobbing on his shoulder.

I fumbled a tissue out of my pocket and wiped my
nose. I hated it when I cried, but it seemed all I did was gush
like a stupid tear fountain.

“Are you saying you’ve changed your ways after all
these years?”

He stroked my hair. A shiver went through me. More
than a shiver. He’d awakened feelings I hadn’t had since--forever.
I pulled away from him while I still could and then I wished I
hadn’t.

“Pretty much. And, Jack, if you still want me to—I’d
like to be your friend and go back to your new house with you and,
I don’t know, help you decorate your den?” I sniffled.

That was as close as I could get right now to
admitting my true feelings about him. If he turned me down, at
least he wouldn’t know I felt rejected and embarrassed.

“Now there’s an offer I can’t refuse. Every man
should have a stylish den designed by his best friend.” He lowered
his head and kissed me. After a while—a long while, we pulled
apart. We were still way over in each other’s personal space. Jack
was breathing hard and his face was flushed.

“Wow,” I said. “So much for our famous lack of mutual
attraction.”

“Not attracted? Woman, don’t you know the story about
lack of chemistry was nothing more than a face saving rumor I
started years ago to explain the fact that the cool and popular
Jack Maxwell couldn’t get Nic Marsh to go out with him?”

“Idiot. I was dying to go out with you. And as I
recall, I accepted every time you asked.”

“Then why didn’t we have one single date?”

“You know why. It wasn’t my fault that there was
always a family…” I trailed off.

“Mama needed help in the kitchen and DeLorean needed
help with her homework and the world was going to fall apart unless
good old Susan took over and fixed things.” He shook his head. “Do
you realize that every time we were supposed to go out, you had to
cancel because of your family? What was I supposed to think? From
my point of view you spent all your time thinking of ways to not go
out with me.”