Mind Your Manors Page 6

  I shivered and turned toward the Valentine house. The windows stared back like the black sockets of a skull. It took everything I had not to picture a white specter peering from one of the windows. Maybe the one left behind from the anonymous skeleton in the upstairs room.

  Okay, stop. You’re staging in there today. There’s no point in freaking yourself out.

  Hmmm. I always knew I was nervous when I started to refer to myself in third person in my own thoughts. For crying out loud. I had to pull myself together.

  I walked down the driveway and checked out the side yard. Something bright had caught my attention.

  It was a metal roof.

  Was it a work shop? I didn’t remember anything about a shop being mentioned in the listing. I stood up on tip-toe, trying to see more of it. The building was quite a bit back there, nearly hidden in the trees. In fact, I would have missed it entirely if the landscaping crew hadn’t trimmed some of the lilacs that had almost swamped it.

  Wait a minute…was there someone walking behind the shed? Someone big, hulking. Someone carrying a shovel.

  “Stella! Yooohooo!” Charity yelled my name.

  I jumped. Charity hobbled down the porch, waving frantically.

  I glanced back at the workshop, but there was no one there. Had I imagined it?

  “Well, come on in, you silly.” Charity waved a hand. She was nearly half-way down the driveway. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

  We? I glanced around the porch and saw the cleaning van was already there. I wondered if Denise, the one who’d abandoned me the first day, was back.

  Charity was already returning to the house. How did someone with such tiny feet beat me?

  I trotted down the driveway after her.

  “What’s behind the house, Charity?” I asked as I caught up with her. “By those bushes?”

  “Hmm? Watch your step.” She veered over a tree root that had grown through the driveway without even looking down, a display of muscle memory from years of avoiding it.

  I had to admit, I was feeling out of breath. “The shed or workshop in your backyard. I don’t recall Kari mentioning it.”

  She scampered up the stairs. Was she ignoring me or did she really not hear me? After all, she was in her eighties.

  I followed up the steps after her. Ms. Valentine met me at the door wearing the same dress, or one identical to it, that I’d seen the other day.

  “Hello. How are you doing, Ms. Valentine?” I asked.

  “How am I doing?” She rolled her eyes.

  “Yes.” She was using even a simple question like that to kick me down. “I mean, with the skeleton and everything?”

  Apparently, she didn’t deem that important enough to answer because she responded instead with, “I presume you’re here to finish what you started?”

  “Y-yes.” I straightened my spine. “I guess we’re still having the open house this weekend. What do you think?”

  “It’s what needs to happen, I suppose, if we’re to sell the manor.” She glanced at the porch pillar behind me. Her eyes hardened, but in a shocking twist, her bottom lip quivered.

  “Sister?” Short little Charity asked, her voice full of concern.

  Ms. Valentine cleared her throat. “Let’s get going, then. Not all of us have time to waste.”

  I nodded and started to follow her. Still, out of curiosity, I had to see what had caught Ms. Valentine off guard.

  Squinting, I saw what appeared to be a carving of some type. I needed to remember to check it out better when I left later.

  “So I trust you can get things together without causing any more trouble?” Ms. Valentine said over her shoulder.

  My mouth dropped open. How was it my fault there was a skeleton in their house? But the way she stared at me… the color in her iris’s nearly faded to a light blue-white. I shut my mouth and nodded instead.

  “The cleaning crew showed up earlier. They’re in there now.” She gestured to a pair of ornately carved doors. “I thought you’d arrive with them and not force me to babysit.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on them,” I said.

  She nodded and walked toward the kitchen, her cane rapping smartly against the floor. I rubbed the back of my neck and then opened one of the doors.

  There were two women in there, vacuuming and dusting. A row of cleaning supplies lined up to the left of the door. One of the women glanced at me and I gave her a thumbs up. They had this covered. I figured I might as well help and grabbed a bucket.

  The one vacuuming turned the machine off. It turned out she had headphones in her ears.

  “You must be Stella,” she said warmly.

  “I am!” We shook hands, and the other woman joined us. I found out they’d been focusing on the downstairs windows and floors. I gave them my phone number so they could get hold of me if they needed anything.

  “I’m just going to check the other rooms,” I said, readjusted my cleaning bucket in my hand. They sent me okay signs before I headed out.

  The rest of the doors in the massive downstairs hallway were closed. I glanced at the stairwell, wondering where the Valentines had disappeared off to.

  I stopped outside the room Ms. Valentine had earlier indicated was the library and sucked in a deep breath, a little afraid of what I might find. Well, there was nothing for it. Might as well get the job done.

  “Let’s see what’s behind door number one,” I whispered in my best game host voice and wrenched the knob open.

  A thrill ran through me. It was like entering into something out of Alice and Wonderland. Bookshelves fifteen-feet-high lined three of the walls. Dust motes danced in the light and a heavy scent of old paper permeated the air. One wall was curved, with floor-to-ceiling windows. Underneath was a window seat covered in tufted green velvet.

  I was charmed by the fireplace and a rolling ladder that rested on its ancient rails. I walked over, conscious of stepping quietly, and gave the ladder a little push.

  It rolled a few feet. I tested my weight on its lower rung, and then climbed up a couple steps.

  I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. I was surrounded by more books than I could read in a lifetime. Antique books bound in leather, their titles embossed in gold print, stood primly together. I wondered if they’d ever left the shelf after they’d been placed there.

  One book stood out on the shelf in its uneven height compared to the others. I glanced behind me. No one was there. Feeling like a little kid, I reached for it.

  Graceful embossed script rose over the leather cover saying King James Bible. I knew people recorded their family trees in these. Excitement raced through my veins as I realized the heirloom in my hands. Quickly, I climbed down, holding the treasure like it was a nest of frail bluebird eggs.

  I carried it to one of the leather chairs and sat. The book rested heavily against my knees. Gently, I opened it.

  A puff of dust accompanied a crack as the cover moved against its spine. On the first page was a graphically detailed illustration. I sucked in my breath.

  It was a picture of a wailing person. Man, or woman, it wasn’t detailed enough to determine. But gripping the person’s heel was a claw, and below that, flames and evil laughing faces.

  I shuddered and turned the page. The next showed a depiction of Eden, with the same evil smile beaming from a serpent curled around a tree branch.

  I flipped to the next. Finally, this one was marked Family tree. I snuggled the book closer to read.

  The calligraphy penmanship had the depth of dipped ink. In swirls and slashes, it wrote out a series of names. I silently read them, assuming they were grandparents and parents, until I came to Gladys, and Charity.

  Richard Valentine’s name was there as well, but interestingly, in a different colored ink. The writing appeared cramped in comparison with the gorgeous curls above.

  Below those three, the family line stopped. It was almost an insult to see all the empty lines underneath their names.

  The roo
m suddenly felt colder and I shivered, wishing I had on my sweater. I flipped through the rest of the Bible’s pages. It opened naturally to where there was a letter hidden. I couldn’t help my grin as I pulled it out.

  The paper was frail and appeared like it had been torn from something else. I gently unfolded it to read,

  Dear Diary,

  The Winter Ball is tonight. I can hardly wait. Sister and I are getting ready. She keeps scolding me for laughing, but I can’t keep my bubbles inside. It’s snowing heavily and Bently has stoked all the fires. It will be a warm, intoxicating night. There’s enough snow outside, I wonder how many guests will come by sleighs. I love hearing the bells when they arrive.

  The words ended there, with no sign of who had penned them. I carefully folded the note and replaced it. Thoughtfully, I continued to search through the pages.

  Excitement hit again when I discovered a picture about halfway through. Although it was faded to a deep sepia color, I could see it was a picture of the Valentine family.

  There were six.

  The room became colder still. I glanced up at the fireplace and wondered if that was where the icy chill came from. Frowning, I held the picture up to see it better.

  The baby wore an old-fashioned dress and bonnet and sat on his mother’s lap. Next to him stood his adult sisters, Gladys and Charity. Charity’s finger was being clasped by the young baby, while Ms. Valentine leaned slightly away from her sister, her lips pursed together as though she’d just bitten a lemon.

  Mr. Valentine stood behind his brood, with Richard by his side. Richard wore a suit or perhaps a military uniform. Perhaps this was taken right before he went to Korea. I remembered then about his friend, Kyle. Sharon the hairdresser had said that Kyle had lived with the Valentines for a short while before being shipped overseas with Richard.

  I started to slip the photo back in between the pages when I saw there was a scripture heavily underlined. Curious, I read it.

  Behold, I was shapen in iniquity; and in sin did my mother conceive me. Psalm 51:5

  What the heck? Scary stuff there. I replaced the photo. Gently, I riffled through the rest of the pages of the Bible but there was nothing more. The chill lingered, trickling around my neck like an icy scarf. I stood up to climb the ladder to put the Bible back.

  Once that was done, I glanced around and tried to assess where to start cleaning. It had gotten so dark outside, and inside as well. Was another storm brewing? The only light was emitted from dim gas lanterns hanging overhead. How curious, who had even lit them? This would never work. I could barely see. I needed to find a light switch.

  I felt along the walls, richly covered in wainscoting and tapestry paper, but I couldn’t find the switch. I passed the open door and noticed that, even in the hall, the light was much darker than I felt it should be. Cold air rushed through the doorway.

  It was then I heard it. A high, tinkling laugh.

  Every hair rose on my neck.

  It didn’t sound like an adult woman’s laugh. It sounded like a child’s.

  I pushed the door closed. It slammed shut and the supporting walls creaked. I backed away. I could hear something else.

  Music.

  I turned to the curved window, searching for the sound. My heart pounded when I realized I’d never seen a bay window from the outside. Where was I? I walked closer, trying to map out exactly where I was in terms of the front the house.

  Above me, the oil lamp flickered and went out.

  I recognized the music now with a shudder.

  Sleigh bells.

  Chapter 11

  I clapped my hand over my mouth, cutting off a scream. Where was I and what was happening? I turned to run out of the room, and leave this house forever.

  The door was stuck. The cold chills now turned into icy sweat. I tugged on it and then pounded. But who was going to help me? Ghosts from the past?

  I yanked on the knob again. This time, fear made the decision for me.

  “Help!” I yelled and beat the door.

  There was a scratching by the doorknob, and then it slowly turned. I backed away. My hands balled into fists, ready to defend myself.

  The door swung open. The tall figure of Ms. Valentine stood on the other side, deep-set wrinkles on either side of her mouth showing she was none too pleased.

  “Ms. O’Neil?” she said. Her voice was a harsh whisper. “What is the meaning of this?”

  I dashed around her and into a very brightly lit hallway. Was I going crazy? I spun back around to face the library.

  “I—uh—I couldn’t get the door to open.” My explanation sounded hysterical to my own ears.

  “Ms. O’Neil. This is an old house. The doors can stick at times. Kindly just knock and someone will come let you out. There’s no need for all that commotion.”

  “I needed a light for this room,” I said, pointing lamely to the library’s interior.

  She pressed her lips together and smartly walked in to snapped a switch. Sconces along the walls brilliantly shone. She turned back to me. “I’m sure you’re acquainted with a light switch?”

  I stared where she had turned it on. I swear I hadn’t seen it there earlier. “I saw the gas lamps and thought that maybe….it went out.”

  “You thought we didn’t have electricity?” She sniffed. “Richard merely lit the lamps earlier to test them. The realtor mentioned buyers might like the old-fashioned lighting. It’s been ages since they’ve been used. I’m surprised they work as well as they do.”

  My pulse slowed down. I nodded and then smiled. What on earth had I been thinking? That I’d been caught in some time warp? My cheeks heated with embarrassment. I could only imagine what she thought of me.

  She eyed me now. “Is there anything else?”

  I shook my head.

  She smiled then. My heart leapt to my throat. The grin showed her teeth or dentures and curled into her cheeks. I swear she looked just like the illustration of the serpent.

  I took a step back, which made her laugh. With that, she turned, “If that’s all, I will be going now. I need to oversee Charity’s practice session.”

  So that was it. Charity was practicing music again. Probably something with bells. I shook my head. Honestly, that skeleton must have really done a number on me subconsciously. I’d never been so jumpy.

  Ms. Valentine hummed as she walked away.

  Jingle bells.

  Okay, that was enough for me. I got my cleaning bucket from the library and called Uncle Chris. He didn’t answer, so I left a message. “Hey, the Flamingo’s up and the cleaning crew is here. Everything looks under control, so I’m headed out.”

  That was the truth of it. I wasn’t returning again until I had Kari with me.

  It only took ten minutes of drive time with the sun’s glare on my windshield for me to feel ridiculous. I was letting all those crazy stories get to my head.

  They were a creepy family for sure. But that skeleton was the curveball. Who was it? Could it be the young man, Kyle, who had lived with them temporarily? I mean, the guy just disappeared.

  How would I go about finding the answers to something like that? Maybe I could drop a call to the police officer who’d interviewed me that day I found the skeleton.

  And what happened to the baby? Now I knew he wasn’t a rumor. I saw him with my own eyes in the picture. Was Kari’s story correct? Had he grown up only to run away to the circus? Maybe I could poke around and see if I could find out more.

  In the meantime, real life was still happening, and I needed to pay rent. Since this day was kind of a bust, I called my landlord to see if I could drop off the check.

  Tanya Crawford and her family had lived in the area forever. Actually, this visit could really work for me. Surely, she knew the Valentines. She was in her seventies or so, herself. Perhaps she went to school with the three siblings.

  Even more on my mind was if she knew about the baby.

  I pulled over to the side of the road and found her
number.

  It rang and rang. A prickly feeling made me wrinkle my nose as I wondered if I should wait for the answering machine, or if I had now entered the annoying territory of letting the phone ring too much.

  “Hello?” A pleasant woman’s voice came through the receiver.

  “Hi, Mrs. Crawford? It’s Stella. I’m out and about and wondered if I could drop off my rent to you, if it wouldn’t be a bother.”

  “Collecting money? No bother at all.” Her voice hinted at humor. She rattled off her address and then ended with, “Though I suppose I should give you a deduction after the toilet fiasco. Is everything working well now?”

  I assured her it was.

  She continued, her smooth voice bringing to mind one of Hollywood’s old time starlets, “It’s a little bit of a drive. I’ll see you soon.”

  I quickly mapped her address and saw she lived about twenty minutes in the opposite direction. I popped the radio on and spun the car around.

  It turned into a beautiful day, one of those dog days of fall began with the bite of cold but warmed up to unseasonable levels later in the afternoon. It was such a welcome reprieve after the storms we’d had.

  The directions took me to the left down a dirt road. Acres of green fields welcomed me into the rural farmland. A cloud followed behind my car, announcing to everyone for miles around that I was on my way.

  I had to say, dirt roads still caught me by surprise. Out in Seattle, most of the roads were paved, outside of a few logging roads or county transfer roads.

  Mrs. Crawford’s house sat on the pinnacle of a rolling hill like the star jewel on a crown. I was searching for the driveway when I spotted a bright red object out in the middle of the meadow. It kind of hypnotized me, being so unexpected. Then I saw it move.

  What the heck?

  As I got closer I saw it was bell-shaped. And closer still proved that it was an umbrella. I realized it was Mrs. Crawford wandering her field, shielded from the sun by a giant red umbrella.

  My phone beeped a command that I’d arrived. I pulled down her driveway and braked, the car softly jerking at the stop. I rummaged through my purse and grabbed the check.