Amateur Hour

Lisa kept Luna at a sedate walk, until they were out of Will’s sight, then she put her into a trot. Will had recently taught her to post, and she figured she needed the practice, anyway. A canter would have been perfectly safe, on this trail, but she didn’t want to ask too much of the horse, for too long, especially going uphill. Even with periodic rests, it took little time to get to the path through the wood, and to the Old Road.

She kept her word about the pictures, taking several shots of the front of the house, a couple of the kitchen building, one of the well, and one of the back porch. She tied up Luna, and climbed up onto the front porch, to get shots of the front lawn and the end of the magnolia drive, as well.

Then, of course, she tried the front door. It opened; why wouldn’t it? She stepped inside, and around the chairs that Tuck had left in the foyer. Lisa used one of them to block the door open. All was silence, but it felt less abandoned than it ought to have felt. Almost as though everyone were home, but napping in their respective rooms.

Somnolent. The word came to her, as though in a whisper. She could imagine the place, as it might have been on a hot day in July. It would have been warm, but much cooler than the outdoors. Windows would have been opened, and the curtains stirring, belling gently in and out, with the breeze. There might have been the occasional housefly, to be swatted by a servant. Annual cicadas, their buzz rising and falling away, only to rise and fall again would have been the creatures making the most noise.

The back of the house would have been noisier. The younger children down for naps, but the older ones playing games. Lisa could almost hear the click of marbles, and maybe the faint sounds of an older girl, practicing the piano.

As she passed the ladies’ sitting room, she could smell the tea, the cakes and tarts, and the cologne…Rosewater, lily of the valley, lemon verbena, lavender… She drifted toward the stairs, and up them, mindful that the banisters might be loose, and the steps unreliable.

Yet, she could, at the same time, feel the tightness of her stays, and the weight of her bustle, and she was aware of a trickle of perspiration moving down her back. The doors, with their glass knobs, opened easily revealing exactly what she expected to find—empty rooms.

All, save one. It was the door at the end of the gallery. The last door—or the first, depending on which set of stairs one took. When Lisa reached out to turn the knob, she found the door locked. Before she knew what she was doing, Lisa found herself rapping lightly on the door. “May I come in?” she asked.

When she tried the knob again, the door opened.

The room, draped in cobwebs and coated in dust was fully furnished. Lisa blinked hard, certain it was an illusion, another weird vision, maybe. But, no— aside from the obvious signs of neglect, the room’s former occupant might just have left. The four poster bed, equipped with dust-greyed mosquito netting was neatly made.

The rosewood vanity table, with its oval mirror and matching chair, still held combs, brushes, a small china dish with an assortment of rings and bracelets, and a silver framed picture of a man. It was the only thing Lisa touched. It seemed all right to do so—the picture was on display, to whomever might enter the room.

She picked it up and dusted off the slightly convex glass. When she shined her light on it, she found herself staring at a picture of Tuck, and she almost dropped the frame.

A second look told her that she had been mistaken. There was a resemblance—a strong one, in fact—but she recognized Gerald Lovejoy’s face. She had seen Gerald in his seventies. This picture was of Gerald in his late forties or early fifties, which no doubt accounted for the stronger resemblance. The nose was different, and the mouth, but the eyes were almost identical, and the jaw was similar.

She put the frame back onto the vanity, careful to place it exactly where it had been, guided by the outline of the dust, on the surface. Stepping back, she gazed around. Had this been Margaret’s room? Had she moved to smaller quarters, after Gerald’s death, giving up a larger room, maybe to a married son and his wife?

This was a small room, for a bedroom. The empty ones were huge, by comparison. This was the sort of room that might be inhabited by a lady’s maid, expected to be on call at any moment of the day. There was a third floor, though, where most of the servants would have been housed. It seemed unlikely that the lady of the house—even a former lady of the house—would be placed in so small a room, nice though it was.

Something was missing, too. There was no bureau. No chiffarobe; there was a closet, but nothing a lady could be expected to put much clothing into. In fact, the bed dominated the room. It was an over-sized piece of furniture, in the small space, though it could be entered on either side.

There was a stand with a washbasin and a ewer. It was made of good china, not merely utilitarian. This room felt, for all the world, like a…

“A motel room…” Lisa muttered aloud.

She turned to the closet, a narrow, cramped affair, judging by the opening. It was behind a heavy, dust laden drape that had once been deep blue, but now presented as something closer to slate. She wasn’t sure she wanted to touch it, even with her riding gloves, but she slid it aside, anyway, and shined her flashlight into it.

The dust made her sneeze. There were a few odds and ends of clothing—and they had belonged to a man. Curious, indeed. The only exception was a light blue silk peignoir, yellowed now, with age, as were the white shirts. The lady’s garment hung closest to the opening, where she now stood. The shelf above the clothes contained folded blankets and sheets, and cloth towels.

The most interesting feature of the closet, however, was the door, ten feet directly in front of her. It opened easily, into the next bedroom, one of the empty ones she had seen already. It made more sense, now. The room behind her had originally been a gentleman’s dressing room, given over to house a frequent female guest.

Lisa closed the door, and backed out of the closet, into the furnished room. That wasn’t quite right, either, she realized. The guest was frequent, but she didn’t often stay overnight, if ever. She had come upon Beatrice’s room. It had been hidden in plain sight, and not from Margaret.

Somehow, she was sure Margaret would have shared the main bedroom with her husband. The house was large, and it wasn’t impossible that Margaret would have had her own room, but it wasn’t likely. Beatrice might have been able to enter Margaret’s shared bedroom, without comment or interest from anyone, but not a bedroom belonging only to Gerald.

Why had this room remained untouched, she wondered. The most credible answer was that it had been kept as a sort of shrine. By Gerald? By Margaret? By both?

Without thinking, Lisa sat down on the bed, and was rewarded with a small cloud of dust, for her trouble, which brought on more sneezing. Beatrice had left no clothing here, to speak of, but she had left some jewelry. That was peculiar. Could she be wrong? Had Margaret shared the room, from time to time, with her husband, and left some of her jewelry behind?

Appearances…

It was another word, whispered into her head. Then, just as she was becoming slightly irritated with yet another hint that left her with more questions than answers:

What is the nature of love? What does love do?

“It… it nurtures. It protects, it…” Lisa trailed off, frowning in thought. This time, she was given an image, of a bird feigning a broken wing. It was from her own memory—she and Liam had seen the Killdeer at a little league game, in a local park. Dad had explained that it was a distraction technique to lead potential predators, away from the bird’s nest.

This house had been Margaret’s nest, in a time where slander and gossip could be deadly. Whatever she had felt about Gerald’s relationship with Beatrice, any feminine presence associated with him would have to have appeared to have been Margaret’s.

Top left drawer, under the mirror.

Lisa balked. Opening drawers seemed to be crossing a line. People put things in drawers that they wanted kept private. She rose from the bed, and headed for the door. What time was it, anyway? How long had she dawdled here, playing Nancy Drew?

Top. Left. Drawer. Open it—don’t be afraid.

Lisa sighed, and approached the vanity table again. The drawer stuck a little, at first, then slid open. There were several items in it; hairpins, old ribbons, a couple of brooches, a collection of notes, bound together, in another ribbon. She reached for the notes.

No. The pearl brooch.

“I’m not here to loot jewelry, Margaret.”

It was mine. Now, it’s yours. You found it in the crack of a floorboard. Wear it.

“You want me to lie to the man I love.”

To Noah. He should see it, but not know it’s from this room. Please.

There was weariness, in the last word, and Lisa felt tired, too. Her head was beginning to throb. Reluctantly, she picked up the brooch. It wasn’t unlike the stickpin Will had given her for her scarf—a dainty pearl crescent, instead of a turquoise one.

Seed pearls. Bea gave it to me. Margaret means ‘pearl’. I treasured it.

Lisa unzipped her jacket, and fastened the tiny pin to the right side of her shirt, above her breast. She didn’t have to ask Margaret’s shade if it was satisfied. She could sense that it was.

Tucker can touch it. Noah won’t be able to bear it. Understand?

“I think so.” It seemed plain enough. Margaret had given her a Noah detector. Not that Lisa was sure she needed one.

More. Much more. You’ll see.

“Well, thank you.”

You’re most welcome.

Lisa sensed patient amusement. She supposed she’d better head home, before Will decided to come hunting for her.

As it happened, Will was trotting toward the clearing at the top of the hill, aboard Polly, when she came out of the woods.

“I wasn’t worried,” he protested, seeing the look on her face. “I just finished the gate, is all. Get your pictures?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Don’t be defensive,” he laughed. “I’m just asking.”

“Don’t fib. You were worried.”

“Okay. Maybe I was a little concerned. Worried is stretching it, a bit. Besides, Miss Polly here could use a little workout. She doesn’t get ridden much, now that Toni needs to stay off horses, for a while. How come you never take her out?”

“I think Polly might be a little too classy, for me,” she eyed the black thoroughbred, with a smile.

“What are you— some kind of snob? And, don’t start in on how she’s not your horse, either. You’d be doing me a favor, and Pa, too.”

“You think I could handle her?”

“If you can ride Luna, you can ride Polly. Switch with me.” Will hopped down and waited for her to dismount. “Come on—it’s good for you to get used to riding other horses.”

“Everything’s a lesson, with you,” Lisa grumbled. She obeyed, however, and mounted the thoroughbred, who was a smidge taller than Luna.

“You never know when you might have to swap horses with someone, or ride another one while leading yours,” he said, climbing into Luna’s saddle.

“Why wouldn’t I ride mine, and lead the other?”

“What if yours started limping, with a stone bruise, or lost a shoe?”

“Why would I be out with two horses, in the first place?”

“You could be out for a couple of days with one packing your supplies. Just ride, Lisa,” he finished, laughing.

To her chagrin, he put Luna into a trot. There was nothing she could do, but follow suit. Polly responded, immediately, and Lisa was shocked by how smooth the gait was, on the black mare.

“Feel the difference?” Will asked, as they moved up beside him.

“So smooth. Why is that?”

“Different musculature—different everything, really. She’s not liable to bounce you out of the saddle, on a trail ride, that’s for sure. This is a lazy trot, for Polly. You get her going, and she can cover some ground.”

They continued for a while, then reined in, when they got close to the end of the slope, walking the rest of the way.

“They’re back,” Will observed, when they rode into the yard.

“I hope Toni hasn’t started lunch, yet.”

“I doubt it. She’s probably opening boxes, and poring over instruction manuals. New toys, you know.”

*************************

Tuck and his daughter both glanced up like guilty children, when Will and Lisa arrived. The living room was a welter of discarded bags, empty boxes, Styrofoam packing material, bubble wrap, static shielding bags, and bits of pink anti-static plastic.

“Buy anything?” Will asked, removing his hat. He tipped Lisa a wink, and threw a couple of logs onto the fire.

“I know,” Toni sighed. “There was less of a mess at Christmas. We decided to go with night vision, instead of thermal, for the price. I think it’s all we might need.”

“I don’t suppose you got any mounting hardware?” Will asked, pushing some empty bags out of his way, to join his wife on the smaller sofa.

“In the bag, by the door,” Tuck muttered, engrossed in an owner’s manual. “Of course, it won’t be enough—it never is. This thing reads like a Chinese menu. What was used to translate it? A Ouija board?”

Lisa laughed and put her arms around him, from behind. She planted a kiss on the top of his head. “Someone’s grumpy,” she remarked. “How does everyone feel about grilled cheese and tomato soup?”

“Make it grilled ham and cheese, and you’ve got a deal,” Tuck said.

“I can do that. Toni? Will?”

“We’ll both take ham, too,” Toni said, with a smile.

Tuck smiled as her watched her walk out to the kitchen. He was tempted to join her, just to check in, but he decided against it. Better to let her rattle around in there a bit, on her own. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know where everything was.

“You two have a good ride?” he asked Will, instead.

“Lisa went out ahead of me, and got some pictures of the old house. I haven’t seen them yet. We switched horses, coming back down. I thought she might like to get a feel for Polly.”

“Oh, good,” Toni nodded. “Polly needs another rider, with me out of action.”

Tuck, on the other hand, wasn’t sure if he liked the idea of Lisa going back to the house alone, whether it liked her, or not. It was farther out than any of them had ever gone, alone— with the exception of his rides across to the neighbors’ ranches, to help them work their cattle.

“I need a refill,” he said, rising from the couch. “And, a break from this gibberish. See what you can make of it, Jethro,” he added, dropping the manual in Will’s lap, in passing.

He found Lisa opening a large can of soup, while four sandwiches were beginning to brown, on the griddle. Tuck poured himself a fresh cup, and sipped it, watching her.

“Those smell good,” he remarked.

“Just hope I don’t scorch them, before the cheese melts.” She lit the flame under the soup, adjusted it, then lifted one of the sandwiches with a spatula. “So far, so good.”

“Will says you went back to the old house.”

“Will’s a tattletale,” she observed, without malice. “I went back to get some pictures.”

“And have another look inside. This is pretty,” he noted, fingering the brooch, lightly.

“Oh, I forgot I was still wearing it.” Lisa reached up to unfasten it.

“Leave it. It suits you. Where did you find it?”

“Upstairs, in on of the old bedrooms. It had fallen into a crack between the floorboards.” She turned away, to flip the sandwiches.

“So—were there glass doorknobs?”

“There were. Seven of them.”

She was smiling, when she turned back to him, but something seemed off about it.

“Seven, huh? I wonder why an odd number.”

“Maybe for luck? Who knows?”

“Did anything… weird happen?”

“Not really. I did get a funny sense of what the house might have been like, in the summer, though.”

“How were the stairs? It could have been dangerous, for you to climb those, you know.”

“The set that I climbed were okay. I kept to the banister close to the wall, and avoided the middle of the steps. It’s not my first rodeo with old stairs, Deputy.”

“No, I guess it isn’t,” he smiled. She wasn’t telling him something. Lisa claimed to be a poor liar, and she was—when it came to flat out lies. But, she was becoming a master of prevarication—slathering just the right coat of gloss over whatever she was concealing.

“You’re giving me the I’m-not-buying-it look, Tucker.”

“Because, I’m not buying it,” he smiled. He leaned in and kissed her, then let it drop. That would give her something to stew over.

“Set the table, would you?” she asked him, then turned to pile the sandwiches onto a plate.

****************

Most of the talk at lunch centered around the cameras, the placement of them, breaking ground on the new barn, the possibility of expanding and upgrading the old one, for additional trail / teaching horses, and other riding stable related business.

Lisa was relieved and grateful that the topic of hauntings and inconvenient skeletons didn’t come up. Will was all for setting up the driveway entrance camera, right away.

“It’ll give Toni something to do, in her spare time, getting the thing to work.” He winked at his wife, crunching into a pickle spear.

Toni rewarded him with a dirty look.

“Thanks for getting lunch together, Lisa,” she said, ignoring his comment.

“Of course. It’s not much, but it’s filling enough, I guess. All I’ve done is goof off today, anyway. I’m not of any use, when it comes to cameras and computers.”

“Speaking of cameras—Didn’t Will say you took some pictures of the old Lovejoy place?” she asked.

Lisa nodded, brushed some crumbs off her hands, onto her plate, and took her phone out of the top pocket of the flannel shirt she wore over her Western shirt. She opened the camera roll, and handed the device to Toni.

Toni scrolled through all of the pictures, once, examining each, then went back to the first one, enlarged it a bit, frowned at it, and enlarged it again.

“That’s weird,” she commented. “The shadows make it look almost like someone is looking out from that top window. Third floor—see?” She passed the phone back to Lisa, tapping the screen lightly, with her fingernail. “A woman.”

She was right. The image wasn’t clear, but it did suggest a female figure at the window. Lisa reduced the image to normal size, and made a small show of looking at it again.

“Just shadows. Maybe some reflection from one of the trees behind me. Those magnolia leaves are dark.” She shrugged, and picked up her sandwich, for another bite that she really didn’t want, now.

“Let me see,” Will demanded.

“Were you raised by wolves?” Toni scowled. “Don’t reach across her plate.” She picked up the phone and passed it to her husband, behind Lisa’s chair. “Sorry about him, Lisa.”

“It’s fine,” Lisa smiled, and took a sip of tea. Her mouth was dryer than chalk.

Will looked at the shot, enlarged it, shrank it back to size. “I agree with Lisa. A ragged old curtain, causing weird shapes.” He passed the phone to Tuck, who looked at the photo, fiddled with the resizing of it, in his turn, grunted, then proceeded to look at the other shots.

“You got some nice ones, Darlin’. Told you the place would look better, on a sunny day.”

Lisa drew a deep breath, and took her phone back, from him. Tuck was staring her straight in the eye. She had diminished the theory, and he had grunted it out of existence. They were still ‘in cahoots’.