The Haunting of Alcott Manor, page 21
part #1 of Alcott Manor Series
Maybe he enjoyed holding her hand, too.
“I can’t decide if this new information gives more motive to Benjamin, or if Sam’s deceit prompted Anna to lose hope.” Gemma desperately wanted to clear the energetic effects of what they had just seen. She knew if she could, it would lighten the manor’s emotional load, and therefore, Benjamin’s. But she thought of the young maid, the teenager who was sentenced to another time. Henry's warnings about doing energetic work in the house now seemed more valid. Frustratingly so.
“I was just wondering that myself.” Henry opened the door to the winter garden and immediately situated himself on the pillows and blankets in front of the fireplace. “Doesn't look to me like Sam shared Anna's reservations about telling Benjamin the truth. He might have told him without her knowing. Maybe he told Benjamin who Lizzie Mae’s father was and demanded payment to keep quiet. Benjamin said no and Sam left Anna. Anna killed herself because she realized that Sam never really loved her and then he was gone.”
“Or, Sam told Benjamin and made his demand. Then Benjamin might have confronted Anna and killed her in a fit of rage.” Gemma slipped out of her dress, laid the gown gently over a nearby chair, and snuggled next to Henry. They had a little time left before they had to get to work. She was in no hurry to inspect the house for damages—too afraid of potentially bad news.
“I guess we still don't know.” He held her close and kissed her head.
She worked two buttons open on his shirt and wriggled her hand onto his bare chest.
The chest of this man she would marry.
Marry.
Glee swirled in her stomach and climbed to her heart on the arc of a dream fulfilled.
In the quiet of the early morning, in the new light of the day, she wondered if regret would make an appearance. Her rational mind reminded her that this had all happened very quickly.
She waited.
The only thing she felt was blessed.
Blessed and happy.
As if destiny had caught her just in time.
“What was the name of that museum where you said the Alcott furniture was kept during the renovation?”
Alcott.
Her last name would be Alcott soon. Gemma Stewart Alcott. Yes. She liked the sound of that.
She thought she felt Henry’s chest stiffen under her hand. “Henry?”
“Hmm?”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “Just thinking of everything we have to do today. Judge comes tomorrow. We're out of time.”
“Well, assuming there’s no damage—”
“There won’t be.” He hugged her close. “There can’t be.” He placed his hand on hers and pressed it close to his heart.
“I hope you're right. If there isn’t any, then we don't have much left to do.”
“I’d still like to search the furniture in the upstairs bedrooms for the note. Probably best to do that this morning.”
Now Gemma stiffened. “I’ll go with you to help. But I’m not going up there on my own. Not this close to the anniversary date.”
“No, I don’t blame you. I’ll take care of it.” He hugged her twice when he said it, and she thought it strange to have someone just take something off her plate like that. She had been the one to face every challenge, slay every dragon, and put out every fire that had come her way over the past ten years. Part of the joy of owning her own business. But if she were honest, she didn't mind the assist. Not in this situation. Not in the least.
“What was the name of that museum you mentioned? The one that kept the furniture until the manor was fully restored?”
“Ah, I know the one you're talking about, but I don’t remember their name at the moment. Why do you ask?”
“I was just thinking they might have some history books or scrapbooks there that I could use. Maybe they held on to an old diary. I’d like to do some additional clearing today if I can. You know, insurance.”
“I’ll tell Paisley to take care of that.” With one deft heave, he slipped her beneath him.
“Henry!”
“I have to say, I'm not that interested in hearing about the history of the house, its memories, or what they might mean. Right now, my only focus is you. And us.”
“We have to work.” She pushed hard to lift him off of her to no avail.
“I am working,” he mumbled against her neck.
“Oh, wow. You're a bad influence. I’ll just get the name of the museum from Tom.”
“Don't go anywhere today, Gemma. Stay here and stand guard with me.”
Henry was intent. Possessive. Commanding.
So much so that it took her by surprise.
“I won’t be gone long. If I go to the museum, I’ll be right back.”
His lips pressed together in a tight seal, and she knew he wouldn’t tell her what was really bothering him. She assumed it was final stage jitters. The judge came tomorrow, and he was probably afraid that Benjamin was going to screw things up.
Frankly, she was, too. That was why she wanted to go to the museum to find some clearing opportunities. Not for inside the house, necessarily. She’d been pretty well scared off of that. Maybe another outside opportunity. She didn't know. But she couldn't sit around the house and do nothing.
He rolled off of her and sat up, head in his hands.
“What's going on?” Her voice was soft and curious, wanting to help.
“I’m going to talk a walk. Clear my mind.” He popped up and headed for the door.
“Henry—”
“I’m fine, Gemma. I’m okay. I’ll be back.” He turned around and kissed her, more than a quick peck, but brief enough to show that he was distracted about something.
After he left, she felt more alone than she had in a long while. She drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. Something was wrong.
Something was terribly wrong.
Chapter 25
Rather than searching for Henry, Gemma forced herself to take a short run on the beach. He obviously wanted space for some reason. She thought it wise to give it to him.
When she returned to the manor, she changed and decided on a lower level walkthrough to take her mind off worrying. Though inspecting the manor after a night where Benjamin had the run of the place did not do much for her stress level.
She passed through the swinging door that led from the kitchen to the more public areas and eyed the entryways to the rooms that surrounded her: the dining room, the library, the foyer, the sitting room, and the music room.
“It’s going to be okay. Everything is going to be just as we left it yesterday.”
She walked through the dining room. The slow beat of her boots clicked against the hardwood floors and echoed throughout the cathedral ceiling. No damage. No change. She breathed a gentle exhale, not wanting to disturb anything. Or anyone.
Her eyes searched critically for smaller flaws, and she made notes in her portfolio of any item that had not been done according to her direction. She’d let Tom know about them, but honestly, she wasn’t that upset about the minor things at this point in the process. That Benjamin hadn’t damaged anything last night was gift enough.
The library was next, and she paused outside the wide doorway when she arrived.
Please, please, please.
With eyes closed, she forced herself into the library and held her breath as though she jumped into the deep end of the pool. She opened her eyes when she thought she finally had enough courage to face whatever was there.
No damage. She exhaled hard. One lone worker who was touching up the stain on the shelves looked in her direction.
“Carry on.” She waved.
The rest of the downstairs was also in good condition. No visible damage. Benjamin had taken another night off. Or maybe he was gone. That was possible. The clearing she had performed on the land had been substantial. Maybe that had turned into enough.
All the major dangers and threats to human safety had been repaired, and considerable progress had been made with the aesthetic work. As testament to that fact, she glided step by step down the completed main staircase, feeling a bit like Scarlett O’Hara.
It wasn’t a moment that competed with the royal appearance she made last night in her vintage dress, but she took pride in the fact that the staircase had been fully restored.
Next was the front porch. The cool ocean breeze whipped from around the back of the house and brought its damp, salty scent with it. The rocking chairs and planters had been placed just as she had directed. She inspected every pillar and floorboard, and each step brought with it a memory of Henry that rested close to her heart.
There was a gentleness to Henry she hadn’t expected to find. Not a lack of competitiveness—she had seen his fierce side when Asher came on the property. He was also determined. She had been witness to that quality with the restoration of his house.
There was no wimp factor, no shying away from what he wanted. He was the most tireless, giving lover she’d known. Her face flushed warm at the memories of their nights together, and she brought her hand to her cheek.
It was more of a wisdom, she thought, rather than a gentleness. A hard-earned wisdom, deeply ingrained. Timeworn. The sort that knew kindness was better than selfishness. It knew that self-definition brought more peace than trying to fit within someone else’s ideals. There was no ceremony, no formality, but rather, a dedication to what he knew was right and best.
With previous relationships, she’d spent too much time navigating their differences, like a part-time job. Too few were well practiced in the art of accountability, so she constantly skated around the sharp angles of disappointment.
That’s what made Henry a most pleasant surprise.
She rounded her way to the rear of the house and sat on the porch swing where she'd begun her morning and pushed off for a respite. The chains squeaked with each back-and-forth.
Where could he be?
She gazed at the sunlight playing on the waves. A lone figure stood on the lawn where the new rose gardens had been planted. Though she couldn’t quite tell who he was, his tall figure resembled Henry’s.
The screen door slammed. Gemma looked up to find Tom and two construction workers staring at her. She doubted they'd ever seen her sitting down, much less relaxing for a minute. She had a habit of working all the time.
“I’ll be right back. I know we have a meeting in ten.” She left the swing and tried not to walk too quickly toward the man. It was a long distance across the wide summer lawn to where Henry stood, and she was worried about him. He’d had some space, and now she wanted to know what was going on with him.
Henry turned when Gemma approached. “You okay?” she asked.
He nodded and turned toward the ocean again. “I’m fine.”
“You don't seem fine.” She tried to cast her worries onto the vastness of the sea.
“I was just thinking about the restoration. We’ve gotten close before. It’s never worked out. He won't let it.”
“We’re going to do it this time.” She looked up and found him intensely focused on something that wasn’t in front of him.
He sighed, long and deep. “I’ve been working on this house for so many years with no success. Just one problem after another. I didn’t think— I can’t help thinking that I’m going to lose everything.”
“Let’s sit.” She led them to a love seat in the middle of one of the new rose gardens and felt the beginning of it. Her happily-ever-after buzz always began on the last day or two of a job. This one, however, had new meaning for her.
The house was showing serious signs of picture-perfect. Like magic, this stage of the job would give her the kind of happy she’d begun to know as a child when she ran around the houses her parents worked on. She would walk from room to room and pretend to be in charge. She’d make notes of things that needed to be done. Then she’d show her mother.
That’s what she always strove to create for her clients. The happily-ever-after. She knew it was only the illusion of a happy ending. Sometimes, though, in those surroundings, especially after the land and the homes had been healed, people could find new life, new beginnings, and happiness.
Gemma and Henry sat in the reed-like loveseat that matched the furniture in the other rose gardens. The workers had anchored the feet to cement footings, just as she’d told them to. “Furniture that blows out to sea on a gust of wind won’t help us much,” she’d told them.
“I have a good feeling about this. I’m not counting chickens before they're hatched, but I think we're going to be okay.” She brushed the dark curl that blew onto his forehead, only to watch it fall there again. “What has you bothered?”
“Benjamin,” he said flatly.
“We haven’t heard from him in the last few days. It’s possible he may have made peace with his past and with Anna.”
Henry flashed her a look that said she couldn't possibly be serious. “After all this time?”
“He might finally understand that the note is gone, that the past is the past, and that the only thing he can do now is move on.” Gemma shrugged.
“I just don’t know if he’s the type to give up on something that’s been so important to him for such a long time.”
“People change. They deal with their loss. They figure out how to get through it. That's the whole point of my work, to help people let go. Maybe that’s happened for Benjamin. Maybe he’s happy.”
“Maybe.” Henry’s tone was disbelieving and his stare settled on the horizon.
“My mother had a saying about doubts like these. Whenever I’d worry that something might not work out, she’d say, ‘Don’t go borrowing trouble.’ So, I’m going to say the same thing to you now. It’s natural to be this close to the finish line and to want things to go well so badly that you worry they won’t. But, don’t go borrowing trouble.”
His eyes left the horizon and he placed his hand on Gemma’s. “You’re probably right.”
“I know I’m right. We all need this project to end well. For my dad and his company. For you and your relatives. For Charleston and its history. We’re at the finish line, Henry. This could all work out just the way we need it to.”
She ran her fingers through the back of his hair. It was soft and full with a luscious bit of wave to it. Henry closed his eyes when she did it. His long, dark lashes curled beyond his profile, and the angles of his face set his features into perfect balance.
He squeezed her hand, and the wind danced around him and blew through his hair.
She kissed him, their lips pressed together as they had so many times before, with unexplainable love. She knew it this time, with eyes and heart wide open, she’d finally found the right one for her. “Have you thought any more about California?”
“You love your work and you’re quite good at it. I respect both of those qualities about you and the fact that they’re important to you. We’ll work this out. We have time on our side.”
His words were pure magic. Except for the part about time being on their side, which she didn’t believe. Since her mother’s death and the car accident, she was more of the belief that time was a luxury that many weren’t afforded.
There was just a little something she picked up on. Maybe it was the momentary twitch around the corner of his eye. Or it could have been a feeling. She couldn’t hang her concern on anything specific. However, there was an elephant in the room. There was something unsaid.
She decided to give him some more space, but soon enough, she would need to know what that something was.
Chapter 26
Tom finger-combed the puffy curve of blond hair at the top of his head while he, Gemma, two architects, and Paisley gathered in front of a boarded-up entryway just beyond the music room.
Henry was upstairs searching the bedroom furniture that had been relocated to the manor.
Tom cleared his throat. “Thanks for agreeing to meet this morning, everyone. We’re feeling pretty confident that Judge Wertheimer is going to like what he sees tomorrow on his tour through the property. So, we wanted to start some brief discussions on one of the larger projects that is slated for the second half of the restoration.”
Tom knocked on one of the wooden boards. “This is the entryway to what used to be a two-story solarium.” He swiped his iPad screen repeatedly. “There was a water feature, something of a one-story waterfall, if I’m remembering it right. Lots of green plants and a fish pond along the wall. Anna Alcott wrote in her diary that this was her favorite reading spot.”
Gemma seriously hoped he wasn't about to open the boarded door and expose the hideout she’d shared with Henry. That would be incredibly hard to explain.
“I don’t believe it. It’s not here.” Tom finished flipping through his research file. He tilted his head toward the ceiling, then snapped his fingers. “Oh. I remember where I’ve seen it. It’s at the Charleston Museum of History downtown. They have that exhibit dedicated to the house, the family, and such. Paisley, would you head down there and get copies of the solarium photos for us?”
“They have an exhibit? I’ll go and get them.” Gemma packed her iPad into her portfolio. “That has to be where they have all the history and scrapbooks on the house.”
Chapter 27
Gemma hopped out of the taxi when it stopped in front of the museum. The inside was dark, but when she pushed the door, she was granted easy access.
“Not crowded this time of day. That’s good.” She considered navigating crowds akin to waiting in line at the Department of Motor Vehicles.
“Hello?” she called.
No answer was returned. She took a few steps forward and called into the quiet again. “Hello?”
Nothing.
She searched the area for a Be Right Back or Gone Fishing sign, but found nothing of the sort.
