Haunting at Remington House. Laura V. Keegan

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СКАЧАТЬ here.” Sara pulled her collar up around her ears. “I’m grateful for Vivian, don’t get me wrong. She’s been a Godsend, inviting me here to tutor the boys. But she tends to focus pretty much on herself and her own agendas. It’ll be nice to have someone else to talk to.” She blushed, then kicked at the bottom porch railing, obviously embarrassed. “Listen to me! I talk too much. You must think I’m awful.”

      “Not at all. I understand. Vivian is everything you said. I’m sure she has a good heart, as long as no one shadows her place in the limelight. I’ve known many women, and men, like her. Unfortunately, money tends to give them an inflated sense of self-importance.” Tom took her hand in his. “Whenever you need to escape—or to talk—come on over. In fact, Jimmy’s coming over tomorrow afternoon, come with him. I’ll show you around my place. I could use the company, too.”

      “I’d like that—if I can get away.”

      “Good. You should go inside now, you’re shivering.”

      “You’re right. I’m freezing! Goodnight. Oh, Tom, there’s a path on the other side of the rose garden that leads up the hill to your house. It’s a lot shorter than going down to the beach.”

      “Okay, good. I'll go that way, then. Well . . . goodnight, Sara.” Tom impulsively brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed it. “I look forward to seeing you tomorrow. Goodnight.”

      “Nite.” Sara smiled, then watched him as he hurried down the walkway toward the garden.

      It was raining much harder now. Tom hoped the pathway leading through the trees would afford him a little shelter. By the time he reached his property, the wind was blowing at near gale force. Rain pelted his hands and face like sharp needles. Pulling the collar of his coat up under his chin, he sprinted the last fifty yards on the narrow path to his house.

      A darkened Remington House was silhouetted eerily against the stormy sky, the moon oppressively dimmed by the storm. Tom thought he’d left a light on, but maybe he’d forgotten. Or maybe the power was out again. He reached for the light switch inside the front door. The dark entryway immediately glowed with amber light. Good. The power was on.

      Dense shadows followed him as he walked through the house. As he turned on one light after another, Tom began to feel at ease. Wiggins, lying on the kitchen rug, looked briefly at Tom, then curled into a more comfortable position and went back to sleep. Tom made a pot of coffee and took it to the living room where he built fire, then turned off the lights. The room glowed in mellow oranges and yellows, the firelight creating a warm, cozy nuance. Sitting at the table in front of the window, Tom watched the ocean’s choppy waves erratically reflecting slivers of pale moonlight.

      His thoughts drifted—as he hoped they wouldn’t—back to Vivian and her disturbing behavior and spiteful verbal attack directed at him. Had he imagined it? Her look of hatred was so real—he’d seen that look often enough from Elise. Elise? No, it wasn’t possible! And yet . . .

      Tom slept little that night, his dreams filled with visions of Elise, then Vivian, morphing back and forth until he could no longer distinguish one from the other as they chased about his house, alternately playing the piano, then mocking Tom with raucous peals of laughter.

      Chapter 21

      Tom, unshaven, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, was talking on the phone with John Atwood when Joe arrived the next morning. Tom nodded and waved to Joe as he passed by on his way to the kitchen. John relayed the news to Tom about Nate’s brother, Harold, and about Nate. “The judge released Harold yesterday afternoon without pressing charges—at least not at this time. Jim Wood, Harold’s attorney, took him to the hospital to see Nate. Rosa was there visiting. She reluctantly agreed to let Harold go home with her for a few days, until other living arrangements can be made.”

      “Hope he doesn’t drive Rosa crazy. But he’s better off staying with her for a while,” Tom said. “She’ll make him toe the line.”

      “We shall see. It sounds as if Harold is more obstinate than usual. His dark side seems to have a fairly strong presence. I hope he gets some help. For now, he’s off the streets at least.” Tom could hear John drumming his pen on the desk as he talked. “Now the news about Nate. The fracture and resulting wound from the bone tearing through the flesh will keep him hospitalized for at least a more few days. The doctor is worried about infection. Nate will likely be out of commission for weeks. He might need to stay with Rosa, too. Or, if it’s okay with you, Tom, he could stay on at your Jamestown house—we could hire an in-home nurse to take care of him.”

      “I think we better leave that up to Nate. I’ll do whatever he wants,” Tom said. Out his window he watched a gaggle of snow geese fly to the north. He jumped when a raven flew at him, turning before it hit the window glass. It flew in a large circle, then come back to land on the porch railing. Cawing and flapping its wings, it took another dive at the window, then flew away.

      “Still there, Tom?”

      “Yeah, sorry. Just watching a crazy bird. Keep me posted about Nate . . . and Harold.”

      “More bad news?” Joe asked when Tom hung up the phone. Tom told him what was going on in Jamestown. Joe expressed his sympathy and left when Tom answered another phone call. He returned in a few minutes with a tray of coffee and plate of fresh donuts. They sat quietly at the small dining table watching the rain as it fell in endless torrents. It was a cold, gray day; the entire horizon was filled with dark clouds.

      “How was your dinner last night?” Joe asked trying to lighten the heavy mood.

      “Hmm? Oh, last night? Well, the food was excellent, the booze plentiful, Sara was charming, Jimmy was a trooper and Billy was a brat. . . . And then there was Vivian! Thanks for asking. All in all, a crappy introduction back into the social scene for me. Not quite the night I envisioned. I’m glad I kept it foremost in my mind that the kids and Sara were there, or I would have gotten completely smashed.

      “And might I add, I’m generally not one to get loaded as an escape. A waste of good booze, to be sure.” Tom got up and paced in front of the window. “It seemed like I spent most of the night, between Vivian and Billy, watching my back. Vivian spent most of the evening alternately insulting me, then trying to impress me, always making sure I paid no attention to anyone else. I think she's afraid I might be higher up on the social ladder than she is. Billy is just a brat looking for trouble—at anyone’s expense. He tried his best to get a rise out of me.”

      Joe laughed. “Sounds like a fun night. Wish I’d been there. And to think I spent my evening playing pool with the guys.”

      “It might sound funny now, but trust me, last night was not fun. Next dinner at the Harrison’s, I’ll make sure you get invited, too. Misery deserves company.”

      Joe cleared his throat. “Not my scene. I’ll pass. I’m not much for fancy dinners. I’m the quiet dinner-at-the-cafe type.”

      “I’m serious, Joe. Why should I have all the fun? After all, this is your town. If I have any other social invitations, I’ll take you as my guest. You’ll see how the other side lives, learn the value of years of proper etiquette learning which fork to use for which dinner course. Critical and invaluable stuff. More importantly, you’ll see why I hate it. Then you can help me convince my sister, Cassie, that my reintroduction into society is not the right direction to go. Give me a cold beer and a pool table any day. Now that sounds like a good time.”

      Joe added, “It is. We have a great time in town at the 8 Ball. СКАЧАТЬ