Haunting at Remington House. Laura V. Keegan

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СКАЧАТЬ then Tom said, “Don’t get me wrong. Wealth definitely has its advantages, but it sure doesn't have much to do with making a person happy.”

      “Yeah, well I wouldn’t mind a bit giving it a try. Been struggling my whole life.” The sun broke through the heavy clouds, the choppy waves lit up with mirrored reflections of light. “Oh, well, things aren’t too bad. I’m not complaining.” Joe stood up. “Storms moving out, looks like there’s a break in the rain. I better get up on the roof and check for loose shingles. Wouldn’t want any water leaking in the house—that wind was incredibly strong last night, and I don’t know how long this roof’s been on.”

      “Mind if I give you a hand? I’d like to get out of the house for a while. I’m feeling cooped up.”

      “Make sure you have shoes with a good grip to the soles. The roof will be slick after this rain. Have you been on a roof before?” Joe grinned at Tom as he wrenched the rain-swollen back door open.

      “Yeah, sure have,” Tom lied. “Be right back, I need to change shoes.”

      There was a light, brisk wind blowing, but the sun quickly warmed the air as it burned through the clouds. Climbing the ladder, Tom smiled to himself anticipating what he hoped would end up being a morning of hard labor. Even though he’d had little sleep last night, he wasn’t physically tired, and he craved rigorous physical activity. Looking around the roof they found several areas where roof tiles had lifted from the hard-driving winds and pounding rain.

      “I’ll be right back; you want to wait up here?” Joe hollered as he backed around the top of the ladder to start down. “I need a few things from the shed.”

      Tom teetered on the steep slope of the roof, then was angry with himself for showing his clumsiness to Joe. “Yeah, go on.” Tom regained his balance and cautiously walked around the roof to a vantage point next to one of the chimneys where he could see for miles in all directions. To the east was the Atlantic, its swells shimmering in the brilliant sun. To the north, high atop the bluff, the Harrison estate rose—austere and proper, easily evident as the residence of someone wealthy and in the upper echelon of society.

      Thick woods covered the landscape between his property and the Harrison’s. Though the trees were nearly bare now, in the summer they would be masses of green against the azure of the coastal sky, their boughs home to birds and wildlife, a cacophony of orchestrated melodies carried for miles across the ocean on the gentle breezes of summer. Looking far to the west was the town of Ravenswood, a town of perhaps five thousand year-round residents, the majority of whom lived in an area about three miles square. From this distance, the town seemed small and insignificant compared to the expanse of the Atlantic to the east.

      Tom realized he wanted to find out more about Ravenswood. About all he knew was that it was founded in the late 1800’s as a mill town. It was populated with workers, their families and the businesses necessary to keep the town alive. He wondered if the mills were still operating. Tourism kept the economy alive in the summer, but how did the town survive the rest of the year? He’d have to ask Joe. See if there was anything he could do to help out. He might look into starting, or maybe investing in, a business in town.

      “You look a million miles away, Tom. Guess you didn’t hear me hollering. Here, grab this.” Joe hoisted a wooden handled, canvas bag filled with roofing supplies up over the edge and onto the roof. “Awesome view. The last owners thought it would be ideal to build a lookout up here. I had to ruin their plans. Anything other than a solidly built structure would be pounded mercilessly by the rain and wind—wouldn’t stand up for more than a season or two.” Joe climbed onto the roof, pulling a small roll of tarpaper he had attached to a rope. Tom helped him leverage it on to the roof. “Set it down right over there. It won’t roll off if you set it so it’s vertical.”

      The men worked for hours. Joe alternated between whistling and humming, Tom concentrated on nothing but the work at hand. Old roof tiles were pulled off and new pieces of tarpaper laid. When the heavy black paper was down, Joe brought up a bundle of roofing tiles, and they covered the areas where wind and rain had shredded the roof. An effortless camaraderie, built of sweat and honest work, formed a bond between the men.

      When they finished, they remained on the roof, looking out over the ocean. Yet another storm could be seen on the far horizon. Joe pointed to the roiling black clouds. “It looks like it’s gonna be another fierce one. This time of year, seems like we get one storm after another. The roof’s in good shape now, shouldn’t have to do any more repairs this season. I’ll keep an eye on it, though.”

      They gathered up their tools and descended the ladder. “I’m starved. You ready to go in and have some lunch?” Tom asked.

      While they ate fried chicken, salad and biscuits Joe brought from the deli that morning, Tom brought up the subject of Thanksgiving. “My sister and her family will be here next week. They’ll be staying for at least two weeks. Mary’s going to help on and off, but I need to find someone to cook and do some light cleaning while Cassie’s here. Do you know anyone who might be interested?”

      “Lots of people looking for extra work this time of year. How many people are you looking for?”

      “Maybe three to get the house cleaned and in order. There are more boxes that need to be unpacked and all the bedrooms need to be made up, that kind of thing this week. After that, then someone to cook and pick up while Cassie and her family are here.”

      “I know a real nice woman who used to cook for the Brunsons—they own one of the textile mills. I know Nellie is looking for work—I ran into her the other day. She ran a temporary maid service last year for the summer residents so she has great credentials. She’s a fantastic cook, too. I’ll give her a call now.” Joe called her and started making all the necessary arrangements while Tom sat idly by enjoying the view out the window. The clouds, pushed by the strong winds, rolled in heading for the coast.

      “All set. Nellie’s good to go. She’ll be here in the morning.”

      “Thanks, Joe. About next week—do you have any plans for Thanksgiving dinner? Care to join us? There’ll be plenty of good food and conversation.”

      “Yeah, I’d like that. Thanks. Since I broke it off with my lady, I seldom have dinner plans. It’d be a good change for me. And—I’m anxious to meet your family.”

      “Good,” Tom said. “Think you’ll hit it off with my sister, she’s amazing.”

      Jimmy and Sara knocked on the back door as Tom was finishing loading the dishes into the dishwasher. Jimmy was anxious to start his piano lesson, and they went right to work. Tom found a book of simple songs, and another of scales, for him to start practicing on. While Jimmy worked through the exercises, Tom and Sara sat on the sofa and listened. Jimmy played quite well, managing to play several songs all the way through with few mistakes. Obviously he’d had at least a few lessons in the past. He was very serious as he concentrated on the proper placement of his fingers, chewing his bottom lip when he came to a difficult part. After a few minutes he forgot all about Sara and Tom. They quietly got up and went into the kitchen to make some iced tea, leaving Jimmy to practice scales from a book that had belonged to Tom and Cassie when they were kids.

      “So, how did you and Jimmy manage to escape Vivian?” Tom asked.

      “Pure luck. William’s new car was delivered today. She and Billy went into Ravenswood for the afternoon. I told her Jimmy and I had plans to collect seashells. I think she was relieved not to have to entertain Jimmy or me today. So here we are.”

      “Want a tour of the house?” Tom asked. After СКАЧАТЬ