Haunting at Remington House. Laura V. Keegan

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СКАЧАТЬ are a lot of books in this house. Guess the Lindemans like to read,” Joe said, running his hand across the spines of a row of books.

      “Seems that way. And that’s a good thing, I enjoy reading myself.” Tom walked across the hall. There were two large bedrooms on this, the north side of the house. A narrow hallway, leading to the narrow servant stairs, divided the two rooms. Both bedrooms were empty but would soon be filled with Tom’s own furniture. He'd left most of his furniture in Jamestown to be sold or given to various charities but was having some of it shipped via Coastal Vanlines. It would be arriving in the next few days.

      They went down the hall and climbed the wide, steep stairway to the attic. There were two large rooms on the east side of the floor that had probably housed servants at one time. Now they served as storage for dusty old furniture and trunks. The rest of the attic was divided into many small rooms filled with more old furniture, boxes and trunks, some belonging to Tom and some to the previous owners. A narrow hallway separated two of the rooms, leading as they did in the floors below, to the servants' stairway, its door locked and unused. Except for the boxes delivered late yesterday afternoon, everything was coated with a thick layer of dust. “Been a long time since anyone was up here,” Tom said to Joe.

      Looking out the window to the north, Tom saw another house about a half mile up the coast. Smoke spiraled out of the many chimneys. “Who lives there?”

      “The Harrisons—William, his wife, Vivian, and their two boys, James and William Jr. The Harrisons have owned that property longer than anybody can remember. Probably one of the oldest family names around here. Richest, too. Made their fortune with imports. Family dates back to the late seventeen hundreds, so I’ve been told. Own one of the largest import businesses on this coast. Anyway, they have homes all over the states. That’s one of them. They’re usually here for Thanksgiving and stay till after the first of the year. They come and go in the spring and summer—typical vacation dwellers. Not some of my favorite people, kind of high and mighty, if you know what I mean. But they tip well. No complaint there.”

      “Well, I hope they respect my privacy. At least for a while.”

      “Don’t get your hopes up! As soon as Vivian gets wind you’re here, she’ll be socializing you up one side and down the other!” Joe laughed. “Not so with me though. I don't fit in their social world! I’ve driven Mr. and Mrs. for over five years. Neither one of them has ever spoken a civil word to me. Orders, that’s all I get from them. Take me here, take me there, pick up this, stop here and on and on. Very important people, yes sir!” Joe’s face flushed. He took a quick breath and brought himself in check. “Well! Enough gossiping. I better get back to the wiring. I plan to get into town and pick up a few switches before lunch. If you need anything from town, let me know. I’ll pick it up.” Embarrassed at having said so much, he walked off, not waiting for further comments from Tom.

      Tom was disappointed—he’d hoped to have neighbors he could get to know, maybe spend some time with—but on his own terms. Oh, well. Time would tell. Maybe Joe had the wrong impression of the Harrisons. Tom went to his room and began a series of phone calls on his cell to take care of the phone-line hookup as well as catch up on a few business calls. When he was finished with those, he punched in his sister’s number. Tom drummed his fingers impatiently on the table, listening to the rings. One, two, three, four. . . . She didn’t answer.

      Cassie was six years younger than Tom. She was married to Michael Wellington, who Tom thought was one of the finest men he had ever known. He'd worked for Tom as the district operations manager for the past seven years. They had one young daughter, Lizzie, who was eight.

      Tom and Cassie had been close as kids but had drifted apart when he met and, two years later, married Elise. Cassie and Elise had not gotten along. When Elise died, Cassie reached out to him. Tom, angry and grief stricken, refused her help and wouldn’t allow her back into his life. That slowly changed when Cassie began visiting him in the private sanitarium.

      Their discord over Elise had been damaging. It was painful and difficult to make amends. But they’d been close as kids, and they knew they needed each other now. Both seemed to be getting past the strong emotions that had driven them apart. Cassie was coming for Thanksgiving, along with her husband and daughter. Tom surprised himself. He actually looked forward to the noise and chaos he knew would descend on his house when they arrived.

      Looking out the windows toward the ocean, Tom saw the winds were blowing in a huge squall. Witnessing the storm’s beginning, he sat mesmerized as the black clouds rolled across the darkening sky. Lightning flashed in electric zigzags from the clouds’ dark centers, striking downward into the tumultuous waves far out on the horizon. Even though the storm was still miles away, the sound of thunder boomed and shook the house. The storm was gaining strength and momentum. It wouldn’t be long before it reached shore.

      Not hearing Joe come into the room, Tom jumped when Joe said his name. “Sorry to startle you, Tom. Quite a storm. It’s gonna get nasty real quick by the look of those clouds.” He pointed out the window. "Want me to close the shutters? The winds get incredibly strong here, it’s best to be prepared.”

      “I’m sure you’re right, go ahead. But leave these bedroom shutters open. If it gets too bad, I’ll close them later. I like watching storms. As a kid I remember my mom franticly shouting, convinced that the lightning would strike us, even though we were inside. She’d beg me to get away from the windows. I never would though. I loved the sound of the rain pounding on the roof, the lightning flashing and lighting up the room, the thunder shaking the walls. Poor mom finally gave up trying to save me. She gathered up my sister and the pets and hid in the kitchen pantry for shelter from the ‘wrath of the heavens’ that threatened to strike us down!”

      “Sounds like your mom was sensible to me.” Joe glanced out the window, flinched when a lightning bolt hit the water, sending spray high into the air. “I’ll leave these shutters open, but I’m gonna close down the rest of the house,” said Joe. “After I do that, I’m heading to town—before the rain gets too bad. If the storm doesn’t lighten up, I won’t be back till tomorrow. The ocean highway’s way too dangerous.”

      “You don’t need to come back today, Joe. Don't worry about things here.”

      “All right then. I have things I can take care of in town. Don’t wait too long to close the shutters, that wind can blow the windows clean out, I’ve seen it happen many times.”

      “I’ll pay attention, don’t worry.” Tom’s phone rang. “Hi, Nate,” he said. They talked for about fifteen minutes while Joe checked windows and secured shutters. Tom wandered downstairs looking for Joe, who was coming in the front door.

      “Got the place secured. Anything else you want me to do before I go?” Joe asked, slipping his arms into the sleeves of his parka.

      “No, I can manage. I have a lot to take care of this afternoon. I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess.”

      “I should be here by nine. I’ll finish checking the wiring and look around the basement. Have a list of what you need from town?” Tom pulled a folded paper from his pocket and handed it to Joe. With a backward wave, Joe was gone, the door slamming with a resounding crash in a strong gust of wind.

      Chapter 8

      Tom grabbed a cold beer from the kitchen and snagged the kitten from his blanket in front of the fire. He deposited the kitten on the couch and opened the front door. Bracing himself against the rain and wind, he opened and secured the terrace window shutters to the house so he could watch the storm. He built a small fire in the living room and waited for the full fury of the storm to hit. СКАЧАТЬ