Haunt Me (13 page)

Penny Hollow had stifled him, made him feel claustrophobic and unable to make his own decisions because of his family’s expectations. He’d left as soon as he could, but tonight reminded him of how much he’d loved growing up in the small town. Spending the last year here had given him the opportunity to view the town through the eyes of a mature man. Or could it be he saw the town through Mac’s eyes, which gleamed with excitement as she took in the decorated street and enthusiastic throng?

“I told you, we take our festivals very seriously. Wait till it gets dark and the fireflies come out to play,” he said. The crowd thronging the main strip led up to the square in front of the town hall. Home to the mayor, the Founder’s Council, and the county seat, the square was filled with people square dancing.

“I didn’t think people did things like this anymore,” Mac said, taking everything in.

Although most of the local stores closed for the festivities, tables loaded with Penny Hollow items, as well as samples lined the sidewalks. With so many people out, they took their time moving through the crowd, pausing to peruse as they went.

He didn’t notice his cousin Phillip bearing down on them until the man was right in front of them. “Incoming,” he managed to murmur before Phillip reached out to pump Mac’s hand enthusiastically.

“Phillip Archer. I wanted to welcome you personally to our town.” He didn’t really pause for a breath nor did he release Mac’s hand.

“It’s lovely to meet you.” Mac managed to interject, and Archer bobbed his head so hard his jowls seemed to jiggle.

“We were all so sorry to hear about Miss Katherine’s passing. She was a real gem even if she did become a bit of recluse, but living with a ghost can do that to you. We hope you plan to stay for a good long while. I see our Justin is taking care of you.” He finally released Mac’s hand and looked at Justin. “It’s always a pleasure, Justin. We will see you for coffee later, yes?”

“I’ll do my best.” The council wanted an update, but his statement seemed enough to mollify his cousin, who excused himself.

Mac slid a sideways glance up at him. “Okay, so everyone here believes my house is haunted?”

Not everyone in Penny Hollow believed in ghosts, but Justin would bet money Jock hadn’t stopped trying to fire everyone up to scare Mac into selling Summerfield. He’d told Jock to leave it alone, but his baby sister couldn’t do that. “I told you, the entire town has a history—most mined from tragedies that occurred on their properties, and still more were throwbacks to a time when the dark hid the strange and the dangerous from prying eyes. Virginia’s plethora of battlefields and Civil War history only contribute to the myths and legends cropping up like crabgrass around older properties.”

“Joyful.” Yet she sounded anything but, and the shadows he’d spent an afternoon erasing appeared in her eyes again.

He stuffed a ten-dollar bill into the donation jar before he claimed a couple of unsweetened teas in Firefly Festival Penny Hollow souvenir cups and handed one over. The gunned roar of a motorcycle rumbled through the evening air and Justin glanced behind them, then sighed. “I’m going to apologize in advance.”

“For what?” She turned and followed his glance toward the man in motorcycle leathers who shut off his bike and then dismounted.

“For my brother.”

“Justin.” The brother in question strode toward them, his gaze less than friendly as it latched onto Mac. “Ms. Dillon, I presume.”

“Elijah. Be polite.” Four years younger than Justin, Elijah couldn’t be more different. If Nathaniel were a partier and Jock a busybody, Elijah took standoffishness to new levels.

“I thought I was.” Elijah wasn’t looking at them anymore; instead, his gaze scouted the crowd. “Why the hell do I have to be here?”

“Family tradition,” Justin reminded his brother. “Mac, please excuse the rude bastard. I am pretty sure he was dropped on his head frequently as a child.”

“Most likely by him.” His brother jerked a thumb in his direction but continued to scan the crowd. “So, are you two a thing, or is this still romancing the unknown heir out of her house?”

God save him from his siblings. “I withdrew our offer to buy.”

Interest flared in Elijah’s and he suddenly focused on the two of them. “Oh, really? Have you come to your senses about the big man’s plan and finally given him the finger?”

Grimacing, Justin shook his head. “No, I just think we have alternatives we can explore.”

“Of course you do, Justin Kent—the man who can fix anything. I see a beer with my name on it. Later.” His exit as abrupt as his arrival, Elijah circled around them to disappear into the crowd.

“Dare I ask what big man and what plan?” Mac asked.

If nothing else, Elijah’s rudeness had given her something else to think about. Putting a hand on the small of her back, he continued to guide her down Main Street. “The ‘big man’ was our father. He died about eighteen months ago.”

“Oh, Justin,” she said, quiet sympathy echoing beneath the words. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you.” He’d made his peace with the old man’s death. If only he could say the same about his father’s will. “It was a rather sudden heart attack, one we’d all expected. He wasn’t the same after Mom died.” Tugging her out of the way of another family, he took a moment to slip his arm around her waist. He liked the feel of her tucked close to him where he could keep her safe.

“The one and done?” she asked quietly.

He nodded. “Yeah. Jock was seventeen when Dad died, so it was harder on her than on us, but I came home and Nathaniel was already here. It was the will that really caused our problems.” He fell quiet while they navigated around the trading. Finding a quiet spot, he settled in against the wall. The last thing he imagined telling her tonight was about his father’s will, but she had a right to know. It was the reason he’d pushed to buy her place.

He took a deep breath and continued. “Dad loved everything about Penny Hollow—the people, the traditions. In fact, this festival was his favorite event. He proposed to Mom during it and to hear him tell it, all of his kids were conceived after it.”

“Eww.”

The playful response made him smile. “Yeah, that’s what we said.” But he couldn’t avoid the nagging sadness that his dad wouldn’t be there to gross them out with the story this year. “I think he realized most of us weren’t as involved in the town as he was. We were drifting. I’d already left, started Kent Restoration, and pretty much traveled where the work took me. Elijah, he’s always been a bit of a loner. He would disappear for weeks, sometimes months at a time. Nathaniel doesn’t much care for anything that smacks of work. He prefers tending bar and he’d gotten a job at a high-end place in New York.”

“So you all had gone your separate ways except for your sister?” Mac prodded him when he went quiet.

“Yeah. And you’ve seen this place—it’s a pretty damn small town. I think at our largest we were about fifteen hundred people. It’s only around nine hundred, nine hundred fifty now, give or take a birth. We all came home for the funeral and I planned to stick around and see to Dad’s affairs, make sure Jock graduated high school, and then get back to my life.”

Clint crossed the street opposite them, and lifted a hand in a wave of hello, but he didn’t head over to chat with them.

“So, what happened?”

“Dad’s will happened. The will was very clear: he wants us to invest in Penny Hollow, to give back to the town that gave to us. He had a very clear set of goals, including reinvigorating the town to generate tourism, thereby keeping it alive for future generations.”

“The Most Haunted Town in Virginia?” The shadows were back around her eyes. Or maybe it was the diminishing light as the sun set.

“That was the plan. Kent Restoration offered the perfect vehicle to reface the town center—polish up all the old buildings and then create a perfect tourist trap with the old houses radiating out.”

“Until this pain-in-the-ass author moved in…”

Justin’s heart kicked his ribs. “I dunno, I think that pain-in-the-ass author might just be what this town needed. More than her house.”

“Yeah?” She canted her head up to look at him, and it was too much of a temptation to ignore.

“Oh yeah,” he murmured, then brushed his lips across hers. Life was funny. When he’d first learned that she inherited the property, he’d really hoped buying her out would be a swift and smooth process. But now? Now he wanted her to like their little town and stay. Even if it meant he stayed, too.

…

The next hour passed with Justin dividing their time between wandering in and out of the booths set up for the festival and stealing Mac away for kisses. He’d seen no sign of her ex, and he’d caught the eye of the sheriff, who gave him a reassuring nod. When Mrs. Cartwright appeared and looped her arm through Mac’s to steal her away, he followed behind them as the diner owner ushered Mac into a throng of the town’s older women. Mac shot him a panicked look, but he gave her an encouraging smile. If he were a gambling man, he’d guess Mrs. Cartwright and Mrs. Beagle had taken matters into their own hands in an effort to get to know MacKenzie Dillon.

Mac’s face lit up with laughter at something one of the women told her, and his jaw ached from smiling as he watched her. She blended well among the crowd, charming them while being charmed. But he didn’t worry about their questions or probing for answers; she’d already proven she could handle herself.

“So the rumors of you and our lady of Summerfield seem to be true.” Jock drew up next to him, hands stuffed in the pockets of her broomstick skirt and an amused smile on her face.

“She has a name.” He pulled his gaze away from Mac to eye his sister. “And tell me you’re done with corralling the town into trying to chase her out.”

“Yes, it’s really rather too late for that.” She sighed and her smile faded. Blue eyes that so matched his own latched on him. “I wanted to avoid what happened before, but I don’t think we can.”

“Avoid what?” Justin surveyed the area. From the looks of things, Mac had settled into the conversation with the ladies and didn’t seem like she was going to be able to extricate herself. He’d give her a few more minutes before he rescued her.

“Justin…” The worry coating Jock’s voice dragged his attention back to his sister, who wrapped her hand around his biceps. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“Hey.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, hoping to ease the taut frown wrinkling her brow. It didn’t surprise him that she’d heard about Mac’s ex being in town. As many secrets as Penny Hollow kept, it never had been good at keeping personal business personal. “I’m always careful.”

“No, I mean with her. It didn’t work out before—it all went so wrong. I don’t want that to happen again.”

The urgency in her voice rippled over him in an unsettling wave. And none of her words made sense. Drawing back, he studied her. “What’s going on, Jock?”

But she wasn’t looking at him—or at least she didn’t seem to be focusing on him. Her gaze had focused on something in the distance, and her eyes seemed gray, not their usual sparkling blue, as if her irises were covered with a heavy fog.

“You’ve always given your heart to the homes you worked on. But the lady of Summerfield isn’t a house—and if you give her your heart…”

“Sweetheart,” he said, searching for the right words. “I get it, you’re worried about us, but she’s really a nice lady.” A hell of a lot more than nice.

“No.” Jock fisted his shirt with her hands. “Don’t you see? You have to
remember
—you
have
to remember before it’s too late.”

“Jock, what the hell are you talking about?” Studying his sister’s vacant expression the tight lines radiating out from her eyes, the way her eyes still held a gray cast, the unsettled sensation in his gut increased.

It took a moment for the fog in her eyes to dissipate, and she turned to him. “You know I get feelings…impressions…”

No, he didn’t
know
that. She’d always claimed to be psychic and he’d attributed those claims to how she was always so much larger-than-life, so loud and bombastic. Her energy sometimes made him forget how young she was.

“You have to stop listening to all those stories, Jock,” he said as gently as he could. Mac’s past haunted her. Jock’s youthful fear of the unknown plagued her. If only he could just wipe away both of their problems with a wave. Instead of responding, she gave him a fierce hug. He cradled her for a moment, stroking her hair. “I told you it will all be okay.”

“I hope so,” she whispered against his chest, and a shudder passed over her. When she pulled back, her familiar smile curved her lips. “Forgive me for trying to make her leave?”

“Since it didn’t work, of course I forgive you.” But his answer didn’t seem to satisfy her, and she let out an impatient huff of breath and pulled away. She released his shirt, her carefree mask back in place, save for the worry still smudging her eyes. “You should go rescue Mac before they drag out the Ouija board. Their curiosity about the Summerfield curse is still alive and well.”

He spared a quick look at Mac, who seemed fine despite Jock’s warning. Catching his sister’s hand, he pulled her back when she would have slipped away. “Jock, what do you know about the Summerfield curse?”

She shrugged, but he wasn’t buying. One thing he knew well about his sister, she could deflect with the best of them—but her behavior had been over the top, even for her.

“It’s one of the stories associated with the house,” she finally said. “The curse of the first Summerfield lady to live there—a curse of being alone. The way the story goes, she made a lot of mistakes and abandoned her true love. When she did that, she was cursed. But that’s only a part of the story.”

He’d never heard that version, but ice crawled over his skin at the eerie, distant note in her voice. The sound of the festival around them retreated, as though the world narrowed down to the two of them. “What’s the other part?”