Moonshadows (12 page)

Janet slammed the receiver back on the hook. A sudden fear of the darkness made her switch on the lamp and she sat up in bed for what seemed like hours. Finally, when her head started to droop, she became disgusted with her behavior and snapped off the light. So much for letting someone else control her life.

The next night, Janet and Adam drove to one of Janet’s favorite places. The Cobblestone Ordinary had been many things in the past: a way-station for the pony express, a brothel said to have been frequented by Paul Revere and some of his rowdy compatriots, a hospital for the Union wounded. But in recent years it had been meticulously restored and preserved, from the rough-hewn beams overhead to the open-hearth fireplace with a spit large enough to accommodate a full side of venison. Each year on the first day of October, the
Lighting of the Kindling
ceremony was held. A match was touched to the wood as “
I’ll Be Seeing You”
was played by the house band, and the fire was kept burning until the Ides of March.

Now, as Adam glided her around the dance floor, memories of other evenings, other dances, came to Janet’s mind and she laid her head on his shoulder. As if sensing her mental expedition into times past, he pulled her closer.

“Marry me, baby,” he whispered against her ear.

Janet lifted her head and looked into the mysterious depths of his eyes, half-shadowed in the dim light. Had he actually uttered the words she had so often dreamed of hearing?

“What did you say?”

“Marry me,” he repeated. “We belong together, you and I, always have—always will.”

“How would we live, Adam? Are you working?”

The rhythm of his posture altered ever so slightly. Janet felt the faintest realignment of his body and removed her hand from his shoulder.

“I’ve had enough dancing for tonight,” she said.

Adam tucked Janet’s hand into the crook of his arm and guided her past the other dancers. At the table, he pulled out her chair and caressed the small of her back as she sat down.

“To answer your question, I do have a couple things in the works that look promising.” He laughed slightly, and the firelight reflected in his eyes. “Very promising. In the meantime, I find myself most comfortable.”

Janet picked up her wineglass and drained it.

“I’m glad to hear that. I know how much you like the finer things.”

“Now, about my proposal.” He gave her the killer smile that always turned her bones to Jello. “You didn’t say yes.”

“Let’s not rush into anything,” she said. “You’ve just come back to Middlebrook, and I’ve hardly had time to adjust. Let’s take it slow for now and enjoy each other’s company.”

“Sounds good to me,” he said with a wink. “But don’t think I’m giving up easily. You’re far too important to me.”

Janet acknowledged his declaration with a nod of her head and looked at her watch.

“Can we go now? It’s getting late.”

“Check please,” Adam called to a passing waiter as he reached for his wallet.

Moments later the waiter arrived at their table and presented the check on a silver tray. Adam covered the bill with a platinum credit card and the waiter left and returned almost immediately for a signature. Adam leaned forward, cupping his hand across the top of the receipt and Janet could hear the scratching of the pen as it scribbled across the crisp paper.

“Thank you, Mr. Brooks,” the waiter said, tearing off a copy and handing it back to Adam. “You folks have a nice evening.”

“Thank you,” Adam said, standing up and moving around the table.

Janet frowned. “Why did he call you Mr. Brooks?”

“You noticed that too, did you?”

“Well. Why did he?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he had somebody else in mind. Maybe his last customer was a Mr. Brooks. Who knows, with those kind of people.”

“You could have corrected him.”

“Janet, he’s just a waiter. It wasn’t important.”

Janet flinched at the coldness in his voice.

He maintained a steady stream of conversation on the drive home. Janet found herself listening to the tone of his voice rather than the actual words. His voice reminded her of a carnival barker: “
Step right up, little lady. I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna make you a special deal that you’d have to be dumb as a turnip to refuse. All you hafta to do is trust me. Yes, siree, step closer and take advantage of the greatest deal in the world.”

Adam was still talking when he pulled into the parking lot at Middlebrook Arms and reached for the door handle.

“No, Adam. It’s late, and I’m tired. I just want to go to bed.”

He smiled. “Alone?”

“Goodnight.”

Janet stepped from the car and walked up the sidewalk. By the time she reached her porch she was aware that he was still in the parking lot. She unlocked her front door and entered the apartment without a backward glance.

She closed the door behind her and stood still for a moment. Something wasn’t exactly right. There seemed to hang about the room a kind of draft, the faintest whooshing of lingering movement and a hint of something floral. The apartment was dark and quiet and the heat pump hummed in the heavy silence. Janet flipped the light switch, hung her coat in the entrance closet and dumped her purse on the piano bench.

She flipped the light off and felt her way down the hall, crossed the bedroom floor, and reached for the lamp. As she pressed the switch, she turned around to pull down the covers on the bed, there in the center of the ivory comforter, lay a single white rose.

Janet picked up the flower. A damp outline had darkened the satin underneath. She touched the rose and her mind had difficulty reconciling the brittleness of the delicate petals. Frozen. The petals were stiff, and shattered at her slight touch. When her thumb pressed against the tip of a thorn, it pricked her skin and a drop of blood fell onto the bed.

She carried the flower to the living room and laid it on the coffee table, then sat down on the sofa and stared at the white petals that were beginning to thaw and turn an ugly brown. For the flower to have remained frozen until she found it would’ve meant that it had to be left on the bed only seconds before she entered the apartment. Was that the draft she’d felt? Had someone gone out the back door just as she came in the front? Janet jumped up and ran to the French doors leading to the back patio. The doors were shut but the lock was not fastened. She gave the knob a violent twist that shot the deadbolt into place and rattled the handle to make sure the door was secure.

Although it was late, Janet turned to the only person in the world she truly trusted. It took five rings of the phone before Chelsea answered.

“Umm?”

“It’s me.”

“Oh, lord. What’s happened now?”

“Come for breakfast?” Janet asked.

“It’s important?”

“It’s important.”

“I’ll be there,” Chelsea said.

Janet hung up the phone and lay down on the sofa. She stared at the ceiling until she heard her alarm go off two rooms away.

T
he next morning while the coffee dripped, Janet popped frozen pastries into the oven and opened a fresh jar of
Heather Down
grape jelly. She had just finished setting the table when the doorbell rang. Chelsea’s face was rosy from the cold and her eyes inquisitive as she slipped out of a gray cape with a fleece-trimmed hood. Her jersey dress matched her black and gray pumps. She was standard Chelsea. Perfect.

Janet reached for her cold hands and pulled her toward the sofa.

“I have something to show you.” She picked up the wilted rose; its decaying petals drooped across her palm like an ugly dead thing. “Someone left this on my bed last night.”

“Your bed?” Chelsea dropped to the sofa. “Why?”

“Not just why, Chelsea. Who? And how did they get in?”

“Locks can be picked.”

“Deadbolt locks?”

“Are you kidding? With today’s technology anything can be zapped open.”

Janet’s glazed eyes swept around the room. “To think someone, some slimy creature—and I emphasize
slimy
—slithered across my floors and sneaked around my apartment? Makes me want to throw up.”

“Have you called the police?”

Janet shook her head.

“You should, you know.”

Janet frowned. “And have more strangers roaming around, searching through the apartment and asking questions. I can’t do it. Besides, I don’t think my prankster wants to hurt me.” She gave a weak smile. “I think he just wants to have a little fun at my expense.”

“There’s something you’re not telling me. I know you too well.”

Janet hesitated. “Breakfast is ready,” she said and headed toward the kitchen.

Chelsea followed along behind, pulled out a chair and sat down. She waited while Janet poured the coffee and filled their plates. Then she spoke. “Okay, let’s have it.”

“I’ve been getting phone calls.”

“Obscene?”

“They’re obscene all right, but not the way you mean.”

“You’re being harassed?”

“Harassment? I’m not even sure I’d call it that—more like a game. He seems to be having the time of his life playing word puzzles and riddles.”

“Riddles?”

“Crazy stuff—about having wisdom and talent, about achieving greatness.”

“Sounds like something from the Bible.”

“No, Chels, I don’t think he’s religious.”

“The caller’s a man?”

“That’s another thing I don’t know. The voice varies. Sometimes it’s a raspy coarse whisper, then the next time slightly effeminate. I never know what to expect.”

“Maybe it’s more than one person.”

“Maybe.”

Chelsea took a sip of coffee and set the cup down. “You could get caller I-D.”

Janet snorted. “We both know he’d find a way around that: pay phones or cellular. And I’ve thought about getting an unlisted number, but heck, anybody with as much savvy as my mysterious caller would get the new number and then call and gloat about it.”

Chelsea spread jelly on the steaming roll and cast a suspicious eye in Janet’s direction. “You have no idea what might be going on?”

“Do you?”

“Think, Janet.”

Janet nodded. “Etienne. The will.”

“It seems awfully funny that all this only started after Mrs. Lancaster died.”

“Too much of a
co-inky-dink
, huh?”

“By far too much. And don’t forget the main ingredient: there’s a ton of money involved.”

Janet frowned. “But why wouldn’t he just come forward to claim his half? After all, he’s entitled to it.”

“Maybe he wants it all.”

“But to get it all, I’d have to be out of the picture.”

“You mean like Hilda?”

Janet gave a shaky laugh. “Whoa, now we’re getting into the bizarre.” She stood up and ran a weary hand over her face. “Life is far too complicated. Etienne. The Lancaster estate. Stephen. And now Adam.”

At the thought of Adam, she dropped back into her chair.

Chelsea shot her a look of skepticism. “Okay, what else is on your mind?”

“Adam asked me to marry him. We had dinner last night, and he actually asked me to marry him.”

Chelsea’s eyes widened and a grimace tugged at the corners of her mouth. “And what did you say?”

Janet laughed. “Well, I didn’t say yes.”

“That means you didn’t say ‘no.’ You’re too good for that money-grubbing weasel. You do know that?”

Janet smiled. “He can weave a mighty spell,” she said. “Besides, he declares he’s changed. Maybe he has.”

“What about Stephen? You haven’t mentioned him for quite some time.”

“I don’t know about Stephen. He’s like a whiff of smoke. First he’s here, then he’s gone. Do I trust him enough to confide in him? I’ve asked myself that question again and again.”

“And what did you tell yourself?”

Janet shook her head.

“Well, when it comes to the hard calls, you’re level-headed enough to make good decisions.” Chelsea smiled. “You may get a little wild in your imaginings, thinking Sebastian’s a Hobbit—”

“Have you ever seen his feet? No, and neither have I. I’ve been trying to think of a way to get him to pull off his shoes.”

“You would,” Chelsea shook her head and laughed. “Heaven help me, and don’t ask me why, but I trust your judgment. Whatever you decide to do, I’m behind you all the way.”

“You’re a true friend, Chels. I owe you.”

“Pshaw,” Chelsea said with a grin. “You and I owe each other nothing. That’s why we’re such bosom buddies.”

Janet carried the dishes to the sink while Chelsea returned the butter and jelly to the refrigerator. After wiping off the table and countertop, Janet took Chelsea’s arm and headed them toward the door.

“Okay, buddy. Let’s get to work before we have the wrath of the Wicked Witch of the West to deal with.”

Janet spent the morning letting the healing environment of the library work its magic. In a corner, the kindergarten class of Middlebrook Elementary sat wide-eyed as Chelsea read the story of a little mountain girl and her grandfather. She watched their eager faces and tried to remember the first time she heard the story of
Heidi
. Across the room, the door to Miss Austin’s office stood open and Janet could hear Sebastian’s laughter. The world seemed to be rotating on an even keel, so she turned her attention back to work.

The morning passed almost without Janet realizing it. So deep was she in concentration that she was not aware of another presence until a shadow fell across her desk. Her head jerked up.

“Ready?” Chelsea asked.

“Ready?”

“You know—lunch. Reading to four-year-old seat-squirmers gives me a big appetite.” Chelsea laughed. “You forgot, didn’t you? It’s just as well, since it’s my turn to treat.”

Then Janet remembered that it was the middle of the month. Payday. Every two weeks they had lunch together. On the first she treated. The middle was Chelsea’s turn.

Janet switched off the work lamp and pushed her chair back.

“Oh no, you don’t,” she warned. “And don’t even think McDonald’s. If you’re all that starved, how about hitting Victoria and Albert’s?”

“Me and my big mouth,” Chelsea groaned. “Have you no mercy?”

“Lots. It’s my middle name,” Janet said as they slipped into their coats. “As a matter of fact, my fine feathered friend, today’s on me.”

“You’re sure? We can make it dutch.”

“Nope. I declare this a special day, and who’s more special than you and me?”

Chelsea laughed. “Nobody that I know of.”

Sebastian came out of Miss Austin’s office. Light filtering through the stained glass windows highlighted his copper hair and brushed across his elfin face.

“You two going out?”

“Lunch,” Janet said. “Want to come?”

He grinned. “I’ll stay and help Amanda hold down the fort.”

“Can we bring you anything?” Janet asked. “My treat.”

He waved them away. “Maybe next time.”

“Don’t you love it,” Chelsea said, pushing through the foyer doors. “He’s only been here a few weeks, and already he’s calling her ‘Amanda.’”

“Better him than me,” Janet said and took Chelsea’s arm. “No more about them. For the next hour it’s just you and me, and food.”

“Lead me to it,” Chelsea said. “I’m starved.”

In a joint effort to enjoy the fine day and each other, they marched in time-step that reminded Janet of Laverne and Shirley:
schlemiel, schlimazel.
A light breeze ruffled their hair and tumbled away their words. They reached the restaurant and passed through the familiar oaken doors that framed a frosted oval etched with wisteria and ivy.

To Janet’s mind, Victoria and Albert’s Fine Dining had the best shrimp salad in the state—maybe even the world. Today she decided it was definitely the whole world. She scraped the last bite from the plate and touched the linen napkin to the corners of her mouth. Across the table Chelsea was doing equal justice to a diminishing pile of crab-legs. The waiter replenished their iced-tea glasses.

“I may never get into this dress again,” Chelsea said, leaning back and trying not to be obvious as she loosened the sash.

“You? You barely weigh anything. What about dumpy me?”

A frown wrinkled Chelsea’s ivory brow. “Don’t let me hear you say that. You’re not dumpy—not even close. You’re the cheerleader on top of the pyramid; cute and bouncy.”

Janet laughed. “And stuffed.”

“We just had to come here, didn’t we?” Chelsea scolded. “You made me, you know. I didn’t want to.”

Janet leaned forward and lowered her voice. “But wasn’t it great?”

“Stupendous,” Chelsea said and rolled her eyes.

Janet glanced at her watch.

“We’d better get back,” she said and signaled for the check. She felt someone touch the back of her chair.

“Good afternoon, Janet.”

She turned around and looked up at the stately figure towering over them.

“Mr. Chandler,” she said. “How nice to see you.”

The cut of his suit draped a fine line from his wide shoulders to the tip of his Italian shoes. His bearing was one of old-school elegance. Even though his hair glistened like the finest platinum, Janet guessed Ethan Chandler to be no older than mid-to-late forties, and she couldn’t remember a time that he hadn’t looked exactly as he did now. Before his wife died, the two of them had been frequent guests at
Heather Down
. He was one of the few men Elizabeth Lancaster trusted implicitly.

He stepped closer to the table. “How are you, my dear? I haven’t seen you since your grandmother’s funeral.”

“I’ve been just fine,” Janet said with a smile. “Mr. Chandler, I don’t know if you’ve met Miss Parker or not. Chelsea works at the library.”

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” he acknowledged the introduction. “Nice to meet you, Miss Parker.”

“Mr. Chandler’s chairman of the library board,” Janet explained to Chelsea.

Chelsea gave him a pleasant smile. “I thought the name sounded familiar,” she said. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

Ethan Chandler seemed to return her apparent pleasure. “And how are things getting on at the library?” He seemed to be speaking to both of them, but clearly his attention was drawn in Chelsea’s direction. “Still running smoothly, I hope. Terrible business about Miss Jamison, the accident and all. Just terrible.” At last he pulled his eyes from Chelsea and looked at Janet. “How’s the new employee working out?”

“So far, so good,” Janet said.

“I’ll have to stop around one day and meet the young man.” He looked at Chelsea again. “I don’t see you library people nearly often enough.” He turned to leave, then stopped suddenly and turned back. “By the way Janet, did Mr. Hastings get in touch with you?”

“Adam?”

“I ran into him in the clubhouse at the lake. The boat he came in on had just docked,” Ethan Chandler said, pulling on black leather gloves. “I didn’t remember ever meeting him before, but he said you’d introduced us sometime back. I asked him if it might have been at your grandmother’s funeral, but he said it wasn’t.”

“You’re sure you asked him about the funeral?”

“Janet, are you all right? You’ve gone white as a sheet.” He pulled out a chair, sat down at the table, and laid a hand on her arm. “Can I get you a drink of water?”

She shook his hand away. Snatching open her purse, she tossed a bill on the table. Her movements were frantic and irrational. She was slightly aware of the concerned glances that passed between Ethan Chandler and Chelsea.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Chandler,” Janet said. “I can’t tell you how important it’s been for me to run into you today.” She snapped her purse shut. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we really have to get back to the library.”