Nine Lives (Lily Dale Mystery #1)(16)

I wish I could see it that way, Bella thinks as wipes her wet sneakers on the mat and reaches back to close the front door. The wind grabs it, slamming it behind her and Max.

“Mommy?” He reaches nervously for her.

“It’s okay, Max.” She pockets the big key ring Odelia gave her. In addition to the modern metal key that opens both the front and back deadbolts, it also holds a set of numbered, old-fashioned skeleton-style keys to unlock each of the guestrooms.

“Mommy?” Max says again, and everything about him, including his voice, seems smaller as he shrinks against her side. “I don’t want to stay here anymore.”

She grasps his hand. “Sure you do. We’re warm and dry here. Let’s check out this place and decide where we’re going to sleep, okay?”

“I wish you’d let Odelia come with us.”

The woman had offered to get them settled, but Bella could tell her leg was hurting and assured her they’d be just fine on their own.

Of course they will. They’ll get a good night’s sleep, and in the morning, she’ll ask Odelia where she can get her car checked, and then they’ll be on their way.

Listening to the rain on the roof, inhaling the familiar old house scent, she feels oddly calm.

Calm and exhausted. Weariness began to leach into her bones as they finished washing Leona’s dishes, and now she can’t stop yawning. The challenges of the past few days—the past year, really—have finally taken a toll.

The front hall is wallpapered in a period brocade of amber and brown, warmly bathed in the glow of vintage fixtures—a gaslight globe atop the newel post and a pendant suspended from a creamy plaster medallion, both in a milky ocher etched glass. The floors, staircase, and moldings are honeyed oak, as is the tall table that holds a guest book open to tomorrow’s date. A pen rests in the crease, and there’s a covered crystal bowl of M&M’s alongside the book.

“Go ahead, Max—you can grab a handful,” she says, knowing a treat—sugar and all—will work wonders on his jittery nerves.

Leona was all set for her first visitors to check in, she thinks sadly, looking over the annotated list of reservations she’d left on the desk. She couldn’t have had much premonition that she wouldn’t be here. Or maybe she was trying to make things easier for whoever takes over.

Their footsteps tap across hardwoods and area rugs as they make their way through the first floor. It’s cluttered with furniture and a bit dusty, but otherwise neat and orderly. Everything about the Victorian cottage seems familiar, from the irregularly shaped rooms to the woodwork to the nooks and crannies, many of them concealed at first glance.

In the kitchen, she opens a door to a steep flight into a dank basement.

“I don’t want to go down there!” Max tells her.

“Don’t worry. Neither do I.” She hastily closes the door and slides the old-fashioned lock across it.

They make their way back to the front of the house. In the parlor, Max feels around beneath the cushioned bench in a parlor bay window and finds a hidden latch. “It opens just like at home.”

“This house was probably built around the same time.”

Together, they stare into the cluttered compartment beneath the seat. Paper—books, photos, catalogues, sheet music—mingles with stray shoes and garments and a hopeless tangle of electrical cords and cables.

“Looks like Leona wasn’t such a neatnik after all,” Bella says with a laugh. “I guess she had to hide the clutter when the guests arrived.”

“Just like you.”

“Right.” Only her clutter has been reduced to whatever she was able to fit into the back seat and car trunk.

Remembering that this is a mere way station on their journey to Millicent’s, she tries to keep the sinking feeling from creeping into her voice as she tells Max it’s time to go upstairs.

“Already?” Wiggling his bottom tooth with his thumb, he appears to be sucking it, which makes him once again appear younger and more vulnerable than he is.

But it’ll be okay. She’s doing the right thing, staying here with him tonight.

And even if it isn’t right, there’s really nothing else you can do, so make the best of it.

“Come on, I’ll let you have first pick of bedrooms.”

Unable to find a light switch at the bottom of the stairs, they’re forced to ascend into shadows, past a round window on the landing with a leaded stained-glass pane.

“It looks like a creepy eye, watching us,” Max says in a small voice. “Can I sleep with you?”

“Sure you can, if you want. But remember how Odelia told you about the room with the antique trains?”

“Yes. I want to sleep in there.”

“I think she said it only has a single bed.”

“We can squeeze in.”

Rubbing the ache between her shoulders and holding back another deep yawn, Bella agrees that they can. Yes, she is looking forward to the first decent night’s sleep in a while—and it promises to be the last for a while, too, given her memories of Millicent’s uncomfortable pull-out couch.

But if Max is anxious, she’ll wrap herself around him and cradle him in her arms all night, just like she did when he was plagued with nightmares when Sam was in the hospital and after Sam was gone.