The Guests on South Battery (Tradd Street #5)(27)
We walked slowly through the house so she’d be familiar with it, pausing for a moment in front of the fireplace in the downstairs drawing room. “Have you had any thoughts on baby-proofing this room yet?” she asked.
“I’ve purchased all the corner protectors and cabinet locks but haven’t had to use them yet. Sarah is very obedient and doesn’t do anything once you ask her not to. And JJ prefers to sit and wait for someone to carry him to where he wants to go—preferably his dad, but if Jack’s not available, then a female person. I have all the safety paraphernalia in a section of their closet upstairs with everything labeled so you can see what we have.”
“Labeled?”
“Yes. And I bought you your own labeling gun just in case I’ve missed anything. Actually, I haven’t labeled the inside of their dresser drawers yet—so that can be your first assignment. You can do it while they’re napping—JJ could sleep through a hurricane and Sarah has so much fun babbling to herself in her crib that she won’t even notice you’re there.”
She blinked a couple of times before smiling. “Of course.” We turned to leave, but she paused in front of the grandfather clock. “Is it broken?”
The pendulum was swaying back and forth, the familiar ticktock echoing in the room, but the hands of the clock were stopped at ten minutes after four o’clock. I looked at my watch just to make sure that I hadn’t somehow lost track of time, something I’d been unfamiliar with until I met Jack. I stared at the time for a moment, something about it jarring my memory. I frowned. “That’s weird. It’s been working perfectly. I guess I’ll have to call somebody.”
I showed Jayne the kitchen, where JJ started to clap his hands in anticipation of being fed. “He likes his food,” I said. “He’ll eat anything and at any time, but prefers somebody else to feed him. Sarah is a good eater, but more selective and much prefers to feed herself.”
Jayne nodded. “It’s good for them to retain their individual personalities. It’s important that they see themselves as separate persons.”
I led her out of the kitchen toward the stairs. “They look so much alike that it’s amazing to me how different their personalities are.”
“Well, they do come from two different parents. Are you and your husband very much alike?”
“Not at all,” I said at the same time as I heard Jack behind us say, “Practically identical.”
We turned to see him emerging from the music room that had also become his writing office. His mother had helped me find a lovely mahogany writing desk from the early part of the last century, and had moved it in front of the window that overlooked the side garden.
I sent him a reproachful look, quickly forgotten as he bent to kiss me in greeting. He nodded at Jayne, then scooped up Sarah, who was reaching for him. I was used to women turning their heads when Jack walked by, but I’d thought the one I’d given birth to would at least make me her favorite.
I looked over at JJ, who seemed happy with his face buried in Jayne’s neck. With a sigh, I said, “Are you done for the day? I was just showing Jayne the house and wanted to introduce her to Nola.”
His smile faltered a bit. “Wasn’t the most productive day, but maybe that’s just my muse telling me to take a break.”
He’d been distracted and distant since his phone call with his agent. Although his current project was generating a lot of buzz in-house, the news that Marc Longo’s book, Lust, Greed, and Murder in the Holy City, was getting a lot of press had Jack irritated and disheartened. The fact that the story idea was centered on our house and had been the impetus to our meeting and the subject of his own book, which had been canceled because of Marc Longo’s subterfuge (pretending to be interested in me so he could glean insider information), didn’t improve Jack’s mood. There was something else, though. Something that had emerged in that phone call that he hadn’t yet shared with me.
I was trying to get over my habit of avoiding bad news and confrontation, preferring to think that both were like ghosts and if you ignored them long enough, they’d go away. But, like with pregnancy, I’d learned this wasn’t the case. Still, I told myself that if I needed to know, he would tell me.
He faced Jayne, wearing what I referred to as his author back-cover-photo smile, and her cheeks flushed. I made a mental note to ask Jack to turn down the charm a notch the same way he’d had to do with any of Nola’s friends who visited. I’d yet to suggest he grow a paunch or lose his hair, but I wouldn’t push it beyond the realm of possibility.
“I’ve been doing a little research on your new house on South Battery. It’s considered one of Charleston’s treasures—both for its architecture and its history. I’ve been doing a little digging, too, into Button Pinckney’s life. She was an incredible woman—a huge philanthropist and a devoted advocate for animals and children. She was often quoted as saying that the house was like the child she’d never had. Lots of speculation as to what would happen to it when she died.”
“And she left it to me.” Jayne swayed with JJ in her arms, his eyes slowly drifting closed.
“Yes. To a complete stranger. Being a writer, I’m intrigued. There’s definitely a story here. Maybe even enough of a story for a complete book. Button Pinckney was an educated, intelligent, and cultured woman. There was a reason why she chose you. I’d hate to see the house sold before we can find out why.”