The Guests on South Battery (Tradd Street #5)(38)

I pondered my next question for a moment. “Since you’re kind of a child-rearing expert, do you think I should limit Nola’s association with her?”

Jayne shook her head. “Nola’s pretty grounded, which is a tribute to both her own strength and the parental guidance she’s received from you and Jack. I think she and Lindsey could be good for each other.”

I nodded. “Thanks. And I’m not going back to the office when we return, so you can have the rest of the day and evening off.”

“Thank you.” She looked up at me. “I’m kind of hoping you don’t find anything in the archives.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. Really, I don’t. My lawyers have explained that there’s enough money in the estate to do the restorations, which will allow the house to be sold for a pretty hefty sum. I won’t have to worry about money after that, which is a nice thing to know.” She paused. “It’s just . . .”

“It’s just . . . ?” I prompted.

“Do you ever think that it’s just easier ignoring bad stuff in the hopes that it will go away?”

I thought for a moment, debating whether I should tell her that I’d cut my teeth on that very same philosophy. And remembering the invitation downstairs that I’d tucked beneath a bill, hoping it might get overlooked and forgotten. I decided that as her employer and the mother of two, I needed to come up with a more mature response. “It probably is easier,” I said. “But in my experience, the bad stuff isn’t like a mosquito bite—you know, leave it alone so it disappears instead of scratching it and making it worse. Usually the things you don’t want to deal with get worse the longer you wait.”

She contemplated me for a long moment. “Do you believe in . . .” She stopped suddenly, and I wondered if she’d also felt the temperature in the room drop. JJ continued to babble, but Sarah looked up, then stared at the door expectantly.

“Do I believe in what?” I asked, remembering Jayne being pushed down the stairs the previous day. And her opposition to the Ouija board.

Sarah began whimpering and Jayne bent to her eye level, her answer lost as she soothed my daughter and I took the opportunity to look around the room. But all I could sense was that dark curtain again, pulling tightly closed and blocking my view.

I bent to kiss the top of each baby’s head, then retreated to the door. “We’ll be back soon.”

We said good-bye and I closed the door behind me. I walked slowly down the stairs, fairly certain I knew what she’d been about to ask me, and still unsure I knew how to answer.





CHAPTER 11


“Was there anything in the mail?” Jack asked, one hand on the steering wheel, the other thrown casually around the back of my seat. The Fireproof Building on Chalmers, where the South Carolina Historical Archives were kept, wasn’t that far and Jack had suggested we walk, but my feet were close to bleeding because I’d worn my favorite pre-pregnancy heels all morning. Despite the numb tingling on one side of each foot and the blisters on the other, I’d promised my beautiful shoes that I’d wear them for the rest of the day before I added them to the shrine at the back of my closet.

Jack smelled of shampoo and soap and Jack, and I couldn’t make myself ask him to remove his arm until he apologized. For what, I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that I felt unsettled, and that it had started when I walked into the nursery and saw him and Jayne and our children together. I’d felt somehow superfluous, my old insecurities resurfacing like a rash that hadn’t completely faded. Because, deep down, I still believed that capturing Jack’s attention had been a fluke, and that one day he’d wake up and really see me as the pathetic, awkward, and insecure teenager I’d once been and was afraid I still was.

“Mellie?”

I realized I’d been staring at his jawline while allowing my thoughts to ramble down a road I didn’t want to travel. “Um, I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Was there anything in the mail?”

Crap. “A couple of things, I think. There’s another bill from Rich Kobylt. I didn’t look at the amount because I didn’t want to start thinking ugly thoughts about hiding a body in cement. I mean, it’s not like it hasn’t been done before.”

“They’d know where to look,” Jack said seriously.

“True. And who knows what else they’d dig up while they’re looking, and then we’re falling down another rabbit hole. So I’ll let you deal with the bill.”

He seemed to be waiting for me to say something else.

“What?” I asked. “You think I should handle the bill?”

“No. You said there were a couple of things in the mail. What was the second thing?”

I considered throwing myself out of the car while it was still moving. He wasn’t going that fast, and I was close enough that I could walk home even if it made me permanently lame.

“Oh,” I said, flicking my wrist to show him how unimportant it was. “It was an invitation.”

Jack was a true-crime writer, used to digging for details and asking questions. I had no idea why I’d thought he wouldn’t notice my evasiveness.

“An invitation?”

I nodded.