The Guests on South Battery (Tradd Street #5)(64)



“This is amazing,” Jayne said with awe in her voice. “Who painted this?”

“Her father—Sumter,” Amelia said. “He was very artistic—although you’d never guess it from his choice of profession. And he loved his daughter. Button once told me that he was glad they had this huge house so that he would have room for the dozen or so children he planned to have.”

I walked toward the bed, a hulking ghost beneath white sheets draped over four posts, one edge having slipped to reveal a delicate white eyelet nightgown draped at the foot of the bed, its color faded yellow with age. “Could Anna not have any more children after Hasell?”

Amelia turned on the ceiling fan, stirring up dust but moving the still, heavy air. “She didn’t want to. Hasell needed all her attention, and Anna didn’t think it would be fair to any siblings not to give them the attention they deserved. I don’t think it ever occurred to her or to Sumter that Hasell might not live to adulthood.”

Jayne gasped and I turned around in time to see the black cat running down the steps, then disappearing into the hallway.

“What’s wrong?” Amelia asked.

“That cat,” I said. “We have no idea how it gets inside the house. I hate to think there’s a hole somewhere—who knows what else might be crawling inside?”

Amelia frowned. “I do hope you find out where it’s gaining access. Maybe when the security people come to wire the house they’ll find it.”

I was only half listening. A reflection of sunlight had refocused my attention on a corner étagère that had been covered by a dust sheet that must have come loose and slipped to the floor. It had to have been recently, because there was very little dust on the shelves or on what appeared to be hundreds of snow globes in all sizes covering all the available surfaces.

“Oh, yes, Hasell’s snow globe collection,” Amelia said as she approached. “Whenever Sumter had to travel on business, he’d bring one back for Hasell. But a lot of these places he visited only because Hasell wanted to go there. I think that sometimes he went out of his way to make a stopover just to pick up a snow globe.” She picked up one that had a giant sun wearing sunglasses floating in water tinted blue by the painted background, the word “MIAMI” spelled out in bright orange on the base. Amelia gave it a shake and we watched specks of sparkling sand erupt from the bottom like a sudden typhoon and rain on the sun, blocking its smile for a moment.

Amelia replaced the snow globe. “That’s why I wanted you to see all this. Of course you can decide to donate it all to Goodwill or some other worthy organization. Or keep it here, or even store it somewhere. I just didn’t think it was something that should be left up to somebody else. You didn’t know Button, but she entrusted you with the care of this house and everything in it.”

Jayne had gone very pale, her skin and lips appearing almost bloodless. “I need to be alone for a moment—do you mind? I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“You don’t look well at all,” Amelia said kindly, approaching with her hand outstretched.

Jayne shook her head rigorously. “No, I’m fine. You two go on. I’ll be down in just a minute.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, feeling the temperature drop again, and the familiar sensation of skin prickling on my scalp and neck.

“Yes,” she said shortly. “Just go.”

With a quick glance back at Jayne, Amelia and I climbed down both sets of stairs and stopped in the downstairs foyer. “You go on,” I told Amelia. “I’ll wait here and make sure she’s all right.”

She nodded, a delicate fold in the skin over her nose. “There’s something about her. . . .” She paused.

“She reminds you of somebody?”

Amelia shook her head. “It’s more than that. It’s not even that I think I might have met her before. There’s just something so . . . familiar.” She smiled. “Never mind.” She kissed me on both cheeks and then headed for the door. “Let me know that she’s all right.”

“I will.” We said good-bye and I stood in the dining room watching the workers painstakingly chiseling away a small patch of rotten woodwork, something that would have tempted me to whip out an ax and make firewood.

A door slammed, and I looked up the stairs to find Jayne walking quickly down them, clutching tightly to the banister as if remembering the last time she’d descended them. When she reached the bottom, a loud meow brought our attention to the landing behind her, where the cat sat, licking its chops as if it had just eaten. I looked at Jayne, eager to talk with her, but she avoided my eyes.

“Stupid cat—I think it scratched me,” she said, and walked past me, pulling up the neck of her T-shirt, but not before I saw the unmistakable red welts that could only have been caused by fingernails raking across the pale skin of her neck.





CHAPTER 18


Ilooked out the front window to see if anybody had arrived yet for the predance party, then held up a tray of canapés to Jack. He shook his head, taking a sip from his glass of Coke instead, making the ice cubes clink. I turned my back and quickly shoved a Brie and prosciutto wrap in my mouth, taking my time replacing the tray and rearranging the other appetizers on the sideboard. I glanced up, noticing that the grandfather clock had once again stopped at ten minutes past four, and the food stuck in my throat.

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