The Stroke of Winter(30)

The light in the studio went dark.

Tess hurried down the hallway to her room, Storm at her heels. She shut the door behind her and pushed her dresser in front of it for good measure.

She took a sip of water and slipped under the covers. Storm didn’t hop up on the bed with her. Instead, he curled up in front of the door. Tess glanced at the clock on her nightstand. Four thirty. There would be no more sleep, that was for sure. She grabbed the television remote and turned to a local channel for the early morning news. Anything to get her mind off what had just happened—or hadn’t happened—in the studio.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN



Tess opened her eyes. Light was streaming in around the blinds in her bedroom, and a game show was on the TV. She rubbed her eyes and looked at the clock. Almost eight thirty. Somehow, she had fallen back to sleep, and Storm was curled up at her feet.

She reached down and scratched Storm around the ears. “Is it time to go out?” He jumped off the bed and stood at the door in response.

Tess pulled on jeans, a sweater, and socks and slipped into her bathroom to run a brush through her hair. She splashed some water on her face and held the towel to it for a long minute, shaking her head.

What had happened last night?

Tess shoved the dresser away from her door and opened it, following the dog toward the back stairs. She looked over her shoulder at the door to the studio. Her makeshift alarm was still intact. She needed to get somebody here today to put a lock on that door.

After a brisk walk with Storm—the temperature was creeping up from below zero—she filled his food and water bowls and brewed herself a pot of coffee. She poured a steaming mug and added a splash of cream, sank into the armchair by the kitchen fireplace, picked up her phone, and dialed.

“Honey!” her mother said. “How’s everything in Wharton?”

“Good, Mom,” Tess said, her voice catching in her throat. How she wished her parents were here with her now. No matter how old she got, she would still be their daughter. At this moment, she needed the sense of parental protection that she was lucky enough to have felt all her life. “Is Dad around? I have a couple of questions about the house.”

“Indy!” Tess heard her mother call out. “It’s Amethyst. For you.”

A moment passed. And then: “Sweetheart!”

“Hi, Dad,” Tess said, all at once melting into his little girl again. Tears pricked at the backs of her eyes.

“Your mom and I have been out walking on the beach this morning,” her father said. “I’m sorry about that. I hear you’re still in the deep freeze in Wharton.”

Tess chuckled. “I just got back from a walk myself, and yes, we’re still below zero,” she said. “But it felt good. Especially after the night I had last night.”

She winced. There it was. No going back now, but she was unsure of how to broach this subject with her father. What did one say? She wished he were here to view the paintings for himself.

Indigo Bell was silent for a moment, reading his daughter’s tone more than her words, as he had always done. “What’s the matter, honey? Did something happen?”

Tess took a sip of her coffee. “Dad, I had the door to the back room opened yesterday,” she said, slowly.

She heard him take a breath in. “You did?”

“I’d been talking to Mom about opening it up and making that back room into an owner’s suite, for when guests start coming. A place for me to retreat so I’m out of their hair and they’re out of mine.”

“Oh?” he said. “You’ve been talking to your mother about this?”

Tess furrowed her brow. “Yeah,” she said. “Didn’t she tell you?”

“She didn’t,” Indigo said, slowly. “I wonder why. Your grandma wanted it to stay closed off.”

“I know. Is that why you didn’t open it up?” Tess asked. “After she died, I mean?”

Indigo let out a long sigh. “I guess so, honey,” he said. “It wasn’t an issue when she was alive. Those were her wishes, and I never even thought about going against them. Now you know, it was Dad’s inner sanctum. His studio. But after she passed, I know I could’ve opened it back up, but I just . . .” His words seemed to evaporate. “I guess it was easier to keep that door—that chapter—closed. Sleeping dogs, and all of that.”

Guilt seemed to seep out of the floorboards and wrap itself tightly around Tess. Had she done the wrong thing?

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Tess said. “I—”

“Oh, sweetie, don’t be sorry,” Indigo said. “It’s your house now. You make the rules. You didn’t even know the man.”

“The renovation wasn’t the only reason I needed to open it up,” Tess said, her words coming out in one long stream. “That could’ve waited awhile, but things became more urgent because I heard sounds coming from in there. Scratching. Behind the door. At night. I thought an animal might have gotten in.”

“Oh no,” Indigo said, taking an audible breath in. “Was there much damage?”

“No, Dad,” Tess said. “That’s what was so odd about it. I definitely heard all of these noises, but when we got the door open, there was nothing.”