Angel's Rest(35)

A little thing? Ordinarily she hated it when people called her that. Coming from Gabe, it sounded flattering.

She didn’t think he’d be able to budge the piece of furniture, however. It was solid mahogany, taller than he was, and filled to the brim. She had attempted to give it a push herself before going to him for help, and she’d failed to shift it at all. Positioned behind him, she watched him brace his legs and put a shoulder against the wardrobe. His jeans molded against his rear and the flannel shirt stretched across his broad shoulders as he put weight into the effort and strained. The furniture moved a good six inches. My oh my. Bet even Coach Romano couldn’t do that.

He braced himself again, pushed, and conquered another six inches. Stepping back, he asked, “How’s that? Can you slip back there now?”

“Let me see.”

It was a squeeze, but she managed it—snagging her dress in the process. If she’d known she’d be putting her good clothes at risk by scuffing around in the basement, she wouldn’t have planned to go straight to tonight’s book club Christmas party from here. “I need something to pry open the box.”

“Here.” He removed a chisel and a hammer from his tool belt. “Hand me the flashlight.”

Nic went to work, and in minutes she’d pried the lid off the crate. Gabe aimed the flashlight toward it, and delight washed through Nic as she saw six stacks of leather-bound volumes that probably numbered twelve or fifteen deep. “Jackpot! I’ll bet Elizabeth Blaine kept journals for most of her life. Imagine the wealth of information about Eternity Springs in these volumes.”

“Do you intend to read all these?”

“Eventually. I’ve read the one volume we found, and it is fascinating. For now, though, I imagine Sarah, Sage, and I will divvy them up to see what we can find out about the big mystery.”

She reached into the box and began handing them to Gabe five or six at a time. He stacked them on the floor between a dress form and a steamer trunk. Tiger padded over to investigate. The dog was sniffing the stacks with interest when above them the lone lightbulb flickered once. Tiger’s head jerked up. Gabe glanced toward the socket. “I know there are lightbulbs upstairs, but do we have any down here?”

“Not that I’ve seen, no. I’ve intended to talk to the electrician about the light situation down here. We really need more than one light fixture.”

“It’s on the list.” When the light flickered a second time, Gabe said, “Why don’t you hold the stack you have there, Nic, while I run upstairs and grab another—”

She heard a pop and the light went dark. The basement plunged into shadow, and Tiger let out a low-throated growl.

“Bulb,” Gabe finished on a sigh. “I’ll be right … whoa!”

Tiger yelped. Something crashed. Nic couldn’t see what happened, but based on the sounds, she made an educated guess. The dog must have tangled himself up with Gabe, one of them knocked over the dress form, and somehow the flashlight went flying. The available light shrank to what filtered through the open door at the top of the basement staircase and the little bit that made its way past the mostly blocked basement windows.

Tiger bumped into something else, and Nic heard the sound of shattering glass. The boxer howled and scrambled up the staircase. “That blasted animal,” Gabe muttered, following after him. “If he’s not careful, he’s going to … dammit!”

At the top of the stairs, the milk can teetered and fell. The basement door slammed shut.

Nic squeezed out from behind the wardrobe. It was too dark to see much of anything, but she could hear Gabe’s steps climbing the stairs. She waited for the squeak of the basement door. And waited. And waited.

Finally, Gabe said, “Nic? Tell me you have your cell phone on you.”

“Um, no. I don’t.”

“Are your girlfriends coming back tonight?”

Warily, she replied, “No, they’re not. Gabe? Are you telling me that we’re …?”

“Stuck.”

“The door?”

“Won’t open. I heard the latch fall. To complicate matters, the hinges are on the other side, so I can’t take it off.”

Nic considered the situation. They were alone in the house. No neighbors lived on this side of Angel Creek. It wouldn’t do them one bit of good to yell for help. They were on their own. She stared up at one of the basement windows. “How about opening a window?”