With a force as abrupt as the one that had sent me hurtling forward, my unchecked fall was halted by unseen hands before I reached the bottom, still cradling the CD player and yearbook against my chest.
“You all right?” A workman wearing a paint-splattered T-shirt and jeans looked at me and then up at the attic door, which had slammed after I’d reached the bottom of the steps.
“I am. Thank you,” I said, forcing my voice to remain steady. “Just being clumsy.”
He dragged his gaze from the door to me and nodded. “If you say so.” He backed away from the steps all the way to the paint bucket at the end of the hallway without turning around.
I ran down the steps to the foyer, the CD player and the yearbook clutched tightly in my arms, and I felt a gentle pressure on my back hurrying me along. It wasn’t until I was back in my car driving to my appointment that I began to shake, my brain slowly unraveling what had just happened, translating the growl into words. Remembering them as the ones my mother had said when she’d held Adrienne’s broken necklace, which Veronica and Thomas had found in the box and I now wore around my neck: You don’t want to know the truth.
I pressed my foot to the accelerator, eager to be anywhere I wasn’t alone.
CHAPTER 6
Early Monday evening I sat at the kitchen table working on my personal-growth spreadsheet while Nola sat next to me doing homework. Sarah and JJ sat in their high chairs playing with Cheerios, alternating between eating and throwing them. Nola and I had separate work spaces in the house, but after Mrs. Houlihan’s return, we’d both gravitated to the kitchen to be near the housekeeper as she prepared supper. We hadn’t planned it, but it was clear neither one of us wanted to be left to our own rudimentary culinary devices ever again. Being near Mrs. Houlihan meant she couldn’t escape through the back door. Even the dogs appeared attached to her heels, no doubt as excited to see her as they were about the possibility of dropped food scraps.
“Is it just the two of you for dinner tonight?” Mrs. Houlihan asked, wearing an aggrieved expression, her hands on her considerable hips. She wasn’t used to anyone invading her domain while she was working.
“Just us,” I said, smiling brightly. “But we’re starving. Could definitely eat enough for two.”
“Or three.” Nola nodded enthusiastically. It was important Mrs. Houlihan felt needed.
Mrs. Houlihan smiled tenderly at the twins as she gave them fresh Cheerios from the box, her expression returning to a grimace as she began to fill a pot with water.
The doorbell rang. Nola lifted her head, her gaze meeting mine. The doorbell, despite being fully functional according to Rich Kobylt, appeared to work only when it was someone we wanted to see, which was why Rebecca was usually left outside on the front piazza.
I rubbed my quadriceps under the table, trying not to wince. “You’re going to have to get that. My legs hurt too much to stand.” As promised, I’d gone running with Jayne twice, and I was already regretting my decision. I looked back at my spreadsheet where I’d added two more row titles: Be Nice to Rebecca (Plan Baby Shower) and Get House Ready for Filming (Call Greco).
Nola stood and glanced over my shoulder. “Really, Melanie? You have to remind yourself to be nice to Rebecca? I mean, I know it’s a challenge, but still . . .” She grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl in the middle of the table and took a bite, heading out of the kitchen to answer the door. “Can’t wait to see Greco again,” she called back.
She’d already passed through the swinging door before I could remind her not to talk with food in her mouth.
Mrs. Houlihan opened the refrigerator door and let out a sharp cry.
I bolted out of my chair, my legs screaming in protest. “What’s wrong?” I asked as I hobbled toward her.
She turned around, her outstretched hand clutching a small object. “I’m going to have to have a word with Nola about frightening me with this . . . thing. This morning I found it in the middle of the floor. I just about had a heart attack.”
I didn’t have to look to see what the object was. The Frozen Charlotte in her coffin had gone missing the previous day and I knew it was futile to hope that it had disappeared forever.
I took it from the housekeeper’s hand, the iron icy cold to the touch. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Houlihan. I’ll talk to Nola.” I limped back to my chair and shoved it in my briefcase. If Mrs. Houlihan knew about half of the odd happenings in the house, she would have given her notice long before now.
A Cheerio pinged the side of my head. I swiveled toward the children in their high chairs, eager to identify the culprit. Both cherubic faces lit up, their chubby arms reaching past me toward whoever had just walked into the kitchen.
Even without their reaction, the static electricity that suddenly began to buzz around me would have been enough to inform me that Jack had entered the room.
“Mr. Jack!” Mrs. Houlihan opened her arms, her entire body shaking with excitement.
“Mrs. Houlihan,” he said with the same level of enthusiasm and proceeded to wrap his arms around her in what could only be described as a bear hug. Despite Mrs. Houlihan’s considerable cooking skills, I’d never felt a moment’s jealousy toward her. Until now.
As Jack moved toward the children to shower them with hugs and kisses, I spent the time rearranging myself in my chair to appear only mildly interested and not at all excited about Jack’s presence, and I focused on my computer screen without seeing it.
“I think Version 107 is an optimistic guess, but I gave up counting long ago.” Jack’s voice came from right next to my ear, where he was leaning over to read my screen. I jumped, my chair rebelling by sliding out from under me.
Two strong hands that I felt all the way to my heart kept me from falling while the chair crashed to the floor, startling the babies and the dogs into silence until JJ started laughing.