“All right. Don’t be long.”
Making himself right at home, I thought, and wondered why he struck me as being so wrong. Maybe it was the fact that he came across as both pretentious and presumptuous at the same time. He walked away and I finally caught Jane’s gaze. “He’s awfully friendly, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” she hissed, “and I don’t know what to do about him. I went out with him twice and now he’s living here and treating me like I’m his girlfriend.”
“That’s got to stop,” Emily whispered.
Just then another tall, good-looking man walked through the front door. He smiled brightly and it took me a moment to realize it was Andrew Braxton. He glanced around, found Jane, and approached. “Hello. Remember me?”
“Of course I do,” she said, smiling as she shook his hand. “How are you, Mr. Braxton?”
“Doing much better, and please call me Andrew.”
“Andrew. And you must call me Jane. These are my friends Shannon Hammer and Emily Rose. Andrew Braxton.”
After we’d all greeted one another, Andrew turned to Jane and spoke in a low voice. “I thought I’d take a chance and see if you were free later. I’d love to take you to dinner to thank you for being so accommodating.”
“I’m still so sorry for the mix-up.”
“I thought you showed true grace under fire,” he said. He had a really attractive smile and I liked his approach, but I still wondered why he was so intent on staying at Hennessey House and why he was showing Jane so much attention. Not that she didn’t deserve it, but under the circumstances, I felt rightfully nervous on her behalf.
Jane didn’t look nervous at all. She seemed happy and flirtatious and interested in Andrew Braxton.
Emily and I stepped away to give them a moment alone. I wasn’t sure why, because now I couldn’t eavesdrop on their conversation. What was I thinking? My only excuse was that I knew Jane would tell me everything he said later.
Men had been taking notice of Jane since middle school. But why all of a sudden, right after Jesse’s death and the discovery of the necklace, were these particular men trying to get cozy with her? My every instinct was on high alert.
Stephen walked into the room just then, carrying two glasses of wine. “Here you go, my dear. Oh, hello.”
Jane turned. “Stephen. Have you met Andrew Braxton? Andrew, this is Stephen Darby.”
The two men shook hands, clearly recognizing that they were rivals.
“We should go,” Emily murmured.
“And miss this show?” I protested. “You can’t be serious.”
She elbowed me. “Jane’s doing just fine. Besides, we’ll get all the good dish later.”
I’d just had the same thought, but now I wasn’t so sure we should leave her. But there was a difference between being worried and being paranoid. It wasn’t as if Jane was alone in the house with those guys. There were plenty of other guests around.
“I don’t know,” I whispered. “The way those two men are bristling around her, it could get ugly.”
We giggled all the way out to the sidewalk.
*
That night I climbed into bed with Winifred Rawley’s diary to learn her story and find out if we could do anything further to calm the restless spirit residing in Emily’s new house.
As a single debutante, Winifred had lived a life of whirlwind parties and carriage rides and visits to the beach, where everyone showed off their latest swim fashions, which surely covered them from head to toe. It was an entertaining account, but I felt like a voyeur as I read her most intimate thoughts.
She had fallen in love with a man her father didn’t approve of, and he was forcing her to marry another man, Ronald Rawley, whose father was one of the pillars of Northern California society. It was a good business decision, and Winifred was expected to sacrifice herself for the family fortunes.
Winifred defied her father’s wishes and snuck out of the house one night to meet her handsome young lover, an Italian immigrant who’d moved to Lighthouse Cove the year before to join his brother. The two had opened a small shop that provided parts and services for the horseless carriages and motor buggies that were sweeping the haut monde in the year 1906.
After poring over several pages filled with the couple’s amorous and highly secretive exploits, I turned the page and read her young man’s name. Giuseppe Peratti.
Peratti? Gus’s great-grandfather?