“I’m a fair hand at cooking. I do most of it here. The great Barry Kavanagh can’t be bothered with such things.” He pulled a chair out from the painted table that had seen better days. “Have a seat.” His smirk came back when he glanced at her cup. “Want some soda in that?”
“Milk will do.” She set her soup on the tabletop and scooted closer in the chair. The way he stared at her gave her the jitters. He stood there like some kind of judge with his arms crossed over his chest and his blue eyes trying to see inside her.
She swallowed a spoonful of soup as he turned to pour milk into her cup. “Very good.”
“Glad you like it.” He put the milk away and returned to staring at her.
She put down her spoon. “Why are you staring?”
“Just curious about the woman who managed to snap up Barry Kavanagh. The society moms in the area are going to hate your guts. I can see how you caught him though. You look just like Miss Deirdre.”
“Is that the woman in the painting on the landing?”
“That’s her. She’s been quiet this month. I haven’t heard a peep out of her.”
“What do you mean?” Alanna didn’t mask her confusion. “She’s living here?” Hadn’t the woman been young in the 1940s?
He grinned and tugged at his lip ring. “In a sense. If you hear a banshee howling around the house, it’s Miss Deirdre. Or so my dad says.”
A banshee. Alanna barely held back a shudder. He was just trying to scare her. “Leave off! I’ll not be believing such a story.” But in this house, she could almost accept a myth like that. She scooped up a spoonful of soup and swallowed down her uneasiness.
His grin widened. “A banshee is the least of your worries. Wait until Barry’s mom gets back and finds out he’s married. Whooee, the fireworks will go off then.”
She swallowed the suddenly tasteless soup. “She doesn’t know about it at all?”
“Nope.” His eyes danced, and his smile widened. “She had other plans for Barry.”
Alanna realized he’d called Mrs. Kavanagh Barry’s mother, not his. “She’s not your mum?”
Grady shrugged. “She barely tolerates me here. Her perfect husband had to admit his infidelity when I was fifteen and my mother died. Pop was left with a son he had tried to hide for all those years. It was quite something to watch him dance around the three of us.”
She’d had enough of his stares. “Is that what you’ll be doing with your life . . . watching?”
“Bugs you, does it?”
She tipped up her chin. “No.”
He laughed. “Liar.” His eyes studied her again. “You’re going to shake things up in this house, and I’ve got a front-row seat. But I like you, Red. You’ve got spunk.”
She’d didn’t want to hear any more. Pushing back from the table, she rose. “Thanks for the soup.”
“You barely touched it.” He grinned.
She backed out of the kitchen and fled down the hall. Nothing was as it seemed in this house. Not the manor, not Barry’s family. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she heard a rumble like a lion’s roar. The sound vibrated through her bones, up her spine and into her hair, which felt like it was standing up on end.
Her throat closed in a spasm, and she turned toward the door, though she wanted to rush up the stairs to her room and hide under the covers. The roar came again when she reached the front door. She peered out through the sidelight windows, but it was too dark to see the source of the horrifying noise.
Before it could come again, she raced for the steps and the safety of her room. Alanna flung herself against Barry’s door. “Barry, what is that noise?” The rumble came again, and panic battered against her chest. She pounded on the door, and when he didn’t answer, she pushed into the bedroom. It was empty.
She took a deep, calming breath. Whatever was making that sound was likely something indigenous to the area. No need to fear. It was just the strangeness of everything.
Before backing out of Barry’s room, she glanced around. A plain gray sheet covered the bed, every edge tucked in. She could bounce a coin on the taut surface. No pictures on the somber gray walls. The room was a sterile cell, almost monk-like. Even the painted floorboards were gray. She picked up two medication bottles and stared at them. The medicine names on them were meaningless to her, but perhaps he had trouble sleeping.
The rumble jolted her bones again, and she left, pulling the door behind her. Were there big cats in this area? If so, one could be after the kittens under the porch. Maybe she could coax them inside from the porch. Gathering her courage up with both hands, she went back down the stairs to the front door.
The blackness outside the windows was complete other than a glimmer of moonlight on the water. Her glance took in a switch by the door, and she flipped it up. Pale golden light flooded the porch and the first few feet of the dark yard. The door creaked when she opened it and stepped out onto the warped floorboards.