We turned to see him emerging from the music room that had also become his writing office. His mother had helped me find a lovely mahogany writing desk from the early part of the last century, and had moved it in front of the window that overlooked the side garden.
I sent him a reproachful look, quickly forgotten as he bent to kiss me in greeting. He nodded at Jayne, then scooped up Sarah, who was reaching for him. I was used to women turning their heads when Jack walked by, but I’d thought the one I’d given birth to would at least make me her favorite.
I looked over at JJ, who seemed happy with his face buried in Jayne’s neck. With a sigh, I said, “Are you done for the day? I was just showing Jayne the house and wanted to introduce her to Nola.”
His smile faltered a bit. “Wasn’t the most productive day, but maybe that’s just my muse telling me to take a break.”
He’d been distracted and distant since his phone call with his agent. Although his current project was generating a lot of buzz in-house, the news that Marc Longo’s book, Lust, Greed, and Murder in the Holy City, was getting a lot of press had Jack irritated and disheartened. The fact that the story idea was centered on our house and had been the impetus to our meeting and the subject of his own book, which had been canceled because of Marc Longo’s subterfuge (pretending to be interested in me so he could glean insider information), didn’t improve Jack’s mood. There was something else, though. Something that had emerged in that phone call that he hadn’t yet shared with me.
I was trying to get over my habit of avoiding bad news and confrontation, preferring to think that both were like ghosts and if you ignored them long enough, they’d go away. But, like with pregnancy, I’d learned this wasn’t the case. Still, I told myself that if I needed to know, he would tell me.
He faced Jayne, wearing what I referred to as his author back-cover-photo smile, and her cheeks flushed. I made a mental note to ask Jack to turn down the charm a notch the same way he’d had to do with any of Nola’s friends who visited. I’d yet to suggest he grow a paunch or lose his hair, but I wouldn’t push it beyond the realm of possibility.
“I’ve been doing a little research on your new house on South Battery. It’s considered one of Charleston’s treasures—both for its architecture and its history. I’ve been doing a little digging, too, into Button Pinckney’s life. She was an incredible woman—a huge philanthropist and a devoted advocate for animals and children. She was often quoted as saying that the house was like the child she’d never had. Lots of speculation as to what would happen to it when she died.”
“And she left it to me.” Jayne swayed with JJ in her arms, his eyes slowly drifting closed.
“Yes. To a complete stranger. Being a writer, I’m intrigued. There’s definitely a story here. Maybe even enough of a story for a complete book. Button Pinckney was an educated, intelligent, and cultured woman. There was a reason why she chose you. I’d hate to see the house sold before we can find out why.”
“Jack,” I said, “now’s not a good time to discuss this. I’m showing Jayne around right now. I scheduled the talk about the Pinckney house for tomorrow morning at eight fifty-five. I’m sure I put it on your calendar.”
Both Jack and Jayne stared at me unblinkingly before Jack turned back to Jayne. “Yes, well, we can certainly wait until eight fifty-five tomorrow. I just wanted to make sure Jayne had all the information before she made her decision. And to let her know that she can be our live-in nanny for as long as she needs, or at least until her house is fully renovated and she can see it in all its glory. Maybe she’ll decide she loves it when it doesn’t appear to be so old.”
Jayne’s lips turned up in a half smile. “This is an old house, too, but the feeling here—with the exception of the backyard—gives off a really friendly vibe. Like it’s a true family home with a lot of warmth.”
“That’s because we’ve already exorcised all its ghosts.”
Jack said this with a hearty laugh, but Jayne shot him a sharp look. “Ghosts?”
“Don’t worry,” I said, guiding her toward the stairs. “All the worst ones are gone. The ones left behind are friendly.” I’d said this as an inside joke for Jack, but Jayne continued to frown.
We were halfway up the stairs when we heard a shriek from Nola’s room. Despite holding a small child in his arms, Jack sprinted up the stairs and threw open Nola’s bedroom door. “Is everything all right?”