“Really? I knew she’d been in the Coast Guard and went around the country that way, but not—”
The radio hooked to his belt announced, “The chase is done for the day. Let the roadblocks go.”
The guy in the car behind her must have heard, because he cheered and turned on his engine.
Merida put her tablet into her shoulder bag, slid off the car, dusted her rear and looked pointedly at Officer Weston, then at the barrier across the road.
He didn’t move. “Are you staying in Virtue Falls or headed down the coast?”
Patiently she dug out her tablet again. “Staying.”
“Vacation?”
“Rented an apartment in town.”
“Really?” Now he was openly eager. “Since I’m new and you’re new, what do you say we get together and explore the coast?”
She could have simply said no, but she didn’t trust men, especially not men who worked at jobs that put them in charge. So she put on her grieved face and typed, “I’m recently widowed.”
“Oh. Oh, I’m sorry.”
She nodded and climbed in the car.
Sean Weston removed the barriers and waved her forward to the stop sign.
She figured that was that, but he put his hand on her door and leaned over. “I’ll look you up.”
She looked at him as if he were nuts and shook her head.
The guy behind her honked.
Officer Weston took his hand away.
She drove into Virtue Falls to create a new life … and at last, to get her revenge.
CHAPTER SIX
The old house was a monstrosity, a huge wooden gingerbread house, a parody of early twentieth century Gothic architecture set back on the lot on Lincoln Avenue. Dark Douglas fir trees overhung the dark stained wood, moss clumped on the cedar shingles, the windows were grimy, the yard was overgrown. This place was run-down, ill-kempt and eccentric, unlike anywhere Merida had lived before—and precisely what she wanted.
As she made her way up the front walk, she stumbled on the uneven concrete broken by huge tree roots. She clung to the railing as she climbed the porch stairs and watched her footing on the warped boards. A plaque beside the doorbell said:
GOOD KNIGHT MANOR BED AND BREAKFAST
IF NO ANSWER, WALK IN.
So she pushed the button and as she waited, she looked around. Next door, in gaps through the towering hedge, she saw a once-luxurious mansion that was now boarded up and dilapidated. On the other side, that home was smaller, newer, a tall and brightly painted Victorian house now undergoing renovation.
Interesting! This was a neighborhood in transition.
She pushed the doorbell again, then knocked loudly and tried the knob. The door opened with a creak.
To her delight, the interior matched the exterior in eccentricity. The dark wood-paneled walls and worn Oriental carpet made the giant entry feel like an expansive cave. Suits of armor stood on either side of the door, battle-axes clenched in their metal gloves. The candle-like bulbs in the brass chandelier barely emitted enough light to illuminate the dark corners, and if one were fanciful, a goblin might lurk at the top of the shadowy stairway.
Merida was not fanciful. She already knew that the real monsters lived in the material world: men with too much power, women without kindness or caring.
A ship’s bell hung from a hook on the wall, a silver mallet hung beside it. A plaque announced, I’M PROBABLY IN THE KITCHEN PREPARING TOMORROW’S YUMMY BREAKFAST ROLLS. RING, PLEASE!
Merida tapped the mallet to the bell.
The sound echoed up toward the chandelier.
In less than a minute, a stylish, middle-aged woman bustled out from the back, wiping her flour-covered hands on her apron. “There you are! You must be Merida Falcon. I expected you sooner!”
Merida dug out her tablet and brought up her message about being mute, not deaf, please don’t shout.
The woman did not stop talking long enough to look at the tablet, much less notice its message. “I’m Phoebe Glass, your new landlady. I’m delighted to meet you. Follow me and I’ll show you your rooms. As requested, I gave you a whole half of the house.” She beamed. “You’re going to rattle around in all those big rooms, but since you took it for the year, I thought you might change bedrooms occasionally.” She laughed merrily, stopped in front of a huge solid wood door, inserted a big old-fashioned key into the big old-fashioned lock, turned it and opened the door.
A dining table long enough to accommodate a dozen Queen Anne chairs—five on each side and one on either end—filled the long room. Four shiny suits of armor each holding a medieval weapon—long sword, mace, lance, spiked club—stood guard against the dark wood paneling.
Phoebe said, “You can see that this is the dining room and also see why I named my bed and breakfast Good Knight Manor. Eccentric, isn’t it?”
Merida took to her tablet again.
Without heeding, Phoebe again swept on. “The home was originally built in 1900 during the first lumber boom by lumber baron Ernest Hagerjhelm—quite the name, isn’t it? The manor is six thousand square feet on three levels, including a full attic where, of course, the servants resided. When Ernest died childless and unmarried in 1932, the house was sold and has been variously a private home, a boardinghouse, apartments and now my B and B. Every morning between eight and nine, I serve breakfast in the kitchen. If you’re not able to attend, there’ll be a pot to make coffee, a basket of fruit and breakfast bars on the buffet, and in the little refrigerator, cold drinks.”
Merida slipped her tablet into her bag. Phoebe’s dark snapping eyes, curly graying hair and rapid-fire delivery obviously did not require a response.
Phoebe moved into the room at the front of the house. “This is your small parlor. Most of the wood furniture is original, really grand antiques, but the chairs are new and comfortable. You have your own delightful little gas fireplace. It’s on a timer. Those windows have a view of the street if you’re a curtain-peeper—and aren’t we all?”
Merida could truthfully say she didn’t care who walked the sidewalks as long as they left her alone.
“Two months ago, I moved to Virtue Falls, bought the manor and ever since have been madly working to clean it up. You have no idea how difficult it has been to find help! Summer in Virtue Falls is the high season and with the robust economy not even high school students need a job. I did manage to hire a local woman—poor thing, Susie Robinson has a worthless womanizing husband and four children to support. She’ll be cleaning your rooms.” Phoebe ducked into what looked like a dark cupboard. “Right through here, the stairs go up. They’re narrow and steep, originally built for the maids and staff, but darned convenient for you! Follow me.”
Merida followed and idly wondered if Phoebe had bought a bed-and-breakfast based solely on her need to talk incessantly.