The Strangers on Montagu Street (8 page)
Read The Strangers on Montagu Street Online
Authors: Karen White
Tags: #Romance, #Psychological, #Contemporary, #Fiction
I raised my voice slightly so I could be heard over the noise. “Why would I want to look sexy in my own backyard?”
She lifted both eyebrows.
“What?” I really had no idea what she was getting at.
“Isn’t Jack coming tonight?”
I pretended that my pulse hadn’t just skittered at the mention of his name. “Of course. The party’s for his daughter. But what’s that got to do with what I’m wearing?”
She closed her eyes again, as if summoning divine strength. “Mellie, sweetheart, I think that Jack would appreciate seeing you in a nice pair of well-fitting jeans. Especially if he’s bringing Rebecca to the barbecue.”
My hand stilled with the coffee cup halfway to my mouth, and I could see little ripples in the surface caused by the thumping noise from upstairs. Carefully, I replaced the cup in its saucer and sat back. “Mother, in case you haven’t noticed, Jack’s seeing Rebecca. Not me.”
“Yes, well, we all know the words to that song ‘Love the One You’re With.’ If you ask me, she’s his second choice, because you’re too high-strung to let yourself go and see that the two of you were made for each other. Really, Mellie. It’s time you listened to your heart for a change.”
I stared at her for a long moment. “Have you been speaking with Grandmother?”
“No, why?”
“Because she called earlier this week and told me the same thing.” I decided not to mention that I’d been dreaming about Jack right before the phone rang.
“Good. Then maybe you’ll listen.”
“Mother, you know as well as I do that Jack and I couldn’t be together for any length of time before one of us killed the other.” The thumping sound from upstairs reminded me of another reason. Before she could say anything else, I said, “I asked you over this morning because I have a favor to ask.” I smiled benignly. “I have to move out for about three months while my foundation is being repaired, and I was hoping that I could move in with you.”
She actually looked genuinely pleased. “Sweetheart, you know you don’t even have to ask. Your father and I would love to have you.”
I skipped over the “father and I” part and went straight for the next part of the favor. “I won’t be alone. I hope that’s not a problem.”
“Well, of course you’ll need to bring your adorable General Lee. He’s part of the family.”
I kept smiling as the noise from upstairs escalated. The bathroom door and then the bedroom door were thrown open, followed by a slam.
“What
is
that, Mellie?”
is
that, Mellie?”
My smile didn’t falter, but I was surprised my teeth didn’t rattle. Living with a teenage girl for three days had left me feeling as if I’d been run over by a truck and then left in the middle of the road. We’d moved past the point of polite strangers and were now testing boundaries like a pin to a balloon. “That’s Emmaline Amelia Pettigrew. Otherwise known as Nola, Jack’s daughter.”
Her left eyebrow rose, Scarlett style. “I see. Amelia’s been telling me about her. And she’s living with you because . . .”
“Because she and Jack keep butting heads. Apparently Nola’s mother told her that Jack abandoned them both and she believed her.” I glanced toward the foyer, afraid that Nola would sneak up and overhear. “I’ll tell you everything later. But for now Nola’s with me, and where I go, she goes.” I perked up. “Besides, you always say how you regret not being there for my teenage years. Here’s your chance.”
My mother dabbed at the corners of her mouth with one of the linen napkins and stood. “You and I have dealt with evil spirits and vengeful ghosts. Surely we can handle one teenage girl.”
We heard doors open again and the sound of a hair dryer turning on. I quickly walked to the foyer and called up the stairs. Raising my voice, I called out, “The fuses are a little delicate. You might want to turn off the stereo. . . .”
The lights flickered once, then went out completely, along with, fortunately, the noise that had been coming from the stereo. Even though I’d just purchased it for Nola, I had a small spark of hope that it had been ruined beyond repair.
“Shit! What the . . .”
“Nola!” I shouted back. “We have company.”
My mother, to her credit, didn’t flinch. Instead she moved past me and stood on the bottom step. “Nola? Hello. This is Mrs. Middleton, Melanie’s mother. I’m looking forward to meeting you when you’re in a better mood. In the meantime, why don’t you make yourself decent and come on down so Melanie can show you how to change a fuse. I have a feeling it will be a skill you’ll come to appreciate.”
With a satisfied smile, she stepped down into the foyer as Mrs. Houlihan stuck her head out of the kitchen door. “Somebody blew a fuse and I lost my power. Do you want me to change it?”
“Thanks,” I said, “but I’ve got it covered.”
“Just make it quick,” the old housekeeper said. “These baked beans won’t bake on their own.”
I faced my mother again, but her attention was focused on something behind me. I turned, too, and saw Nola’s guitar case leaning against the newel post, where I could have sworn it hadn’t been earlier.
“What’s that?”
I spotted the N’awlins sticker on the case, not like I needed further ID. “It used to be Bonnie’s—Nola’s mother—but it’s now Nola’s. Although according to Jack, she won’t play a note.”
Two furrows formed between her eyebrows. “Then what’s it doing here?”
“Nola and I would like to know the same thing. Sometimes she wakes up with it in her bed; other times it just appears at random locations throughout the house, as if it wants to be seen.”
“Maybe Bonnie is trying to tell you something.”
“Could be,” I said, not meeting her eyes. “I haven’t tried to contact her so I’m not sure, but it seems likely.” Unlike my mother, I preferred to let sleeping spirits lie. I wasn’t one to jostle them awake and ask them to move to the light already. I’d spent a childhood being ridiculed for my particular “gift” and an adulthood trying to hide it. And at the age of thirty-nine, I saw no reason to change my MO. Changing it just made life messy.
My mother’s eyes were understanding as she met mine. “You haven’t told her yet, have you?”
I sighed. “About her mother possibly still being here or my ability to have a conversation with her?” I shook my head. “I don’t think she’s ready to hear either. She already has trust issues, and I can’t see her believing anything else I say if I started out with, ‘Hi, Nola. I see dead people.’”
“You’re probably right, but eventually you’re going to have to tell her. And you’ll have to find a way to talk with Bonnie—or whoever it is—to figure out why she’s still here.” She took a step closer to the guitar case. “I could place my hands on it if you think it would help.”
I gripped her forearm, holding her back. My mother had the ability to communicate with spirits by touching objects associated with them, sometimes with disastrous results. I liked to think of it as only a last-ditch measure. “I don’t think that’s necessary. Bonnie could just be hanging around to make sure Nola gets settled. Why don’t we wait and see?”
She gave me her knowing look, the look mothers most likely acquire during the birthing process, and I tried very hard not to squirm in my Valentino heels.
“After the barbecue tonight, I’m heading over to Caroline Lane’s. Her sister passed last fall and left some unfinished business that Mrs. Lane would like to settle so her sister can rest in peace. You’re welcome to come along.”
“Mother, please. You know how I feel about performing like a circus seal. And what would my clients think if it got out? I’d never be taken seriously again.”
A shriek sounded from upstairs, rapidly followed by stomping footsteps and a door being thrown open. Again. “Stop moving my damned guitar! Where’d you put it?”
Hating to shout in my own house, I moved to the base of the stairs again. “I’ll give it to you after you help me change the fuse.”
The door slammed in response.
“Somebody needs to talk with her about that language.”
“I know, Mother. I just can’t do it yet—she’s still too raw from the trauma of the last month. We’ll figure it out.”
I walked with my mother to the front door, and she paused on the threshold. “I’ve got a few errands to run, and I know you’ve probably got something to organize, so why don’t we plan on your picking me up at my house at one?”
I frowned. “What for?”
“To take you shopping for a nice pair of jeans. Bring Nola, too. Amelia told me she’d purchased some things for her at Palm Avenue, and it doesn’t take any psychic powers to guess that Nola wouldn’t wear most of it. We can return what doesn’t work and hopefully find something else we can all agree on. Amelia will understand.”
Knowing it was futile to argue, I said, “Whatever.” I cringed at how much I was starting to sound like Nola after only three days. I wondered whether, after three months of living with her, I’d be cursing and admiring Sophie’s fashion sense. I shuddered at the thought.
“Great. I’ll see you both at one.” She kissed me on both cheeks, then walked down the piazza, her heels clicking across the black-and-white marble tiles.
I was in the process of walking with a pot of real baked beans toward one of the tables set up in the garden when a low wolf whistle came from behind me. I turned to see Jack lounging in a chair with a nonalcoholic beer resting beside him on the wrought-iron table. Turning my back on him, I set the pot down and began to arrange the flowers my father had provided for the occasion. “What? You’ve never seen baked beans before?”
He shook his head slowly. “Not escorted by such a fine pair of blue jeans, that’s for sure.”
His expression sobered quickly as the kitchen door opened behind me and Rebecca Edgerton appeared, a vision in pink shorts, a matching pink sweater set, and a pink headband resting on her blond head, a mutinous-looking Nola following close behind.
Jack stood and smiled warily at his daughter and Rebecca, no doubt wondering whether he should gird his loins. I stared at Nola for a moment, trying to reconcile what I was seeing with what I knew of the girl. She wore her Converse sneakers with green neon laces, and matching socks that went to almost midcalf on her long, gangly legs. Her skirt was denim, one I recognized from our shopping trip that afternoon, but with a shredded hem that I was sure hadn’t been on it when it was purchased. Her new, crisp white Lilly Pulitzer blouse looked like it had been mistaken for a subway wall by a graffiti artist with a penchant for peace signs, and although her eyeliner had been applied with a lighter touch, the red lipstick had not been. But the most notable part of it all was the pink headband, remarkably like Rebecca’s, that pushed back her dark hair, showing off her beautiful bone structure and features, and highlighting the scowl on her face.
Sophie turned from where she’d been working on displaying her eggless, sugarless, and tasteless lemon bars on a tray. “That’s just wrong,” she said under her breath.
Nola stopped in front of her father, crossed her arms over her chest, and glowered in his direction. Rebecca put an arm around Jack’s waist. “Doesn’t she look precious? Pink is really her color—don’t you agree?”
“Just precious,” Jack answered as he avoided Rebecca’s kiss by offering his cheek instead. “Is that a gift from you?”
Nola shot him a “you’re the most oblivious man on the planet” look, and I was starting to prepare for violence when Sophie walked toward them. “Hey, Nola. You’ve got to try one of my lemon bars. They’re completely vegan, and very tasty, if I may say so myself.” She gently put her arm across Nola’s shoulders. As she passed me I heard her add, “As soon as she’s not looking, you can toss that thing into the fountain.”
A real smile erupted on Nola’s face. I was mouthing the words “thank you” to Sophie when I caught sight of her left hand on Nola’s shoulder. The little sparkling diamond on her fourth finger, to be more specific.
“Sophie? What’s that ring?” My voice was a lot louder than I’d intended, effectively ending all conversation.
Chad, Sophie’s colleague at the College of Charleston and what I thought of as her platonic roommate, looked up from where he’d been tossing a tennis ball with General Lee, his eyes wide and innocent. Not so platonic after all, I guessed.
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