The Peach Keeper

  “Come watch you plant a tree? Gee, you know how to show a girl a good time.”

  That made him laugh. “It’s a lot more than that. Trust me. How can you own a sporting goods store and not like nature?”

  Before she could answer, one of the men at the dig site suddenly yelled, “Hey, Stick Man!”

  Colin turned his head but otherwise didn’t move from his relaxed position, leaning against the car. She could feel a ripple of tension go through him, though. In what she knew with absolute certainty was a deliberate maneuver, he stared at the man who had called to him, until it became clear he wasn’t going to yell back.

  The man sighed and walked from the dig site over to the car. As he got closer, Willa recognized him as Dave Jeffries. They had all gone to high school together. He’d been on the football team, and was still thick in the chest, though less from muscle these days. “What’s up, Dave?” Colin asked as soon as Dave stopped in front of him.

  “Just after you left, we dug up something else.” He held up a heavy rusted cast-iron frying pan, still crusted with dirt.

  Colin took it from him and studied it. “A frying pan?”

  “Yep.”

  “This just gets more interesting.”

  Dave smiled when he saw Willa. “Willa Jackson,” he said, pushing his hard hat back. “I almost never see you around. Remember that time you programmed the period bell to ring every five minutes? That was great. We kept filing out into the hallway every five minutes, and the teachers kept trying to get us back into the classrooms.” He gave her an assessing look, then wagged his finger between her and Colin. “You and the Stick Man aren’t together, are you? Because you could give ol’ Dave a try if you’re lonely.”

  “Tempting offer, Dave,” Willa said. “But no thanks.”

  Dave laughed and punched Colin on the arm with what seemed like entirely too much force. But what did she know? Maybe it was a man thing. “Good luck,” he said to Colin.

  As soon as he walked away, Willa turned to Colin and said, “Stick Man?”

  “That’s what they used to call me in high school. Thanks to Dave.”

  “Because you’re so tall?”

  “That’s what everyone thought.”

  She waited, then said, “You’re not going to tell me?”

  He sighed. “Dave called me Stick Man because he said I acted like I had a stick up my ass.”

  Willa was so surprised that she laughed without meaning to. She put her hand to her mouth and said, “Sorry.”

  “Well, to be fair, it was true. I was a little rigid. It was how the men I knew acted, so I thought I was supposed to act that way, too. Guys like Dave loved to make fun of guys like me, guys who seemed to have no concept of fun. I can’t tell you how great it felt our senior year when everyone thought I was the Joker. They looked at me and thought, Wow, I didn’t know he had that in him.”

  “I remember that feeling,” she said. Then, before they could get into another discussion about bravery, or her apparent lack of it now, she asked, “So, what did you want to show me here?”

  He took off his sunglasses and hooked them on the collar of his shirt, then motioned for her to follow him up the steps to the front portico of the house. The place was huge, much larger than she’d imagined from a distance. It overwhelmed her. She’d spent so much time watching this place from a distance that it felt faintly surreal to actually be climbing the steps, to actually touch the columns.

  “While digging up the stump of the peach tree today, we found some buried treasure. A suitcase and a fedora. And apparently a frying pan,” he added, giving the rusty thing a spin in his hand. “When they showed me the fedora, it gave me chills, because every kid who has broken into the Madam for the past forty years has claimed to see a floating fedora in the house. My grandmother used to scare us by telling us stories of the ghost who lived here.”

  “Did you ever see it?” she asked.

  “I kept my eyes closed the one time I broke in here with my friends,” he said. “And I will deny that if you ever tell another person.”

  She gave him an odd look. Who would she tell?

  “What about you?” he asked. “Did you ever see it?”

  “I never broke in,” she said.

  “Are you kidding me? All the stunts you pulled, and you never once broke into the Madam?”

  “I’ve never been this close to it before.” She actually reached out and touched the side of the house, as if to make sure it was real.

  “Why not?”

  She let her hand drop, afraid that she looked silly. “For the same reason everyone else broke in. Ghosts. My grandmother told me those stories, too.”

  “You’re afraid of ghosts?” he asked.

  “I just think things that are laid to rest should stay there,” she said, realizing she sounded a lot like her grandmother. She stepped over to the suitcase sitting on the edge of the portico. It was made of black leather that was rotting and covered in dirt, but it was still surprisingly intact. The contents of the suitcase had been removed and were lined up neatly beside it, next to the fedora.

  She crouched down and looked through everything, though she wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as if she’d recognize anything from the time her grandmother lived here. Her grandmother’s life, as far as Georgie was concerned, started after she left this place.

  The suitcase items were mostly dated men’s clothing in cotton and linen. But there was also a disintegrating newspaper and an open scrapbook. She carefully lifted the pages of the scrapbook and looked through it. It was bulging with clippings, its pages yellow and brittle with glue. Whoever this belonged to liked to follow what movie stars were doing in the 1930s. That seemed to be the purpose of the book. But every so often there were real photos. They were very old, of blurry people in an orchard of some sort.

  “Do these trees in the background look like the peach tree that was planted here?” she asked, and Colin looked over her shoulder. He was considerably closer to her than she thought he needed to be, and there was no doubt in her mind that he was doing it on purpose.

  “Yes, they do. Interesting clue.”

  As she looked through the rest of the book, she found a high school diploma from Upton Orphan School for Boys in Upton, Texas, made out to someone named Tucker Devlin.

  “Does any of this seem familiar?” Colin asked from behind her, where he was still arcing over her like a wave.

  “Not really, just …” She stopped when she reached the last page. There was a single photo of a handsome man in a light suit, wearing a fedora, maybe the same fedora buried with the suitcase. He looked like he knew he was beautiful. He looked like he could get anything he wanted.

  “What?” Colin asked.

  “I don’t know. There’s something familiar about him.” Willa closed the scrapbook, not able to figure it out.

  “That Asheville newspaper in the suitcase dates this back to August 1936, the year your family moved out,” Colin said as he stepped back.

  “That was the month and year the Women’s Society Club formed, according to the invitations your sister sent,” Willa added as she stood. “I don’t know anything about this. Sorry. Some of my grandmother’s things are stored in my attic. Maybe there’s a clue to this Tucker Devlin person. I could look.”

  “That would be great.” He smiled. “Would you like to see the inside of the house?”

  It took everything she had not to shout, Yes, please!

  He went to the huge eight-panel door with the hand-blown bull’s-eye glass on either side of it. There was a brass plaque to the left that read THE HISTORIC BLUE RIDGE MADAM INN. The door looked like it would be heavy, but it clicked open easily.

  Her hands were actually shaking as she stepped inside to a cool blast from the past. The first thing she saw was the grand staircase hugging the wall in a long, curving slope. At the top of the staircase was a portrait of a woman with dark hair and gray eyes, wearing a stunning dark blue gown. She looked down on the lobby wit
h a wistful expression.

  It was overwhelming to think her grandmother had lived here like this. It was a hard thing to reconcile, the grandmother she knew and the one who had once flitted through these rooms, these lovely, opulent rooms. She wanted so desperately to feel connected to this place, to feel … something. But as she looked around, she couldn’t feel a thing.

  Not a single thing.

  The foyer had been turned into a lobby, and there was a dark cherry check-in desk to the side. A woman in jeans and a T-shirt was on the phone. When she saw Colin, she gave him a wave.

  Colin waved back as he led Willa to the right, through an archway and into the dining room. Dozens of round tables filled the space, which was awash in light from the ceiling-high windows. There was a large wainscoted fireplace along one wall, flanked by period sitting chairs. “Paxton said she found a chef with five-star credentials. The Rebecca Restaurant will be open to the public, but apparently they’re booked into next year.”

  “Why Rebecca?” she asked.

  “That was the name of your great-great-grandfather’s wife. He built the Madam for her.”

  “Oh,” she said, embarrassed that she didn’t know.

  He led her out of the dining room and directly across the lobby to the opposite archway. “This was the original library,” Colin said. “Now it’s a sitting room. There will be afternoon tea served here for the guests.”

  It, like most of the downstairs, was covered in dark paneling. There was a twin fireplace to the one in the restaurant, but flanking it were shelves full of old books. Ornately upholstered couches and chairs were scattered around.

  The woman who’d been on the phone entered at that moment. “Sorry about that, Colin. It’s always something. I’m still trying to find a laundry service. Paxton threw me a curveball when she asked if the Madam might be ready for overnight guests the night of the gala.”

  Colin made the introductions. “Willa, this is Maria, the manager. Paxton stole her away from the Grand Devereaux Inn in Charleston. She’s the best in the business. Maria, you’re looking at a direct Blue Ridge Madam descendant. This is Willa Jackson. Her ancestors built this place.”

  “This is an honor,” Maria said. “Welcome, Willa.”

  “Thank you,” Willa said. She was beginning to feel supremely uncomfortable, and heat was creeping up her neck. She didn’t belong here. Certainly, intellectually, she’d always known that. The house hadn’t been in her family for decades. That was why she’d stayed away. But she’d always harbored the hope, leftover from childhood, that somehow, magically, one day someone would realize that they’d got it all wrong and this was really all hers.

  “Maria can back me up,” Colin said. “You’ve seen the fedora, haven’t you?”

  Maria laughed. “I’m sure it was my imagination. Once you hear a place might be haunted, every creak becomes a ghost.”

  “I’m going to show Willa around upstairs,” Colin said. “Are the guest rooms still unlocked?”

  “Yes,” Maria said. “Enjoy.”

  They walked back into the foyer. “Beyond the check-in desk is the banquet hall. That’s where the Women’s Society Club will be holding the gala,” Colin said as he and Willa walked up the stairs. Once they reached the top, Colin stopped at the portrait of the lady in blue. “That’s your great-great-grandmother, Rebecca Jackson. The painting was found wrapped in blankets in a closet. It’s a miracle it survived all the years of looting.”

  Willa stared at her. So this was her grandmother’s grandmother. Did Grandmother Georgie know her? She had no idea. “I have her eyes,” she found herself saying.

  “I know.”

  “This is the first time I’ve ever seen her.”

  Colin shook his head. “Paxton should have let you in on all of this. I don’t know why she didn’t.”

  “I wouldn’t have been much help,” Willa said. “She did a great job on her own.”

  “The guest rooms are this way.”

  She stopped him from turning the corner. “No. I’ve seen enough.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. It’s a gorgeous place. Thanks for the tour, but I really have to get back. Sorry I couldn’t be more help with the buried treasure.” She thought she was past all of this. She had no idea why it was affecting her this way.

  She started to turn. And that’s when the earth moved.

  She paused, then met Colin’s dark eyes. He looked as confused as she was.

  “Did you feel that?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said seriously. “And I don’t like it.”

  “That’s not … the ghost, is it?”

  He took a moment to smile at her, as if she’d said something cute.

  Then he took off down the staircase. She followed him outside, only to feel that the shaking was more pronounced out in the open. The ground was rumbling, making the large outdoor chandelier sway.

  Colin looked over to where they were digging up the roots of the peach tree, which had created a fairly significant hole. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say it feels like they hit a gas line. But there aren’t any gas lines here. And we had all the other underground utilities marked.”

  The rumbling seemed to be getting louder, vibrating the air around them in waves that made Willa’s eardrums pound.

  “Whatever it is, it’s going to blow. Get inside with Maria,” Colin said as he ran to the edge of the portico, waving his arms, trying to get the attention of the men at the dig site. “Get back,” he yelled. “Get back now!”

  The men looked at him and didn’t hesitate. They ran with full force away from the hole.

  Colin turned as the rumbling escalated. Willa hadn’t gone inside. She was still standing there, one hand against the wall now to keep her balance. He surprised her by grabbing her and flattening her against the side of the house. Several seconds passed, the rumbling escalating until she was sure something was going to happen. Something was going to explode. Crack. Fall away. Come to light. She squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in Colin’s chest, her hands fisted in his shirt. But just as it reached its crescendo, the rumbling abruptly stopped and everything became eerily quiet, with the exception of the chandelier slowly creaking as it swayed.

  Colin pulled back, and he and Willa looked at each other for one long, heated moment. Then they simultaneously turned toward the backhoe. A cluster of black-and-yellow birds had settled on the machinery and were looking into the hole. One of the men cautiously approached. When he looked in, the expression on his face registered complete shock.

  “What is it?” Colin called.

  He tipped his hard hat back. “You’re gonna want to see this for yourself.”

  “Are you okay?” Colin asked, turning back to Willa. He cupped the side of her head with one palm.

  Willa nodded as she slowly loosened her hold on his shirt. Colin stepped back, then jumped off the portico and walked toward the hole. After a few deep breaths, Willa followed.

  Colin got there first and looked in. “Jesus Christ.”

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “I think we just found the owner of the suitcase,” Colin said.

  Willa looked in the hole. It took a moment to realize that what she thought was a large stone wasn’t a stone at all.

  It was a human skull.

  SIX

  The Fairy Tale

  Paxton broke through the surface of the water and swam laps until her arms burned. Her pace was frenetic, as though she was trying to swim away from something and if she just pushed a little more, she would be free of it. When she couldn’t push herself anymore, she floated for a while. It was dark, but the pool lights were so bright that she couldn’t see the stars. She wanted to stay like this forever, the water shutting out all sounds, disconnected from everything.

  She finally stood, because this was no solution, and her mother would be coming out soon to tell her she’d spent too much time in the water, anyway. She pushed her wet hair out of her face
and let her hands rest on top of her head as she took a deep breath and told herself that she could fix this. She could fix anything if she just put her mind to it.

  She didn’t know when exactly she realized someone was outside with her. It was a gradual awareness, like the way you slowly wake up to the sound of rain at night. She turned in the water to see Sebastian sitting on one of the lounge chairs. He’d taken off his suit jacket and had tossed it onto the lounge chair next to him. He was watching her with a hooded expression. If there was one thing she had learned about him, it was that he kept his emotions close to the vest. If he didn’t want her to know how he felt, he gave absolutely nothing away.

  “Sebastian. What are you doing here?” He’d never been to her house before. She pushed through the water to the steps and got out, grabbing the towel she’d put by the edge of the pool. She dried off while walking to him, feeling self-conscious because he’d never seen her in a bathing suit before. Not that it mattered. Not to him, anyway.

  He stood as she approached, picking up his suit jacket and tossing it over his shoulder. “I heard about the skeleton found at the Blue Ridge Madam today. I wanted to see if you were all right. You wouldn’t answer your phone.”

  “It’s fine. Everything will be fine,” she said, which was what she’d been saying all afternoon. If she said it enough, maybe it would even become true.

  “But how are you?”

  “I’m fine, too.” She wrapped her towel tightly around her, holding it together at her chest with her hand. She looked back at the main house, wondering what her mother thought of Sebastian being here. “I can’t believe you braved my parents just to see if I was all right. I hope they were nice to you.”