Читать книгу The Scent of Heather - V. J. Banis - Страница 4

CHAPTER ONE

People believed Maggie Garrison loved her sister very much. They were wrong, but Maggie would never admit it, not even to herself. Ever since Rebecca was born they’d been inseparable, apart only long enough to enjoy short honeymoons with their respective husbands. They lived in adjoining apartments. They shared the common fate of childless marriages. They even shared a common sorrow when their husbands drowned while together on a fishing excursion.

But were the two men really dead? The bodies were never recovered. Although the insurance company was convinced that they were dead, Maggie continued to have her doubts.

There was something in the way her sister had accepted the news of their husbands’ deaths that made Maggie leery. Rebecca had accepted her loss so easily; but, then, Rebecca accepted everything easily.

* * * *

They had been driving for hours. When the large, rambling house loomed up before them Maggie tucked her knitting back into her bag and said, “Ah, at last. I thought we were going to have to drive off the end of the earth before getting here.”

“Gloomy looking place, isn’t it?” Rebecca said as she slowed the car and turned into the driveway.

“That’s what the real estate man meant when he said the place had character.”

“That must be his car parked under the portico.”

As Rebecca steered the Mercedes up the driveway a man got out of the parked car and waved. Rebecca pulled to a stop directly behind his sedan and leaned toward Maggie, eyeing the man standing in the driveway. “Now that’s what I call a good-looking hunk of man,” she said softly.

David McCloud walked toward them. He smiled at Rebecca and she felt a delicious little shiver run down her spine. David McCloud was rugged and square-jawed with romantic blue eyes and hair the color of burnished straw. His features were chiseled, the mouth full and sensuous. He was tall, well over six feet, with the physique of an athlete.

“Hi,” he said. “I’m David McCloud.” His voice was a beautiful complement to the rest of him. “You must be Mrs. Garrison and Mrs. Shepard.”

Rebecca extended her hand. “I’m Rebecca Shepard. This is my sister, Maggie Garrison.”

Maggie, too, felt a little shiver shoot through her when she shook hands with him. Rebecca was right, he was extremely good-looking.

“Well, here’s the house I leased for you. I hope you’ll like it,” David said. “It’s pretty large, as you may have surmised from the pictures I sent you, and the grounds go on forever.”

The three of them walked along a path leading off the driveway. There was a large, open patio completely surrounded on three sides by a horseshoe-shaped Spanish hacienda with a clay-tiled roof painted dusty rose. There were little cactus gardens spotted here and there, rocks, flaming hibiscus and droopy shade trees. A large, cup-shaped cactus dominated one corner of the garden; yucca stretched tall in clusters of bell-shaped flowers on tall stems; tiny rock plants forced their way between the neatly arranged rocks, spilling their lovely butter-yellow flowers against their surroundings. Avocado trees were strategically placed to give shade where it was needed. The rambling garden looked like a quiet refuge from a world of turmoil.

“It’s heavenly,” Maggie said, visibly enchanted.

“Sophie takes pride in the patio. She spends all her time keeping it tidy.”

“Sophie? Who’s Sophie?” inquired Maggie.

“She comes with the place. When you lease Heather House you automatically get Sophie in the bargain. She’s a strange little thing...not quite right in the head, but harmless as a fly.”

Rebecca arched an eyebrow. “Some flies are lethal.”

David smiled and shook his head. “Not Sophie. She’s just a child mentally and as hard a worker as you’ll find. She used to work for the Lamberts—they’re the owners—and according to Sophie’s way of thinking she still works for them.”

“Oh, yes,” Maggie said. “You mentioned the Lamberts in your letter.”

“Mr. Lambert disappeared some twenty years ago. His wife, Heather, died about a year or two ago.” David looked up at the house. “The place is in real good shape but I’m afraid the fields around it have fallen into wasteland now, with the exception of this garden, of course.”

Rebecca glanced back over her shoulder at the neglected land. “Just so long as there is plenty of privacy, that’s all we’re concerned about.”

“There’s plenty of that, have no fears,” David assured her. “Shall we have a look inside?”

Maggie’s eye wandered to a strange square tower tucked onto the westerly corner. It seemed out of character with the rest of the house. David followed her glance.

“It was built after Mr. Lambert disappeared,” he told her, nodding at the structure. “Heather Lambert used it as a watchtower, I understand. She died up there, sitting at that window.”

Maggie shivered and looked away.

“Watchtower?” Rebecca said.

“Yes,” David said. “She suspected that her husband ran off with another woman. She never gave up hope that he’d return to her. I hope you don’t pay too much attention to Sophie; she is convinced that Heather Lambert is still up there, waiting.”

Rebecca laughed. “Great. I’ve always wanted to live in a haunted house.”

Haunted house. The remark suddenly triggered something deep down inside Maggie. A tiny frown creased her brow. As she walked toward Heather House the place seemed to wrap itself around her...like a giant spider web.

* * * *

David followed Maggie and Rebecca into the house. They found themselves in a large tiled foyer with a wrought-iron staircase sweeping up to the second floor. On their left, two steps below the foyer, was an immense living room with a beamed ceiling and large, arched doorways and stately casement windows. The heavy furniture, wood, leather and velvet, was very much in the Spanish style.

“I’m impressed,” Maggie said. “Who did you say lived here? Carlotta and Maximilian? I must say, it’s rather grand.”

“This is the single-level wing,” David explained as he crossed the living room. “It includes this room, the library over there and several bedrooms through here.” He pointed to a set of double doors with heavily carved moldings. “On the other side of the foyer is the split-level part of the house. On its lower level there’s a formal dining room, breakfast room, kitchen, pantry, laundry room and servants’ quarters. The upstairs rooms need not be used at all if you don’t want to bother with them. You could live very comfortably on just this ground floor.”

“Oh, but I want to see everything,” Maggie said. “If this room is any indication, I’m sure I’ll love every inch of the place.”

David showed them the library, which was stacked with shelves of books.

“Old Mr. Lambert must have been quite a scholar.” Maggie ran her fingers across the spines of books on philosophy, political science, religion, music, painting, archeology and ancient and modern history.

David laughed. “These belonged to Heather Lambert, I understand,” he said, nodding toward the bookcases. “From what I hear, Mr. Lambert’s only interest was beautiful women.” He smiled broadly, glancing from Rebecca to Maggie and back to Rebecca. “Of course, I can’t say that I blame him. I’m afraid I’m afflicted with that vice myself.”

Rebecca cocked her head at him and gave him a seductive smile. “Are you married, Mr. McCloud?”

“Rebecca!” Maggie said, startled.

David laughed. “No. I’m still a bachelor.”

“Why?” Rebecca asked boldly.

Maggie gave her an admonishing look. “Really, Rebecca. You’re being terribly forward.” She looked at David. “You must excuse my sister, Mr. McCloud. She sometimes says things without thinking how tactless they are.”

Again David laughed. “I don’t mind, Mrs. Garrison.” He looked at Rebecca. “I guess I just never found the right woman. I’m still looking, however.”

“Me, too,” Rebecca said boldly.

“I assume then that you’re divorced.”

“We’re widows...both of us. Our husbands went out fishing together and their boat capsized. They drowned.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Rebecca said, giving her hair a flip. “If George hadn’t died I would have divorced him anyway.”

Maggie stiffened. “Rebecca,” she said with ice dripping from her tongue, “I think you’re being most disrespectful and horribly brazen. I insist you behave yourself.”

“Oh, pooh,” Rebecca scoffed. “I’m just being truthful. I’d rather be that than a hypocrite.”

“Come on,” David said, “I’ll show you the rest of the place.”

From the library they went through several other rooms that were furnished as guest bedrooms, complete with their own private bathrooms. The rooms were all large and cool and airy with huge windows, tall beamed ceilings and tiled floors on which deep shag rugs were scattered. Most of the rooms had French doors that opened out onto the inner-court patio.

“Simply charming,” Maggie said. “I adore it.”

The other wing contained a large, impressive dining room of massive proportions, a more intimate breakfast room painted a drab green, a paneled pantry, a gigantic kitchen, a laundry room and servants’ rooms.

Upstairs the rooms were even larger and more elegant. Maggie fell hopelessly in love with the larger bedroom at the top of the stairs.

“It’s bigger than my entire old apartment,” Maggie said as she stepped up onto the platform that held a mammoth four-poster bed with brocade trappings. “Oh, I’ve just got to sleep here. It is absolutely beautiful.”

“This was Heather Lambert’s bedroom, I understand,” David said. “It hasn’t been used for a few years, so please excuse the dust.”

Maggie frowned. “But I thought you said this Sophie woman thinks her mistress is still alive. Wouldn’t Mrs. Lambert’s bedroom be her prime concern?”

“Heather Lambert didn’t use this room after her husband disappeared. She lived almost entirely in the tower. She hardly ever came down, they say.”

Maggie sat down and tested the bed. “Well, what do you think, Rebecca?”

Rebecca tilted up her chin. “What do I think? Since when have you asked for my advice about anything? You’re the big sister. Everybody has to do what their big sister tells them, don’t they?” She knew she was being spiteful but she couldn’t help it. She felt she had to get back at Maggie somehow for the way she admonished her in front of David.

Maggie chose to ignore the frost in her sister’s voice.

“When can we move in?” she asked.

David smiled. “Will tomorrow be soon enough?”

“Tomorrow? Why not today?” Maggie asked.

“I really would like Sophie to give this room a real good cleaning now that I know you’ll be sleeping here. Besides, I doubt if there are any provisions in the house. The cupboards are pretty bare, I’m afraid.”

“Rebecca and I can take care of that in no time flat,” Maggie said. “And I’ll have this room shipshape in no time at all.”

David opened his mouth to object but Rebecca stepped in with, “Don’t argue with her highness, Mr. McCloud. You’ll only be fighting a losing battle. Maggie always gets her own way about everything.”

David saw the friction spark between them. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Garrison,” he said, “but moving in today would be quite impossible. There are no utilities turned on in the house as yet.”

Maggie’s eyes widened. “No utilities? But I thought you said this Sophie person has been living here keeping the place up.”

“That’s true enough, but I’m afraid we’re very frugal here in Pinebrook. As the manager of the place I’ve tried to keep expenses at a minimum until we had a paying tenant.”

“I see. Well, in that case, I suppose tomorrow will have to do.”

“Do you mean to tell me that you made the housekeeper live here without any water or electricity?” Rebecca asked.

David looked uncomfortable. “Old Sophie’s used to it. There’s water, of course, and gas, but the electricity is off.”

“How does she manage?” Rebecca persisted.

“She hasn’t complained. She likes kerosene lamps, I guess. Speaking of Sophie, I should go find her and introduce her to you. She’s around somewhere.” He turned and left the room quickly.

Maggie shook her head. “Dashing Dave seems to have a miserly streak underneath all that charm and beauty.”

As much as Rebecca wanted to agree, she didn’t. She was still annoyed with Maggie. “This place must cost a fortune to keep up. He’s just being sensible. He’s a businessman, after all.”

Maggie had the feeling that Rebecca was looking for an argument. She wouldn’t argue. There’d been too much of that recently. She merely shrugged, turned and walked out of the room. Rebecca hesitated for a moment, then followed her sister.

They found David McCloud in the living room talking to a frail-looking woman in a shapeless housedress.

“This is Sophie,” David said. He leaned close to Sophie and, as if talking to a child, said, “Sophie, this is Mrs. Garrison and this is Mrs. Shepard.”

“How do you do,” Sophie mumbled and made a quick little curtsy. She was a woman well into her middle years but there was something about her that made her seem more “girl” than “woman.” She was frail, almost tiny, with arms like matchsticks, shoulders so bony the dress she wore seemed as if it were draping a skeleton. Her eyes were bright, but the mouth lacked personality and the face was nothing more than a blank expanse. She took refuge behind David, and stared around him at Maggie most queerly.

“Sophie’s terribly shy, I’m afraid,” David explained, “but an excellent worker. She’ll be all right after she gets used to you and you to her.” He glanced around at the girl. “Mrs. Garrison and Mrs. Shepard will be living here, Sophie. I want you to take real good care of them. Do you understand?”

“Living here?” Sophie mumbled. She did not seem to grasp what David had said. “Miss Heather....”

“It’s all right,” David said quickly, cutting Sophie off. “These ladies will live here and you will work for them now.”

Sophie’s big eyes looked up into David’s face and gave a quick little shake of her head. She gazed at Maggie, then at Rebecca. The ladies smiled indulgently. Sophie just stared at them. Then she darted out from behind David and rushed out of the room.

“She takes some getting used to,” David said softly, “but I’m sure you will be quite satisfied with her.”

“While I’m here,” Maggie said, starting in the direction in which Sophie had fled, “I think I’ll check the kitchen supplies and make up a shopping list. It’ll give Sophie a chance to get to know me and vice versa.”

David glanced after Maggie and then turned to Rebecca. He lowered his voice. “You and your sister will love it here,” he said.

“Maggie might, but I’m not all that sure about myself.” Rebecca glanced around. “Oh, it’s okay as far as houses go. But houses never meant much to me. Right now I’m more attracted to things like penthouses and the excitement of city life.”

“Then why in heaven’s name did you agree to come to Pinebrook to lease a house?” He fumbled in his jacket pocket for a cigarette. He shook one out of the pack and offered it to Rebecca.

“Thanks.” She strolled toward one of the windows that overlooked the garden. David moved to stand beside her. He lit her cigarette.

“It was really my idea, believe it or not. Losing our husbands was quite a surprise—both of them at once like that. Maggie really took it hard. As I told you, I wasn’t all that broken up about losing George. Naturally I didn’t want to see him dead, but as long as that was the way it happened, I accepted it readily enough. Maggie, though, started to mope around. You’ve seen what she’s like—all that mourning black, the long face, the whole bit. I suggested we get out of the city for a while and find some quiet little corner until she worked herself out of her depression. I thought if I got Maggie away from everything that reminded her of her husband she’d come out of her shell and turn back into being a woman.”

“I think she’s a very attractive woman,” David said.

Rebecca nodded. “Yes, under those widow’s weeds Maggie is quite a looker, but she doesn’t think she is. She has this thing about feeling sorry for herself and she expects everyone else to feel that way about her, too.”

“You must be very fond of your sister to sacrifice your own happiness for her sake.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t go as far as to say that. I know I’m being foolish to live my life to suit Maggie—at least for the time being—but, you see, Maggie more or less raised me from the time I was a child. So I’m kind of indebted to her, if you know what I mean.”

“You should never try to live your life for someone else,” David said. “It usually ends up by making everybody concerned unhappy.”

Maggie came back into the room. David turned to her. “Well, Mrs. Garrison, did everything go all right between you and Sophie?”

“You’re right, Mr. McCloud. She’s a bit shy and more than just a bit odd, but I think we communicated.”

“As I told you, she isn’t completely right upstairs,” David said, tapping his temple. “But she’s very sweet, a good worker, honest, dependable and a fantastic cook.”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll get along just fine,” Maggie said. “The only disconcerting thing about her is that she kept calling me Miss Heather.”

“Well, Miss Heather,” Rebecca said pointedly, “shall we follow Mr. McCloud back into Pinebrook and find ourselves a place for the night. I don’t want to stay here. I’m afraid of the dark.”

David laughed. “I’m afraid there isn’t any hotel in Pinebrook, but we have a nice little rooming house. It’s small but I think Mrs. Johnston, the owner, will make you comfortable.”

“Do you live in Pinebrook, Mr. McCloud, or do you commute?” Rebecca asked.

“I own a little place up in the mountains near here but I only go there on weekends or whenever I want to get away from things. During the week I rent a couple of rooms—like a small apartment—from Mrs. Johnston.”

“Then we’ll be neighbors, at least for tonight,” Rebecca said.

“That we will.” He gave Rebecca a wink, which Maggie did not see.