Page 10 of A Lullaby for Witches

Augusta moved on, and Jill told her about each of the brothers and what they contributed to the narrative of the house. “Once you get your sea legs, we should chat about a possible exhibit you’d like to research and help curate.”

The binder nearly slipped from her hand. “Are you serious?”

Jill laughed. “Yeah, I’m serious! You didn’t think you’d just be sitting around and working on spreadsheets, did you?”

“Well, no. I guess I just didn’t expect to take on such a big project right away.”

Jill’s expression softened. “Augusta, we’re really excited to have you here. Your references had nothing but great things to say about you, and you bring a lot of knowledge and valuable experience to Harlowe House.”

Augusta ducked her head, glowing. She’d never felt particularly valued at a job before, and this was the job of her dreams.

They were interrupted by a knock on the doorframe. Jill looked up and broke into a smile. “Hey, Reggie.”

“Hey there.” The man in the doorway had light brown skin and a dazzling white smile. With a T-shirt tucked into faded jeans and silver streaking his dark hair, he looked like the quintessential dad from a Hallmark movie. He returned Jill’s smile before his glance landed on Augusta. “A new face! I don’t think we’ve met,” he said, sticking out his hand.

“This is Augusta, our new collections manager extraordinaire.” Jill turned to Augusta. “Reggie is our properties manager. He splits his time between the properties, so you’ll see him on days when we’re closed to the public, working on projects.”

“Or on days when there are doughnuts,” Reggie said, looking around hopefully.

“It’s your turn to buy the doughnuts,” Jill reminded him. “What’s up? I thought you were in Boston today?”

“Something keeps setting off the silent alarm in the basement,” he said. “I don’t know if it’s a faulty wire or mice, but I keep getting alerts from the security company. Guess I’m going to go crawl around with the spiders and have a look.” He patted the flashlight on his belt and gave Augusta a wink. “The excitement never ends around here.”

After he left, Jill and Augusta finished up their lunches. “You said something about a possible portrait of Margaret Harlowe?” she asked Jill. For some reason, the lonesome female name on that branch of the family tree had piqued her interest.

“You want to go see her?”

Augusta nodded. She was more than a little curious about this woman who may or may not have existed.

Jill led her to the dining room. A large, polished oak table dominated the space, blue-and-white porcelain laid out on it as if just waiting for a family to come and sit down for a meal. Portraits dotted the green-papered walls, the gilt frames winking in the soft lamplight. Jill drew Augusta’s attention to a small portrait at the far end of the room. “That’s her. Or at least, we think that might be her, judging from the style of her dress. We have pictures of Jemima Harlowe from the time, and she would have been much older than the sitter here.”

Augusta studied the young woman. She possessed a Mona Lisa–like quality, assessing the viewer with a cool, measured stare. Her dark curls were loosely pulled back, cascading down her shoulders. The tight-fitting sleeves and high-necked collar as well as the hairstyle certainly pointed to the portrait having been painted in the late 1870s or 1880s.

“Are there any photographs of the family?” Augusta asked. By the 1880s, photography would have been quite accessible, and she would have been surprised if a well-to-do family such as the Harlowes hadn’t had any photos taken.

“We do have some daguerreotypes and cabinet cards in the collection, but most of them are of the brothers. I think there are a couple of the exterior of the house, too. We can pull them out later if you’re interested.”

A thought struck Augusta. “Are there any of the interior? Like of the old kitchen?”

Jill frowned. “I don’t think so. Why?”

Just then Reggie stuck his head in again. “Sorry to interrupt. The sensor stopped, though I can’t figure out what was causing it to go off in the first place.”

“Must be the ghost,” Jill said.

“That’s about the only explanation I can think of,” he said, without looking up from typing on his phone.

“We have a resident ghost,” Jill explained. “He likes to hide important papers on us, turn off the lights, stuff like that. A few years ago, we even had a paranormal investigator from a TV show come in. They aired the episode and it was great publicity for the museum.”

“What did they find?” Augusta asked.

“That it’s an old house,” Reggie said with a grunt. “Cold spots, creaky floorboards and dust orbs.”

“Reggie doesn’t believe in ghosts,” Jill said. “He’s no fun.”

Augusta glanced at her phone and was surprised to find that it was already four thirty. She would have to leave right away if she wanted to catch the last bus before eight that night. But Jill and Reggie were bantering good-naturedly, and it was so peaceful and cozy inside. There was still so much more she wanted to explore in the house before she went home for the day, too. Sliding her phone back into her pocket, she decided she would figure out a way home later.

It was after five thirty when Augusta emerged into the crisp, overcast evening. Taking out her phone, she shot Chris a text asking if he wanted to meet her in downtown Tynemouth for a celebratory dinner. If he met her there, she wouldn’t have to call a car or wait for the eight o’clock bus.

---