Page 29 of The Guests on South Battery
I carefully slid the letter opener into the corner of the envelope, then gently moved the blade to the other corner, leaving a clean, precise opening the way Mother Nature intended. I pulled out an engraved invitation on heavy cardstock without an envelope or RSVP card—the way etiquette sticklers did it.
I stared at the elegant script, and I suddenly felt light-headed. It wasn’t a wedding invitation at all. It was an invitation to a book launch party. I read over it a couple of times just to make sure I wasn’t misinterpreting it, then shoved it back into the envelope and when I stacked the mail, I put it under the bill in the hope that Jack would overlook it and I could pretend I’d never seen it. It did occur to me that I could shred it in the paper shredder in Jack’s office and no one would be any the wiser. It was what the old me would have done. But I was a mature married woman now, and it would be up to Jack to notice the invitation and respond.
A heavy thump and then the sound of something being dragged upstairs brought me out of the kitchen. I stood at the bottom of the stairs and listened, thinking it was from Nola’s room, which at the moment was practically vibrating with loud music that sadly wasn’t the ABBA album I’d given her for Christmas.
I heard JJ laugh and I smiled as I took the stairs two at a time to reach the nursery. I opened the door and paused, my own smile quickly fading as I took it all in. Jayne sat in the rocking chair with her foot resting on the ottoman, her ankle wrapped in a bandage. Both of my children sat on her lap holding a brown paper lunch bag—definitely not one of the educational toys that lined the room and the bookshelves—and laughing each time one of them squeezed the bag and made a crinkling noise. Jack, his button-down shirt discarded on the side of Sarah’s crib, wore only his sweat-soaked T-shirt. But the most disconcerting sight of the entire scenario was the furniture, all moved into a new position and ignoring the feng shui design created by the interior designer I’d hired to help set up the nursery.
Jack grinned at me as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. “What do you think? Jayne suggested that the room would be more functional this way, with more play room, and I agreed.”
Sarah smashed her paper bag between two fists, causing both children to start chortling with glee. I looked down at the beautiful handmade rug that had been a gift from Jack’s mother, the primary color design of building blocks with the children’s initials on each one, now completely hidden by the bucket of toys upended in the middle of it.
Jack approached to kiss me hello, but I stepped back, citing his sweat as my main reason. “Looks like you’ve been busy,” I said.
“We have,” Jayne exclaimed. “Sarah and I were building all sorts of structures with the blocks, and JJ was having a blast knocking them down. That’s when I realized that they needed more room, so I asked Jack to help.”
I stared pointedly at the wrap on her ankle. “I thought the doctor told you that could come off in a day.”
“It hasn’t been a full day yet, but Jack said I should rest it as long as I could and to keep it on at least until tomorrow morning. I think he was just looking for an excuse to play with the children.”
“Probably,” I said, my lips feeling brittle.
“I guess since all the heavy lifting is done I’ll go take my shower and then we’ll go see Yvonne.” Without warning, he kissed me on the cheek and left.
“You forgot your shirt,” I called after him.
“I’ll put it in the laundry chute,” Jayne offered.
Sarah clambered off her lap, then crawled to a corner of the rug where the large, chunky Duplo blocks had been snapped together to make what resembled a house, complete with a roof, two chimneys, and a front porch that looked as if a chubby fist had taken out a chunk. I noticed that she and JJ were in matching outfits—if you considered white onesies and diapers outfits. She picked up a Duplo girl with yellow hair and began to pound it against the side of the house.
I waited for Jayne to tell Sarah that people used doors, but she didn’t say anything, preferring to study her as if my daughter were an anthropological experiment. With a frown, I squatted down next to Sarah and looked into her sweet face that at the moment was scowling at me. “Sweetheart, people use doors to go inside the house.”
“Uhhh,” she grunted as she resumed banging the poor plastic girl against the fluorescent yellow wall.
In a gentle voice, I said, “Sarah, can I please have the little girl?”
She continued to hammer the girl against the house like a weapon,ignoring me. Jayne placed JJ on the floor, then knelt in front of Sarah. “She’s been doing this all day—it’s like she’s made up her mind that girls going through walls is the right way.” Jayne held out her hand. “May I please have the girl? I’ll put her to bed inside so that she’s all rested for tomorrow.”
Sarah solemnly dropped the toy into Jayne’s outstretched palm. With an apologetic glance at me, Jayne said, “Like I said, we’ve been doing this all day. She has a very firm belief in the way things should be.”
“I wonder where she gets that from,” I said, curious as to which branch of Jack’s tree that particular trait might have fallen out of. I thought of his parents and figured it had to go further back than that.
Jayne was looking at me oddly. “Yeah. I wonder. So, Melanie, could I ask you something?”
“Sure,” I said, hoping she was about to suggest replacing the furniture where it had been.
“I don’t want to go back to that house on South Battery until it’s fully renovated. I find it... unsettling.”
I struggled to keep my expression neutral. “All right. I understand. You did tell me that you didn’t like old houses, so I’m not surprised. Are you saying you changed your mind about keeping it?”
She shook her head. “No. I agreed to keep the house for now out of respect for Miss Pinckney’s wishes and to see if the house’s aura changes any with the renovations. But she didn’t say I had to live in it. For now, I really have no desire to cross the threshold in the foreseeable future.”
I hoped she didn’t see my relief. “That’s not a problem. I spoke with Sophie today and she’ll be happy to lead the restoration, determine if any grants might be available, and if she can use parts of the work as curriculum. She’ll figure out the numbers so she can discuss them with you, and any major decisions will have to be signed off by you. I’m sure for the sheer happiness of working on the house she won’t mind being in charge.”
“What about the doll?”
I shuddered, remembering the doll standing by the opened atticdoor. “Sophie spoke with her friend the doll expert and he’s eager to take a look. He’s stopping by tomorrow to pick it up and says it will take a few weeks before he can get back to us.”
“Tell him to take as long as he needs.”
