Page 57 of The Christmas Spirits on Tradd Street
I yanked on his arm and dragged him down the hallway toward the stairs, aware now of pounding on the front door. We looked at each other before continuing down to the foyer, the dogs at our heels and General Lee growling. Jack stepped in front of me as if to shield me, then peered through the sidelights by the door. “Just when I think my day can’t get any worse.”
Before I could question him, he yanked open the door, revealing the smooth face and plucked eyebrows of Harvey Beckner. “It’s about time someone came to the door! I’ve been ringing the doorbell for twenty minutes.”
He made to step forward, but Jack blocked him. “The doorbell only rings when someone the house wants inside is ringing it.”
Harvey sneered. “Right. Because houses have souls.” He turned around to shout to a group of men unloading equipment from two vans illegally parked at the curb. It was street-sweeping day on Tradd Street the following morning, which meant a guaranteed tow, but I wasn’t going to mention it.
Jack continued to block access to the house. “It’s getting late, and we’re about to have supper—”
“Perfect,” said a voice from the door at the end of the piazza. “I’m starving.”
Jack tensed. “Matt,” he said, his jovial tone at odds with the set of his jaw. “Why are you darkening my doorstep?”
Marc moved to stand next to Harvey. “We need to get a few still shots of the interiors at night and test for lighting before it’s time to begin filming. And Harvey hasn’t seen the inside yet, so he’s brought his lighting people and location scouts to get their opinions.”
“I don’t know about this.” Jack looked back at me. “Mellie, was this on your calendar?”
“No...” I began, feeling like a two-foot dam in the path of a tsunami.
“I don’t think you’re in a position to argue, Jack,” Marc said. “It will go easier for all of us if you’ll just let us get to work.”
“But I’m hosting a progressive dinner here in less than two weeks,” I protested. “Rebecca told me she’d worked it out with you so that there wouldn’t be any cameras and equipment in the house until after Christmas.”
Marc pushed on the door, but Jack was unyielding. “We’ll be out by Sunday. Until we’re ready to begin filming sometime around the first week of January. You’ll need to take down all this Christmas stuff bythen.” He frowned at the magnolia garland that Veronica and I had spent hours making. My blood began to heat at the affront.
“That’s really not convenient...” Jack began, but he stopped when I tugged on his arm.
I whispered in his ear, “Let it go, Jack. They’ve won this battle. But not the war.”
After a pause, Jack stepped back. “Then welcome to our house,” he said, graciously opening the front door as wide as it would go. “So good of you to come.”
Both Marc and Harvey eyed Jack suspiciously, and I wondered if it had anything to do with the sudden chill in the air that had nothing to do with the temperature outside, or the sound of running footsteps across the empty foyer behind us. I also wondered if either one of them was remembering what Harvey had said about houses having no souls. And if they were about to find out how wrong he was.
“Please,” Jack said, beckoning the men to enter. “Make yourselves uncomfortable. My family and I will be sitting down for a delicious meal in the kitchen and you are not invited to join us. And just so you know, it’s lights-out at ten, sometimes earlier if our twins are here. Trust me, you don’t want to be here after dark.”
He said this just as the crew from the vans began to fill the vestibule. Jack put his hand on the small of my back and began guiding me toward the kitchen, where Mrs. Houlihan had left our dinner warming in the oven. He pushed open the door to the kitchen and allowed me to pass in front of him, giving a good impression of an evil Vincent Price laugh as the door swung closed behind us.
CHAPTER 20
I blew warm air into my gloved hands as I walked with Jack the short distance to Jayne’s house on South Battery.
“Cold?” Jack asked, drawing me close to his side.
I turned my face toward his, sure he could see the trembling of my lips. “I’m at the point of turning numb, so I don’t have to worry about feeling the cold anymore.” I tried to smile, but the cold pierced my teeth. “I don’t know why we couldn’t take the car.”
“Because there’s only satellite parking for the Shop and Stroll, and we’d probably be walking just as far. I’m sure Jayne has hot chocolate to warm us, and there will definitely be plenty to eat and drink along the route once we pick up our tickets at the Francis Marion Hotel.”
“If I don’t die of hypothermia first,” I muttered, attempting to wriggle my toes inside my shoes. I aligned my stride to his, pressing closer to him. “You’re the best heated blanket a girl could ever ask for.”
I could hear the smile in his voice. “Is that the reason why you married me?”
“One of them. I wouldn’t say it’s the number one reason, but it’s pretty close to the top.”
He kissed the crown of my head. “Mercenary.”
“A girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do.” We’d reached Jayne’s house, stopping at the bottom of the driveway. I stared at the wreath on the front door and the garland wrapped around the banisters that led up to the front portico. I squinted. “Are those...?”
“Pink.” Jack finished for me. “They’re definitely a frosted pink. I’m guessing Rebecca’s been here.”
