Page 96 of The Christmas Spirits on Tradd Street
Jack spoke at the same time, and I allowed him to continue. “Why would the ghost of a man holding the brooch—and I’m assuming it’s Lawrence since of the three buried in the mausoleum, he’s the only male who wasn’t a soldier—be at the cistern? It’s nowhere near Gallen Hall. Maybe he’s there protecting the jewels.”
“It’s possible, I suppose. Even though this house wasn’t built until the earlier part of the nineteenth century, there was another house here before it, owned by the Vanderhorsts. When they tore down the first mausoleum and brick wall at the Gallen Hall cemetery, Sophie believes they probably used some of the bricks to build this cistern. People reused bricks all the time back then simply because it was more economical. So, a spirit connected to the old cemetery could possibly feel a connection to the cistern because of that.” I gave him a crooked smile. “Just because I see them doesn’t mean I understand them.”
Jack threw his glasses onto the bed beside him. “Marc’s looked everywhere at the plantation for those jewels. I’m beginning to think they’re in the cistern. Maybe hidden inside one of the bricks. I’m so tired of being sick, I’ve half a mind to get out of bed tonight and start digging myself.”
I placed a restraining hand on his shoulder, sensing his renewed desperation and frustration. The New York publishing world virtually shut down in the month of December, so Jack was back in limbo land, stuck with stewing and mulling over the fate of his career. “Don’t be silly, Jack. It’s freezing outside and you’re sick. And don’t worry—I’m working on things while you’re down for the count. I might be able to give you a nice Christmas surprise.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Remember what I said, Mellie. Don’t do anything rash.”
“How can I?” I said flippantly. “I’ve got twenty-four couples coming to our house for dinner tonight. The only thing rash I can picture is me raiding Mrs. Houlihan’s party bags so I can finally get a cookie.”
Jack smiled, but he didn’t look completely convinced. I wondered if he’d always been able to see through me, or if this was what marriage did to couples.
“Lawrence followed me one day, according to Jolly,” Jack said. “Did I mention that to you? I might not have. That was around the time I was starting to feel sick, and I don’t think I was thinking straight. And she’s not the most reliable of psychics, you know? I might not have wanted to scare you. You’ve had a tough month.”
“We both have,” I said, taking his hand. “I think I’m getting really close to solving this, Jack.”
“‘I’m’?”
“We are,” I corrected.
The doorbell rang downstairs. I glanced at my watch and stood. “It’s the caterers. I’ve got to go and let them know where everything goes. Mother and Jayne left to get dressed, and Nola went to your mother’s to help with bath time for the twins, and then she’ll get changed and come here to help. I let Mrs. Houlihan go home an hour ago since the caterers can take over now, but someone still needs to be in charge.”
“And you’re so good at being in charge,” Jack said, almost looking like his old self. “But what were you about to say? Earlier, before I interrupted.”
The doorbell rang again. I leaned down and kissed him on his forehead. “I’ve got to get that. We’ll talk later.”
I put the TV remote in his hand and ran out of the room, pausing at the top of the stairs to text Anthony, asking him if he’d had any luck with the drawings and the photo of the gate panel. I had to do it twice because autocorrect kept translating it into something that looked like Swahili.
When I opened the door to let in the caterers, Jayne came in behind them. Her coat was open and we both stopped in the foyer to stare at each other. Finally, Jayne laughed out loud. “People are going to think we called each other to coordinate our outfits.”
We both wore dark green velvet dresses with low V-necks and slightly flared skirts. “I saw this one in the window at the Finicky Filly and had to have it,” I explained.
“Me, too,” Jayne said, holding in a giggle. “It’s my favorite store.”
I didn’t bother telling her that it was my favorite store, too. “I guess I’ll go change,” I said, heading for the stairs. “Tell the caterers not to do anything until I get back.”
“Don’t be silly,” Jayne said. “I always wanted a sister so we could wear matching outfits.”
I almost admitted out loud that I had, too, but stopped just in time. I looked behind her. “Where’s Anthony?”
“I’m assuming he’s on his way, because I’ve been trying to reach him, but I haven’t heard back. Last time I spoke with him, he said to come on over without him because he was running late and had gone home to get dressed. He knows you’ve assigned him to hang up coats instead of going to the first house for appetizers, and he seemed okay with that.”
I frowned. “I could have assigned him to toilet-paper-refill duty, but I didn’t. I can still change the spreadsheet—I’ve got it open on my computer screen.”
She grabbed my hands. “Did he call you? He said he would.”
I looked down at my phone. No recent texts or phone calls from Anthony. “Nothing from him at all. What is it?”
“He finished the puzzle. Sometime last night. His bedroom door was closed when I got up, so I have no idea when. Let’s go tell Jack—this will make him feel better.”
“No. I mean, wait,” I said, holding her back. “He’s probably sleeping. But tell me—what does it look like? Does it tell us anything?”
She shook her head. “No. Not yet, anyway. But it must mean something, right?”
“Hopefully. Let’s wait until we talk to Anthony—maybe he’ll have more to tell Jack.”
She looked at me dubiously, then down at her dress. “I have time to run home and change. Will you be okay without me for a little bit? I promise I’ll hurry.”
