Page 40 of A Heart So Haunted
Eleanora Peluskablinked over the screen, the realtor. A second later, it lit up again, but with a different name.Carla Matterson.
I shouldn’t have been surprised Eleanora was reaching back out. I’d kept my interactions at arm’s length, because that uncertain part of myself couldn’t fully commit to giving her the listing. Not yet. Tack on Mom’s incessant calling, and my blood pressure was ready to bubble through the roof.
I couldn’t do this. I turned the phone off, stalked to the garage and grabbed a pair of gloves, and headed around the back of the house toward the shed. The seedlings stood tall against the shed side, a few leaves slightly curled. They were probably rootbound at this point.
I carried them down to the edge of the lawn, where I remembered Aunt Cadence’s garden used to be. I kept my head down and trudged back to the shed to dig around for a two-pronged hoe. Ten minutes later, I had a rectangular outline in the dirt, and I started to swing.
I didn’t look back at Harthwait once.
My body was on fire.
I slithered from my bed late the next morning. A cold sweat clammed my skin, plastering the thin sheet beneath the quilt to my legs and arms. I never understood how that happened: I could go tosleep, semi-comfortable in a huddle of blankets after a shower, then wake up sticky as a marathon runner by daylight.
I shut my windows, one by one. I thought I’d closed them before I fell asleep to an infomercial. Eyed the dolls on the shelf by my old desk, as if they had anything to do with it.
I retrieved a (maybe) clean shirt from a pile I’d let collect in the rocking chair. Laundry was a priority like hot tea ran in my bloodstream: seldom. Then again, the thought of doing anything that didn’t revolve around renovations made me nauseous. I averted my gaze; if I didn’t look at it, maybe the mound would disappear.
I forewent the jeans I’d left in the hamper and opted for shorts. Instead of brushing my hair, I finger-combed it, then tied it a knot at my crown. I didn’t make it far down the hall before Emma’s voice echoed up the steps.
“Of course! Let me go and see if she’s up yet and we can give you the full tour.”
“A bit late to be sleeping in, yeah?” This voice was deeper, familiar.
I rounded the corner, met by three sets of eyes. Two I knew, one I didn’t. Ringing started in my right ear.
Emma spotted me first.
“The woman I was going to get! Look who stopped by.” Emma’s expression brightened. I could have counted every single one of her teeth, top and bottom row, she smiled so wide.
Ivan stood in the doorway in casual clothes, Wranglers and a pair of boots. Not a lick of dirt coated the hems. A man I didn’t recognize, similar in age to the three of us, with long braids that fell past his shoulders, lingered just behind Ivan.
I floated, disconnected, until I reached the first floor. I wanted to curl into myself, so small I could disappear, from the way they watched me.
“Is something wrong?” I didn’t like how breathy my words sounded.
Emma leaned against the doorframe. “I asked Ivan and Trevor to come by and take a look at the house. You know, for a second opinion.”
Fire ate through the pit of my stomach, working upward out of my esophagus. Why would anyone else need to look at the house? It’d been inspected—twice—which I’d made a priority. “I didn’t know,” I said, pointed.
“We haven’t decided if we’re letting Eleanora have the listing,” she told both of them, as if I already knew this. “You know, it’s an old house. I’m sure you guys have seen plenty of relevant comps to tell us if the suggested renos are worth the hassle.”
Ivan’s smile was slick when he leaned in, his shoulder pressing against the doorframe. “Of course. I’m glad I ran into you. Landry hadn’t mentioned doing the renoshere.”
Emma shot me a look that said,Why not?
My cheeks heated with embarrassment. Of course I hadn’t told him. I didn’t want him to knowanythingabout my work or why I was here. But Emma had opened the front door wide for them.
I took a step back, closer to the stairs. “I’m sorry—but it seems I’ve been left out of this conversation,” I said. I didn’t look at Emma. “Why exactly are you here at my house?”
If only Sayer was here today instead of taking time to be with Wade. Don’t get me wrong, I was all for quality time with a significant other. But I now drifted in the middle of the Pacific with no life raft, and I needed a buoy. Sayer was that buoy. My self-control was slipping like granules through dry fingers.
“I have my real estate license,” Ivan said. “Trevor’s a trusted contractor.”
“We’ve done homes up and down the coast,” Trevor added. His smile remained honeyed, gentle, as if he smelled my unease. “Historic homes are a soft spot for me. We can take a look, draw up an idea of what any changes might look like, and—”
“I don’t know,” I cut in with a tight smile. “No offense.”
“No pressure,” Ivan said, hand raising like he might placate a rabid dog. “We just wanted to give you the option.”
