Page 66 of A Heart So Haunted
Then, to my relief, she spun in her chair. With a huff, she pushed to stand, vanished around the corner, then returned with a sheet.
She pushed it through the window. “Fill this out. Ten dollars.”
Once I’d signed, stamped, and promised my firstborn child, she disappeared again and then returned with a folder.
“What dates?” Her seat sighed when she sat down.
I stared, mouth slightly open. I didn’t know what today’s date was, let alone when Hadrian was alive. I probably should have asked, but I could almost hear his excuse while I came up with a guess:My age? Oh, dearest, that was a long time ago.
How long is a long time?
Long enough, he’d have said.
“I’m not sure of a date, but is there a Hadrian listed on any of the deeds?”
She shot me a look over the rim of her glasses. Okay, then.
“Last name is Belf—”
Before I finished, she made a noncommittal noise and licked her thumb and flipped through the pages without looking down, only watched me while flicking the sheets. Because having her glower at me wasn’t unnerving enough as it was. More importantly—how was she reading the names if she was staring at me?
I took an awkward step to the side. As if that would somehow redirect her attention. She looked like one of those women that sniffed fear.
“Last name.”
My mouth pursed. “Belfaunte.”
With an indistinguishable mumble, she exhaled through her nostrils again—this time it whistled—before slamming a page down into the copy machine, punching a green button, and posting on her armrest.
We stood there in silence as the copy machine whirred. Strained. Then spat out a paper.
She rolled back over to me and shoved it through the window.
“Hadrian Belfaunte. You and that Irene Blankenship, I swear,” she spat. “Is that all? It’s four o’clock and we’re closed.”
“Yeah, I think that’s—”
She pushed the window shut and yanked a beaded metal string. A set of blinds fluttered down between us. My reflection gaped back at me.
What a lovely, lovely woman.
I could only imagine howpeachythe Stetson office workers were if Meredith had recommended this one.
I took my ten-dollar deed and exited the double doors. I didn’t look at the paper until I climbed back in my SUV and rolled my windows down to let the heat escape. I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand, cursing the ninety-four-degree weather, and stole a glance at the page in the passenger seat.
I stilled.
Fearing the paper might fly away, I lifted it. It crinkled between my fingers. The date—the numbers were so close to each other.
I read over it once, then twice, my breath growing shallow.
By All Men Verify
Colleton County hereby grantsHadrian Belfauntethe property ofHarthwait House / parcel 12of1252 acresby* death of Father, Howie Belfauntedollarsin the month, day, and year of our Lord:Juneof the15thofone thousand eight hundred and seventy-eight; designated by the number of …
The copied deed’s edges were worn with rounded edges, tiny creases and tears throughout. The document’s decorative boarder was faded in places. What hadn’t faded was the penmanship. The delicate curves and swoops of pen lines held strong.
At the bottom, a star.
