Seven
The following morning, Selene needed something to do other than worry over Adrien. For that reason, she opted to explore the third-floor attic, afforded only a brief glance at Adrien’s closed office door and kept right on walking until she located the attic’s entry. After last night, she decided she’d been too accessible. Too compliant. The time had come for her to take control.
When she opened the attic door, she encountered another steep staircase and flipped on the switch that turned on a lone bulb hanging high overhead. With each step she took, an ominous feeling assaulted her. She scolded herself for overreacting and continued on, not certain of what she would find. Hopefully not a passel of rodents and spiders. Or wandering spirits.
She opened a second door and entered the area that spanned the length of the house. Although rays of light filtered in from the three dormer windows, the place still retained a gloomy atmosphere, from the weathered wood floors to the cobwebs draped in the corners. A pile of helter-skelter planks and fabric near one window immediately caught her attention, and upon further investigation, she discovered several splintered chairs and tables, as if someone had taken a sledgehammer or hacksaw to them. Someone who obviously didn’t like the furniture, or had chosen to expend their anger on the antiques.
A sense of foreboding sent chills up her spine like menacing fingers, and she gladly left the furniture remnants behind to examine the two boxes across the room. She came upon a gold mine—several pieces of fine china and glassware, all carefully wrapped in white cloth, a definite contrast to the destruction. But she found no missing journals, no other pieces of the past. And she wasn’t up to searching for more clues at the moment.
After organizing the boxes, Selene left the attic and made her way to the room that Ella had claimed was once the nursery—a happier place, she hoped. She again paused outside Adrien’s office door and considered knocking, until she heard the sound of muffled conversation. Apparently he was on the phone discussing business, so she decided not to disturb him. At least not yet.
Selene opened the door to another lengthy room painted a bright yellow, sunshine spilling from the uncovered windows casting golden light on the walls, dust motes floating about like miniature snowflakes. And in the corner rested a tiny spindled cradle and a lone wooden rocking chair that looked as if they’d had limited use. When she crossed the room and nudged the cradle, a strong sense of sadness overcame her. Perhaps this room, too, had been the site of some tragedy, and she hated to think that tragedy involved a child.
A series of shrill rings jerked Selene back into the present. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and answered with a melancholy, “Hello.”
“Hi, Selene. It’s Abby. Are you busy?”
“Not at all. As a matter of fact, I was about to call you. I’ve found a few pieces of china I’d like you to take a look at when you have time.”
“I’ll be out of town until the end of next week, but feel free to bring them by then. And I’m calling you because I think I found someone who might be able to help you with the house’s history.”
The timely twist of fate definitely elevated Selene’s optimism. “Who?”
“His name his Jeb Gutherie and he lives in an assisted-living community in Baton Rouge called Briar Oaks. I don’t have an exact location, but it shouldn’t be too hard to find.”
Not much to go on, but Selene was willing to take her chances. If she left now, she could arrive before lunch. And if lucky, she might have at least one mystery solved today. “Thanks, Abby. You’ve come to my rescue again.”
“You’re welcome. How’s the job going?”
The job was going fine. Her relationship with Adrien was going places it probably shouldn’t. “I’m making slow progress, but it’s still progress.”
“Seen any ghosts yet?”
Only in her dreams, particularly last night. She’d seen Grace’s face that had turned into another unidentified face—a woman with light brown hair and vibrant blue eyes. She’d woken up twice, practically paralyzed, before drifting off to sleep only to have more fitful dreams of falling. “No, no spirits. Only the occasional creepy house sound.”
“Let me know if anything changes, and good luck.”
Following the phone call, excitement over the prospect of unraveling the plantation’s past sent Selene out of the house and to her car without telling Adrien goodbye. After all, he’d said she didn’t need his permission to leave, and she didn’t intend to request it. Having him wonder where she might be going could prove to be a good thing.
He stood at the window and again watched her leave, wondering where she might be going this time. Maybe back to Georgia, although she had no suitcases in her possession. He’d heard her footsteps and had opened his door to see her entering the attic and knew what she’d seen—the result of his fury. Yet she had no way of knowing he’d been responsible for the destruction. No way of knowing why he’d taken out his anger on several priceless antiques, and he didn’t plan to tell her.
He had no plans to return to her tonight, either. He needed time to assess his next move. To decide how much farther he would go before he put an end to their liaison. Creating some distance between them would be wise. But his wisdom warred with his desire, and only time would tell if he could stay away from her. Correction, how long he would stay away from her.
Little by little, she was wearing him down. Tearing away at his resistance and, if not careful, he’d end up traveling down a road he didn’t dare take.
An hour later, Selene pulled into the parking lot at a high-rise retirement community north of Baton Rouge. She entered the foyer and was immediately greeted by a young woman seated behind a reception desk. “Welcome to Briar Oaks. May I help you?”
“I hope so. I’m looking for Jeb Gutherie.”
She eyed Selene suspiciously. “Is he expecting you?”
“Actually, no. But I believe he has some information I need.” Selene glanced at the woman’s name tag. “Tisha, could you tell him I’m inquiring about the history of a plantation in St. Edwards?”
Following a sigh, the young woman slid a clipboard in front of Selene. “If you’ll sign in and wait here, I’ll see if I can find him.”
Selene jotted down her name and waited a few moments until the receptionist returned. “He’ll see you,” Tisha said. “But I have to warn you, he tires easily and might nod off now and then. And he’ll need to be in the dining room in about twenty minutes for lunch.”
As long as she could garner some information, Selene could live with that. “I won’t keep him too long.”
Selene followed Tisha through the vestibule that opened into a large atrium with an open-air dining room to the right and offices on the left. Just beyond that, Tisha stopped at a smaller room and faced Selene. “This is the game room. If you need to speak with him privately, you can use the conference area next door.”
Selene peeked inside to find a group of four elderly gentlemen playing cards at a round table. “Which one is he?”
Tisha pointed discreetly. “On the far end facing us.”
Selene homed in on the man seated in a wheelchair, his shock of gray hair contrasting with his mocha-colored skin. He wore a neat brown suit and a number of years on his thin face. “The one in the bow tie?”
“That’s him. And good luck.”
“Thanks.”
After Tisha departed, Selene stepped into the room and cleared her throat. “Mr. Gutherie?”
He glanced up from his cards, mischief calling out from his light brown eyes. “Well looky here, boys. I have a guest. And a mighty pretty one at that.”
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