“I attempted to play the tuba in my high-school band. It was a grave error. I lasted less than six weeks. Football was easier, except that I wasn’t big enough for a college scholarship.”
Dante had not moved from his position but followed the conversation like a tennis spectator, turning his head from one to the other.
Ann lifted her hand, palm up, and Dante hauled himself to his feet and went to stand beside her. He had no tail, so his entire rear end wagged.
“Look, we don’t have to stand here in the middle of an empty room,” Ann said. “Let’s sit on the window seat in the conservatory—if you don’t mind getting dirty.”
Paul followed her through the archway at the left and into the conservatory. She perched on one of the cushions. “It’s pretty dusty.”
“I’m already dirty.” He sat far enough along the curve of the windows so that he had a good view of her. “Does Dante always greet people so enthusiastically?” he asked.
“I’m sorry about that. I spend a lot of time in empty, isolated old buildings by myself. When I’m really doing good work, I sometimes keep going all night. There are never any curtains at the windows, so it’s like I’m standing on stage under a spotlight while the rest of the world outside is in darkness. I’d feel like a sitting duck without Dante as my early-warning system and my guardian.”
On hearing his name, the dog laid his head on Ann’s lap. She scratched his small, pointed ears.
“Not much of a guardian, although he looks scary enough,” Paul said.
“He’d never bite a living soul, but just having all 180 pounds of him land on you and lick your face would scare most bad guys into cardiac arrest.”
“Almost worked with me.”
“He doesn’t usually go looking for trouble. I guess he decided that since this was an empty house, I must be working. Sometimes he’s a bear of very little brain.”
“Has he ever had to launch into action before?”
“A couple of times in D.C. he barked and may have scared off the bad guys, but not since I’ve moved back down here. I didn’t even hear you from upstairs. He decided to investigate on his own.”
“Buddy says you know this house well.”
“I ought to. Miss Addy was not only my piano teacher, she was my great-aunt.”
Paul froze. Ann Corrigan was a Delaney? “I thought her sister owned the house and that the other lady only had life tenancy.”
“Her older sister, Aunt Maribelle, was the one who married into the Delaneys and inherited the house when her husband died. But Aunt Addy lived with her forever, and Aunt Maribelle didn’t want her to have to move.”
“So Mrs. Maribelle Delaney was also your great-aunt?”
Ann nodded. “My grandmother was the youngest of the three girls.”
“Is she still—”
“Alive?” Ann grinned. “Is she ever.”
“So your father…”
“Gram is my mother’s mother.”
“So you really are a Delaney?”
“More of a kissing cousin by marriage. Practically everybody in this area is kin to everybody else.”
Paul looked at her closely for the first time, trying to discern something in her face that might show her relationship to the Delaneys.
A moment later he decided she was worth exploring for herself. She was of average height, average weight and average coloring. Her medium-brown hair was fairly long and tied back tightly by a red scarf. She had a nicely rounded body with long legs and a generous bosom.
She looked as though she laughed a lot—the sort of girl an earlier generation would have called “a good egg.”
Her face was too strong-boned for classic beauty and her mouth a bit too wide. Might be interesting to taste it.
Her eyes were her best feature. They were large, slightly tilted at the corners and the sort of gray-blue that changes color with mood or the color of the background. Although she’d long since chewed off her lipstick—if indeed she wore any—her lips were still the color of a not-quite-ripe pomegranate. Paul could see no resemblance to the Delaney in the only photo he possessed.
She was a far cry from the pencil-thin flight attendants he was used to, but judging from the muscles in her arms, she was in good shape. Probably her job required a certain amount of strength. He felt an immediate attraction.
He had certainly never expected to meet a woman like this in Rossiter.
“If you want to know the history of the house and the family,” she said, “check out the library in Somerville and the courthouse records. There’s also been a newspaper in Fayette County since before the Civil War. I’m sure they have copies at the morgue.”
He stiffened. “Why would I be that interested?”
“I just thought that since you bought—”
“Of course. Now that it’s mine, I should find out all I can about its history. I’ve never owned an old house before.”
“I can give you a list of movies to rent that will scare you even more than Buddy did,” she said. “The Money Pit comes to mind.”
“So you think I made a bad bargain?”
She put up her hands. “Oh, no! I think you made a wonderful bargain. It’s just that you’re going to have to live through three or four months of hell to get to paradise.”
“A few months seems a short time to wait for paradise.”
“You won’t think so a month from now.” She stood and Dante walked around to her left side and sat at her heel. “I’m glad to have met you. But I really do have to take some pictures before the rest of the light goes.”
“Of course.” He stood, as well. “What are you taking pictures of?”
“Details of any architectural detail that may have to be re-created, as well as the pediments and pilasters outside that we may have to rebuild or duplicate. Pictures of the scamoglio on the staircase—”
“Scamoglio?”
“It’s a fancy kind of plaster technique that looks like polished marble. You didn’t think that staircase wall was real marble, did you?”
“I assumed it was some kind of painted finish.”
Ann laughed. “Perish the thought. I’ve already taken some shots of the overmantel and the fireplaces, but I wanted to take at least a couple more rolls before the crews start cleaning up.”
“Buddy says you can salvage the mural in the dining room.”
“I’m going to give it my best shot, although it may be too fragile to leave where it is. You can always make a screen out of it.”
“You can get it off the wall?”
“We’ll see.” She stuck out her hand. “Sorry we met under these circumstances, but I’m glad at least we did meet. Next time Dante will know you’re a friend. He won’t knock you down again.”
“Great.” He stopped in the front hall. “I didn’t see a car out front. How did you come? Did Buddy drop you?”
“Oh, no, I walked. I live in the loft upstairs over the flower shop on the square.”
“I assumed the lofts were used for storage. Didn’t realize anyone lived