Chapter Thirteen #2
“That’s nice to know. Nonetheless, I’ll be checking on your progress from time to time, so I can tell Mr. Guidry what I think of your work.”
Smart girl, Grace. Don’t trust them.
“Aww now, you don’t need to do that, Miz Thibodaux. Guidry knows we do good work,” A frown illustrated Raspy’s protest.
“Then I’ll know it, too, when I see what you’re doing. Better get to it.” Grace gave a curt nod.
“Yes’m.” He opened the cab of his truck and took out a legal pad and a pencil.
While the men prepared, Grace reassured the dogs. Then all of them trooped into the house.
The dogs settled in their favorite corner with their chew toys.
“Where’s your attic access?” Nasal asked. “I’ll need to attach the holders for the outside phone wire to your roof. Then I’ll run the inside wires from your attic to where you want your phone.”
“I want the phone here in the kitchen, near the front door.”
He looked where she pointed. “There’s plenty of empty wall space there. That’s a good spot. Now the attic?”
“I’ll show you,” she said before turning to the shorter man. “What do you need to do your job?”
“Nothing. Just need to look at the whole house. I might as well start in the attic and work my way down.”
“Fine. Follow me.”
Luc went along. Grace’s tight shoulders confirmed the irritation that came off her in waves.
Eventually, she’d leave the men alone, but he would stay. Problem was how to report any suspicious behavior to Grace?
She led them up to the attic, which had been cleaned and organized, although it was still crowded with generations of cast-off furniture, boxes, and trunks.
“The roof access is through that dormer,” she told Nasal. He lumbered off.
“You made any improvements up here, Miz Thibodaux?” Raspy asked.
“No. I’ve concentrated on the main part of the house and the landscaping. Will you need to talk to my land manager about the crops we’ve planted?”
“Probably.”
“I’ll have him come in this afternoon to speak with you.”
“That’ll be fine. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll start working.” He threw her another nod. “I have some things to take care of, but I’ll come back,” Grace said and turned away.
Luc settled in to observe. The man was thorough in his examination of the house. Too thorough. He went through any drawers found in the stored furniture. He even tried to open some of the trunks. Raspy might have succeeded, had Luc not held down the tops.
While he kept a close eye on the man, he followed Grace with his spectral senses.
She’d hurried down to her bedroom. There, she’d gathered all her valuables and locked them into an ancient chest at the foot of the bed.
Unlike the trunk Luc sat on, the chest had a key.
Going downstairs and outside, she sent one of the gardeners to find her land manager and ask him to come to the house for lunch.
Then she spent an hour or so at her desk.
As noon approached, she made lemonade and several sandwiches.
She doesn’t want these men in her home. Why is she feeding them?
Then Luc recalled a conversation with Grace’s Aunt Sarah. “My mama drilled into me that no one, guest or laborer, ever went hungry or thirsty in her home. I understand the benefit of food and drink given to workers and servants, so I’ll teach my niece the same when she’s old enough.”
Grace set the kitchen table with enough places for the two men and her land manager. Evidently, she’d feed these people invading her home, but she’d no wish to socialize with them. When everything was ready, she climbed the stairs.
She found Nasal on the third storey in one of the smaller bedrooms, drilling a hole in the floor.
Luc had left the man to keep an eye on the assessor. Nonetheless, he listened to the conversation between Grace and Nasal.
“Is that hole for the phone wire?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Can you stop work for a while? I have lunch ready in the kitchen.”
“Lunch? You don’t need to feed us, Miz Thibodaux.” He sounded surprised.
“Are you refusing to eat my sandwiches?”
Luc could imagine her brows rising.
“N…no ma’am. I’ll be right down.”
“Good. You can wash up at the kitchen sink. Can you tell me where the assessor is?”
“No ma’am, I’m sorry. He works a bit faster than I do. I expect he’s probably on the second floor by now,” Nasal said.
“I’ll see you in the kitchen.” She went to the second floor, searching nearly every room.
Luc hovered in a far corner when she finally found the assessor in the large linen closet. Raspy was bent over thumbing through her sheets and towels.
“I didn’t realize property taxes applied to linens,” Grace’s voice was dry.
The man’s head shot up crashing into the shelf above it. “Ow. Dang it all, Miz Thibodaux, you shouldn’t sneak up on someone like that.”
“Perhaps someone shouldn’t be searching through my bedding and wash cloths,” she ground out.
“I wasn’t searching. I just haven’t seen anything so pretty. Thought my wife might want something like this pillow case.” He pulled a pristine embroidered sham from a stack of folded shams. “You know where I can get one?”
Luc harrumphed silently. He could almost admire the man’s inventive lie.
Grace took the sham and restored it to its proper place. “Those shams were hand embroidered by my aunt. If your wife knows embroidery, she can make her own.”
“Well now, I don’t reckon as she knows ’broidery stuff, but I’ll ask her. Thank you. Did you want something, Miz Thibodaux?”
“I came to tell you lunch is ready in the kitchen. My land manager will be joining you. I’ll have my meal elsewhere, so you can speak with him privately.”
“That’s mighty nice of you, Miz Thibodaux. I’ll just make some notes about this closet then be right down.”
The incident in the linen closet made Grace so uneasy her pulse raced. Luc didn’t blame her.
After lunch, he watched the assessor closely.
The man examined one room, moved to another, then returned, mumbling to himself about being thorough and reporting to someone.
On most occasions the things he re-checked had nothing to do with evaluating property for tax purposes.
Even when Raspy started on the outbuildings, he tapped on walls and peered into containers.
Grace was also aware, because she checked on him often that afternoon.
The moment she watched the two trucks drive off down the lane didn’t come soon enough, to suit Luc, but it did come.
She’d have to delay her search for the ship again tomorrow in order to stay near the phone and wait for the test call she’d been promised.
I need to find a way to delay her more. Long enough that she’ll forget about finding my ship. How best to do that?
Luc could try to manipulate her thoughts.
However, unlike watching another person’s dreams, manipulating thoughts could be painful for both parties.
Better to create an illusion. Spectral actions were at odds with usual human behaviors, so the tension between the two would cause him some increased agony, but it would not harm Grace.
Luc hurried to find a piece of paper. He needed to set the illusion while she was still outside.
He moved the paper to the kitchen table, anchoring it in place with a pencil.
Grace returned after a few moments. As she poured herself a glass of lemonade, Luc finished creating the illusion of a note in her handwriting.
She sat at the table, picked up the paper and groaned.
The note was a list labeled To Do As Soon As Possible.
1.Phone installation
2.Tax assessor
3.Electric wiring
4.Find a good generator in case of outages
5.Arrange for regular deliveries of gasoline for generator
“Really, I don’t remember writing this, but forgetfulness is a symptom of stress. Good thing I wrote it down. I’ll call to make an appointment for the electrical tomorrow, once I know the phone is working.”