Chapter 3 #3
As she stood, a commotion of loud squawks from across the street grabbed her attention.
She moved to the banister and peered over to find Jack tossing cupfuls of chicken feed over the compound wall.
She smiled as he clucked his tongue and cooed to the unseen flock.
When he emptied the feed container, he leaned over the wall and watched the activity taking place on the other side.
“I could have handled that for you,” she called out.
Jack turned and shaded his eyes as he looked up at the balcony. He flashed a brief smile and shrugged. “It’s not a problem. I’m used to managing it at this point and kind of enjoy it now.”
Charli grinned. “You’ll have to show me where you keep their food. I can at least take a shift.”
He huffed a laugh and ambled to the sidewalk in front of her house, hands in his pockets and his head tilted up to meet her gaze. “I can do that.”
“I’m making dinner. Would you like to join me?” she asked, holding up her glass.
His smile broadened. “Sure.”
Relief washed though her. “The back door is open. Come on in and help yourself to the wine if you’d like. I’ll be right down.”
He nodded and walked around the house. Watching him go, Charli released a rough breath—at least she wouldn’t be alone tonight.
She made her way back down to the kitchen and chuckled when she found Jack pouring a healthy glass from the open bottle. “Glad I’m not the only one who needs to drink.”
Jack murmured his agreement and took a sip. “It’s been a hell of a day, hasn’t it?”
“Mmmhmm, it sure has. Actually, it’s been one hell of a week for me,” Charli agreed as she put the pasta on. “This should take just a few more minutes,” she added absently.
She raised her glass. “Here’s to Aunt Dottie.”
“Cheers,” Jack replied, clinking his glass with hers and taking a long drink. He released a deep sigh and leaned against the counter. “I still can’t believe what she’s done, and I haven’t even begun to wrap my head around the mess we have to deal with across the street.”
Charli nodded thoughtfully. She noticed he was significantly more subdued than his lighthearted manner from earlier this morning. “You were surprised, then?”
Jack snorted. “That’s an understatement.
I wasn’t expecting anything—in fact, I wasn’t really sure why I was there and got much more than I bargained for.
Hell, I was shocked when Art asked me to be at the reading.
” He tilted his head and gave her a curious look. “How about you? Were you surprised?”
Charli scoffed. “Stunned would be a better word. Aunt Dottie mentioned in her letter that she saw herself in me. But I still don’t know why out of all the family that’s still scattered around the country, she chose me to carry out her wishes.
” She took a sip of wine and waved around them.
“And seriously—this place? I live in Boston. I have a job and a life there. But if I want to see her intent carried out, I’ll have to live here indefinitely. ”
Jack’s face broadened into a dimpled grin and a twinkle entered his eyes. “That’s not such a bad thing, you know. I can promise you that after a week here you won’t want to leave.”
Charli smirked. “You’ve mentioned that before. But tell that to my boss.” She grimaced at the thought of Mr. Stewart and the memories of her last meeting with him.
“What is it?” Jack asked, his smile vanishing and forehead wrinkling at her expression.
She twisted her lips, then took a deep breath.
“The day I got the letter from Mr. Murray...Art,” she corrected herself, “I had literally just met with my firm’s director and a high-level member of the board where they took my entire case load, basically my career, and gave it to a worthless schmuck who was recently engaged to the board member’s daughter. ”
Jack’s eyes bulged. “What? Can they do that?”
“It’s a private firm. They can do whatever they want. It’s just usually not in the best interests of either the firm or the clients.” She shrugged. “I could sue the life out of them for discrimination, but I’d never practice law in Massachusetts again.”
She pressed her lips together. “To be honest, I’d been burned out for quite a while, so I didn’t put up much of a fight, not that it would have done any good.
Once their decision is final, it’s done.
” She released a breath and raised her hands.
“Hell, I don’t even know if I still have a job, and to be honest, I can’t find myself caring about it.
Then I get the letter from Art, fly down here, and suddenly find myself inheriting multiple properties, one of which needs extensive restoration. ”
She rubbed her forehead and laughed lightly. “Just goes to show that life can throw some seriously insane curveballs some times.”
She walked over to the stovetop and moved the pasta off, draining it in the sink, then busied herself by setting out plates and flatware.
She could feel Jack’s gaze on her and she glanced up, not surprised to find his soft brown eyes watching her as if he were slowly collecting data and filing it away.
Was he concerned she would forfeit the property and return to Boston?
He pursed his lips, his look thoughtful.
“That’s true enough.” He took another sip.
“You know, Dottie always used to tell me that sometimes the reason one door closes—or even sometimes slams shut in your face—is because another one needs to open.” He paused for a moment.
“Maybe that explains what happened in Boston. Dottie needed you down here. Hell, I need you down here if we hope to keep Paradise West out of the city’s hands. ”
“Hmmmm,” Charli hummed and set the food out on the table, busying herself with the small mundane tasks as she thought about what he said. “Please, help yourself,” she urged as she sat down at the table.
Jack refilled their wine glasses and handed Charli hers.
As she held the glass up to the light, inspecting the nearly opaque purple color, a thought came to her and she spoke it aloud almost to herself.
“You know, if I didn’t know any better I’d say that she orchestrated the entire thing in Boston.
But she had already been gone for over a month. ”
Jack chuckled. “You think that would have stopped her? One thing your aunt was obsessed about was the afterlife and the spirits’ ability to influence events in the mortal world.
” He gave her a compassionate smile. “Knowing Dottie, she was probably up there watching, pulling strings, and smiling as everything fell perfectly into place.”
“You’re probably right. It had been so long since I last visited her. In her letter to me, she said she believed I was the one who could fulfill her wishes.” Charli shrugged. “I have no idea why she believed that.” She stopped and thought about the letter again.
“So...I have a question for you,” she remarked, her eyes narrowing.
He looked up from the plate of pasta he was currently destroying. “Yeah?”
“Who’s Amelia?” she asked, almost afraid to get the answer.
He stopped eating and put down his fork, his brows shooting up. “How do you know about Amelia?”
Charli felt her inner lawyer snap to attention at his oblique response. She tilted her head, noting his every reaction.
Pointing to the letter on the kitchen counter next to the white box, she responded, “Aunt Dottie mentioned her specifically. She said that Amelia wouldn’t be happy until Paradise West was fully restored and her truths were revealed, or something along those lines.”
Jack’s eyes widened at her last sentence.
He cleared his throat awkwardly and wiped his mouth with a napkin.
He met her eyes and his lips twitched as if he couldn’t decide to smile or frown.
“Dottie talked about Amelia all the time as if they were the best of friends.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair.
“Amelia Brown was my many-times-great aunt and her family built the main house in the compound in 1850. She was born in that house in 1852 and died there when she was nineteen.”
Charli kept her face as blank as possible while she digested the information. She wrinkled her nose at the thoughts going through her head, remembering how her aunt would mention that name often. “So you’re saying Amelia is...” She trailed off, waiting for Jack to finish her sentence.
“The ghost of Paradise West. Yes.” His answer was firm, and he met her gaze with no hesitation.
After practicing law for over a decade, Charli had become very good at spotting lies and the body language cues that gave them away.
Jack displayed none of those signs as he answered her questions, so it was likely that he believed what he said.
But her inner skeptic refused to accept what he was saying.
“I don’t believe in ghosts.” Charli snorted. “You know, I can remember Aunt Dottie talking about the ghost and now can even remember her saying the name Amelia. But I never saw any evidence of a ghost.” She shrugged. “I just put it down to silly superstition.”
Jack shook his head. “No, it’s not superstition.” He raised his hands placatingly. “Now, I’ve never seen Amelia personally. But there is documented evidence of her sightings over the last fifty years, and some of the accounts are very detailed and...reliable.”
Charli groaned and leaned her elbows on the table, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples. “Can today get any weirder?”
Jack barked a laugh. “Are you kidding? This is Key West. This is the capital of weird.” He was quiet for a moment. “But in all seriousness, I believe the stories and...I believed your aunt.”
Charli looked up at him. “I stayed in that compound for over two months when I visited before college. I can assure you that I never saw a ghost.”
“Mmmmm.” His face twisted in a thoughtful frown. “Amelia’s not like that. She’s really subtle. You’d have to be looking for her to notice anything and if you did see something, you probably wouldn’t realize it was her.”
Charli pursed her lips and breathed out. “Okay, enough about that. How do you tie in to all this and why did Aunt Dottie want us to do this together?”
Jack cleared his throat and eyed her cautiously, as if he were worried how she’d take his response.
“Well,” he started, “I can’t answer why Dottie wanted us to do this together.
I’m as shocked as you are about this arrangement.
But aside from the fact that I’m a direct descendent of Amelia’s older sister, I’m also the most qualified person on the island to handle the restoration.
My crew can accomplish in a few months what would take a normal contractor a year or more. ”
He took a deep breath and continued. “The house was sold out of my family near the turn of the century and then it was turned into a resort. The surrounding buildings were added a few years after that, then the wall, and the exclusive compound was born.” He shrugged.
“My family has wanted to buy the original house back since the seventies, but Dottie couldn’t bear to part with it.
She’d always say that it wasn’t the right time. ”
Charli’s eyebrows shot up. “Wasn’t the right time?” She stared at the wall for a moment and then looked back at Jack. “And now it is? The right time, that is?”
Jack shrugged again, giving her an awkward grin.
“That’s the only thing I can think of. Dottie didn’t spell everything out for me, she just spoke about it very cryptically.
It’s as much of a shock for me as it is for you that she left it to us together.
But knowing Dottie, I’d guess she had this planned out for quite a while. ”
With a rough breath, Charli stood and began clearing dishes from the table.
Jack followed suit by placing his plate in the sink.
He rested a hip against the countertop, standing dangerously close to her.
His hand came up to lightly touch her shoulder.
“All I can ask is that you give this some time. Don’t try to process everything at once. ”
Charli stepped back and his hand dropped to his side. She pressed her lips together, audibly swallowing as she held his gaze. “I have a favor to ask.”
His brows shot up. “Sure. Name it.”
Charli gestured toward the white box sitting on the countertop and sighed.
“Those are Aunt Dottie’s ashes and she’s requested that I spread them for her off the fort wall on the Dry Tortugas.
But—” She hung her head, her eyes burning as they filled with tears.
She sniffed and glanced up. “I don’t know how to get out there.
Will you help me?” she asked, internally cringing at the quaver in her voice.
A gentle smile slowly spread across his face. “I’d be honored to help.”
Charli nodded, a lump forming in her throat. “Thank you,” she choked out, trying desperately not to cry.