Chapter 4
Charlotte stood next to Preston underneath the white canopy near the fountain in the center of Sugar Creek. She’d written out a whole speech to the few listeners who attended. Also, she’d worked her contacts and created flyers, pamphlets, and leaflets to hand out along with bumper stickers that said “Vote YES on Proposition 11.”
Preston handed her the microphone. While she was a decent writer, she’d mastered her oratory skills in university. She was a feared opponent on the debate team, sought after for advice by her fellow members, and envied by those who had law school in their futures. Besides, throwing herself into fighting for a cause would help her forget Westley.
Swallowing hard, she inhaled, speaking into the microphone. “Friends, citizens of Sugar Creek, we are here to talk about how to make our beloved town even better by growing what it has to offer.” Her voice sounded weird and tinny through the speaker, but she persisted. “Many of you know that we recently saved the Laurent mansion from being sold to a big management company who would’ve turned it into a venue who wouldn’t hire local businesses. But because of that, we have taken on the cost and maintenance of the great building on our own because we believe that this magnificent building belongs to all of us.” She paused to check the reaction from the crowd. So far no one threw eggs at her that was a good sign.
“We hope to open it for historical tours to tourists, adding to the value of the town, another draw for visitors all year round, not just in the fall. We will add hundreds of jobs working and maintaining the property. But in order to afford this, we must be able to claim it as a historical building on our taxes. A historical building can only be counted if it’s within the city limits. So we—” Scanning the crowd, she caught sight of Eric in the back. He looked so hot in his baseball cap and rough cheeks. Her face caught fire. She searched for her place in her memorized speech.
The slight hesitation was enough that a man from the crowd started in. “Why would we give you a tax break? The Laurents have done nothing for Sugar Creek. Then one day you show up and act as if it is your right to be here…”
Rerouting her speech, she quickly hopped back into the conversation. “We may have left Sugar Creek, but Sugar Creek has never left us. Yes, my brother and I were away. My parents’ employment took them to other places, but to us—”
The same man interrupted her again. “You’re not really from here. We don’t see you as one of us.”
Eric shouldered the man. “Let her finish, Hank.”
Charlotte, surprised, flashed him a grateful smile. “But to us, Sugar Creek is the only home we’ve ever known. Like you, our fore-families settled this area, built Sugar Creek, invested in its economy. Like you, we ran around these hills as children—some of the fondest childhood memories we have. We are not asking so much as we are giving. We want to give so much more to Sugar Creek, another venue supported by locally run business, a historical home to help locals and visitors alike to connect with our past. History is valuable for us, for our families, for the next generation. Imagine taking a group of children through the home and telling them their ancestors helped build this magnificent home.” She smiled at Coco, whose father installed the detailed wall decor. “Once again, we’re investing in Sugar Creek, bringing jobs, tourists, and economic security to this town. We hope you’ll invest in us. Vote yes for the annexation of Sugar Creek on Proposition 11.” Charlotte handed off the mic.
People in the crowd cheered, except for Hank who just folded his arms, hung his head, and left the crowd.
Coco took the microphone. “Don’t forget to stay for treats from the Sweet Suite Bakery.”
Off to the side, a table held cookies and apple tarts, hand pies, and other fall desserts. Lots of sweets dripping in caramel, enriched with cinnamon, and drenched in pumpkin spice.
Grabbing a spiced cookie, Charlotte searched for Eric in the crowd. Why did he come?
She found him handing out signs that said Vote NO on Proposition 11. He looked up just in time to catch her surprise.
The cookie turned to straw in her mouth. How dare he come and crash their rally to campaign for the opposition! He hadn’t come to see her, and despite him standing up for her with the heckler, she still couldn’t believe he had the cajones to hand out the signs right in front of them.
Without saying anything, she turned away and started back toward Preston and the table.
“Charlie, wait.”
Her mouth was too dry to speak. She needed water desperately.
“Charlie—”
She turned and faced him. “What are you doing here?” Her voice held an edge as she glanced down to the three remaining signs in his hands.
Coughing, he moved the signs behind his back. “I didn’t know you’d be speaking. I thought you’d remain neutral in this conflict.”
“Neutral? How can I remain neutral when we’re fighting for our house? If we can’t pass this annexation, then we can’t afford to keep it. We’ll have to sell it to developers who will only bring in outsiders.” And she’d lose the only home she’d ever really known, the one constant in her life. She couldn’t imagine that house in the hands of strangers. Many childhood summers were spent there. It had been in her family for generations.
“I mean—”
Angie called across the grass, “Eric, got any more signs?”
Eric held out his finger, telling her to wait. “What I meant to say—”
Angie crossed and tugged a sign from his hands.
Coco nudged Charlotte. “Do you have any more pamphlets?”
Charlotte turned. “Yes, they’re over on the table.” She pointed to the stack. “Near the bumper stickers.” She turned back to talk to Eric, but he was gone.
Her gaze filtered through the crowd trying to find him.
Coco returned with a fistful of leaflets. “Ah, some people wanted to take them and distribute them around to their neighbors. I think we’re gaining some traction.”
“That’s good, because we’ve only got about two more weeks.” Finally, she spotted Eric. He and Angie were heading across the parking lot. A wave of disappointment swept over her. What was he going to say?
Charlotte helped distribute more papers, handed out buttons and stickers. At the end, when the night was too dark and they couldn’t see anymore, they decided to call it a night. She helped Preston and Coco take down the table and the white canopy, lugging it to Coco’s car.
Preston jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m going over to Coco’s to study.”
“I know. That’s why I brought my own car.” She dug in her purse and grabbed out her keys. She didn’t want to get stranded as a third wheel again like at the hayrides. She headed across the empty park toward her car. As she got closer, she noticed something in the window.
What the—?
A white Vote NO on Proposition 11 sign sat in the window. She glanced around to see if anyone was still around to see it. Who could’ve done such a thing? She snatched it out of her window. The only person she knew who had signs was Eric and his sister. It wasn’t Eric, was it? A little note was scribbled in marker on the back.
“Great speech. Too bad you’re not on the winning side.”
Oh, he did not! She shook her head. He wouldn’t have done that, would he? Instead of being mad, a weird sensation of flattery and revenge filled her heart. He was teasing her. This was a joke.
“Don’t worry. You’ll get yours.” She’d just have to think of something to do to get back at him. But what?
Laurie sat by the window, waiting for the kids to return.
At nine, Lizzie came downstairs. “I’m ready to be tucked into bed.”
Laurie nodded. She’d been making sweet apple cider all day with the apples Tara gave her, and her feet ached. While only pushing fifty, she’d felt like an old lady ever since Will died. With his passing, all light had gone out of her life.
She followed Lizzie upstairs to bed.
At ten, Lizzie was their miracle baby. The one they weren’t expecting, but were grateful to have. A near eight-year gap separated Angie and Lizzie. Where Angie was full of fire and vinegar, Lizzie was as sweet as caramel corn and as gentle as cotton candy. She crawled into bed and tucked her covers under her chin. “Tell me a story about Daddy.”
Laurie sat on the bed. “All right. How about the time when he was a little boy, and someone forgot to close the cow gate, and all the cows got out? He was about your age, and he put on his boots and went out to find all the cows that had gotten out into the big field. Then he came upon a giant moose.” She elongated the Os in moose, making a moose mating-call sound.
Lizzie giggled and kicked her feet under the covers. “How big was the moose?”
“Daddy said it was the biggest moose he’d ever seen. His head didn’t even come up to its knee joints.”
Lizzie grinned again, showing missing eyeteeth. “So what happened?”
Even though Lizzie had heard this story a thousand times, Laurie indulged her questions. “Well, the moose started to charge, and Daddy ran as fast as he could. That’s when he discovered he was a distance runner. He ran all the way back to the house with that moose on his tail. He won all those races in high school because of that moose.” Laurie squished Lizzie’s little button nose with her forefinger. “Moose can be dangerous, don’t forget. We always respect wild animals and stay away from them, don’t we?”
Lizzie nodded, her eyes still dazzling from the story. “I don’t go near wild animals. Although sometimes Eric does.”
Lauren flattened her lips. “Sometimes he has to keep them away from the livestock.” Eric was fearless and practically ran the whole dairy by himself now that Will was gone. How she missed her big, strong husband taking care of things! Not that she couldn’t handle running the farm. It was just that without Will, her heart wasn’t in it anymore. And since James left… “Okay, prayers.”
She stroked Lizzie’s fine hair while she said her prayers. Lizzie folded her arms around her Mr. BunBun, her stuffed bunny. She prayed for James, Eric, Kristen, Willie, Benjamin, and Angie.
Laurie’s other three kids attended university. At twenty-two, Kristen was almost graduated in Connecticut, at twenty, Willie was a junior in Boston, and at nineteen, Benjamin was a sophomore this fall. Seventeen-year-old Angie took Champlain Community College classes on-line. Her life was full, yet empty. She spent the last three years trying to figure out who she was again after Will’s death. She had married so young, and her life had been spent raising kids and cattle, that she didn’t know what else to do. Without the help of Tara and the Sugar Mamas, Laurie didn’t know what she would’ve done.
“Amen.” She leaned forward and kissed Lizzie’s forehead. “All right, lights out.” The sweet smell of Lizzie’s kiddie shampoo reached her nose. Laurie reached for the lamp.
“Are you going to get married again?”
The question caught Laurie off guard. “I don’t know. Why do you ask?”
“You seem so sad without Daddy. I thought maybe you need someone to make you smile again.” Lizzie’s eyes shone in the dim light.
Laurie hadn’t thought about remarrying or even dating again. Her loyalties had always been with Will. “I can smile on my own.”
“But you shouldn’t be alone.”
“I’m not alone. I have you.”
“But in eight years, I’ll be gone, too. And that will only leave Angie and Eric to run the dairy, if they don’t decide to leave like James.”
Emotion flooded Laurie’s heart. James. She exhaled. She hadn’t seen him in three years. The middle kids were away. And one day Angie would leave and live her own life, like the older kids. Eric would make sure she would never be alone, but was it right to ask him to sacrifice so much to stay and run the dairy? “You don’t have to worry about such things. I’m fine. Now close your eyes.”
“Can I read for a few minutes?” She held up a copy of a mystery.
With the other kids, she’d been much more strict about bedtime. Running a dairy meant early hours and long days. “Ten minutes. No more.” She flipped on her bedside lamp and gave her a stern look. But they both knew Lizzie would read until ten o’clock anyway.
With a sigh, she closed the door and headed downstairs. She heard footsteps on the front porch and the screen door opening.
She greeted Eric and Angie in front of the large staircase. “You guys have fun at the rally?”
Eric shrugged and went upstairs.
“What’s up with him?” she asked Angie who headed for the kitchen carrying the donuts.
“Girl problems.”
“Girl problems?” She glanced up to the ceiling where his room was. That would be interesting. “Who’s the girl?” Laurie would never get anything out of Eric.
Angie shrugged. “The next-door neighbor.”
Laurie lowered her brow. Who lived next door? “What neighbor?”
“Charlotte. Next door.” Angie pointed south. “They want to annex the southern property. Geeze, Mom. Where have you been?”
Laurie shook her head. Grief had surrounded her like morning fog for the last three years. She hadn’t been paying much attention, but from now on, she would have to.
Charlotte went home to an empty mansion. The autumn wind blew through the cracks of the old house. After Papa Roland gave him the house, Preston had to let Rose and the other staff go as he couldn’t afford to keep them on full-time. The house was completely empty and dark. To save electricity, Preston usually left the lights off in the rooms he wasn’t using.
She stood in the hall near the library and flipped on the lights. The lighting behind the bookcases usually flickered and took a while to come on. These old houses had all sorts of tricky wiring. The house needed to be rewired and had occasional glitches. Often, the lights didn’t come on. Tonight they flickered like a strobe light.
If she hadn’t been all alone, it wouldn’t have creeped her out so much, but for some reason, the hair on her arms stood on end. She didn’t need to go into the library anyway. She grabbed a book and turned off the lights and headed upstairs.
Eric’s sign made her laugh, but it also saddened her. She needed a way to persuade the town to annex their property. In the bathroom, the lights were more modern, having been remodeled more recently. She brushed her teeth and readied for bed.
A howling sound whooshed around the trees outside.
She picked up her phone.
“What time are you coming home?” she texted Preston.
Before turning off the bathroom light, she turned on the hall light, grabbed the book and walked toward one of the rooms she’d stayed in over Christmas.
Inside the room, a large wardrobe dominated one wall. A porcelain doll leaned over the neck of small a wooden rocking horse. Her suitcase, the only modern thing in the room was in a corner, with her stuff neatly folded in it. A large window with thick casing and a shroud of curtains were to the right. She had a view of the front yard and the lights of Sugar Creek. A brass bed with a lacy coverlet sat in against the longest wall, opposite a fireplace which had been closed up since the installation of central heating.
Changing into her pajamas, she crawled into bed with the book, turning on the lamp, then climbed out, turning off the main light which looked like a chandelier—but with with bulbs instead of candles.
After snuggling under the covers, she read for a few minutes, hoping to shake off some of the nerves of the rally. How dare Eric leave a sign in her car? What could she do to return the favor? With tired, dry eyes, she turned off the light and stared up at the high ceilings. Almost asleep, she jolted awake at the sound of squeaking.
She held her breath and listened. Was someone walking on the tread of the stairs? She strained to hear over her heart thundering in her chest. Was Preston home? No. She would’ve heard his car and seen his lights.
She shouldn’t be afraid, but last year at Christmas, she could’ve sworn she heard voices.
Crrrrrrrr. Crrrrrrr. The creaking started again. Regular. Constant. And in her room.
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. She didn’t dare move a muscle, not even to swallow.
Then it stopped.
Inhaling, she wrestled with logic. No one else was in the house. They had security cameras and locks. She was silly to be so scared. Mustering all her courage, she sat up and examined the room, heart still pounding a thousand miles an hour. She had more adrenaline coursing through her body now than when she gave her speech earlier that evening.
Everything in the room seemed normal.
She breathed slowly to calm her heart.
Then she heard it again. Crrrrrr. Crrrrrrr.
In the corner of her eye, she noticed the rocking horse in the corner, moving ever so slightly.
Electric shock went through her. She had to control her impulse to throw the covers over her head and burrow into her blankets.
Warmth poured through the room. She blinked with realization. The heat was on! The slight blowing moved the rocking horse.
She burst out laughing. How silly of her! Of course there was a logical explanation of the noise. Just like the voices last Christmas.
Shaking her head, she slid down into her covers, the tension gone. How had she not noticed the creaking before? Probably because she usually listened to music before going to bed or talked to Preston. Or maybe he turned on the heat today since the temperature outside dipped a little.
She felt so silly. And tired. Her eyes felt dry and heavy after reading. Finally calm, and surprisingly refreshed after a good laugh, she settled into the bed.
After a few seconds, she was about to drift off, when she heard whispering.
Just like last Christmas. Only this time, she knew no one else was in the house.
Straining to hear words, she lifted her head off the pillow slightly. But all she could make out were just bits and pieces of soft sounds.
Frozen in fear, a cold sweat poured over her. Without looking at a clock, she had no idea how long she stayed there, locked in fear, listening. She saw lights flicker across her room.
Preston unlocked the front door downstairs.
The whispers disappeared.
Peace flooded her, along with relief. She slipped into a fitful sleep.