Chapter 7
While the cider warmed on the stove, Charlotte looked around Eric’s Victorian kitchen. She loved the old farmhouse, that looked as if it had been there a hundred or more years. Old oak cabinets surrounded the kitchen, filled with antique bric-a-brac. “Your family been here a long time?”
He found two mugs and wiped them out. “My ancestors were in the Green Mountain Boys. They fought with Ethan Allen and Benedict Arnold taking Fort Ticonderoga. Then they settled here in Sugar Creek about a hundred years ago, and we’ve been here ever since. And hopefully, ever after.”
“That’s amazing. I wish I was from somewhere.” She couldn’t imagine being any one place. With her parents as diplomats, she grew up all over the world. When she graduated from high school, she went back to Canada where Papa Roland was and went to university. She was a citizen of the world. Even her heritage was mixed. Her mother was Cuban-American, and her father was French Canadian. She grew up speaking French, Spanish, and English.
“You are. You’re from Sugar Creek.”
“Well, my family has been here for generations, but I haven’t been. That’s why I’m so attached to the area. I’ve never known any other family home.”
He poured the warmed cider into the mugs and brought them over to the table.
But tonight she was all alone again. “I didn’t want to be in the big house by myself. Thanks for inviting me in.”
“It’s the least I can do for my vandal.”
Warming, she pushed his chest.
He caught her hand and held it. “Whoa, now.” He held her gaze.
His touch sent electricity running through her body, igniting her heart. If only he’d lean in and kiss…
The screen door squeaked open.
Someone stepped into the hallway. The oak door slammed shut.
Eric dropped her hand.
Charlotte focused on her cider.
Angie appeared in the kitchen. “Hey.” She caught sight of Charlotte. “Oh, hey!”
Angie crossed and got a cup. “Thanks for warming the cider.”
Eric shot her a look with a frozen smile. “You’re home early.”
“Class got out at nine, which was good because I was about to fall asleep.” She pulled out a chair and sat at the table with them. “You can only listen to a professor talk about themes in books for so long, you know.” She turned to Eric. “Did Mom leave any molasses cookies?”
Eric looked annoyed. “I don’t know.”
Angie crossed to the cupboard and found a container, popping one into her mouth. She grabbed a couple. “Want one?” she asked Charlotte, holding one out.
“No, thank you.” Charlotte stood. “And I should probably get going. Preston should be home soon.” It was a lie, but she didn’t want to sit in the awkwardness since Angie arrived. That girl was oblivious!
Her heart thundered. And what was going on with Eric?
She cast him a glance. He looked annoyed, but was he annoyed that she was leaving, annoyed that Angie came home early, or annoyed that they almost kissed? Or all three?
“I’ll walk you to your car.” He grabbed a flashlight and flipped on a beam that was much brighter than her phone.
They walked together in silence, the only sound their feet crunching on fallen leaves.
She wasn’t sure what was going on. Westley broke her heart. She’d sworn off men. She needed time to heal. He was supposed to ask her to marry him, but broke up with her. She was not ready for another relationship just yet, was she?
At her car, she turned and faced Eric, hoping for a second chance at whatever passed in the kitchen, but Eric looked preoccupied. “Good night,” she said, opening the car door and climbing inside.
He closed her door. “We still on for Friday?”
She nodded. Even after vandalizing his car, he still wanted to go together?
His features were lit by the flashlight, accentuating the scruff on his chin and his muscular forearms. What would’ve happened if Angie hadn’t come in? Did she want to explore that idea? Yes. “Good night.”
At least they were on a truce. He got her, she got him back. She could sleep well tonight.
She pulled up her own driveway to the darkened house.
The pumpkins and the mums greeted her as they had the first day she arrived. Only now, they seemed normal since every house had them, even Eric’s.
Letting herself in, she locked the door behind her. The house was so dark and so empty. She left the kitchen light on over the six-burner stove. Every time she’d been to the house, it had been so full of love, so much energy. Now it stood hollow. And a little spooky.
She crept up the stairs and turned off the light at the top.
A figure appeared in the darkness at the end of the hall. She blinked a few times, but the dark splotch definitely was there.
Her mouth went dry.
“Who’s there?” she asked in her bravest voice, heartbeat nearly choking off her breathing.
She heard the whispers again. All the hair on her neck stood on end. Then the dark figure moved. Then disappeared.
Letting out a shriek, she turned and ran downstairs, flipping on all the lights in the house, heart pounding. There was no way there was someone in the house. She must’ve just been seeing things. But she wasn’t going upstairs to find out.
She slept on the couch with all the lights on, using the throw as a covering.
“What are you doing down here? And with every single light on? It costs money to have all these on, you know.” Preston walked around and turned off lights with a huff.
Charlotte opened her eyes and blinked. They felt as if they were coated with sand. What time was it? The clock read a little after midnight. “I saw something upstairs. In the hall. A figure.”
Preston arched a brow. He looked so tired, burning the candle at both ends. He was up late studying and doing homework, then he’d wake at five to help Coco with the bakery, and then he’d come home for a small nap before heading out to school. But her words sobered him. “Someone’s in the house?”
She hated to bother him. He only had about five hours of sleep a night and if she told him something was in the house, would he be able to sleep? “Maybe my eyes were playing tricks on me.” She bit her lip. “But will you come upstairs with me?”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “If it will make you feel better you can sleep in the master suite with me.”
The master bedroom had a full wing of the house and had several couches in the adjoining sitting room. The couches were the pretty kind, not the comfortable kind. “I’ll be okay. Just walk upstairs with me.”
“I can do that.”
With the light on in the hall, she brushed her teeth. Preston waited for her, checking his phone for messages.
She went into her room to change and came back out into the hall.
“Can I go to bed now?” he asked.
“Yes.” She felt bad about making him stay up. “I really thought I saw something.”
“I’m sure you did.” But he sounded more like he was half asleep rather than totally believing her. She wasn’t insulted. If she hadn’t seen the blob or figure or whatever move and disappear, she wouldn’t have believed it herself. “Thank you. And thank you for believing me.”
Preston gave her a short nod.
She quickly got into bed. She left the lamp on to sleep.
Somewhere in early dawn or between waking and asleep, she heard her name, “Charlotte, Charlotte.”
She woke with a start.
Preston?
No. He wouldn’t call her.
Did she dream it?
The light poked in from the windows. It was morning.
What was going on?
Charlotte awoke later, feeling as if everything last night was just a joke. She hadn’t seen a body/blob or anything last night nor did she hear whisperings. Sunlight wiped away her fear.
She dressed and readied for canvassing. Preston was already gone for the day. She found a small purple daisy in a vase. Either she hadn’t seen it there last night, or Preston put it out for her.
She texted him.
Is the flower for me? It’s beautiful.
He texted back.
Uh, what flower?
Her heart thundered. If Preston didn’t leave the flower for her, who did?
Never mind.
There is a surprise waiting for you though.
The late fall flower blossomed in the water. Charlotte shook her head. What was the surprise Preston mentioned? She would think about it later. She needed to get to the park downtown.
Picking up her keys, she headed to the door. A cool rush of air with a hint of foliage slammed her.
She gasped and blinked in the weak autumn sun.
Scores, if not hundreds, of signs littered the front lawn. All of them said Vote No on Proposition 11.
What about their truce? Didn’t drinking cider with him last night act as a white flag? Picking up all of these would take forever! But she certainly couldn’t leave them there. Anyone who came to her house might get the wrong idea.
With haste, she plucked each of the signs from the grass, tucking them under her arms until she could no longer hold the mass. Then, chuckling, she dumped them in the back of her car. Ahh, an idea blossomed of what to do with the lot. She smiled. So much for the truce. Running back inside, she grabbed tape, scissors, and a marker.
“Thank you, Eric, for the generous donation!”
She piled them all in her trunk and drove to the city center. At Coco’s bakery, she grabbed a table and hauled it near the fountain. While some of the Sugar Mamas helped her pass out pamphlets and talk to people, she made a little amendment to the signs. Sitting at the table, she cut out and wrote on scraps of paper then taped them to the signs.
She held one up. A white piece of paper blocked out the “No” and covered it with “Yes.” The new signs read: Vote YES on Proposition 11. While Preston and Coco didn’t have any more money for signs, thanks to Eric, they now had these makeshift ones.
She handed them out as quickly as she could make them, smiling with delight.
A familiar flannel, baseball cap, and white T-shirt crossed the city center. Eric’s frown seemed like he wasn’t too amused.
“There, I fixed it for you,” she said when she handed over a sign.
“Clever, very clever, but I want my signs back.” Eric stood in front of her, blocking the wind, his hands resting on his hips.
Charlotte arched a brow, flashing him an amused grin. “Oh, no! You left them at my house. By law, any property left on mine shall be claimed by the owner.”
A slow grin crawled onto his lips. “You know it’s against the First Amendment to deface signs.”
Never argue about the law with a law student. She handed a passerby a sign. “Only if it’s in someone else’s yard.”
“What if someone ripped off where you defaced the sign that covers the no?”
She shrugged. “They can if they want. It’s their sign.”
He exhaled. “All right. You win. You’ve used my ammo against me.”
Winking, she handed out another sign. “Thank you for the generous supply of ammo.”
Another person approached the table. “Can I get a sign?”
“Sure.” After handing over a sign, Charlotte flashed Eric a smug grin. “Regret it much?”
“Not one bit.” He removed his baseball hat and stuck it on again. “Listen, no matter how the vote turns out, we can still be friends, right? No hard feelings?”
His voice spoke of true concern. Awww, wasn’t it sweet that he cared more for their friendship than for the outcome of a proposition? But he still thought Preston and Charlotte were going to lose.
“We shouldn’t lose friendships over silly things like this. But yes, we’ll still be friends afterwards.” She handed out another sign. “Even if you lose.”
More people swamped her, taking pamphlets, asking questions. Talking to Eric would waste precious time that could be used to persuade people.
He took a couple of steps backwards from the crowd who now surrounded her table.
“I’d better get.” He nodded away. “See you Friday for cowboy fondue. I won’t be able to take you as I have to go early.”
Friday! That’s right! The bonfire. She couldn’t wait. “I’ll get a ride with Preston and Coco. See you there.” Butterflies ripped through her stomach. And she’d won the prank war!