Heroes Are My Weakness, Page 4

  Jaycie must have read her mind. “I’m the housekeeper here now.”

  Annie couldn’t think of a more depressing job. Jaycie made an awkward gesture behind her, toward the kitchen. “Come in.”

  Annie couldn’t go in, and she had the perfect excuse. “I’ve been ordered to stay away by Lord Theo.” His name stuck to her lips like rancid oil.

  Jaycie had always been more earnest than the rest of them, and she didn’t react to Annie’s jibe. Being the daughter of a drunken lobsterman had accustomed her to adult responsibilities, and even though she’d been the youngest of the four of them—a year younger than Annie and two years younger than the Harp twins—she’d seemed the most mature. “The only time Theo comes downstairs is in the middle of the night,” she said. “He won’t even know you’re here.”

  Apparently Jaycie didn’t realize Theo was making more than nighttime excursions downstairs. “I really can’t.”

  “Please,” she said. “It would be nice to have a grown-up to talk to for a change.”

  Her invitation sounded more like a plea. Annie owed her everything, and as much as she yearned to refuse, walking away would have been wrong. She pulled herself together, then moved quickly across the open expanse of the backyard in case Theo happened to be looking outside. As she mounted the gargoyle-guarded steps, she had to remind herself that his days of terrorizing her were over.

  Jaycie stood just inside the open back door. She saw Annie looking at the purple hippopotamus poking incongruously from beneath one of her armpits and the pink teddy bear poking from the other. “They’re my daughter’s.”

  Livia was Jaycie’s daughter, then. Not Theo’s.

  “The crutches hurt my armpits,” Jaycie explained as she stepped back to let Annie into the mudroom. “Tying these on top for cushioning helps.”

  “And makes for interesting conversation.”

  Jaycie merely nodded, her gravity at odds with the stuffed animals.

  Despite what Jaycie had done for Annie that long-ago summer, they’d never been close. During Annie’s two brief visits to the island after her mother’s divorce, she’d sought Jaycie out, but her rescuer’s reserve had made the encounters awkward.

  Annie scuffed her boots on the mat just inside the door. “How did you hurt yourself?”

  “I slipped on the ice two weeks ago. Don’t bother with your boots,” she said as Annie bent down to pull them off. “The floor is so dirty, a little snow won’t make any difference.” She moved awkwardly from the mudroom into the kitchen.

  Annie took her boots off anyway, only to regret it as the chill from the stone floor seeped through her socks. She coughed and blew her nose. The kitchen was even darker than she remembered, right down to the soot on the fireplace. More pots had piled up in the sink since she’d been here two days earlier, the trash was overflowing, and the floor needed sweeping. The whole place made her uneasy.

  Livia had disappeared, and Jaycie collapsed into a straight-back wooden chair at the long table in the center of the kitchen. “I know everything is a mess,” she said, “but since my accident, it’s been hell trying to get my work done.”

  There was a tension about her that Annie didn’t remember, not just in her chewed fingernails, but also in her quick, nervous hand movements.

  “Your foot looks painful,” Annie said.

  “It couldn’t have come at a worse time. A lot of people seem to get around on crutches just fine, but obviously I’m not one of them.” She used her hands to lift her leg and prop her foot on the neighboring chair. “Theo didn’t want me here anyway, and now that things are falling apart . . .” She lifted her hands, then seemed to forget where they were going and dropped them back in her lap. “Have a seat. I’d offer to make coffee, but it’s too much work.”

  “I don’t need anything.” As Annie sat catty-corner to Jaycie, Livia came back into the kitchen, hugging a bedraggled pink-and-white-striped kitten. Her coat and shoes were gone, and her purple corduroy slacks were wet at the cuffs. Jaycie noticed but seemed resigned.

  Annie smiled at the child. “How old are you, Livia?”

  “Four.” Jaycie answered for her daughter. “Livia, the floor is cold. Get your slippers.”

  The child disappeared again, still without saying a word.

  Annie wanted to ask about Livia, but it felt like prying, so she asked about the kitchen instead. “What happened here? Everything has changed so much.”

  “Isn’t it awful? Elliott’s wife, Cynthia, is obsessed with everything British, even though she was born in North Dakota. She got it into her head to turn the place into a nineteenth-century manor house and somehow convinced Elliott to spend a fortune on the renovations, including this kitchen. All that money for something this ugly. And they weren’t even here last summer.”

  “It does seem crazy.” Annie propped her heels on the chair rung to get them off the stone floor.

  “My friend Lisa— You don’t know her. She was off island that summer. Lisa loves what Cynthia did, but then she doesn’t have to work here.” Jaycie gazed down at her bitten fingernails. “I was so excited when Lisa recommended me to Cynthia for the housekeeper’s job after Will left. Work’s impossible to find here in the winter.” The chair creaked as she tried to find a more comfortable position. “But now that I’ve broken my foot, Theo’s going to fire me.”

  Annie set her jaw. “Typical of Theo Harp to kick somebody when she’s helpless.”

  “He seems different now. I don’t know.” Her wistful expression reminded Annie of something she’d nearly forgotten—the way Jaycie had watched Theo that summer, as if he were her entire world. “I guess I hoped we’d see each other more. Talk or something.”

  So Jaycie still had feelings for him. Annie remembered being jealous of Jaycie’s soft blond prettiness, even though Theo hadn’t paid much attention to her. Annie tried to be tactful. “Maybe you should consider yourself lucky. Theo isn’t exactly a solid romantic prospect.”

  “I guess. He’s gotten kind of strange. Nobody comes here, and he hardly ever goes into town. He roams around the house all night, and during the day, he’s either out riding or up in the turret writing. That’s where he stays, not in the main house. Maybe all writers are strange. I go for days without seeing him.”

  “I was here two days ago, and I ran into him right away.”

  “You did? That must have been when Livia and I were sick, or I would have seen you. We slept most of the day.”

  Annie recalled the small face in the second-floor window. Maybe Jaycie had slept, but Livia had roamed. “Theo’s living in the turret where his grandmother used to stay?”

  Jaycie nodded and adjusted her foot on the chair. “It has its own kitchen. Before I broke my foot, I kept it stocked. Now I can’t maneuver the steps so I have to send everything up in the dumbwaiter.”

  Annie remembered that dumbwaiter all too well. Theo had stuffed her inside it one day and stuck her between the floors. She glanced at the round face of the old clock on the wall. How much longer before she could leave?

  Jaycie pulled a cell from her pocket—another high-tech smartphone—and set it on the table. “He texts me when he needs something, but since I broke my foot, I can’t do much. He didn’t want me here in the first place, but Cynthia insisted. Now I’ve given him an excuse to get rid of me.”

  Annie would have liked to say something hopeful, but Jaycie had to know enough about Theo to realize he’d do exactly what he wanted.

  Jaycie picked at a glittery My Little Pony sticker that had adhered to the rough-hewn servant’s table. “Livia is everything to me. All I have left.” She didn’t say it in a self-pitying way, more as a statement of fact. “If I lose this job, there aren’t any others.” She rose awkwardly from the table. “Sorry to dump on you. I spend too much time with only a four-year-old to talk to.”

  A four-year-old who didn’t seem to speak.

  Jaycie hobbled toward a very large, old-fashioned icebox. “I need to get dinner started.�€


  Annie rose. “Let me help.” Despite her fatigue, it would feel good to do something for someone else.

  “No, it’s okay.” She pulled at the latch on the icebox and opened the door, revealing the interior of a very modern refrigerator. She stared at the contents. “While I was growing up, all I wanted to do was get away. Then I married a lobsterman and got stuck here.”

  “Anybody I knew?”

  “He was older, so probably not. Ned Grayson. The best-looking man on the island. For a while, that made me forget about how much I hated it here.” She snatched a bowl covered in plastic wrap from the refrigerator. “He died last summer.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She gave a rueful laugh. “Don’t be. Turned out, he had a mean temper and big fists that he wasn’t afraid of using. Mainly on me.”

  “Oh, Jaycie . . .” Her air of vulnerability made it doubly obscene to imagine her being abused.

  Jaycie tucked the bowl under her free arm, wedging it tightly against her body. “It’s ironic. I thought my broken bones were behind me when he died.” She pushed the refrigerator door closed with her hip only to lose her balance at the last minute. Her crutches fell to the floor, along with the bowl. It shattered, sending glass and chili flying.

  “Shit!” Harsh, angry tears clouded her eyes. Chili splattered the stone floor, the cupboard, her jeans and sneakers. Shards of glass were everywhere.

  Annie rushed to her side. “Get cleaned up. I’ll take care of this.”

  Jaycie sagged against the icebox and stared at the mess. “I can’t depend on other people. I have to take care of myself.”

  “Not right now, you don’t.” Annie spoke as firmly as she could. “Tell me where I can find a bucket.”

  She stayed for the rest of the afternoon. No matter how tired she was, she wouldn’t leave Jaycie like this. She cleaned up the chili mess and managed the dishes in the sink, doing her best to muffle her cough when Jaycie was nearby. All the while, she kept an eye out for Theo Harp. Knowing he was so close unnerved her, but she wouldn’t let Jaycie see that. Before she left, she did something she’d never imagined. She fixed his dinner.

  She gazed into the bowl of doctored tomato soup, leftover hamburger, instant white rice, and frozen corn. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen any rat poison lying around,” she said as Jaycie hobbled across the kitchen. “Never mind. This meal is already disgusting enough.”

  “He won’t notice. He doesn’t care about food.”

  All he cared about was hurting people.

  She carried the dinner tray down the back hallway. As she placed it in the dumbwaiter, she remembered the terror of being trapped inside that tight enclosure. Everything had been pitch-black. She was squeezed into a ball, her knees squashed to her chest. Theo had been sentenced to spend two days in his room for that, and only Annie had noticed that Regan, his twin, had sneaked in to keep him company.

  Regan had been as sweet and shy as Theo was mean and selfish. But unless Regan was playing her oboe or writing poetry in her purple notebook, brother and sister had been inseparable. Annie suspected she and Regan would have become real friends if Theo hadn’t made sure that didn’t happen.

  Jaycie’s eyes filled when it came time for Annie to leave. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  Annie hid her fatigue. “You already did. Eighteen years ago.” She hesitated, knowing what she should do, not wanting to, but finally making the only choice she could live with. “I’ll come back tomorrow for a little bit to help out.”

  Jaycie’s eyes flew open. “You don’t have to do that!”

  “It’ll be good for me,” she lied. “Keep me from brooding.” A new thought came to her. “Does the house have WiFi?” When Jaycie nodded, she managed a smile. “Perfect. I’ll bring my laptop. You’ll be helping me. There’s some research I have to do.”

  Jaycie grabbed a tissue and pressed it to her eyes. “Thank you. It means a lot.”

  Jaycie disappeared to find Livia, and Annie went to get her coat. Despite her exhaustion, she was glad to have done something to help repay her old debt. She began to pull on her gloves, then hesitated. She couldn’t stop thinking about that dumbwaiter.

  Go on, Scamp whispered. You know you want to.

  Don’t you think that’s a little immature? Dilly replied.

  Definitely, Scamp said.

  Annie remembered her younger self, so desperate to make Theo like her. She crept through the kitchen. Moving as quietly as she could, she stepped into the back hallway and down the narrow passage to the end. She stared at the door of the dumbwaiter. Edgar Allan Poe had a monopoly on “Nevermore,” and “Rosebud” was hardly terrifying. “You will die in seven days” seemed too specific. But she’d watched a lot of television when she was sick, including Apocalypse Now . . .

  She opened the door of the dumbwaiter, lowered her head, and uttered, in a soft, creepy moan, “The horror . . .” The words uncoiled like a hissing snake. “The horrrror . . .”

  She got goose bumps.

  Sick! Scamp exclaimed in delight.

  Juvenile, but satisfying, Dilly said.

  Annie hurried back the way she’d come and let herself out. Staying in the shadows where she couldn’t be spotted from the turret, she made her way to the drive.

  Harp House finally had the ghost it deserved.

  Chapter Three

  ANNIE WOKE UP IN A slightly more positive frame of mind. The idea of driving Theo Harp gradually insane was so satisfyingly twisted that she couldn’t help but feel better. There was no way he could write those awful books without a powerful imagination, and what could be more well deserved than turning that imagination against him? She thought about what else she might be able to pull off and allowed herself a brief fantasy of Theo in a straitjacket, trapped behind asylum bars.

  With snakes slithering across the floor! Scamp added.

  You won’t get him that easily, Leo sneered.

  Annie hit a snag in her hair and tossed her comb aside. She pulled on jeans, a camisole, a long-sleeved gray T-shirt, and topped it all with a sweatshirt that had somehow survived her college days. As she left her bedroom for the living room, she took in what she’d done before she’d gone to bed last night. The small animal skulls Mariah had displayed in a bowl edged with barbed wire were now buried in the bottom of a trash bag. Her mother and Georgia O’Keeffe might find bones beautiful, but Annie didn’t, and if she had to spend two months here, she was going to feel at least marginally at home. Unfortunately, the cottage was so compact there was nowhere to stash the iridescent plaster mermaid chair. She’d tried to sit in it and been jabbed in the back with a pair of breasts.

  Two items she’d uncovered disturbed her—a copy of the Portland Press Herald dated exactly seven days earlier and a bag of freshly ground coffee in the kitchen. Someone had been here recently.

  She drank a cup of that same coffee and made herself eat a piece of jelly toast. She dreaded the thought of going back to Harp House, but at least she’d have WiFi access. She studied the painting of the inverted tree. Maybe by the end of the day she’d know who R. Connor was and whether his or her work had any value.

  She couldn’t put it off any longer. She stuffed her inventory notebook, her laptop, and some other things in her backpack, wrapped herself up, and began her reluctant journey to Harp House. As she crossed the eastern edge of the marsh, she eyed the wooden footbridge. Bypassing it made the trip longer, and she needed to stop avoiding it. She would. But not today.

  Annie had met Theo and Regan Harp two weeks after Mariah and Elliott had flown off to the Caribbean together and returned married. The twins were just coming up the cliff steps from the beach. Regan had appeared first, all golden tan legs and long, dark hair swinging around her pretty face. Then Annie had seen Theo. Even at sixteen, skinny, with a few breakouts on his forehead and a face not quite big enough to carry his nose, he’d been arresting, aloof, and she was instantly captivated. He, however, had regarded her with undisguised bore
dom.

  Annie desperately wanted them to like her, but she was intimidated by their self-confidence, and that made her tongue-tied in their presence. While Regan was easy and sweet, Theo was rude and cutting. Elliott tended to indulge them both in an attempt to make up for their mother’s desertion when they were five, but he insisted they include Annie in their activities. Theo begrudgingly invited her to go out with them on their sailboat. But when Annie arrived at the dock that jutted between Harp House and Moonraker Cottage, Theo, Regan, and Jaycie had already set off without her. The next day she’d shown up an hour earlier only to have them not appear at all.

  One afternoon Theo told Annie she should go see an old lobster boat wreck not far down the shoreline. Annie discovered too late that the wreck had become a nesting spot for the island’s gulls. They’d dive-bombed her, batting her with their wings, and one had struck her on the head in a scene straight out of Hitchcock’s The Birds. Annie had been wary of birds ever since.

  The litany of his misdeeds had been unending: dead fish in her bed, rough play in the swimming pool, abandoning her in the dark on the beach one night. Annie shook off the memories. Fortunately, she’d never be fifteen again.

  She began to cough, and as she stopped to catch her breath, she realized it was her first coughing spasm of the morning. Maybe she was finally getting better. She imagined herself sitting at a warm desk in a warm office, a warm computer in front of her, as she worked away at a job that would bore her to tears but would bring a steady paycheck.

  But what about us? Crumpet whined.

  Annie needs a real job, sensible Dilly said. She can’t be a vent forever.

  Scamp piped up with her own words of advice. You should have made porn puppets. You could have charged a lot more for the shows.

  The porn puppets were an idea Annie had entertained when she was running the worst of her fever.

  She finally reached the top of the cliff. As she passed the stable, she heard a horse whinny. She quickly cut into the trees just in time to see Theo emerge through the stable doors. Annie was cold even in her down coat, but he wore only a charcoal sweater, jeans, and riding boots.