A Forever Home Read online

  “Smells great,” he said.

  She glanced at him. “Oh, Rick, good morning. I’m making carnitas, a southwestern pulled pork. You can try it later, at dinner.”

  “I’ll be looking forward to that.”

  Actually, he was looking forward to any meals he could catch here. He wasn’t a very good cook himself. And eating in a mess hall had never been much of a treat. So he was grateful for Phillips’s invitation to catch lunch and dinner with the other full-time employees on weekdays. On Saturday and Sunday, the cook only made brunch and only when there were guests.

  “It’s pretty quiet here at this end of town,” he said. “Not much action.”

  “Well, no, not now. There will be shortly. We have two guests arriving tomorrow. More on the weekend. We won’t be full seven days a week until mid-June, when school lets out. After that, all eight guest rooms are booked solid for most of the summer.”

  Rick waited a beat, then said, “I thought I heard something last night.” If someone had been out in the garden as the fresh footprints indicated, the person must have made some kind of noise. Unfortunately, Rick hadn’t heard anything because he’d been too far away, sound asleep in the coach house.

  “Heard something?” Kelly repeated. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. But it woke me.” A small fabrication.

  “Maybe you had a bad dream.”

  “I would have remembered. Well, usually I do.” He waited another beat. “So you didn’t hear anything?”

  Phillips had told him that the cook, housekeeper and concierge all lived in the mansion.

  “No. And I’m a light sleeper.” She went back to stirring her carnitas. “Nothing last night.”

  “Another night, then?”

  Keeping her back to him, she shrugged. “Old houses have strange noises sometimes. Is there something else you need?”

  Rick wanted to ask her more, but he got the idea she wasn’t about to elaborate. At least not yet.

  “Actually, I came in to see Cora.”

  “She said she wanted to do some reorganizing in the library.”

  “Thanks. See you when it’s chow time.”

  He left the kitchen via a hallway that took him to the rotunda. The large, round multistory room in the middle of the building separated the two wings. An original mural of the heavens covered the domed ceiling and extended to the upper walls, where a balcony ran full circle, allowing guests to admire artwork on the walls or look down to view the activity on the first floor. The lower walls were enhanced with a rich wood wainscoting, and a carpeted stairway with hand-carved railings led to the second floor.

  The rotunda did double duty as the check-in area for guests and as the concierge office. Behind the antique mahogany desk hung a large portrait of a thin, wiry man with wild red hair that stuck straight up. The man stood next to an elaborate seven-branched silver candelabra complete with glowing flames.

  Red Flanagan himself, Rick assumed. Odd that Phillips would showcase a portrait of a mobster. Then again, that a mobster once owned the estate might be part of its appeal to visitors and the reason they called it Flanagan Manor rather than Phillips Manor.

  At the moment, the cavernous room was empty, so he sailed right through. Phillips had given him a set of plans of the mansion, so Rick knew that the kitchen, dining room, drawing room and music room sat below two floors of guest rooms with baths, and the library, main entrance and conservatory sat below the owner’s private quarters. The Phillips family had a drawing room and huge master suite on the second floor and four more bedrooms with individual baths on the third.

  Entering the library, he saw Cora Stanton on a rolling ladder, straightening some books on a high shelf. Sections of every wall were lined with shelving from floor to ceiling, all filled with books. He cleared his throat to get her attention. She glanced back and saw him.

  “Ah, Rick, there you are. I wanted to talk to you.”

  “Good. Then we’re on the same wavelength.” When she arched her eyebrows in question, he said, “That’s why I’m here.”

  She immediately descended the ladder.

  As Flanagan Manor’s housekeeper, Cora was, in effect, in charge of the estate. All employees answered to her. An attractive older woman of around seventy, she wore dark trousers and a lace-trimmed white blouse. Her silver hair was cut in a short, modern style, and designer glasses hung from the chain around her neck.

  “Benjamin told me why he hired you, of course, and I must say I’m relieved. I admit that I’ve been a bit spooked by some of the things happening in or around the house lately, and I hope you’ll get to the bottom of whatever is going on. I’m at my wit’s end worrying.”

  “Phillips gave me the short explanation, but I need to know more from someone who is actually living on the property full-time.”

  “Let’s sit, shall we?”

  She indicated the upholstered sofa and leather chairs before the massive ceramic-faced fireplace with an equally massive wood surround and mantel, where a small fire had taken the chill of the spring morning from the room.

  They took the two chairs, so they were facing each other.

  Concern furrowed Cora’s brow. “I’ve run this estate for more than thirty years, and I’ve never had to worry until recently. I don’t feel safe anymore, what with the noises and sightings and attempted break-ins.” She shivered.

  “What kind of noises?”

  “Thumping in the walls. Supposedly there were secret passageways and tunnels at one time and I’m wondering if somehow something or someone got into one of them.”

  Rick started. Secret passageways. Underground. That was something Phillips hadn’t told him about. A shudder ran through him, but he covered quickly.

  “I have blueprints of the house, but I didn’t see any note of hidden access,” he said.

  “Well, no, there wouldn’t be, not on the original plans. When Red Flanagan bought the estate, he had the passageways and tunnels and perhaps a secret room or two built into or under the house to support his illegal business. Then the Feds took over. It’s said they walled off the entrances to the house itself before they sold the property. You know, to discourage any more illegal activity. That was nearly eighty years and two additional owners ago.”

  “Where were the entrances to these supposed tunnels?”

  She shrugged. “I have no idea. I never even had reason to think about them until the past few weeks.”

  Rick remained silent for a moment. Secret tunnels...secret stash? Was that what the intruder was looking for? Something the person thought Red left behind and the Feds hadn’t found? Made sense.

  “So start from the beginning,” he said. “When did you first suspect someone was up to no good?”

  “About five weeks ago. I woke in the middle of the night because I thought I had heard a noise. I looked out at the lake through my bedroom window and movement nearby caught my eye. A dark, shadowy figure. Someone was on the property, but the gates were locked. The person either climbed the fence or came via the lake itself.”

  “You’re sure it wasn’t an employee or guest?”

  “It was April and the middle of the week. We have very few guests at that time, and none that night. Day employees—maids, mostly—don’t have keys. So the only ones legally on the property were the cook and concierge, and both Kelly and Gina said they were sound asleep.”

  She went on to tell him about other incidents, a few Phillips had already related. It was sounding more and more like the intruder was searching for something specific.

  “Has there been any kind of property damage?”

  “Not with the first few incidents, which is why I wasn’t too alarmed. But then a couple of weeks ago, I heard breaking glass.” She sighed. “Fortunately I am a light sleeper. Or just an old woman—they say people
my age tend to wake up more easily in the night.”

  “You’re not old,” he reassured her.

  She shrugged.

  He went on, “So you investigated?”

  “Not then. I was alone. So not until morning.”

  “Well, you’re not alone anymore.” Rick handed her his card. “My cell number is there. Program it in to yours. Should you hear or see anything suspicious at any time, call me immediately.”

  She took the card and slipped it into a pocket. “I will sleep better knowing that you are around and that I can call on you.”

  “Good.” Rick got to his feet. “If you think of anything else—anything at all that might help—let me know.”

  Leaving the library, Rick figured this was going to be a piece of cake compared with some of his experiences in a special operations intelligence team. He was going to have to install several security cameras not only around the mansion but also in several other places. The coach house for one. The old boathouse, too, just in case an intruder decided to come in by the lake. Tracking back the way he’d come through the rotunda, he saw that Gina Luca, dressed in a black pencil skirt and a bright red blouse, was standing next to her desk.

  “Rick, it’s so good to see you again. How are you getting along so far?”

  “I’m doing fine with a little guidance,” he said, thinking of his encounter with the college girl.

  Gina’s lips curved in an inviting smile. “I’d be happy to help you with whatever you need.”

  With jet black hair that trailed her shoulders, dark brown eyes and a body that would make most men take a second look, Gina was a little too high end for Rick’s taste. He preferred his women earthy and a little feisty.

  Now he was thinking of Heather on the grass pinned under him, his hand to her throat, ordering him to get off...

  He really hadn’t meant to go on the attack like that. His training had kicked in at the most inappropriate time.

  He nodded at Gina. “I’ll let you know when I need something.”

  Like information that would help him break the case.

  * * *

  FOR NEARLY AN hour Heather helped Tyrone and Amber clear the persistent, invading grass from the beach area.

  “Wait till my younger sisters and brothers hear where I get to work,” Tyrone said, looking out to the lake, blue-green today, waves swelling and rushing in to shore with a lick of foam.

  “How many siblings do you have?” Amber asked as she dumped another plant into the wheelbarrow.

  “Three of each.”

  Heather started. “Seven kids?” She had her hands full with two. “Your poor mother.”

  “Me and my seventeen-year-old sister, Chantel, help her take care of the younger ones.”

  “You?” Amber said, sounding disbelieving.

  “Hey, I like kids, especially after they get past that crazy stage.”

  “When is that?” Whenever it was, Heather wasn’t looking forward to it.

  “Actually, there’s two crazy stages,” Tyrone said with authority. “Everyone knows about the terrible twos. But it’s the psycho sixes that get to me. That’s when they become jugheads, think they know everything and get into trouble. Darnell decided to investigate a boarded-up house for ghosts and ended up with a broken arm. And LaVonda tangled with a hornets’ nest. Man, was she ever a mess. I’m glad we’re on our last six-year-old. That would be Vaughn.”

  Heather could hear the affection in Tyrone’s voice when he talked about his younger siblings and thought it was both sweet and unexpected.

  “So what about you?” he asked Amber.

  “Two older brothers. Big lugs. Always trying to take care of me whether I want them to or not.”

  “That’s what big brothers are supposed to do,” Tyrone said, then turned his attention to Heather. “Your turn, boss.”

  “Younger brother, older sister. And I have twin six-year-old girls.”

  “Twins!” Tyrone puffed himself up and swaggered a little. “You need advice on how to handle them little girls, you can come to me.”

  Heather laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind next time they make me want to scream.”

  They all laughed together, a good sound. Heather decided that, despite the shaky start, they would make a compatible team.

  Noting they were almost finished with this section, she stepped back. “I’m going to get the sod cutter from the coach house so we can start clearing our rain garden areas next.”

  Tyrone saluted her. “By the time you get the equipment, we’ll be ready to go.”

  “If you see The Terminator,” Amber added, “say hi for us.”

  The Terminator. Right. Not having heard the lawnmower for quite some time now, Heather found herself looking to see what he was up to. And then she remembered being pinned under that big, muscular body. Heat crept up the back of her neck. Rick Slater, she told herself. His name was Rick Slater. Thinking of him as The Terminator was bound to get her in trouble.

  She headed for the coach house, a miniature version of the mansion. Same gray stone, same windows, same small details. Her team had put most of their equipment in a storage room with plenty of shelving. But the sod cutter was bulky and weighed more than three hundred pounds, so they’d left it near the lawnmower and other large equipment. Of course, The Termin...Rick...had removed the mower earlier.

  So when she turned on the light and approached the sod cutter, she noticed it was sitting at an odd angle. The first thing she thought was that Rick must have whacked it getting the lawnmower out of the coach house. She tried straightening it so she could turn it on and back it out but had no success. It was definitely wonky. A closer look showed her the rear pivot wheel was out of alignment.

  How had the sod cutter been damaged?

  Heather tried not to panic, but the breath caught in her throat as she realized the implications. She was in charge of this contract, which meant she was in charge of the equipment. Any damage was her responsibility.

  If the sod cutter was inoperable...how bad was it? Her hand shook as she pressed it to her chest. Oh, please, I hope I don’t have to replace it.

  “Hey, what’s going on? Is something wrong?”

  She whipped around to find Rick coming into the coach house. She could see that he’d left the lawnmower directly outside. He was still wearing his sunglasses, so she couldn’t read his expression.

  “Yes, unfortunately there is. The sod cutter wasn’t like this when we delivered it last Friday.”

  “Like what?”

  “Broken.”

  “And you haven’t used it yet?”

  “No. It’s the pivot...” She indicated the damaged wheel. “You didn’t bang into it or anything when you moved the lawnmower, did you?”

  “Hey, I didn’t touch it, honest.” He crouched down to inspect the damage. “It looks like it can be fixed.”

  “I sure hope so. A new sod cutter would cost thousands of dollars. I don’t know how I would pay for it. I don’t even know how I can pay for the repair.”

  She was still managing website orders for Sew Fine, mostly at home, but she might have to arrange more hours at the store to make extra money.

  Rick straightened. “Hey, it’s going to be all right. Calm down.”

  “I-I’m sorry.” Now that he was closer, she could see the part of his face not hidden by the sunglasses. He appeared concerned. “I’m a little strapped for cash lately, and I’m a single mother, so I have to worry about how I’m going to feed my kids.” Though she didn’t want to rely on anyone else, her family would come through for her if she ran into a financial problem. She took a deep, calming breath. It would all work out somehow.

  “You have kids?” He sounded a little surprised. “Plural?”

  She nodded. “Two. Twin girls.
Addison and Taylor. They were six last month.”

  “Six-year-olds?” Now he sounded amazed. “How old are you?”

  Remembering he’d called her that community college girl, she asked, “How old did you think I was?”

  “I don’t know. Nineteen. Maybe twenty.”

  She smiled despite herself. “Thanks, but I’ll be twenty-five in a few months.”

  “You could have fooled me. You did fool me.” He reached out and gently touched her shoulder. “I can see why you’re worried with kids and all. But relax already. Your company must have insurance on its equipment.”

  “I—I guess.” Appreciative of his sympathy, she said, “I hate even telling them something’s gone wrong on the first day. I was hoping this would turn into a full-time job after we finished this project.”

  “Maybe you won’t have to tell them anything,” Rick said. “I probably can fix the wheel.”

  Thinking of the way he’d wrestled with the lawnmower, she asked, “Seriously?”

  “Just because I don’t know my way around a lawn doesn’t mean I don’t have other talents. I used to take cars apart and put them back together for fun. Yes, seriously, leave this to me. I’ll take care of it.”

  Starting to like Rick more than she thought she would, Heather let out a relieved sigh. “If you can do that, I’ll...well, you deserve some kind of reward. I’ll owe you.”

  His mouth curved slightly in a ghost of a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  She blinked at him and swallowed hard. “Um, when do you think you might be able to get around to fixing it?”

  “I have a couple of things to take care of first that won’t take long. If I don’t need to order a new part, I should have it to you early this afternoon.”

  “Thank you!” She could hardly believe he was being so great to her after her negative thoughts about him. “I guess I’d better tell my crew our plans have changed. We need to build a composter anyway, so we can recycle the sod we remove. We’ll start on that.”

  Luckily, she’d had her workers bring the materials to create a couple of large composter holding units—wood and galvanized chicken wire. Not pretty, the composters would be built at the far end of the property and hidden by native grasses that would reach six feet high by midsummer.