скачать книгу бесплатно
Having borrowed the portable fire pit from the deck, she’d set it on its pad a dozen feet from the lodge. She layered the bottom with wood and covered it with the stones they’d gathered before starting the fire. They really should be volcanic rock, but she didn’t know where to get those, so fieldstone would have to do. While she filled a bucket with water and set it inside, Kiki dug a hole in the ground under the dome. Then they used shovels to move the hot rocks into the hole.
“That’s it. We’re ready.” Feeling a sense of accomplishment, Angela crawled inside, careful not to get too close to the heat.
Following suit, Kiki turned on a battery-operated light and lowered the flap.
“Ready?” Angela asked.
“I am if you are.”
Angela lifted the bucket and poured water onto the hot stones, filling the dome with steam. Wow, it really did get hot in there fast! She was already beginning to sweat. Then it was time to start the ceremony that would bring them closer together, as Native American tradition dictated. She’d researched sweat lodges. They weren’t going to strip off their clothes, but they’d worn tank tops under their shirts and bicycle shorts to help with perspiration. Kiki was already taking off her black cotton blouse.
On to the ceremony. According to the sources Angela had found on the internet, they were supposed to conduct a “talking circle.”
“Kiki, you start. Speak from your heart about your life and concerns.”
“What life? You know what I have to deal with. I guess that’s my concern, too.”
Angela knew that Kiki had drawn the short straw when it came to family, but somehow she’d held up under the negativity and was a good-hearted person anyway. And a really good friend.
“Isn’t there anyone out there for you?” she asked. “An aunt or an uncle? A cousin?”
“A grandmother. Somewhere.”
“You never told me that before!”
Kiki shrugged. “Why would I? It’s not like I know her. The last time I saw her I was seven. We were living in Chicago at the time. She and my mom had a big fight, and Mom told her she was leaving town and Grandma would never see either of us again.”
“Sorry. I didn’t know that.” And that meant Kiki’s grandmother didn’t have any idea her granddaughter was in trouble and needed her. “What’s her name?”
“Elizabeth Hartl. Why?”
“Maybe we could find her.”
“Why bother? She won’t want me around. No one does.”
Angela was sure Kiki’s foster mother had convinced her of that. “Well I want you around.” There had to be a way to find Kiki’s grandmother. Surely the woman wouldn’t want her granddaughter in some terrible foster home. Wanting to get her friend’s spirits up, she said, “Why don’t you speak about your dreams. Or anything that comes to you that puts a smile in your heart. What would make you really happy?”
“Okay... I wish... I wish I had a father like yours.”
“Like mine?” Angela choked out. Still angry with Dad, she was aghast. “But he’s always ordering me around!”
“Because he wants the best for you. He takes good care of you. You have a great bedroom and an art room, too.” Kiki’s voice rose to a squeak. “The only nice thing I have is my tattoo.”
“It really is beautiful,” Angela said, thinking of the roses tattooed on her friend’s hip. Despite being underage, Kiki had found someone to ink her.
“Most of all,” Kiki went on, “your dad’s here with you. And he loves you.”
“I’m sure your mom loves you. Your real mom, I mean.”
“A lot of good that does me with Mom locked up.”
“But she’ll get out. You’ll see her again in less than a year.”
“I hope so, but I don’t know,” Kiki said, sounding forlorn. “Sometimes I think it’ll never happen. I’ll never see her again.”
Angela could really identify with Kiki on that one. Both girls were silent for a moment.
Then Kiki asked, “What do you wish for?”
Angela took a deep breath. “Pretty much the same as you. I wish I had a mother who cared about me instead of running away from me all my life.” Her chest tightened and her stomach started to ache as she thought about it. “Even now, she can’t come to see me.”
“Are you certain your dad didn’t make it impossible for her?”
“Pretty certain.” After the talk they’d had the night before. Maybe Dad wasn’t to blame for her mother leaving her as she’d always believed. “So that means she just doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
“Well...if it’s true. Your mom being back could just be a rumor.”
“You’re right. Ever since I heard Gran Maddie’s neighbor talk about ‘that Lily Trejo having the nerve to show her face on the rez again,’ I’ve been asking around. No one will admit to actually having seen my mother except for old Jasper, who sits outside the municipal building most days, and he’s not the most reliable person.”
“Do you think he lied when he said he saw your mom on Green Meadows property?”
“No, not lied. But Jasper has his good days, and other times...” She shrugged. Something in her wanted to believe...
The real reason she’d painted the mural had been to send a message to her absentee mother, assuming she really was back and had gone to Green Meadows.
Another purpose for the lodge: she could come out here to simply think about the mother she’d never met and without interference figure out what to do next to try to find her.
* * *
MONDAY MORNING WAS BUSY, as usual, but after showing a potential buyer to the office door, Grace glanced out the windows just as Caleb Blackthorne entered The Busy Corner across the street. He looked every bit the confident male in his jeans and leather jacket and boots. His long hair was tied back with what appeared to be a strip of leather. A little breathless, she had to fight the urge to leave the office and visit the restaurant for some take-out coffee as she often did. Instead, she decided to make a fresh pot.
“Oh, I didn’t see the pot was empty,” Carol said as Grace carried it to the restroom to get water. “I can do that. You have more important things to take care of.”
“No problem, Carol.” Grace raised her voice over the already running water. “I needed an excuse to stretch my legs anyway.”
An excuse to get away from more important things—that wretched paperwork that was waiting for her on her office desk. She would love, for example, to give Caleb that grand tour of Green Meadows she’d promised him. Hmm...
Setting up the coffee took only a few minutes. Carol was now on the phone with one of their suppliers. As she thought about the possibility of that tour to get her away from the office, Grace couldn’t resist the temptation to walk back to the windows. She was staring at The Busy Corner as if she could conjure Caleb Blackthorne again, when an old minibus rattled up and parked in front of the restaurant. Out stepped the odd-looking driver, who appeared to be wearing a costume of sorts. Short and chubby with a Van Dyke beard, he sported a bowler hat and a frock coat that had seen better days.
As he walked around the vehicle to let passengers out of the back, she noted the cartoon-like ghost painted on the side of the bus along with Spooky Tours... Hosted by Vincent Pryce.
What in the world...?
And then it hit her—this was a ghost tour operation. And it had come here, no doubt, because of the rumors at Green Meadows!
The odd little man was guiding a dozen people inside The Busy Corner.
“The coffee is ready.”
Carol’s voice jerked Grace around. “What?”
“Your coffee.” The receptionist indicated the coffeemaker.
“Right. Thanks.” She glanced back through the window as the man followed his customers inside. What in the world was he telling them about the development? And with all those people in the restaurant—potential residents—within hearing distance. “I think I need something to go with the coffee. If anyone asks for me, I’ll be back in...well, a while.”
Grace left the office and raced across the street. She opened The Busy Corner door. All the passengers on the tour had taken seats around tables, and a busboy was distributing menus and water. Grace glanced past them to the far wall where Caleb sat alone enjoying a piece of apple pie. She wanted to wave at him, but he didn’t seem to notice her. Or anyone for that matter. He was too busy reading his newspaper.
One of the people from the minibus said, “What I heard happened on that farm is even better than the Milwaukee beer baron story. C’mon, Vincent, don’t make us wait any longer. Tell us about the farmhouse murder!”
Grace clenched her jaw so she wouldn’t interrupt. She wanted to hear what this guy had to say, as well. Her father had told her there had been a murder on the Green Meadows property, but he hadn’t had the details.
The tour leader—Vincent, apparently—stood in the center of the room, bowler hat still firmly in place as he puffed out his chest and cleared his throat. “Right after the First World War, that farm was owned by a mean old couple with a crazy grown son. Really weird folks, the Whitmans, who made their neighbors uncomfortable, made friends with no one. They were farmers who should have had responsibility to their animals, but they got up whenever they wanted and made the cows wait to be milked.”
“Was that bad?” asked another member of the group.
Vincent said, “Yes, it was bad. They should have been milked at sunrise. Those poor cows suffered. And then they didn’t milk the cows again until after dark. The neighbors were horrified when they saw the lanterns lighting up the old barn late at night. Horrified, too, when the crazy son who served in World War I marched around the property carrying a shotgun and looking for Germans.”
“Plenty of Germans in these parts,” a local woman said. “Did he ever shoot anyone?”
“He did. One of their cows who wandered away from the herd. Shot it in the head and killed it dead.”
Several gasps made Grace realize everyone in the restaurant other than Caleb was captivated by the story. Finally looking up and spotting her, he shot both eyebrows up high and shook his head.
“What happened then?” came another question.
“Son got taken away to an asylum, where he stayed for the rest of his life.”
“That’s it?” a man groused. “A cow was murdered?”
People grumbled as if disappointed.
“No, no, that was just the beginning,” Vincent went on, embellishing. “Then the rumors started about a cow with blazing red eyes appearing. Soon after, the couple was found dead. Old Whitman sprawled across the kitchen floor, his head smashed in...blood on a rolling pin in the sink.”
“What about the woman?”
“Found facedown outside as if she’d been running from something fearsome and had a heart attack. Rumor had it the murdered cow’s ghost was possessed, and no one wanted to go near the property because it haunted the fields.”
“Oh, come on!” Appalled, Grace moved toward the tour guide. “Where did you get that information? What proof do you have that anything you said is true?”
Vincent puffed himself up but still had to tilt his head to look her in the eye. “Are you a ghost hunter?” he demanded.
As if his calling himself a ghost hunter gave him unique qualifications, Grace thought. “No. Green Meadows is my community, and I don’t appreciate your tall tales meant to scare people or make them uncomfortable.”
“I’m not doing anything illegal. And just because you don’t believe in ghosts doesn’t mean the story isn’t true.”
“A ghost cow?” she asked.
“With blazing red eyes. And it still wanders the area, sometimes on deserted country roads...”
Grace had had enough. She started to open her mouth again.
“Oh, come on, lady,” one of the group interrupted. “Don’t spoil our fun!”
Fun? Could this man really just make up a bunch of lies and people would pay to hear them? Distraught, she looked around and noted irritated expressions on several faces. Obviously these tourists were getting what they wanted and didn’t appreciate her interference.
“Fine,” she muttered.
Paying no attention to her, the tour leader started explaining how the cow chasing old Mrs. Whitman was reenacted on the Green Meadows property whenever there was moonlight.
Disgusted, Grace turned to leave and nearly ran into Caleb, who had his bill and some cash in hand.
“Don’t let him get to you,” he said softly as they reached the cashier and he set down his money, then went on without waiting for change. “It’s ridiculous, but it isn’t meant to hurt anyone.”
“Plus it brings in business,” added the cashier, nodding to the group, most of whom seemed to be ordering sandwiches or full meals.
“Come on.” Caleb held the door open for Grace.
Once outside, she said, “But what if it hurts the new community? People can be superstitious. If they believe him, they might not want to go anywhere near Green Meadows.”
“Yes, levelheaded people around here are going to believe there’s a ghost cow with blazing red eyes roaming the property.” His tone was serious but laugh lines crinkled around his eyes.
Despite her irritation with the tour leader, Caleb made her laugh. “Okay, okay.”
“If I know people around here, they’ll be snorting over that guy’s story for days to come. Until someone else comes up with a more outrageous tale.”
“Hopefully Green Meadows is safe then.” The idea of going back to her paperwork made Grace desperate enough to ask Caleb, “Have you thought about taking that tour of the green community with me?”
“You were serious?”
“I was.”
“Then I would love it. Are you busy now?”
Thinking about the paperwork waiting for her in the office, she said, “Now would be a perfect time.”
* * *
SINCE CALEB LIVED so close to the development, it made sense for them to drive separately and meet at the community center. Arriving at Green Meadows before Grace, he took a good look at the wall his daughter had defaced a few days ago. Already painted over. Part of him regretted Angela’s work being destroyed, especially since it had such emotional significance to her. What she had done was wrong, but maybe it was his fault. In the past, he’d avoided discussing Lily with his daughter. He’d had no idea that she’d thought he had somehow taken her mother away from her, the antithesis of the truth. When he’d fallen in love with Lily, he’d been young and naive and had thought they would be together forever.
“How is Angela doing?”
Caleb started. He’d been so deep in thought he hadn’t heard Grace’s car pull up. He turned to face her. The breeze caught her dark hair, creating a lovely cloud around her face. “She’s coping, I guess. She’s still avoiding me as much as she can.”
Grace nodded in what seemed like understanding. “Let’s walk this way.”
She indicated the sidewalk that would take them past one of the condo buildings, plus several duplexes. Caleb was glad to note that all the buildings sat on large pieces of land and backed onto a forested area. So while people did have neighbors, they also had enough room for gardens and outdoor activities and a wonderful backyard view of something other than more buildings. The solar panels that heated and cooled the dwellings were cleverly inserted into the roofs.
He asked, “How big is the development?”
