hope you're not in for a rude awakening," he said.
She became wary. "Is that some kind of threat?"
"No, ma'am. Just an observation that things don't always go as smoothly as we'd like. That's all."
At the house, she exited the vehicle and headed up the steps to the veranda.
"I'll let you know when the lease is ready for you to sign," Luc called out to her.
Trying to ignore the wave of foreboding that chilled her, Callie entered the house without acknowledging his promise. It didn’t help that she heard the footsteps again that night. This time, she left the light off and slipped outside as quietly as she could. A shadow darkened the corner of the house for a moment and then disappeared. Her bare feet made no sound as she moved across the veranda and peeked into the darkness. A brief shuffling sound came from the bushes before silence returned. She pressed against the side of the house and waited, but heard nothing more. Finally, she went back into the house.
“I wasn’t reading this time,” she murmured. “And I didn’t imagine that....” The shadow had suggested a two-legged kind of critter, which did nothing to ease her mind.
* * *
Whoever had made the nocturnal visits stayed away and Callie had forgotten the feeling of dread, if not Luc’s warning, by the time several days had passed and work had begun. The Mansion stood imprisoned in a cage of metal scaffolding. Workmen on platforms of wood planks passed materials to others on the roof. Down in the cellar, a team worked to repair the underpinnings of the sagging first floor.
After years of functioning as the hub around which everyone in her graphics design company had rotated, Callie felt superfluous. Worse than that, once they'd gotten her okay on each stage of the restoration, Nick Forrest and J.D. would control the project. She could do nothing more than stand by and watch.
"You just don't know what to do when you have no one to boss around," she muttered with a shrug. She'd be busy enough when the inside was ready for The Crew to take over. And sometime soon, she would have to start designing the publicity campaign that would draw artists and crafts people to the inn. But not today.
"Maybe I'll explore some more."
Leaving behind the racket of buzzing saws, banging hammers and the rhythmic pounding of power-driven nail guns, she headed for the ruins and the entrance to the Golden Eye mine. By taking the path that led off to the left of the central staging area, she hoped to go deeper this time.
She seemed to be moving south but couldn’t say how she knew that or if she was correct. A set of narrow gauge tracks pointed the way down a gradual incline.
"Wonder what these were used for?" she asked aloud. Soft as her tone had been, her words echoed in the silence.
Her flashlight showed rough-hewn walls like those in the original tunnel. The walk felt unending. Callie toyed with the idea of turning back, but there seemed to be sufficient, if musty, air to breath, fewer cobwebs and nothing threatening in her way. Curiosity led her on until she finally came to a wooden door secured with a heavy metal lock.
A small handcar waited at tracks' end. Not that she'd ever seen one in person before, but she recognized the rusted, dust-and-cobweb covered object as being a smaller version of others she'd seen in old movies. Whether it worked was another matter.
At the door, she yanked the padlock several times. Though old, it held firm. The hinges also looked solid. The only breach came in the form of a small chink between the vertical slats in the center of the door. Shining the light through the narrow crack revealed only darkness on the other side.
"Well that was a big dead end."
Hardly expecting the beam would disclose anything of interest, she pointed her flashlight at the walls and ceiling. Something just to the right of the door caught the light with a dull gleam. An old key hung on a hook protruding from the door frame. She chortled with
She became wary. "Is that some kind of threat?"
"No, ma'am. Just an observation that things don't always go as smoothly as we'd like. That's all."
At the house, she exited the vehicle and headed up the steps to the veranda.
"I'll let you know when the lease is ready for you to sign," Luc called out to her.
Trying to ignore the wave of foreboding that chilled her, Callie entered the house without acknowledging his promise. It didn’t help that she heard the footsteps again that night. This time, she left the light off and slipped outside as quietly as she could. A shadow darkened the corner of the house for a moment and then disappeared. Her bare feet made no sound as she moved across the veranda and peeked into the darkness. A brief shuffling sound came from the bushes before silence returned. She pressed against the side of the house and waited, but heard nothing more. Finally, she went back into the house.
“I wasn’t reading this time,” she murmured. “And I didn’t imagine that....” The shadow had suggested a two-legged kind of critter, which did nothing to ease her mind.
* * *
Whoever had made the nocturnal visits stayed away and Callie had forgotten the feeling of dread, if not Luc’s warning, by the time several days had passed and work had begun. The Mansion stood imprisoned in a cage of metal scaffolding. Workmen on platforms of wood planks passed materials to others on the roof. Down in the cellar, a team worked to repair the underpinnings of the sagging first floor.
After years of functioning as the hub around which everyone in her graphics design company had rotated, Callie felt superfluous. Worse than that, once they'd gotten her okay on each stage of the restoration, Nick Forrest and J.D. would control the project. She could do nothing more than stand by and watch.
"You just don't know what to do when you have no one to boss around," she muttered with a shrug. She'd be busy enough when the inside was ready for The Crew to take over. And sometime soon, she would have to start designing the publicity campaign that would draw artists and crafts people to the inn. But not today.
"Maybe I'll explore some more."
Leaving behind the racket of buzzing saws, banging hammers and the rhythmic pounding of power-driven nail guns, she headed for the ruins and the entrance to the Golden Eye mine. By taking the path that led off to the left of the central staging area, she hoped to go deeper this time.
She seemed to be moving south but couldn’t say how she knew that or if she was correct. A set of narrow gauge tracks pointed the way down a gradual incline.
"Wonder what these were used for?" she asked aloud. Soft as her tone had been, her words echoed in the silence.
Her flashlight showed rough-hewn walls like those in the original tunnel. The walk felt unending. Callie toyed with the idea of turning back, but there seemed to be sufficient, if musty, air to breath, fewer cobwebs and nothing threatening in her way. Curiosity led her on until she finally came to a wooden door secured with a heavy metal lock.
A small handcar waited at tracks' end. Not that she'd ever seen one in person before, but she recognized the rusted, dust-and-cobweb covered object as being a smaller version of others she'd seen in old movies. Whether it worked was another matter.
At the door, she yanked the padlock several times. Though old, it held firm. The hinges also looked solid. The only breach came in the form of a small chink between the vertical slats in the center of the door. Shining the light through the narrow crack revealed only darkness on the other side.
"Well that was a big dead end."
Hardly expecting the beam would disclose anything of interest, she pointed her flashlight at the walls and ceiling. Something just to the right of the door caught the light with a dull gleam. An old key hung on a hook protruding from the door frame. She chortled with
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