Chapter Three

It wasn’t noon, but the lingering thunderstorm darkened the sky. Gray light filtered through the skylights Nate had had installed when replacing the old roof. After a long dry summer, this was the first heavy rain and he wanted to check for leaks. Or so he told himself. He wasn’t retreating to the attic to avoid Liz’s nagging about needing rest.

His arm throbbed when he paced across the wide floor. The attic stretched the entire length of the inn. A row of bare bulbs hung from the rafters. He squinted in the bright light when he flicked on the switch. The furniture he was using had needed refinishing or reupholstering. Sheets hadn’t kept them from damage, only from dust.

Most of the attic’s remaining contents were pushed under the eaves, out of the way of the workmen. Trunks, dressers, bed-frames, tables, kitchen chairs, upholstered chairs, and too many end tables to count were piled carelessly. After inheriting, he’d gone through the furniture and sorted out anything usable. Bertha’s family members were packrats. There were more than a hundred years of antiques covered with sheets when he’d first looked. Not including the bedrooms left furnished when Bertha walked away seventy years ago.

The attic had been like a time capsule. Emily would have to spend more than an afternoon to explore it all.

Lightning flashed, followed by a loud boom. He rubbed at the vague headache lingering over his temples. Despite the care he’d taken to box loose paperwork, he didn’t see where it had been moved. He opened a couple skylights enough to move the stuffy air.

A scuffling noise had him whipping into a protective crouch. He winced when his left arm clenched.

Emily stood at the top of the stairs.

She’d changed out of her hiking boots into sneakers. Cropped pants clung to her slender legs. She wore a long-sleeved green plaid shirt over a mint tank-top. Despite the dim light, her red hair gleamed. He swallowed the urge to touch her. He didn’t have time for that.

“I don’t usually have good lighting when I’m going through an attic,” she said and held out a large three-cell flashlight while she crossed to him. She’d brushed the tangles out of her red hair. “Do you need this?”

“Good idea,” he managed despite his dry throat. Dust rose from every surface. “I should have remembered one. Things have been shuffled around so much I don’t see the boxes. Plus I can check for leaks while I search.”

His fingers brushed hers and a static charge zinged between them. Emily jumped, shaking her hand, and Nate fumbled, almost dropping the flashlight.

Another streak of lightning lit the sky. Thunder rattled the glass. Her eyes gleamed with gold flecks when she bent over to examine a couple boxes.

“This is wonderful. All this space with the skylights. I’ll bet you have plans.”

“Bertha owned a gallery and left her inventory to Vicki and me along with the inn. There’s not much wall space downstairs, but this could be converted by paneling and new lighting.” He turned to point at the empty walls. “The stairs would need to be upgraded, but it can be worked out. I think she’d approve. But that’s in the future.”

“What a great idea. Do you have any Deerbourne family photos? Or any of the inn?”

“Not that I’ve found,” he replied. “No, wait. There is one downstairs. I had a black and white of Bertha enlarged, and it’s hanging in the parlor. I’d like to see more. She was beautiful.”

Within a few minutes Emily dragged a couple chairs and a small table into the light. She gestured him back when he reached for a box.

“Take it easy. I can get those,” she assured him. She moved the flashlight beam along the side wall. Her eyes sparkled with excitement when she selected the nearest one filled with paper.

Receipts, ledgers, registration books, and bills overflowed. He hadn’t noticed anything personal like letters or photos, but that didn’t mean they weren’t here. He’d probably find Berth’s items in her desk. That was in his bedroom. He scratched his head. “I can’t see how this stuff will help with a genealogy. It’s all business.”

“It might not. Since my client would like a history of the Deerbourne Inn, too, this is added detail. There should be information on people who worked here.” She held up a registration book with a grin. “We could check this later. I’ll start a reference pile. Wouldn’t it be exciting if someone famous stayed here?”

“We’ll take that downstairs where the light is better.” He put it aside. The rain slowed to a soft patter overhead. Emily sneezed as dust lifted.

Humidity had tightened the curls in her red hair to a shiny cap. Although she didn’t have urban polish, she was nice to look at.

Before he left, Nate found several handwritten recipe books. Flipping through the yellowed pages, he decided some of them were worth trying despite their age. “I’d have to check what isinglass was as an ingredient. It certainly can’t be mica. Imagine using two pounds of fresh butter and a dozen eggs for a single cake. Over the summer I experimented with canning jelly and jam from the fresh fruit. The old versions sound interesting. I like to work with spices and herbs.” He tucked the books under his good arm.

A loud squeak came from across the room. Emily stared at a rocking chair swaying back and forth. She grabbed Nate’s forearm and squeezed. Her hazel eyes had widened with surprise.

“You didn’t tell me you had a ghost,” she whispered. Soft steps patted on the wooden floor. She turned to stare.

Nate laughed when a large gray cat poked its head from under a sheet. “We don’t. Meet Hercules, the farm cat, although he’d probably claim the inn, too. He’s checking for mice. I try to keep him outside, but he manages to find a way in.”

“Look at that tail! You’d think it came off a raccoon,” she exclaimed while she reached to stroke him. “This fur is soft as mink. And his paws are huge. I’ve never seen a cat this big. He must weight twenty pounds.”

“Probably more. He’s a Maine Coon cat.” Nate returned Hercules’ stare with one of his own. “He hasn’t let me take him to the vet for his shots yet. He can disappear as fast as he appears.” Nate checked his watch. “I didn’t realize we’d been up here so long. I’ve got to go. Cooking takes time.”

Emily kept searching until a young girl’s laughter floated up the stairs. A chill raised goosebumps on her arms. She licked her dry lips. Maybe it was time to go. After Emily scooped up the loose papers, she closed the skylights.