25

“Dad’s in a total snit,” Bernie informed Nicole later that afternoon.

“What’s wrong?” Nicole paused at the foot of the stairs.

“He thought the house had been robbed.”

Nicole blinked. “What?”

“You know, all the missing stuff.” Bernie smiled mischievously. “He thought burglars had been here.”

“Oh dear.” Nicole grimaced. “I guess we should’ve told him.”

“I did tell him,” Bernie declared. “But he’s still mad. He even made Gina go home.” She frowned.

“He really is in a snit, isn’t he?” Nicole patted Bernie’s shoulder. “Sorry about that. I’m sure he’ll let Gina come back eventually.”

“She needed to go home anyway,” Bernie said. “But I asked her to come back for this weekend. For the Fourth of July party and everything.”

“Your uncle has agreed to take you guys on another ghost tour. But I’m guessing it won’t be until after he has his open house. He’s still got a lot to do there. Landscaping and finishing up some stuff. It’s a big job.”

“I love that house,” Bernie declared. “If I was a millionaire I’d buy it myself. Gina and I were talking about how cool it would be to turn it into a ghost hotel.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, you could tell everyone it was haunted, and then you could do stuff to make them feel like there were ghosts there. It’d be pretty cool.”

Nicole nodded, remembering how some of her high school students had been fascinated with ghosts and other unexplainably weird things. “It’s not my cup of tea, but I’m sure some people would enjoy being too scared to sleep.” She started up the stairs.

“Hey, I wanted to ask you, since Gina’s not going to be here for the next few days, I thought maybe I could go to work with you at the gallery.” Bernie looked hopeful.

“Yes!” Nicole agreed. “I totally need you this week. I put out some help-wanted ads but haven’t had a chance to interview anyone yet. And we’re definitely shorthanded now that it’s getting busy.”

The next couple days were even busier than Nicole had predicted. So busy that Nicole made no apologies to Amyra when she started to interview potential employees on Thursday. One young woman named Marcie really seemed to stand out. Sure, she was young—only twenty-three and barely out of college. But she seemed intelligent, energetic, and impressively capable. Plus she had an innate understanding of art, and during college, she’d worked summers in one of the local tourist shops. What more could one ask for?

“I’d like to hire you,” Nicole told Marcie on Thursday afternoon, shortly after conducting the young woman’s second interview.

Marcie let out a happy squeal, then immediately apologized. “Sorry, but I was getting worried I’d started looking for a job too late in the summer.”

“Well, you’re just on time for us.” Nicole shook her hand. “I’d love you to start as soon as possible.”

“Whenever you want. I’m ready.”

“I know it’s a holiday weekend, but we’re shorthanded.”

“I don’t have any big plans,” Marcie assured her.

“Great. Let’s start you tomorrow morning. We need to get ready for First Friday, and there’s plenty to do.”

Marcie thanked her again and started getting ready to leave.

“One more thing,” Nicole said quietly. “You met Amyra . . .”

Marcie frowned slightly.

“She can be, uh, difficult. She’s not thrilled about hiring more help, so if she does or says anything out of line, don’t be too surprised. But be sure to let me know.” Nicole sighed. “I’ll deal with her.”

Marcie nodded. “I understand.”

Feeling like she’d made a smart hire, Nicole handed Marcie some paperwork to fill out. “See you tomorrow,” she said.

As expected, Amyra was not pleased. But honoring her promise to Nicole, she didn’t make too much of a stink about it. Nicole reminded her that business was picking up. “With First Friday tomorrow and the holiday weekend, Marcie is a necessity.”

Amyra just shrugged. Fortunately, she kept her comments to herself, and Nicole felt more optimistic. Maybe her recent lecture to Amyra had actually sunk in. She could only hope.

All four of them were at the gallery on Friday, and there was so much to do. But giving everyone the proper time to take their breaks, Nicole felt the day seemed to be running fairly smoothly. By midafternoon, Bernie and Marcie were in the back room arranging fresh flowers and getting refreshments ready for the First Friday celebration. Amyra was waiting on customers. Nicole was trying not to create too much of a disturbance as she moved things around and made room for Harriet Porter to paint and show her works.

By five o’clock, when First Friday officially began, all was in order at the Graham Gallery. The refreshment table, manned by Marcie, looked lovely. Harriet was all set with her easel and work in progress. Amyra, dressed immaculately, played hostess with customers. And Nicole made sure that all was rolling smoothly.

For the first couple of hours, the traffic was constant and congenial. The refreshments were regularly being refilled by Bernie. They’d even made a few sales, including one of Harriet’s seascapes. But as it got closer to eight o’clock, business seemed to slow down some. Still steady but not crowded. To Nicole’s delight, she sold another Harriet painting. This one was of an old fishing boat—actually a Maine fishing boat, but the buyer felt it looked like a boat he’d seen in Savannah as a child.

“Congratulations,” Nicole whispered to Harriet after she concluded the sale. “That’s two for you.”

Harriet beamed at her. “Thanks so much.”

At eight thirty, Alex came into the gallery. He was picking up Bernie and they were going to get Gina to take home with them. She politely greeted him, but she felt the coolness in his demeanor as he waited for Bernie to get her things. Nicole suspected he was still disgruntled over the way their “romantic” dinner had ended so abruptly. Plus she’d been avoiding him all week.

“Did you get the payroll all figured out?” he asked a bit gruffly.

“Yes,” she told him. “Thank you so much for your help. It all made perfect sense.”

“And the commissions and the bills and everything?”

“Yes, I’m pretty sure it’s all done.” She smiled. “Hopefully they won’t be turning off our lights anytime soon.”

He frowned as if that wasn’t funny.

“I also hired a new employee.” She nodded over to where Marcie was chatting with a customer at the refreshment table. “It’s her first day, but she’s doing just fine.”

He nodded.

“I heard you’re having a Fourth of July party at the house,” she said, wondering what was taking Bernie so long.

“Yeah, I invited everyone before Ryan ransacked the place.”

“He just borrowed a few—”

“I know what he did,” Alex snapped. “I’m sure he wouldn’t have done that if Mom and Dad were home.”

“Well, of course not.” She suddenly felt defensive. “But your parents did put me in charge of house-sitting their place. I didn’t see that it was a problem for Ryan to use a few things. Then again, I wasn’t planning any big parties either.” She looked squarely at him. “As a house sitter, I would never dream of planning a big party anyway. Seems a bit presumptuous to me.”

“I’m ready, Dad.” Bernie came out with her backpack and phone in her hand, telling Gina she was on her way.

“Let’s go,” he said gruffly.

“Thanks, Bernie,” Nicole called. “You were really helpful today.”

Bernie waved, hurrying to keep up with her dad, who was clearly not in a happy mood. Just because Ryan had removed a few things? Or was it because of her? Or perhaps he was just grumpy at times. Nicole wasn’t even sure she cared. More than ever, she was determined to be somewhere else while he had his Fourth of July get-together. Hopefully it wouldn’t be like the party he’d had when Ryan and Cassidy had been forced to clean up after him. Fortunately, his parents weren’t due home for a couple of months. Still, it was irritating to feel like she was sharing a home with an adolescent—and she didn’t mean Bernie!

The days leading up to the Fourth of July passed in a whirlwind of heavy foot traffic at the gallery and a nonstop schedule of activities along the riverfront. But on Sunday afternoon, Nicole was finally able to break away from the gallery, leaving Marcie and Amyra in charge, so that she could pop in to Ryan’s open house. She’d promised him she’d show up, eager to see how the final product looked and curious if he had any interested buyers.

Seeing the Open House signs, she drove into the estate, pretending she was a potential buyer. Driving Vivian’s impressive SUV certainly made that believable. Although if anyone could see her bank account, despite it being padded with her recent commissions from selling paintings, they would surely laugh.

She followed a fortyish couple into the house, listening to their comments as they looked around the foyer. So far they seemed impressed—that was encouraging. Unsure of what to do and not knowing if Ryan was even here, she decided to simply play along, strolling about the large home and imagining she was in the market for a McMunster Mansion.

Disappointed that Ryan did not seem to be here, she eventually made her way to her favorite room, the conservatory, and even sat down in the wicker rocker. She felt a little guilty for this moment of leisure, though Amyra had seemed eager to see her go. Probably because her sales commission potential had gone up considerably with Nicole’s departure. It still seemed lazy to just sit here like this, but she couldn’t quite help herself.

She leaned back in the rocker, closing her eyes as she enjoyed the strains of music drifting through the house. It really had good acoustics, and she’d encouraged Ryan to play classical music for the open house, even suggesting some of the moodier composers who seemed to fit the house.

The only reason she even knew about such things was because of Peter. She smiled, amused she’d even thought of him. He seemed such a distant memory now. Had she ever really been in love with him? She leaned back, listening more closely to the music and thinking it sounded like Rachmaninoff. Dark and eerie . . . perfect for the McMunster Mansion.

“Hello?” A woman’s voice interrupted Nicole’s thoughts.

Nicole opened her eyes to see an attractive woman in a chic dove-gray suit leaning against the door frame and looking down on her. “Oh, hello.”

“Can I help you with anything in regard to this property?” The woman smiled broadly, but beneath the pretty veneer, she looked suspicious. As if she knew Nicole wasn’t a legitimate McMansion shopper. Was it that obvious?

“Oh, no,” Nicole said lightly. “I was just enjoying the ambiance. It’s such an interesting house, don’t you think?”

“Yes.” The woman nodded. “And so beautifully restored too.”

“With ghosts left intact?”

“Well, you never know.” The woman tipped her head to one side, as if to question who Nicole was and why she had planted herself here. “Our Southern homes do come with their history. But you don’t sound as if you’re from these parts, so you may not know about that sort of thing. Savannah offers lovely tours in historical neighborhoods. This is a big weekend for that sort of sightseeing.”

This was obviously a hint, and suddenly feeling like an intruder, Nicole stood up. “Sorry,” she said. “I was just relaxing. You see, I’m a friend of Ryan’s and thought I’d pop in—”

“I’m a friend of Ryan’s too,” the woman said crisply. “And as much as I think an open house should be social, we really are here to sell a house. So if you’ll excuse me.”

Nicole picked up her purse, feeling like a child who had been scolded. Southerners were interesting—sometimes they were sweeter than sugar, other times not so much. It was clearly time to make herself scarce.

“Hey, Nicole.” Ryan jogged out to meet her as she walked down the driveway. “What are you doing here?”

“Getting myself kicked out, I think.” She smiled sheepishly. “Actually, your realtor was just doing her job. Getting rid of the riffraff.”

He laughed. “Oh, that’s Abigail for you. She shows a lot of historical homes and doesn’t have much patience with ‘lookie-lous,’ as she calls them. She thinks they get in the way of the serious buyers.” He grabbed her by the arm. “But that doesn’t include you. Come on back inside. Don’t leave.”

“I don’t want to upset your realtor.”

“Don’t be silly, Nicole. It’s my house, and you helped make it look so great. By the way, Abigail was impressed. Let me introduce you to her. That’ll put her in her place.”

Nicole wasn’t sure she wanted to put anyone in their place, but she let Ryan lead her back inside and introduce her, explaining how she had been his stager.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Abigail told Ryan. “It’s been a long day and I’ve had some strange lookers.” She turned to Nicole, and some of her warmth seemed to evaporate. “Please forgive me. I was simply looking out for my client’s best interests.”

“It’s okay.” Nicole tried not to feel insignificant as Abigail’s attention returned to Ryan. It was clear that Ryan’s realtor thought he was pretty special. And unless Nicole was mistaken, her interest in Ryan was about more than just real estate.

“Well, it’s almost five,” Abigail said. “Almost closing time.”

“Hey, feel free to go,” he told her. “Nicole and I can play host for the rest of the time. I’ll pick up your signs for you.”

“Oh, are you sure?” She gave Nicole a doubtful look. “You did a nice job helping to stage this place, but you’ve probably never sold real estate.”

Ryan laughed. “I don’t think we need to worry about that. If anyone wants to buy it before we leave, I’ll call you right up.”

Abigail gave Ryan a friendly hug, then reminded him about having another open house the following weekend. “Well, unless we get an offer by then,” she joked. “I didn’t get that feeling from anyone, but you never know.”

For the next half hour, Nicole and Ryan greeted the last few people coming to look at the house. It was interesting how they took turns saying things about the house, so much in sync it almost felt as if they’d rehearsed it.

Eventually, the last of the lookers left, and Ryan went out and removed the signs while Nicole tidied up the refreshments that Abigail had laid out in the kitchen. When Ryan came back inside, she still felt reluctant to leave. “It’s so peaceful here,” she told him as she gave the marble countertop a swipe with a paper towel.

“Would you want to live here?” Ryan asked.

She laughed. “No, I don’t think so. Besides being a little out of my budget, I’d never feel comfortable in such a large house.”

He nodded. “That’s how I feel too. To be honest, I’ve had misgivings about trying to sell this house. Usually I try to transform homes that I would be comfortable living in. This one sort of broke the rules. I really hope I don’t get stuck with it.” He frowned.

“Someone is going to want it,” she assured him. “You just need the right person.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right.” He grinned. “Now, as I recall, I owe you a dinner for your staging help. Remember?”

“As a matter of fact, I do remember.” She patted her midsection. “And I’m ravenous. You might not want to take me to dinner tonight—it could be costly.”

“I like a woman with a good appetite.” His smile faded. “But I’m not sure we can get into anyplace decent without a reservation. This is a busy weekend, you know.”

“Oh, that’s right. It was so quiet and calm here, I nearly forgot.” She sighed. “I’m not looking forward to going home.”

“Still a circus there?”

“Well, Gina spent the weekend. And Alex . . .” She frowned. “He’s been a bit grumpy lately.” She explained his irritation about having a less-than-perfect location for his Fourth of July party. “That and a few other things seem to have him acting a little glum. At least toward me.”

He laughed. “That sounds like my big bro.” His eyes lit up. “Hey, speaking of the Fourth, I have an idea for tonight. You like fireworks?”

“Of course. But it’s not the Fourth yet.”

“Yes, but this is Savannah. And we Southerners like to do things up big. Haven’t you heard we have fireworks on more than just one night during our renowned Independence Day festivities?”

“Come to think of it, I do remember hearing about fireworks on Friday night. But I assumed it was for the art walk. We were so busy that I never even got outside to see them.”

“Well, you’re in luck tonight.”

“But you said it was too late to get reservations any—”

“That doesn’t matter for this place.”

“Oh?” She imagined them dining at some greasy dive, but she didn’t think she would even mind. As long as she was with Ryan.

He pulled out a little spiral notepad and wrote something down, then handed the paper to her. “Be there at seven and you’ll see. Okay?”

Her heart gave a lurch when she realized he’d written directions to the Shore. “Is this for your condo?”

He grinned. “It’s not the Ritz or even the Pirates’ House, but the view’s not bad and we don’t need a reservation.”

“And you can cook?”

His eyes twinkled. “Oh, I think I can throw something together. You game?”

Was she game? Was he kidding? “Yeah.” She suppressed the urge to giggle like a middle school girl. “I’m game.”

As Nicole drove home, she started planning it all out, trying to figure out what she would wear . . . and more importantly what she would say. Somehow she had to find out about Ryan’s relationship with Cassidy and whether it was more than just an old friendship. Even if he was as involved with Cassidy as Alex had suggested, Nicole wasn’t sure she wanted to give up on him. After all, if Ryan was truly in love with Cassidy, why would he be inviting Nicole to dinner at his place?