Friday Morning
Harrington House
Molly woke early on Friday morning after a restless night. Her thoughts about the house, the secret room, Aubrey’s murder, George’s confession, and Metzner’s construction were all jumbled in her dreams, mixed with Tony’s smiling face and Danny’s voice telling her to “take one thing at a time.” She sat at the kitchen island with English breakfast tea and a toasted bagel. Could it have only been a week ago that she and Elise were rushing around preparing for the book-launch party?
It seems more like a month.
She needed to focus. Two couples were due to check in that afternoon, and Kevin was determined to put the idea of a secret room to rest once and for all. Her thoughts turned to the missing plans and where their ancestor could have hidden them—if the plans had ever existed.
Hoping to clear her head, she pulled a windbreaker out of the closet, grabbed her keys, and headed out the kitchen door. She wandered over to the barn and checked to see if there were any fresh footprints. Kevin’s remark the night before about Tommy kept running through her mind: “Are you sure it wasn’t our new friend getting a preliminary look around?”
It could be, but…I don’t think so.
She unlocked the side door and stepped inside. She flipped on the lights and tried to visualize the interior with soft, white lights, round tables with white table linens, gold-rimmed white dishes, and floral centerpieces. Elise was right. Before attending the upcoming bridal fair, they needed to stage some photographs for a brochure. Mentally, she began making a list.
One more thing to think about—on top of everything else that’s going on.
Molly locked the door and decided to take a walk. Engrossed in her thoughts, she leisurely made her way up the trail behind Elise’s cottage, the chirping birds barely registering in her mind as she followed the path.
She wondered if there was more to Tommy’s story than an ancestral connection. Could his great-grandfather have truly been involved with her great-aunt? Small-town families like hers could go back many generations.
And then there’s George. How could he have left Aubrey alone in the rain?
Before she knew it, she was at the top of the ridge, looking down on the Schulze’s meadow. The fog hung low in the valley, and the sight of the yellow construction equipment, half buried in the morning mist, saddened her.
“Early walk?” A man’s soft voice broke the silence.
Molly gasped, surprised to see Brad Metzner standing on the path from the valley. He wore jeans, an Ohio State sweatshirt, hiking boots, and a Metzner Development baseball cap. She’d only seen him dressed in business suits and did a double take before recognizing him.
“I’m sorry I startled you,” he said.
Molly’s heart rate slowly returned to normal. “I didn’t expect anyone up here this early.”
“Just looking around.”
“Surveying your new property?” she asked, cooler than intended.
He looked up at the clear, blue sky. “Isn’t it beautiful up here in the morning?”
Molly jammed her hands into the windbreaker pockets. “Your construction will ruin the view.”
He gestured toward the valley below. “I think seeing families enjoying their new homes and children playing in the yards will be even more beautiful.”
Molly bit her tongue and returned her gaze to the valley below–—even though Brad now owned it, it would always be the Schulze place to her.
Brad stepped closer. “I know you spent at least a hundred thousand dollars, maybe more, on the renovations—even with Kevin doing much of the work. And for all you’ve accomplished, it must have cleaned you out. Molly, I can make all your financial problems vanish, and you’ll walk away with a cool million in your pockets.”
Molly shook her head. “This land has been in my family since before Ohio was even a state. See that cottage that I’m sure you would raze? The original structure was a way station on the Underground Railroad, helping the escaped enslaved people once they’d crossed the river.”
“History is all well and good, but it doesn’t pay the bills.”
“And Harrington House has stood here for more than a hundred years. Would you raze that, too?”
He chuckled. “No, of course not. My wife loves your place. I prefer a modern, open floor plan, but she likes old houses. I wouldn’t raze the house. I’d live in it.”
Molly could feel the flush start at her neckline and creep upward. “You’re a developer. If your wife wants a certain type of home, build her one. Don’t come after mine.”
He chuckled. “No need to get testy. I’m a businessman. I’ve made you a viable offer.”
“Well, you know where you can put that offer!” Molly turned to leave but stopped and whipped around, pointing an accusatory finger at Metzner’s face. “And quit trespassing.”
His eyes widened. “What?”
“I’m calling the cops the next time I see anyone poking around my place.” Molly turned and flipped her hair and realized the tactic would be much more satisfying if she had longer hair. She tramped off down the path, hoping not to fall. She cursed him with each step and called him every horrible name she could think of—stomping each puddle, kicking each stone. As her anger waned, Metzner’s voice echoed in her brain. “That wasn’t me. I didn’t trespass on your land.”
By the time she reached the trail’s end, she was out of breath, out of curse words, and wondering if she’d made a mistake about Metzner, at least where the trespassing was concerned. Her mind spinning, she ran straight into Tony Shannon, who was standing at the front corner of the barn with a funny grin on his face.
“What has gotten you in such an uproar?” he asked, putting his arms loosely around her. “I’ve never seen this side of Molly Harrington, all that stomping and muttering. Sounded like a few curse words too.”
She slipped out of his arms. “Two words. Brad Metzner.”
“Besides Metzner wanting to buy your house, what has gotten him on your bad side?”
“I just ran into him. He bought Schulze’s farm and has already moved construction equipment into the valley.”
“I know. We saw that the last time I was here.”
Molly crossed her arms over her chest. “That man makes me so angry. He wants my land, and I refuse to give in to him. Kevin is going to be livid when I tell him. And get this—Aunt Vanessa is in cahoots with Brad. Her company is working on selling his custom houses.” She raised her hands over her head. “Can you believe it?”
Tony chuckled and looked down at her, hands in his pockets.
“This isn’t funny,” Molly snapped. “Why are you laughing?” How can he be so attractive while so annoying?
“Remind me never to get on your bad side. Although you are cute when you’re angry—as long as it’s not directed at me.”
Molly’s stomach clenched, and she felt heat across her chest ascending upward. “Cute is not the look I was going for.” Suddenly feeling too close to him, she took another step back and smoothed her jacket. “What are you doing here so early anyway?”
“Your neighbors to the east, the Petersons, reported a prowler,” he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket and scrolling through the photos. “I was just over there and took a few snaps of the footprints. They’re like the prints I saw over here. I came over to check if they were still visible by the barn.” He held up his phone so she could view the images. “Here they are side by side. I used the same pen in each photo to help gauge the size.”
Molly leaned over his phone, their heads almost touching. “They look about the same size, and the tread in the boot print is similar.” She backed away, hyperaware of his presence.
“Are you okay? You seem a little rattled.”
“I’m fine,” she said. “Running into Brad Metzner seems to be the icing on the cake, what with Aubrey’s murder and the late-night prowlers. And I found Tommy snooping around in the basement—it’s just too much.”
“Tommy who? And why was he in your basement? Do I need to talk to this Tommy person?”
She waved her hand in a “never mind” motion. “No, no. I’m sorry I even mentioned it.”
“Who is he?”
“Come inside. Let’s have some coffee, and I’ll explain everything.”
***
“Tommy Campbell is a guest, an architecture student. He said he likes older homes, but I found him snooping around in the basement, searching for the secret room mentioned in Aubrey’s book.”
They sat at the kitchen island, coffee cups on the counter in front of them. While Molly talked, Tony sipped and listened.
After a minute, Tony interrupted her. “But you said Aubrey took quite a bit of literary license with the local folklore.”
“That’s true, but Tommy says that his great-grandfather was in the moonshine business with my great-grandfather.”
“That’s not anything unusual for this part of the country. I bet practically everyone in town has an old moonshiner on their family tree.”
She leaned in. “Aubrey based the love story in his book on an actual story. Tommy’s grandmother’s name is Nora.”
“I see,” he said. “And your great-aunt’s name is Elnora. You think his ancestor is your great-aunt’s long-lost love?”
She nodded. “A little close for comfort.”
He took her hand in his. “So, based on some old folk tales and Aubrey’s book, Tommy is convinced the story is true?”
“Kevin is coming here after work to put the secret-room theory to rest once and for all. But the thing is—there are no blueprints that would indicate any such room was ever built.” She slid her hand from his and picked up her mug.
Tony rocked back in his chair. “I’m sure Kevin will figure it out. And if there is one, he’ll find it.”
She set the cup back on the counter without taking a sip. “I hope so. Two couples are checking in later this afternoon, and Sarah called to say she’d be late. Her mother has apparently gone off the deep end. Were you able to meet with her?”
“Yes, I finally caught up with her.” Tony stood. “Thanks for the coffee. I need to follow up on this prowler business and a couple of leads in Aubrey’s case.”
“Leads?” She met him at the kitchen door. “Any news on that front?”
“A couple of things—forensics and such.”
“That you aren’t at liberty to share.”
He lifted her chin with his forefinger. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” She crooked her head toward the trail. “Sorry you saw me like that. It doesn’t happen too often, but when it does, it…”
When she stared into his blue eyes, they seemed an even darker blue. As his fingers grazed her cheek, she felt a different sort of flush creep up her neckline.
The door pushed open, knocking Molly off-balance. Tony caught her before she fell.
“Sorry,” Elise stammered. “I didn’t mean to—”
“No problem,” Tony said. “I have to go.”
He pushed past Elise and down the steps. They watched him cross the yard and gravel parking area to his car. He didn’t glance back until he reached the car and then for only a second.
“Sorry I interrupted whatever that was. I didn’t see you,” Elise said. “What happened? Your face is all flushed.”
Molly’s hands cupped her face, and she felt the warmth on her cheeks. “Nothing. I’ll tidy up the downstairs rooms before the guests arrive.”