The Last to See Me (The Last Ghost #1) - M Dressler Page 0,4
Charlie. There’s no feng shui happening at all.”
“I agree with you. Everything would have to be blown out here.”
“But Mr. Dane, Mrs. Dane, you haven’t seen the back of the house yet. It’s a modern, open-concept addition. A conservatory. A sunroom. It could be whatever you like! With so much natural light. It’s right this way.” Ellen pushed aside the great pocket doors, opening the way to the back parlors. Her fingers seemed nervous, but she kept her voice steady.
“Oh! Now that’s more like it. That view!”
Mr. Dane put on his glasses again, and whistled. “Wow.”
“This is Benito’s original harbor,” Ellen said and stepped forward, beaming. “Isn’t it gorgeous? You can see all the way across our cove from here. And the cove itself is always changing color, light, intensity. Sometimes it’s deep blue like this. Sometimes gray. Or green. And what do you think of this fabulous conservatory? The glass dome is stunning, isn’t it? Please, come in, take a look.”
The Glass Room, our newest room, is the finest in the house now. Alice liked to paint here, sometimes, standing in the middle of all the wicker furniture and chintz covers and vases filled with flowers from the garden.
“We’ve counted all the panes in here,” Ellen said, looking out across the water. “There are over three hundred of them. We call it the Glass Room. I think it feels just like dancing inside a dream on a perfect day,” she added, trying out one of the little phrases I’d seen her practicing in front of the mirrors.
“Very nice. But please don’t tell me that’s the kitchen over there?” Mr. Dane pointed back into the house.
“Charlie!” Mrs. Dane pleaded. “Use your imagination!”
“It looks like a relic from the Stone Age.”
“We’ll just gut what we don’t like. Keep the outside only.”
“Yes. That could work …”
“I am required to tell you, though”—and I could hear, plain as day, Ellen’s heart beating, her voice trying to be loud and bright to cover it—“that we do have a few historic guidelines here? Certain building codes. A house can’t generally be altered in any way that substantially changes the original structure. It’s one of the ways we here in Benito preserve our town’s character and charm. You have to go through an approval process to … But if I could just show you more of the beautiful, original woodwork upstairs—”
Dane put up his hand. “Stop right there. We hate codes. They’re un-American. So given what you’ve just told us, you’d better give us a minute to think about if we even need to spend any more time with the property. Why don’t you just step outside and let us have a look around on our own, all right? Then we can decide if we want to talk to you about options. Or not.”
Ellen twisted her hands behind her back, trying, I saw, to keep them under control. “Of course! Of course. I’ll just be out on the front porch, and you can call me in if you need anything or have any questions. Make yourself at home. It really is stunning, on every level. You’ll see.”
“One question.” Mr. Dane jerked his chin toward the arched door of the butler’s pantry, beside the kitchen. “What does that door there lead to?”
“A pantry.”
“Not a wine cellar?”
“No. Sorry.” Ellen looked back once, worried, and left them.
And then it was just the three of us.
“I think that scared her.” Dane took off his glasses and nudged his wife.
“Charlie, come into the pantry. It smells like cinnamon.”
They switched on the lights and stepped inside and leaned against the empty, burled shelves, leaving the narrow door open. The Lambry pantry is only big enough for three. The glass-covered shelves stack high and dark, and the wooden counters close in tightly on two sides. I sat on one of the counters, quiet as a pin.
“So, Beth-y? What do you think? Codes?”
“Schmodes. I love it here. The atmosphere. I’ve been waiting to feel the pull I feel here. That cove. It’s just what I wanted. Our very own little Xanadu. I thought we’d never find it.”
“But no feng shui.” He ran his hand over the dust on the counter where Mrs. Broyle used to polish the silver.
“We could torch the whole inside.”
“Codes,” he whispered again, darkly, his arm circling her waist, just beside me.
“Well. It’s probably just like Aspen. Find the right people to pay off. And we bring in all our own crew.”