“That’s pretty neat,” said Alex, who’d come to peer over our shoulders as most of the others, sensing the main show was over, chatted and checked out the other books in the room. I noticed Cali taking a few photos of us, but then she also stepped back, and Wyatt had stopped filming.
I had to admit a ledger wasn’t all that exciting. Maybe the ghost was an accountant.
“Probably kept by the lady of the house,” Landon said, as if reading my mind.
“Their computer must have been broken,” I joked. “My God, this is a lot of detail.”
“It’s what you did back then if you had a big house to manage,” Alex said.
“Let’s see what’s in the other books,” Landon said.
I closed the ledger and set it aside, then opened the next book. It was bigger, but it was more of the same, as were the third and fourth books. Though about halfway through the third book, the handwriting changed, and the entries didn’t seem quite as methodical.
I traced the less elegant letters, wondering who had written them. “What a weird thing to save through the centuries. You’d think one of the residents since then would have thrown it out.”
“I have a feeling no one even knew about that closet after the original residents,” Landon said. “It was hidden behind that panel. It’s totally a fluke that we found it.”
“But why would anyone even lock these up? It’s so strange.”
“See what’s in the last one,” Landon said.
“No doubt riveting accounts of the cost of nails,” I replied.
“Nails arefascinating,”Landon said, and Alex chuckled before wandering over to join the rest of the group. I could hear them batting around words likeskeletonsandcoffinsandblood.This was really happening!
I turned my attention back to the fifth book. It was not exactly the same as the others. Its cover was entirely made of gently worn red leather and tooled with a floral design. JOURNAL was typeset on the first page, and it was written in the same elegant hand that was in the first ledger, but it didn’t list household supplies.
October 7. Sunny and warm. A little rain. We planted the first roses. With good fortune and weather, our garden will be as lovely as the one we had in New York.
“The rose garden,” I whispered.
“Looks like a gardening journal,” Landon said with interest, turning a few pages. “This Wickham she mentions — he must be the gardener. And there’s a Stanford and accounts of his tribulations with pineapples.”
“That’s right! I read that the Fountain family owned a pineapple plantation on the beach.”
“Good luck finding pineapples over there now.”
“That’s a little sad, isn’t it? I want to take this book home. Maybe it’ll tell me exactly what the roses are out there.”
“Good idea,” Landon said. “Should we leave the rest here?”
“Might as well. The historical society might be interested. If we show them we care about the history, maybe they’ll stop calling me every three days to make sure I’m not going to knock down the house.”
Landon chuckled. “That Motebarkle guy, right?”
“He means well.”
Full of soft light, Landon’s gaze held mine as the golden hour took shape outside the big windows. “Are you disappointed?”
I got lost in those deep brown eyes for a moment.
“Not at all,” I said, not at all sure I was talking about the closet and the books. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” He slipped the correct key off the ring and slid it into my hand. The feel of his rough skin against mine shot goosebumps up my arm. “You’d better hang on to this.”
Chapter 14
Iput the skeleton key on my keychain more for good luck than anything. And maybe because touching it made me think of things — of someone — I really shouldn’t be thinking of.
