Whether it was because she was tired or because she was lonely without her family, friends, or a viable boyfriend around to console her, Tessa thought too long about Crazy Kate’s words. She thought so long that her tea became cold, and she seriously debated whether the garden’s plants might have hidden abilities. Sneaking into the garden and nipping a bit of thyme suddenly sounded like a brilliant idea.
Tessa slipped on a pair of flip-flops and grabbed a flashlight from the toolbox she found in the coat closet. She crept outside as though someone might be around to spot her, but the streets were quiet except for the evening wind rustling through the trees. Crickets chirped in the shadows. Tessa swung the light across the plants, looking for thyme. She found it halfway down the side garden and plucked off five sprigs. Already feeling completely ridiculous, she sprinted for the stairs and rushed into the apartment.
Tessa pulled off all the thyme leaves and sprinkled them on the potatoes before reheating them. Then she sat at the table, staring at the steam twirling up from the wedges, thinking maybe she’d gone round the bend this time. She ate the potatoes and drank cold mint tea until both were gone. Then she sat at the table feeling nothing but exhaustion. Before bedtime she opened the door to the apartment, stared up at the clear and starry sky, and felt nothing. No premonitions of impending rain, no thoughts of cloudy skies or sweltering heat. Nothing. A star twinkled at her, inviting her to make a wish, but Tessa wondered if wishes would make a difference.
Tessa woke the next morning to find an oppressive humidity blanketing the apartment. She glanced at the alarm clock and, upon seeing the time, wondered why the bedroom was still full of deep shadows. When she crawled out of bed and opened the blinds, she saw dark, ominous clouds hovering over Mystic Water. A sliver of dread shot through her. Mystic Water didn’t need any more rain. But her anxiety snuffed out quickly, leaving Tessa feeling confused. Didn’t threatening storm clouds mean rain?No, a voice said.
She dressed and prepared for her workday with a cup of coffee and a banana. When she stepped outside, the air clung to her skin, wet and sticky. Thunderheads loomed, and people on the streets scurried past with closed umbrellas and anxious skyward gazes. Again, Tessa felt a whisper of comfort in her mind, telling her the rain would not fall.
As she walked to the office, her cell rang. “Hello?”
“Good morning, Tessa. This is Mr. Jenkins. I got your message yesterday.”
She paused in between two buildings so she could talk. “Yes, thank you for calling back. I’m looking for a contractor to help me with Honeysuckle Hollow.” She informed Mr. Jenkins about the property. He was her first option because he’d restored the antebellum home on Anderson Ridge, and he’d remodeled parts of the Clarke House, another historical Victorian in Mystic Water, which was also Lily and Jakob’s home.
Unfortunately, Mr. Jenkins wasn’t available for three months. He told her he’d put in a call to Charlie Parker, who had apprenticed with him. Tessa told him she could meet up with Charlie that afternoon. Just as Tessa unlocked the real estate office, Mr. Jenkins called again and said Charlie could be at the house in an hour if that might work with her schedule.
Tessa did a quick email check and brewed a single cup of coffee before locking up again. A burst of wind rushed down the street and tangled her hair as she climbed into the Great Pumpkin. Thunder rumbled like an unhappy giant, vibrating the windows on Main Street. Shop owners lowered their awnings, preparing for the approaching storm, but Tessa rolled down her windows and drove to Honeysuckle Hollow, letting the outside air swirl inside the car, bringing with it the scent of crushed thyme.
Tessa parked on the curb in front of the house and called an exterminator. If Honeysuckle Hollow went on the market, it needed to be free of animals. While making the phone call, she debated rolling up the car windows but again felt as though there was no need.
She hopped through the high weeds and scattered ladybugs hiding in the grass. Once inside Honeysuckle Hollow, she leaned one arm on the finial at the bottom of the staircase, wondering what life was like when the home sparkled with happiness and bloomed with beauty. A powerful feeling of homesickness swept over her, and she sat on the bottom stair.
“I’m lonely for a home.” She looked around at the covered furniture, the lacy cobwebs hugging corners, and the dust shrouding the house. “Maybe you’re lonely too,” she said to the house. Tessa exhaled a shaky breath, stood, and patted the finial. “I’ll convince Mrs. Steele to sell you to someone who wants to renovate rather than demolish. I know I can find someone to fix you up. You’ll feel right as rain again.” She wished someone would say the same to her.
Tessa wandered into the living room, seeing the trails in the dust left behind during her previous visit. She approached the bat-infested fireplace with apprehension. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a mini bottle of face mist. If the bats attacked again, this time she would be ready. She hoped they were deterred by tangerine-scented mist.
Tessa studied the tile work surrounding the cast-iron mantel. She reached out and rubbed the edge of her fist against a tile in the top left corner. “Would you look at that. A face appears.” Tessa watched as a face, one that looked like a medieval knight, peeked through the grime covering a bas-relief. She used her fingers to scrub the tile in the opposite corner. As the beautiful face of a woman appeared, she smiled. “And a princess. Thisisa fairy-tale house.”
Thunder bellowed, and the chandelier in the foyer responded, throwing tinkling echoes throughout the front of the house. Tessa walked to the nearest window and peered up at the sky. Shadowy clouds billowed low and angry. “It’ll pass,” she whispered.
Then she noticed a shelf on the built-ins held ten similarly bound leather books. Tessa removed one and gaped at the title:Guests of Honeysuckle Hollow. The handwritten dates on the inside front cover dated back more than twenty-five years ago. Like the book the bats knocked from the mantel the day before, this volume was filled to the final page with guests’ scribblings. Each of the ten books was crowded with the names and words of all the people who found refuge in Honeysuckle Hollow. Tessa hugged the open book to her chest. This house had touched so many, and now it was suffering. Shehadto do something.
A knock sounded at the door, and a voice called out a greeting from the foyer. Tessa returned the book to the shelf. A young woman, who looked to be Tessa’s age, stepped through the front door. Her shiny black hair was pulled into a ponytail. Even though the woman was dressed in loose-fitting cargo pants and a maroon tank top, Tessa saw she had the body of a ballet dancer—lithe and willowy. An umbrella was tucked beneath her toned arm.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m here to helpyou, I believe,” the woman said.
Tessa’s brow furrowed. “Are you from the exterminating service? That was fast. I wasn’t expecting anyone until late this afternoon. Unless . . . I mentioned to them that I would be looking for a cleaning service eventually. Surely they didn’t contact a service without telling me. Did anyone explain to you the state of things here because—”
The woman held up her hand, and Tessa stopped talking. The woman’s smile widened and displayed white teeth against her mocha-colored skin, making her even more attractive.
“I’m not the exterminator, and I’m definitely not the maid,” she said. “I dressed as a French maid one year for Halloween—bigmistake—but I hardly think that counts. I’m Charlie Parker.”
Tessa’s mouth hung agape for a few seconds. “You’re a woman.”
Charlie laughed. “Last I checked.”
Charlie held out her hand, and Tessa shook it, feeling like an idiot. “I’m Tessa Andrews, the real estate agent for Honeysuckle Hollow.”
“Oh, don’t look so apologetic. It’s a common source of confusion, not only that there’s is a woman named Charlie but also that I’m also a contractor. I can do the job, don’t worry. I grew up around houses. My dad is a mason, my uncle is a carpenter, a few cousins paint houses, and my aunt renovates kitchens and bathrooms.”
“You basically have your own building company,” Tessa said.
Charlie laughed. “Not much we can’t do in the Parker bunch. I also have a killer red-velvet-cake recipe.”
Tessa smiled. “I’d ask you for it, but I’m pretty much a disaster in the kitchen. Thanks for coming over.”
