And a full camera crew.
It was just the family on this Monday morning, along with Emery, Goldie behind the camera, and Patrick working lighting for this scene. Natasha was in the house but working on her laptop in the kitchen. Astrid, blessedly, wasn’t here at all.
“I can’t sell this wardrobe,” Pru said as she, Jordan, and Simon stood in the famous Lapis Room, cameras and lights pointed in their direction. The show didn’t plan on filming the clean-out process of every room, but they sure as hell would for this one. “It’s original to the house.”
“It’s also really ugly, Grandma,” Simon said.
Jordan backhanded him on the chest, even though he was right. The piece looked like something out ofBeauty and the Beastthatmight spring into song at any moment. It towered above even Simon, who was a good six feet two, and sported several embellishments over its solid oak surface, including but not limited to curling patterns that Jordan thought were supposed to resemble leaves, and a giant lion’s head at the top that seemed to survey their conversation with obvious disdain.
“It belonged to Alice Everwood,” Pru said, caressing the piece’s creaky door. “And when—”
“—news came of her lover’s betrayal,” Simon said, “she closed herself inside this very armoire and refused to come out for three days. We know, Grandma. But we can’t keep every ghostly relic if you want to modernize.”
“So we don’t modernize,” Jordan said.
Simon shot her a look that could cut through a soda can.
“Good,” Emery said softly from off camera. “Really great stuff, everyone, keep it up.”
“What?” Jordan said, looking at her brother, not missing a beat. The cameras everywhere were strange, but she found what Natasha said to be true—focus on the work, and everything would be fine. In this case, theworkjust happened to be annoying the shit out of her brother. “This is history, Simon.”
“It’s a sad story,” he said. “That’s it.”
Alice Everwood was the daughter of the original owners of the Everwood house, James and Opal. She was also the Blue Lady, the infamous ghost of the inn, who, when she found out that her beloved—most likely some privileged asshole who simply wanted to get underneath her petticoat before his own parents married him off to someone richer—was set to marry another, she never left the house again, and always wore a stone of deep blue lapis lazuli around her neck. She was eighteen then and ended up dying of tuberculosis at the tender age of twenty-three, but most of Bright Falls agreed she really died of a broken heart.
Sweat beaded on Jordan’s upper lip, the similarities between herself and Alice Everwood suddenly washing over her. They’d both been left alone by those they loved the most. They were both heartbroken. They were both reclusive. At least, Jordan had been a mere two weeks ago, her Savannah house like a tomb for empty Ben & Jerry’s cartons and moldering pizza boxes. Granted, Jordan hadn’t locked herself in a wardrobe, but who knows what sort of measures she might have resorted to had Simon not dragged her ass to Oregon.
Jordan reached out to touch the wardrobe. As soon as her fingertips met wood, a little zing of electricity sparked between them.
“Shit, ouch,” she said, yanking her hand back. “Sorry,” she said, wincing in Emery’s direction.
They laughed. “Don’t worry about it.”
“See?” Pru said, waving toward the monstrosity, apparently oblivious to their audience. “Alice doesn’t want this taken.”
“Grandma, be serious,” Simon said.
Their grandmother looked affronted. “I’m always serious about Alice Everwood.”
Since Alice’s death in 1934, there had been... occurrences—noises in this very bedroom, like bare feet sliding over the hardwoods, the wardrobe door opening and closing in the middle of the night, and a very shut and very locked window somehow ending up wide open by morning. Word was, Alice liked fresh air and gazing at the stars, mooning over her lost love.
Alice’s history and her alleged haunting were more than just a sad story. They were the bread and butter of Jordan’s and Simon’s childhood. For him to be fine with sweeping it all away now was nearly unforgivable.
Now more so than ever.
Pru sighed and glanced up at the wardrobe. “I guess I could see if Bright Falls’s historical society wants it.”
“Grandma, you can’t give away Alice’s wardrobe,” Jordan said.“What will she... I mean she... sheopensthat thing. Or something. She needs it.”
“ ‘Or something?’ ” Simon asked. “Jordan, come on.”
But Jordan couldn’t budge on this one. The Everwood wasn’t the Everwood without the Blue Lady. Alice was the heart of his place. She was half the reason anyone came to stay here anyway, and the entire reason forInnside America’s interest in the first place. Sure, this room—all the rooms, to be honest—was outdated and gaudy with its heavy velvet-and-fringe drapes and giant four-poster bed, ugly furniture, and eye-gouging floral wallpaper, but removing all remnants of history was not the answer.
Gray paint and fucking subway tiles were not the answer.
“Jordan,” Simon said softly. “This is happening. Okay?”
Jordan ignored him and focused instead on her grandmother. “You really think this is the way to go?”
