A Darker Shade Read online

“I’m not sure what I think. Not yet. But what if the ghosts were just her way of telling you things? What if by telling her you didn’t believe her about the ghosts, you were shutting the conversational doorway she was trying to open?”

  “You want me to lie to her? To tell her I believe spirits are talking to her?” A muscle popped in his jaw. It was amazing he could even get the words out.

  “No.” Never criticize. But he’d asked for my opinion. I couldn’t waste this chance to give it. “I do think, however, that you should to ask her to tell you about them and promise to listen with an open heart. If ghosts are the only thing she wants to talk about, isn’t that better than not talking at all?”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “I gave her every opportunity, Miss Allworth. I asked her before she stopped talking what she thought her mom wanted, showing up as a ghost. She shrugged and said she didn’t know. She was shutting me out long before she quit speaking.”

  I could hear the weariness in his voice. I thought about watching my mother fade away despite all her efforts to stay with us and tried to imagine how I would feel if she’d done it deliberately. But as sorry as I felt for Nathaniel Prescott, I could help him only by getting close to his daughter.

  I took a deep breath. “Please let me take Liza into Portland tomorrow without you. Find an excuse to back out.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Because you want me to connect with Liza. And right now, you’re not someone she’s comfortable talking to.”

  “I’m her father.”

  There was so much pain in that statement I almost got up from my chair and went to him. But I was his employee, not his friend.

  “I know you want Liza to trust you, to lean on you, but you’ve just told me she’s not ready yet. You have to show her you believe in her before she can believe in you.”

  “The psychiatrist said exactly the opposite. That she had to trust me because I was showing her the truth, not buying into her fantasy. I realize this sounds cruel, but I think he’s a bit more reliable than you are. Sandra Martin said you were hoping to get a degree in child psychology one day, but you’ve a ways to go. So for the moment I’ll follow the advice of the actual expert.”

  I hadn’t expected any other response.

  “Still, since I am trying to connect with Liza, do you mind terribly if I take her on my own?”

  He grunted. “Fine. Take the Range Rover. Find an excuse that won’t make her hate me even more than she already does.”

  I left the family playing Monopoly and dragged myself up the narrow and creaking staircase. Before I could get ready for bed, however, I had to clean up the bathroom. The girls’ stuff was spread out everywhere—I counted four separate shampoos, two conditioners, a giant bucket of makeup, acne cream, and moisturizer, multiple hairbrushes, combs, and hair ties…we definitely needed to have a chat about shared space. The best idea would be to find some totes while we were in town so the girls could bring what they wanted into the bathroom, use it, and take it back to their bedrooms.

  After a quick shower, I pulled on my pajamas, wrapped my hair in a peony-covered bath towel, and stuck my head out into the hall. Liza was coming up the stairs and she stopped when she saw me. I touched my tall, flowered terrycloth turban.

  “It looks ridiculous, right?”

  An actual smile lit her face. I stepped fully into the hallway.

  “My hair’s a nightmare. I have to wash it, comb out the tangles, and braid it while it’s wet or it hatches an evil plan to take over the world. My sister usually does the braiding when she’s home because it’s hard for me to get the back straight otherwise. Do you want to help?”

  A flare of interest, but she shook her head.

  “Okay, then. I’ll see you in the morning. If you need anything during the night, the door between our rooms is unlocked. You don’t have to knock.”

  She blinked a couple of times, then brushed by me into the bathroom. I heard water running and the scent of mint flowed on the air.

  As I sat on the edge of my bed combing out my hair, I heard her get into the shower. A few minutes later—a very few minutes, we were going to have to have a talk about washing behind the ears—the hair dryer came on. And shortly after that, I heard her scamper into her own room.

  But her door did not close.

  Once my hair was braided into a tight queue, I began to flip through the homeschool packet . Most of my previous charges were under eight or over eighty, so there were a number of subjects I would have to brush up on before seeing to Hailey and Liza’s educations.

  I looked up when I heard the bathroom door slam. Hailey. This shower was longer. It was still going on when more footsteps came up. Not Jennifer’s, these were even and heavy, without the thump of Jennifer’s cane.

  Prescott. Even in my head, I could not think of him as Thane. It was too intimate, too emotionally fraught.

  He stopped in front of Liza’s door, tapped on it, and entered. I heard him talking to her—not the words, but the tone, including the rising inflection of questions—and assumed he would soon be gone. But he stayed. I could hear him speaking, more a mumble than anything, and could not resist slipping from my bed to eavesdrop. I tiptoed across the floor, wincing when it squeaked a betrayal, to stand next to the connecting door. Pressing one ear against the wall, I covered the other with my hand and listened.

  He was reading aloud, and it took only a few lines for me to recognize the book: Little Women. It had been one of my mother’s favorites, and I’d read it to Ali night after night while mom dozed in her sickbed, but it seemed an odd choice for Liza being so focused on motherhood. Had it been her decision? Perhaps she thought it might tell her about what it was like to have a mother, but I would have thought she would choose a more modern story. Or maybe it was already here in the house and she merely found it among the old books in the playroom.

  If it had not been for Liza’s silence, I could have convinced myself in that moment that this was a completely ordinary job. But the longer he read, the longer no childish exclamations interrupted him, the more obvious the wrongness became.

  I hung on to the memories of my mother for a few minutes longer, then crept back to bed.

  The following morning, Jennifer and I remained at the dining table with coffee and the homeschool packet when the others had gone their separate ways after breakfast. I had more on my mind than coursework, but I hadn’t figured out exactly how to approach the issue of either girl’s emotional well-being.

  “Don’t bother Thane with questions about their schooling.” Jennifer plunged right into the packet as soon as we were alone. “He doesn’t have any idea what they’re supposed to learn. I have been teaching the girls since the last tutor left, so if you run into any issues with the work, I can help you. They can take this week off and start up again once my brother leaves.”

  “I looked the packet over last night and I don’t think the workload will be a problem. I do have a few concerns about Liza reading Heart of Darkness at twelve, though.”

  “She doesn’t have to.” Jennifer waved slender fingers, dismissing my concerns. “Between the two of us women, Molly, we can be frank. Liza is not likely ever to go back to a normal school. Hailey, however, was accepted to boarding school before the accident. They’re holding a spot for her for next year, but she has to keep up with the work. Heart of Darkness is part of that curriculum. If you need me to grade a paper on it or discuss it while you deal with Liza, just let me know.”

  I was offended on my own behalf but also on Liza’s, so I took a sip of coffee to give myself a moment to modulate my tone. “I can handle it.”

  I also had reservations about Romeo and Juliet for a child whose mother had killed herself, but Shakespeare came toward the end of the list. If Liza had chosen to speak by then, discussing the tragedy might actually help her. If she remained silent, I’d swap in another play. Either way, I was pretty sure Jennifer didn’t want to hear my concerns about Liza’s well-being just
at the moment. I could address them later on, when Hailey was secure on her path.

  “Hailey is a reluctant student.” It was as if Jennifer read my thoughts. “She needs to be motivated. You can’t simply tell her she has to do the work, you have to make her want to do it. She likes attention, so if you spend time with her, she’ll work hard for you.”

  “That’s good to know.” I did not need Sandy or Nadya to tell me to keep my opinion on Hailey’s future prospects to myself. How Jennifer expected her to survive in boarding school as a reluctant, attention-seeking student was not my business.

  “What is your plan for the school day?”

  “I understand the girls don’t care for getting up early. That’s not unusual, and one of the advantages to homeschooling is that we don’t have to force them into traditional class hours. Unless you’d prefer it, given that Hailey is going to start back at a regular school next fall?”

  “No, she can adjust when it happens.”

  “Good. Then I think we can manage with a school day that runs from nine-thirty to three, with a break for lunch. I’d like them to have plenty of activity time in the afternoons, and we should organize planned physical activity from three to four or five. I don’t want them stagnating in front of the television when their studies are over.”

  “I agree.” Jennifer poured herself another cup of coffee from the carafe that remained on the table. “The grounds are quite extensive. Once the freeze comes, they can ice skate, too. Have you had thoughts about visual arts?”

  “I don’t have the skill to teach ceramics or painting. Where did the course list in the packet come from? Because I’m afraid many of those classes I’m simply not capable of teaching.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. Just cross those off. That’s the course catalog for the school Hailey will be going to next year. They require one visual arts class, so I need her to take something this year. Pick out the ones you think you can teach and then let her choose one. We’ll order whatever books or supplies you need.”

  I made a note. Maybe I could get a sense from Liza while we were in town what she would like to study. Despite Jennifer’s attitude, I was certain that if I could get her to speak, she had a good chance of returning to a mainstream school.

  Chapter 4

  I drove Liza to town in the big, shiny Range Rover, which had a fancy GPS system in it. Old Mrs. Sutter had never gone anywhere but the doctor, and her family had driven her to those appointments, but before her I’d worked for a family with a pair of rambunctious four-year-olds. The Range Rover was about the same size as their minivan had been, but the wheel beneath my hands hummed with power and the car practically leapt forward with every touch of the gas pedal.

  Before we’d left, Prescott had taken me aside and pressed a roll of bills into my hand. “You get her whatever she wants,” he said. “And if there’s something you need, something you want, get that, too.”

  I was not up to another fight, so I smiled and nodded. I needed Liza’s trust and that could not be bought. No matter how meek one had to be with employers, being a pushover with one’s charges always turned out for the worst.

  The road unfurled through the trees, wet tarmac shining black like the tongue of a naughty child after a licorice feast. Liza sat stone silent beside me, but her body vibrated more than the smooth ride accounted for. Did she often go into town, or did her father keep her isolated?

  “I don’t know whether your father told you,” I said, “but I grew up in New York City and then Hartford. I’ve never been this far north. When the driver brought me up to your house, he passed through Portland first so I could get a look at it, but I didn’t have a chance to see much. We have plenty of time today, though, so if there’s someplace you want to go after the bookstore, you just let me know.”

  She did not react.

  “One place I’d like to visit is the yarn store I saw. The last lady I worked for taught me to knit, and my mom used to crochet. Your aunt wants Hailey to learn some kind of art or craft and fiber arts was on the list of possibilities. Do you think you’d like to learn to work with yarn?”

  Liza shrugged.

  “I think we should get both knitting needles and crochet hooks,” I continued as if she’d replied. You can pick out what kind of yarn and what color you want for yourself and for Hailey. Since she elected not to come with us, she’ll just have to use whatever you choose for her.”

  At that, Liza turned to stare at me. Clearly, she was not used to making decisions for Hailey. I glanced over and winked before focusing again on the road.

  I could have spent the whole afternoon at the bookstore and Liza would likely have been perfectly happy. She helped me choose two cookbooks, both filled with pictures for making rather simple meals, then disappeared among the shelves. I found a book on color theory and one on the history of fashion that I thought Hailey might enjoy as part of her studies, then went to look for Liza.

  She had seated herself cross-legged on the carpeted floor in the New Age/Religion/Spirituality section and was deeply entranced in the book in her lap.

  “Liza?”

  She did not raise her head, so I squatted next to her. “What did you find?”

  Her lips thinned and her eyes narrowed in challenge. In that moment, she looked more wholly present—and more like her father—than I had seen her. She flipped up the book so I could see the cover: Hauntings: Communicating With Unquiet Spirits by Delilah Holt.

  Nathaniel Prescott would lose his mind if I bought such a book, and Liza clearly knew it.

  I stalled. “May I look?”

  She handed over the book and I flipped through it, considering my options. Prescott had as much as told me not to encourage Liza’s beliefs. But he’d offered a huge bounty if I could get her to speak. If I sided with him on this issue, I risked losing not only that bounty, but any chance of helping Liza.

  I closed the book, wincing at the rather lurid cover. Liza had folded her arms across her chest and was waiting for my decision.

  “I’ll tell you what,” I said. “This is pretty gruesome stuff. I’ll buy it, because I know you really want it, but only on the condition that we read it together. It stays in my room, not yours, okay?”

  Her features pinched up a little, but she nodded. Then she laid one hand on my arm and, when I looked at her, put a finger over her lips.

  “You don’t want me to tell anyone about this?”

  Her dark eyes bore into mine.

  “Honey, I have to tell your dad. We can’t hide it from him. But I won’t tell your aunt or your cousin.”

  Her hand squeezed on my arm and her skinny chest heaved as she sucked in breaths. If she’d been psychologically capable of speech, she would have spoken then.

  “You don’t want to upset him.”

  A nod.

  “It’s okay. I’ll talk to him. He won’t be angry at you.” No, his fury would have another focus. Luckily for me, I was his last resort—he was as desperate for my help as I was for his job.

  Liza and I lost track of time in the yarn store and as we returned to Rook’s Rest the sun was dying a bloody death in the western sky. As we headed to the house with our bags, a silver SUV pulled up. A tall blond man jumped out of the driver’s seat and strode over.

  “Let me.” He took the bag of books from my hand and the yarn shop bag from Liza. “Hi, Liza, how you doing?” He opened the front door and held it for us. “I’m Matthew Brahms.”

  “Molly Allworth.”

  “Uncle Matt!” Hailey barreled down the stairs. “You’re here!”

  Matt swung his niece up and around. “How you doin’, Sprite?”

  The door to the ballroom office popped open and Nathaniel stuck his head out, black brows beetling and a scowl on his sharp features. Whatever he was working on, he wasn’t pleased to be interrupted and I had no intention of adding to the aggravation by mentioning the ghost book. I’d broach the topic when he was more relaxed.

  “Matthew,” he said. “You made it
.”

  “Of course. I just didn’t get out of town as early as I thought.”

  “Where is it?” Hailey frowned at his hands, empty now that he had set down my packages. “You said you were bringing me something!”

  “It’s in the car. But I told you it’s for both you and Liza.”

  “Of course.” She danced on her tiptoes and Matt winked at her.

  “You guys want to come help me get it out of the car?”

  “Sure!”

  I figured he’d brought them a sled or the like. I couldn’t have been more wrong. A second later, Hailey squealed and a small, black form leapt from the SUV, and dashed for the front door.

  “Grab him!” Matthew yelled.

  I reached out and the little black dog jumped into my arms, all quivering muscles, pointy ears, and bulging eyes.

  “He’s so cute!” Hailey took the pup from me. “Thanks, Uncle Matt.”

  “What were you thinking, Matthew?” Jennifer’s question cut through her daughter’s excitement. “This is Thane’s house. He might not want a dog in it.”

  Prescott shrugged. “We’ve always had dogs. I figured I’d get one eventually. Though I must admit I was thinking more along the lines of a Lab or shepherd.”

  “This will only make the transition to boarding school more difficult for Hailey.”

  “I told you I’m not going to boarding school, mom.”

  “We are not having this conversation right now. Please tell me that dog is at least housebroken?”

  “He is. He’s almost three years old and fully trained. Or as fully trained as a Boston terrier is likely to get—he’s a little excitable and sometimes he loses control. I got him from a client. His name’s Rocky and as you can see he loves people. His crate and leash and food and toys are in the truck.”

  Liza stroked the little dog’s smooth fur as Hailey cuddled him.

  “He’s going to sleep with me,” Hailey said.

  “If he’s crate trained, he’ll sleep in the kitchen,” Prescott corrected her. “Otherwise he’ll become crate trained. Dogs don’t sleep in people beds.”