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CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREE

It almost seemed to Marie that her excitement for Christmas seemed to slow the progression of time. It was either that or the bitterly cold December mornings along the coast. It could have also been the construction, nearly at its end on the backside of the property. The additional two rooms and office space were looking gorgeous; Benjamin had exceeded her expectations, even when it came to salvaging the room that had been hidden underground—a room that she still had no idea about in terms of an original purpose. But though she was thrilled beyond measure about the completion of the construction, she was also beginning to understand that the costs associated with it went beyond just the construction. There were electricians, insurance, painters, landscapers, and a variety of other little expenses she’d overlooked. And while none of them were bank-breaking, it did remind her that there was still plenty she had to learn when it came to running a business.

Still, at the end of most days, her thoughts swung back around to the underground room. She’d wander down to it from time to time when Benjamin and his crew were done for the day, sipping coffee or tea. Sometimes Boo would accompany her (until he decided it was just too cold) and stare into the room. He seemed to also be asking the same questions as Marie, wondering what Aunt June had used this room for and, perhaps more importantly, why she had decided to close it off.

Benjamin had started with a temporary roof and then suggested not covering it with ground again, but instead extending the roof about two feet above the ground to make a seating area and patio that would extend off of the new construction. There would be hidden drain pipes along the side to ensure no water build-up on what was essentially the room’s roof. It was a genius idea but once again, an added expense. She did her best to keep track of the numbers and, for a while, it was overwhelming.

Oddly enough, when she felt her mind going to pieces over the expenses and the mystery of the hidden room, her thoughts also turned back to her mother—more importantly, the postcard that had come in and she had responded to. If the timing of it had all worked out, she had pretty much extended an invitation to her mother to come to June Manor. She doubted her mother would do any such thing, though the idea that she may have no idea that June was dead might work in Marie’s favor. If she thought she was just coming by to visit June, maybe it was more likely than swinging by to check in on her estranged daughter, whom she had not seen in twenty-five years.

Come home.

That’s what Marie had put in her response. Not

Come back to Maine,

or

Come see me!

No.

Come home.

It seemed loaded with suggestion and finality as far as Marie was concerned…though she did not regret sending it.

She was thinking about the postcard and her mother’s travels on a particularly cold Sunday morning just two weeks before Christmas. She was standing in the doorway to the hidden room by the cellar, her eyes focused on the chest that she had not yet talked herself into opening. As she eyed it, she heard footsteps coming down the basement stairs. She was wearing a hoodie with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders; even though Benjamin was done with the roof, the hidden room still managed to be dreadfully cold. She chalked it up to being underground with no heat and couldn’t help but wonder if the place would always have at least some chill to it. When she turned toward the stairs, she hefted the blanket a bit tighter, assuming she’d find either Rebeka or Posey coming down.

When she saw that it was Robbie Dunne, she wished she wasn’t wearing a hoodie…and also wished she’d tried doing something with her hair. Because he still brought deliveries from Red Reef Diner, he was something of a staple around the manor—and she seemed to enjoy seeing him more and more each time he showed up. He smiled at her and then looked into the formerly hidden room.

“Good morning,” he said. The cold outside had his cheeks a little reddened and his dark hair was slightly windswept. She couldn’t help but wonder if he’d always looked this handsome and she had simply overlooked it among the confusion that was her life.

“Same to you. It’s been a while.”

“It has! Sorry about that. Work’s been crazy and if I’m being honest, I figured with everything you went through a few weeks back, the ball was sort of in your court.”

“Oh. Sorry. Are you delivering coffee this morning or did you just come by for a visit?” She cringed internally; to her own ears, there was no doubt that she was trying her best (and not being too subtle about it) to find out if he’d come by merely to see her. She rather hoped this was the case.

“Both,” he said. The lopsided smile he gave her indicated that he may have very well picked up on the true intention behind the question. “And then when Posey just told me where you were—and all about the discovery of this hidden room—I had to see for myself.”

“Yeah, this is it,” she said, looking into the room. The racks and the chest looked just as mysterious as ever, though she was starting to get accustomed to seeing them. “It seems like this place is never going to run out of surprises.”

“Any idea what it was used for?” Robbie asked.

“Not too sure,” she said. “The best I can figure—with the help of Benjamin and Posey—is that it might have been a place to store booze back during prohibition. A speakeasy or something.”

“Does that seem like something June would have participated in?”

“You know, I think it might have been,” she said.

“You said ‘with the help of Benjamin and Posey,’” Robbie said. “But what do

you

think?”

“I’m not decided yet, to be honest.” This wasn’t specifically true, though. The more she stared into it, the more she started to get the same vibe she got from the hidden room upstairs. She felt like June had used this for something paranormal.

“What’s in the trunk?” Robbie asked, pointing to it but still not daring to cross over through the old yet refurbished doorway.

“I don’t know. It’s locked and I can’t find the key. Benjamin and Posey wanted to just bust the lock and see but…I don’t know. That feels a little mean-spirited. If it belonged to June, I don’t want to destroy it. Especially if it’s apparent that she wanted it locked.”

“I can understand that.” He hugged at himself, rubbing his arms to ward off the chill. “So, at the risk of seeming too pushy, I was sort of hoping we could talk about the date we keep trying to plan but never actually happens. I think it’s too cold for walking on the beach and having wine, so maybe we swap it to hot cider and a fire somewhere.”

The comment was nice to hear, but unexpected. Neither of them had ever been particularly forward or brave when it came to talking about what may or may not be taking place between them. But now that it was out in the open, Marie took the ball and ran with it.

“We can talk about that, yes,” she said. She tried to sound funny and light-hearted, but realized she was actually a little nervous. “But did we ever actually

call

it a date?”

“I did. I remember because I told myself afterwards that it might have been a bad idea.”

“No, not a bad idea. It’s just…well, let’s be adults here.” She knew what she needed to say but feared it might derail the whole thing. “You know about Brendan and how that didn’t work out…”

“Well, I know

about

Brendan, though I’m still not sure what that looks like.”

“Well, it’s over. Nothing bad, no hard feelings.” Saying it was easier than she expected. It was actually something of a relief to get it out. “It just didn’t work out.”

“So you

would

be up for a date then?”

“Yes. Maybe we could have hot chocolate or cider and you can take me to the best Christmas tree farm in town. Rebeka is very irritated that I haven’t put one up yet. I’ve had a few comments from the guests, too.”

“But you have

some

decorations up. It looks nice. Very quaint. But yes, you do need a tree. And I would love to take you out for some cheesy Christmas stuff.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do. You know, I actually have some free time tod—”

They were interrupted by another set of footsteps coming down the stairs. They both turned and saw Posey who, for a moment, had a look of guilt on her face. She perhaps felt that she had interrupted something quite important…which wasn’t too far from the truth.

“I’m so very sorry to interrupt,” she said, giving them a knowing smile. “But Marie…you have a visitor upstairs. And I don’t think it’s one you want to ignore.”

“I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

“That’s because I don’t

know

if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. Just come on up, would you?”

Posey started back up the stairs as Marie gave Robbie an apologetic look. “Sorry about that. But this afternoon—I’ll meet you at the diner. It’s a date.”

He smiled and nodded at her as they headed for the stairs. As she entered the little alcove between the laundry room and kitchen, she tried to think of who might come by to visit. Was Atticus Winslow, the elderly and eccentric guest who had been around for several months, already back, having missed the now-familiar trappings of June Manor? Or maybe Brendan had taken a day or two away from Los Angeles to come see her. With Robbie following closely behind her, she could only imagine how tense

that

would be.

But as she entered the sitting room, she saw neither of those men. Instead, she saw a middle-aged man dressed in a pea coat and scarf. He had a sturdy chin and the sort of face that hinted at handsome features several years ago while also starting to show signs of what he’d look like when he got a bit closer to sixty. He was unspooling his scarf from around his neck as Marie entered the room. He saw her, gave her a warm smile, and approached her as if they were old friends.

“Marie Fortune, I assume?” he said.

“Yes, that’s me,” she said. “I’m so sorry, but who are you? I’m not the best with placing names with faces…but you do look sort of familiar.”

“Oh, no worries,” the man said. “We haven’t met yet. But it makes sense you’d know my face. I’m the new mayor of Port Bliss. I won the election this past November.”

Marie had been vaguely aware of the local election, floating around like a gnat among the bundles upon bundles of problems she’d been having ever since the summer. And now that he’d mentioned the election, she could recall seeing his face on posters and flyers. She was pretty sure his last name was Carter.

“Congratulations on the win, Mayor…Carter, right?”

He offered his hand, nodding happily. “That’s right! Micah Carter. And it’s very nice to meet you Ms. Fortune.”

She shook the offered hand and said, “Likewise. So what brings you to June Manor so early on a Saturday morning?”

Slowly, the good-natured expression on his face melted away. “Do you think we could have a talk in private?” He slid his eyes slowly toward Robbie and then quickly away.

“Oh,” Robbie said. “Sure. I’ll get going. I’ll see you later this afternoon, Marie. And Mayor Carter, congrats.”

Robbie left, giving Marie a quick puzzled look as he made his way through the front door. As soon as he was gone, Mayor Carter looked at the seats around the room and nodded to one. “Can I?”

“Of course. What is it I can do for you today?”

He sighed, and his good cheer continued to drain away. He now looked quite grim, almost sympathetic. “Well,” he said, “as the new mayor, I want to make sure I do things the right way, taking care of people and treating them right. And I’m afraid that includes meeting with people face to face when I have very bad news to share.”

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