Page 13 of Manors & Mischief

Bea chuckles, then hooks her thumb at me. “I like her.” Then, she turns toward me. “I like you. Do you need a best friend?”

“Do I?” I ask sarcastically. “I so do.” I hook my arm in hers and lead her around Devon and into the house. “I hope you can stay for a while.”

“I’m not sure I would want to miss this for the world.”

I call out over my shoulder, “The offer still stands. Let me know when you want help.”

Bea’s shoulders shake next to mine, then she leans over conspiratorially. “He’s always been a bit of a grump, but I’ve never seen him act this way toward a stranger.”

“I’m just lucky then.”

I steer her toward the ballroom since the hidden door is not so secret. I push the double doors open, leaving them to creak and groan, widening to reveal a dark room with only shafts of light coming in around huge, draping velvet curtains. Ornate black window fixtures hold them up. It looks majestic and creepy, but when I flick the old timey lights on, the real picture emerges. It looks less creepy and more cluttered and dirty, unattended.

“What do you think?” I ask, walking into the middle of the tile floor, swinging my arms out wide, careful not to spill my coffee, and spinning in a slow circle.

“I haven’t been here in ages.” She runs her fingers across a thin table that sits under arched trim work, leaving a clear line in the dust. “It’s shabbier than I remember.”

“No doubt,” I say. “But the potential.” She opens her mouth to say something, but I interrupt. “As my new bestie, I think you’re required to agree with me.”

She laughs. “I just think it’s a lot of work.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m going to get much help.” I glare behind her. I left the front doors open, so I can still see a sliver of Devon as he struggles to get out of the hole. I’m usually not so crass. I’m more the give-the-shirt-off-my-back person, but I meant it when I told Devon he brought out the worst in me. I’m finding it hard to feel bad for him.

“Maybe it’s just a lot of elbow grease?” Bea adds hopefully, though the frown on her lips makes me think she doesn’t believe it.

“It’s going to be beautiful,” I say, my voice overflowing with whimsy, even to me. I can’t help it. I’ve been dreaming about this for the longest time. I imagine fall parties and people dressed in costumes, dancing in this huge space. Maybe even a Children’s Haunted House, where just the ambience of this space would be enough to have them freaked out.

“In that case,” Bea says. “I’d be happy to help. I can’t fix floorboards though.”

My lip curls into a half grimace. “Neither can I.”

“Did you really blackmail him?”

I chuckle. “Not really. I told him I’d be happy to help him out of there—which is more than he did for me—if he’d agree to come look at the ballroom to see what could be done about it.”

“So, you really offered him a favor.”

“Absolutely.” I take another drink of the pumpkin spice latte and close my eyes when I swallow. “This really is good. What else do you have there? I’ll have to stop by soon.”

“Girl, do. We have baked goods and all the coffee you could want.” She holds out her drink to me, and I hit mine against hers to cheers. “I was also thinking that you should contact the mayor about getting on the Haunted Historic Tour. She’d probably want you to fix up the outside a bit, but this could be the main attraction.”

“The Haunted Historic Tour, huh?” My heart skips a beat. This is exactly the kind of thing I imagined.

“It’s heavy on the historic and less on the haunted, but either you or someone else pretends to be someone who used to live in the house. They tell the history of the house to people walking by in groups, and man, the manor has so much history. I think there’s a book in the local library written about it. You should definitely read it. It’s quite the landmark.”

“That sounds amazing. I’ll ask her about that.”

“She’s savvy, though, so I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s already thought about it. She might be dragging her feet because of Devon.”

“What about Devon?”

Bea peers at Devon, then back to me. “Did no one tell you?”

I peer at her, as confused as ever.

“Devon is her son.”

You’ve got to be kidding me. Just my luck. “No, no one has mentioned that yet.” Worst case scenarios bounce through my head. If Devon is going to ruin this opportunity for me instead of being just a nuisance, I’m going to scream. A full I’m-being-chased-by-a-masked-man-with-a-knife scream. “Do you think that might be a problem?”