Page 14 of Manors & Mischief

Bea shrugs. “They’re a good family, but you did see the way he left the meeting yesterday.”

“He certainly wasn’t happy. Do you know why he wants to own the place?”

She scrunches up her nose, then takes a drink of her own. “Not really. Devon’s grandparents used to live next door, so he was more familiar with the manor than me.”

I tap my fingernail against my chin. Maybe it would be smarter to keep him as an ally. Not that I can force him to do anything. He seems dead set against me or anything to do with the manor.

“Maybe we should help him up.”

Bea sighs in relief. “I was hoping you were going to say that.”

She walks toward the porch, and I glumly follow. I suppose just because he left me stranded doesn’t mean I have to do the same.

“Come on, Dev. Let’s go,” she says, stopping to the left of him.

I park myself to the right and reach down, grabbing him under the arm.

“I’m fine,” he protests. “I was almost free.”

“Yeah, sure,” Bea says.

“Well, be careful. This porch isn’t safe.”

I roll my eyes. It’s just one section that happens to be in the main walkway, but whatever.

“One, two,” I count, and on three, Bea and I pull with our hands as Devon pushes off with his foot.

Once he’s free, he takes a big step forward and brushes off his jeans. Streaks of dirt are left behind, and I spot a trail of blood heading into his sock before he can pull it down and cover it.

Great. Just what I need.

“Listen, I gotta go back to the café,” Bea says. “Stop by, Em. My bestie’s first meal is on the house.”

Devon grumbles underneath his breath something about Bea being a traitor.

“You got it,” I call out over him. Devon starts to walk off after her, but I stop him. “Just wait right there. You’re bleeding. I’ll grab you something to put on it and a Band-Aid.”

“Afraid I’ll sue?”

“Actually, yeah. You seem like that kind of person. It would be a good way to win the property, don’t you think?”

The twinkle he gets in his eye makes my stomach uneasy. Man, this guy might stop at nothing to rip my dream right from my dust-covered fingers.

6

DEVON

Walking into the house relaxes my shoulders, like getting a hug from your grandma. Kids growing up in Harvest Falls spread rumors about ghosts and murders. I spent many nights walking by the house with my friends, scaring ourselves half to death only to run home by the bouncing flashlight stream dancing ahead like a crazed lightshow.

Old Man Lewis loved showing off his house though. After a string of nightmares, Mom brought me down here and knocked on the door. Mr. Lewis walked me from room to room, showing off his antique collection and proving that no ghosts lived in his house. Mrs. Lewis stayed in the parlor, knitting, and when I was satisfied, she gave me a hard candy that tasted so bad I spit it out on the way home.

They were good people.

If the kids of Harvest Falls could see the inside now, they might actually believe this place is filled with moaning ghosts and clanking chains. A house that’s been wrought with murders. Cursed by evil, or something like that.

“Have a seat.” Ember gestures toward the settee, a deep plum color. The very one that Mrs. Lewis sat on to knit that day. “I’m afraid it’s the only place I’ve cleaned up so far. Got distracted by a not-so-hidden hidden door.”

The tone in her voice is half reprimand, half teasing as she leaves the room. Both make me uncomfortable if I’m being honest. Teasing makes it seem like we’re friends. A reprimand makes it sound like I’m doing something wrong…and I’m not fully convinced of that either. The thing is, I don’t have to help out someone who scooped up my dream from underneath me, even if I am the only game in town. I couldn’t buy the property before. Never been able to scrape the money together, and the investors who picked it up after Mr. and Mrs. Lewis wouldn’t split the house from the rest of the acreage to make it easier to purchase.