Page 14 of Come A Little Closer

“Let me guess,” she said knowingly. “Their luck ran out at some point?”

I nodded. “Very much so. As far as I can tell, a few business deals went bad in the nineteen thirties and forties. After that, things went from bad to worse. The later generations of Ramparts definitely dropped the ball and it’s my belief that Rupert Rampart, the last of them, started the rumors in the nineties when Ghost Tours became a thing. I bought the house from his estate, and at that point, there wasn’t much left.”

“That’s a depressingly boring and logical explanation,” she said.

I chuckled. Again. Then quickly turned serious again. “Well, there certainly were members of their family who were less noble than others. You know, considering their agricultural history.”

“Right.” She nodded. “The slavery.”

“Exactly. The human trafficking means not all the stories are manufactured, sadly. People suffered here. They lived and died, laughed and cried. We just don’t know if any of that translates into paranormal activity.”

“It sounds like you’re saying there’s still a chance it’s haunted?” she asked, one eyebrow arched at me.

I shrugged. “I suppose so. I simply choose not to think about it.”

“Have you ever seen anything strange there?”

“Not a thing,” I replied honestly. “Maybe the spirits simply approved of my motivation to buy the house. Who knows?”

I plated up our food and brought them over to the table.

She sighed, a dreamy smile on her face. “Thank you for this. It smells divine.”

“You’re welcome,” I said as I joined her. “I’ve been thinking about it, and watching scary movies for inspiration for the festival is actually a really good idea. I might be interested in watching a few with you, if you don’t mind. I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“I don’t mind,” she said immediately. “It would be useful for you to get into the right frame of mind before you need to start approving my excellent new ideas. But I thought you didn’t like scary movies?”

“I don’t, but this is for work. I have a theater room at my house. If you’d like, we can watch them there and make a night of it. This weekend?”

“It’s a date,” she said easily.

I really hope that’s where this is going, the devil on my shoulder whispered in my ear. That same devil purred at the thought even though I knew it was just an expression she’d used.

“Excellent. I’ll set it up,” I said before telling that damn devil to stop trying to get me in trouble.

Tallulah had definitely done a number on me, and that was decidedly more dangerous than any of the spirits supposedly residing in any of the properties I’d ever bought. Because the risks she posed to me, to my way of life, and even to my professional reputation were a hell of a lot more real than just some angry ghosts rattling the cabinets.

7

TALLULAH

Afew days after I’d moved into the guest house, I was finally getting the hang of being alone there at night. It wasn’t bad at all when the power was on, and I was even enjoying walking around the plantation in the early evenings, trying to connect with the history of it all.

That sense of peacefulness I’d had before the lights had gone out reigned supreme as long as they stayed on, and I genuinely loved the space and being able to explore it without a bunch of annoying people around. I could walk around for hours, and on every walk I took, I not only got a whole host of new ideas, but my appreciation for the old plantation also grew deeper.

As did my appreciation for the man who had dedicated himself to restoring it and other places like it. With each passing day, I felt like I was learning more about Niall and who he was. He’d been surprisingly open with me that night of the storm and the morning after, and even though I didn’t see him every day, whenever I did speak to him, he was remarkably frank.

A bit of a walking contradiction, Niall had these surfery looks that made him seem easygoing and laidback, but he definitely wasn’t that. With his reserved nature, I had a feeling he didn’t allow just anyone to get close to him and I was kind of enjoying having to peel back some layers to get a look at who he was inside.

As I brushed my fingers against some of the leaves in the garden on Saturday morning, I smiled up at the sunshine and exhaled. Despite the hiccup with the power that night of the storm, I was back to feeling like things were coming together.

A tiny, superstitious part of me wondered if some of the luck that had been held by the Ramparts of old had rubbed off on me that day in their house. That had been the day that my life had started changing, after all.

Another part of me recognized that all the change had started when I’d met Niall. Sure, it had been in the Rampart house, but it was while I’d been speaking to him that I’d first had the idea of becoming a tour guide and it was him who’d given me my dream job.

I doubted I would ever know whether it was luck, Niall, or destiny, but whatever it was, I was beyond grateful that it had brought me to where I was. As I approached the main house, I almost turned around and started back to my place.

I wasn’t supposed to work on Saturdays, but as I looked at the great old house, I decided to visit it anyway. I was curious about the guides who worked here, on the property where I lived, and I was curious to learn more about the history of the place itself.