Page 7

Amy forced a smile. “Yeah. Definitely. I could use a drink.”

Behind them, the east room remained still, the air colder than it had been moments before.

Amy sat on the porch of her cottage, the warm glow of the string lights above her casting soft shadows across the weathered wood. The late spring air was cool and tinged with the faint saltiness of the Atlantic. She swirled her glass of dark red wine absently. Ollie lay curled at her feet, his ears twitching at the distant sound of waves crashing against the rocky shore.

Across from her, Kaitlin leaned back in one of the mismatched chairs Amy had collected over the years. She held her own glass of wine, her expression thoughtful. “You know,” Kaitlin said. “I can’t stop thinking about those symbols. Whoever built that mansion, they weren’t just superstitious. They were scared.”

Amy nodded. The nervousness she’d felt in that room hadn’t entirely left her, either. “It’s hard to imagine what they were so afraid of,” she murmured.

Kaitlin tilted her head. “Maybe it just gave them peace of mind. Either way, it makes you wonder what kind of life they were living if they felt the need to go to such lengths.”

Before Amy could respond, Ollie barked just once, his typical announcement for the arrival of someone he knew well, and Kelsey stepped onto the porch from the trail through the trees with a small stack of mail in her hands.

“Hey, hope I’m not interrupting,” Kelsey said, her face lightened with her signature warm smile. She looked effortlessly put together, as always, with her dark hair pulled into a sleek ponytail and a cozy cardigan draped over her shoulders.

“Not at all,” Amy said. She scooted over to make room on the bench. Ollie had perked up at the sound of Kelsey’s voice, and now his tail thumped rhythmically against the floorboards.

Kelsey held out the mail. “This got delivered to our house instead of yours. Thought I’d bring it over before I forgot.”

Amy took the stack with a smile. “Thanks. Probably just the usual junk. Can I get you a glass of wine?”

“Love one.” Kelsey shrugged as she settled into the chair next to Kaitlin. “There’s something official-looking in there. Could be fun.”

Amy snorted, then plunked her wineglass down and headed inside to retrieve her sister’s glass as she flipped through the envelopes. Junk, junk, junk… then her fingers froze on a thick, cream-colored envelope stamped with the words Property Tax Notice. Her stomach flipped as she ripped it open.

When her eyes reached the total due at the bottom of the page, her breath caught in her throat.

“Oh. My. God,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“You all right in there?” Kaitlin called in from the porch.

“Fine, fine. Just spilled a little wine.” Amy stared at the figure on the bill while her stomach plummeted to her knees. Nearly ten thousand dollars. It was far higher than she’d anticipated, far higher than she’d budgeted for. She had budgeted for it, right?

She hadn’t.

Amy felt the blood drain from her face. Kelsey. Amy couldn’t face Kelsey’s concern, and she didn’t want to show just how deeply this unexpected bill had rattled her.

Amy poured her sister a glass of wine with shaking hands. Taking a deep breath, she walked back out to the porch, determined to enjoy girl time with her friend and sister.

After Kaitlin and Kelsey left, Amy sat at the kitchen table, the property tax bill spread out in front of her alongside her business plans. Ollie softly snored in his bed nearby. The cozy warmth of the cottage felt dimmer now, the seriousness of her mistake sitting in her gut like a stone.

She ran her hands through her hair. How had she missed something so obvious? She couldn’t tell Kelsey and Mac she needed money. They’d already helped her so much, especially Mac with his seemingly endless resources. She couldn’t bear the thought of them seeing her as incompetent, and the mansion as another one of her failed projects.

“No,” she muttered aloud, shaking her head. “I can fix this. I have to.”

She spent the next hour reworking her budget, her pen scratching furiously across the paper. Slowly, a plan took shape to cover the extra ten thousand. They would need to put off buying some equipment, and she could pull the last from her meager savings. It wasn’t perfect, but it might allow her to scrape by without asking for more help. It also assumed her application for town funding would be approved. But what if it wasn’t? She needed to plan for that as well.

Amy pushed aside any thoughts of more construction surprises. They’d had several. Old houses were just money pits when it came to things going wrong. It just couldn’t happen now. It would just add to the disaster.

By the time she finished, her eyes burned with exhaustion, but her mind wouldn’t settle. She glanced at Ollie, who had stirred and was now watching her with sleepy eyes.

“Come on, buddy,” she breathed. “Let’s get some air.”

The gardens surrounding the mansion were shrouded in a fog that had rolled in from the Atlantic and softened the edges of the world. Amy pulled her sweater tighter around herself as she walked, and Ollie trotted happily ahead on his leash. The air was damp and cool, carrying the faint, familiar scent of salt and pine.

The mansion’s dark silhouette loomed against the pale glow of the moon. Amy’s gaze lingered on the widow’s walk. Its iron railing was barely visible through the haze.

“This place really looks haunted at night,” she murmured to herself. Her breath rose in foggy puffs in the chill.