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Midnight came and went.No Eugenia. I’d broken down and called Jace’s cell, hoping he’d pick up and tell me that he wasn’t actually on a date with Marina, but he hadn’t answered. He was probably sleeping. I sat on the sagging porch steps in the pitch dark, waiting for Wade, wrapped in a navy blue velvet blanket listening to the house sink further into ruin with every pop and crack of rotting wood. After Wade called, it’d been easy to push the thoughts of Jace away, but as the initial rush of Wade’s surprise visit faded, the doubts crept back in. Why was Jace out with Marina? I refused to believe that he’d cheat on me, but the only other explanation I could come up with was that they’d met up to talk about the séance. Or me. And that, too, felt like a betrayal. Why hadn’t I just knocked on the window and let them explain?
It was almost one o’clock when I saw a set of headlights across the field. Someone—presumably Wade—got out of the car and moved around to the back to grab the luggage. The driver couldn’t see the tracks up to the house in the dark, and Wade didn’t know any better, so now he had to walk the last quarter mile.
“Wade! Up here!” I called down through the darkness.
Once the car was gone, I couldn’t see him. I wanted to flip the porch lights on to watch him approach so that I could run out to him, but I was afraid if I tried opening the front doors, I’d never get them shut again. Instead, I waited, listening to his rolling suitcase bump across the field until a shadowy figure approached in the dark.
“Is that you, darlin’? Christ, I hope so…”
A thread of nervous energy had woven its way through Wade’s voice as Richmond House took shape in front of him. It wasn’t raining, and while the darkness helped to obscure the exterior decay, the mansion was still large and foreboding.
“It’s me,” I called back, smiling, hopping off the bottom step.
He opened his arms, and I jumped straight into them, not caring that to anyone watching it would look like we were long-lost lovers reunited. My friend—my only friend—was here. Maybe he could help me make sense of everything.
“Whoa, darlin’. You okay?”
“No,” I said, refusing to extricate myself from his big, warm body. “But I’m better now that you’re here.”
I led him around to the back door, careful to minimize the ear-splitting squeal as much as possible. I would have left it open, but I didn’t want that demon goose finding his way inside to peck me to death in my sleep.
Without stopping to gauge his reaction, I led Wade straight through the house and into the parlor, then turned to drink in his presence. He was the same old Wade, dressed in khakis and a salmon-colored polo shirt that stretched across his broad chest. I’d have to remember to let him know that the Pacific Northwest was a lot less colorful than the South—at least when it came to clothes.
Wade’s cheeks were pink as he placed his suitcase and carry-on along the wall next to the door. My mood swung from joy to shame. My overt display of affection had made him uncomfortable. I’d have to watch what I said more carefully in the future. I didn’t want Wade to get the wrong idea, no matter how glad I was he was here.
We talked into the wee hours of the morning, side by side, turned toward each other on one of Eugenia’s chaise lounges. Wade had to have been tired from the cross-country flight. Coupled with the time difference, he’d been up for a solid twenty-four hours by the time we called it quits—but he hung on every word I said. I filled him in on everything that had happened, this time going over my first stay at Richmond House in detail, including the implosion of my early relationship with Jace, my return, my near-swan dive off the scaffolding, and ending with seeing Jace and Marina together earlier in the evening.
“Woo-wee,” Wade whistled, trying to appear nonchalant. But I knew the man. I knew what I’d just told him had disturbed him to his very core. “So, what you’re sayin’ is I’ll be lucky if I’m not murdered in my sleep here in the big house. If I’m staying with you, that is. I can set up shop at a hotel if that’d be more convenient.”
“No, you’re staying here. Eugenia comes and goes, but I can’t imagine she’d care if you were here. There are plenty of bedrooms. And I do own the house, so even if she did care…”
“I won’t ask if you’re okay. After everything that’s gone down…all I can say is I’m glad I’m here. I want to help you, darlin’.”
“I just…I can’t…talk about it anymore tonight. Let’s just go to bed.”
I’d kept the house outside the parlor as dark as possible so he wouldn’t notice the rot—at least not tonight. Tomorrow would be another story. Wade quieted as we took the stairs up to the second floor.
“Unless you want to stay at a hotel,” I babbled as I watched his eyes settle on the painting of Eugenia’s tits. “I mean, I don’t want to force you.”
“You’re not forcing me, darlin’. What you need is a friend to stand right here beside you.”
Again, I thought of Jace. And Marina. Together. Why couldn’t Jace be here with me, standing beside me? Wade was right; a friend was exactly what I needed. A friend wouldn’t have left me alone. Clearly, Jace Blackwell was no friend of mine.
I put Wade in the bedroom that had at one point been attached to mine, across the hall from the his-and-hers masters. I’d made up the big antique bed in the hours before he arrived. I couldn’t do anything about the Victorian-chic decor, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“It’s like a time capsule,” he said, bouncing on the bed, gallantly avoiding the topic of the black mold spidering up the wall on the other side of the room.
I slept better than I had in weeks knowing Wade was right next to me on the other side of the wall. Wade, who’d never even been to Astoria before, who had no secrets, who’d met and befriended me in a different time and place. Wade just liked me for me.
Running on East Coast time, he was already up by the time I pulled myself out of bed and threw on an oversized T-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts.
“Hey, darlin’,” he said when I wandered into the dining room looking for him. Neatly dressed in his signature khakis and yet another pastel polo, he’d helped himself to a bowl of cereal.
“I’m sorry I don’t have more food. Sometimes Eugenia cooks, but it’s pretty hit-or-miss. Maybe we can go to the grocery store today.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, happily crunching the cereal. “I knew when I decided to get on that plane that I’d have to bring my own snacks.”
