Under a Summer Sky--A Savannah Romance Page 7

  Alex laughed. “I’m sure they were. It’s an old family joke. Whenever the house made an unexplainable creak or squeak, we blamed it on the ghosts.”

  “But they’re friendly ghosts,” Ryan teased. “No need to be afraid.”

  She feigned relief. “Good to know.”

  “Did Mom tell you about the gallery ghost?” Ryan asked.

  “A gallery ghost?”

  “Yeah. He mostly hangs out in the back room. Sometimes he slams a door. Mom got locked out one time when she was watering the flower boxes outside.” He grinned. “Make sure you use a doorstop or keep a key in your pocket.”

  “Thanks, I’ll remember to do that.”

  “So how did it go at the gallery?”

  “Uh . . . okay.” Nicole fingered her napkin, remembering again how her first day had ended.

  “Okay, except she might’ve given away a Collin Turner painting.” Alex gave her a friendly nudge with his elbow. “Nice going, Nic.”

  “What?” Ryan frowned at both of them.

  “Yeah,” Alex continued in a teasing tone. “First day on the job and Nicole lets this homeless young couple waltz away with one of Collin’s most expensive—”

  “That’s not true!” she exclaimed.

  “What happened?” Ryan asked.

  “For starters, they were not homeless,” she declared. “They just looked a little shabby around the edges.” She poured out the story, stumbling over the facts and feeling even more foolish by the time she finished.

  “But you took down their ID,” Ryan pointed out, “and even photographed their license plates. It should be okay.”

  Nicole relaxed a little. “You really think so?”

  “If not, maybe the gallery’s insurance will cover it,” Alex offered.

  Nicole groaned. “I feel so stupid.”

  “Don’t,” Ryan said gently. “It’ll be fine.”

  Just then Alex’s phone rang, and he excused himself to take the call.

  “Alex is a big tease,” Ryan quietly told Nicole as his brother walked into the house. “It’s best not to take him too seriously.”

  “I know.” She nodded. “He sure likes to take potshots at you.”

  Ryan grinned. “Nothing new about that.”

  “I guess. But I figured you boys might’ve outgrown it by now.”

  His smile faded. “Hope springs eternal. But Alex has had a hard year. I try to cut him some slack.”

  Nicole studied him more closely. Ryan really had grown up into a fine young man. Maybe he wasn’t as flashy as his big brother, but he certainly had his qualities.

  “Well, I’m glad I didn’t unpack my bags,” Alex said as he returned to the table.

  “What’s up?” Ryan asked.

  “Gotta go to New York tomorrow.” He frowned down at the messy table. “I need to book my flight.”

  “I’ll clean this up,” Nicole offered.

  “I’ll help,” Ryan added.

  “Thanks,” Alex mumbled absently.

  “Thanks for a wonderful dinner,” Nicole said as she stood, gathering up the plates. “It was delicious.”

  Alex just nodded, his eyes focused on his phone as he headed toward the carriage house. She felt a bit disappointed to see him go, and slightly guilty knowing this evening hadn’t gone the way he’d hoped. But that was probably a good thing. The idea of Alex making a romantic move in her direction, although somewhat thrilling, was unnerving. She just wasn’t ready for it. And since Alex’s divorce wasn’t finalized, well, he shouldn’t be ready for it either. Yet wasn’t that exactly what she’d dreamed of as a girl? Alex Graham falling for her big-time?

  As Nicole started to rinse dinner plates, she considered calling her big sister for advice. It would be interesting to get Katy’s take on this possible development. If nothing else, it would certainly amuse Katy. Might even make her a little jealous since she used to act like Alex was hers alone. But that had long since ended. Katy loved her husband and kids.

  “Miss Doreen will take care of those dishes,” Ryan said as he covered the leftovers with plastic wrap.

  “That’s right. Your mom mentioned her in her notes. She comes Monday, Wednesday, and Friday?”

  “Right.”

  “Even so, I hate to leave a lot of work for her. I mean, on my first full day here and all.”

  Ryan chuckled. “Well, I’m sure she’ll appreciate that, but it is what she gets paid for. Although she was probably looking forward to a little less work while Mom and Dad are gone.”

  “Exactly why I want to clean up after myself.” Nicole rinsed another plate. “Has Miss Doreen been with your parents for long?”

  “Since we were kids. Don’t you remember her from when y’all visited down here?”

  She suddenly recalled the kind woman. Her skin was the color of roasted almonds, and her voice had been low and gentle as she’d helped Nicole clean some red Georgia mud off her good shoes. “I do remember her. She must be pretty old by now.”

  “She’s a little older than my mom. But she doesn’t want to retire yet.”

  They continued to chat pleasantly as they cleaned up the kitchen. The more Ryan talked, the more Nicole realized that most of her childhood presumptions about this guy had been wrong. In many ways—at least where it counted—he outshone his big brother.

  “I’m curious,” she said suddenly, then stopped herself.

  “Curious about what?” He closed the dishwasher and turned to her.

  “Nothing.” She felt her cheeks warm as she focused on wiping down the already clean white marble countertop. The truth was she was curious about several things in regard to Ryan. Things that were none of her business. Like who was Cassidy? Even more than that, what was the deal with him and Amyra? That one was just too weird for words.

  “Come on,” he urged. “What are you curious about, Nicole?”

  She shrugged. “Well, I don’t like being nosy, but I heard that you and Amyra used to, uh, be an item. Honestly, I can’t wrap my head around that one.”

  Ryan laughed. “You and everyone else.”

  “So you really did date? You guys seem so drastically different.”

  “I know. I first met Amy in design school—ages ago.”

  “Amy?”

  “That’s her real name. She changed it to Amyra a few years ago. Anyway, she was a lot different back then. If I showed you a photo you wouldn’t even recognize her. She had curly red hair and freckles.”

  “Seriously?” She sat down on a stool, eager for him to continue.

  “She hated it. Then she got the notion to change everything about herself,” he explained. “She wanted to be more dramatic. Said it was an expression of her creativity. She changed everything, clear down to her Southern accent.”

  “Amyra is Southern?” Nicole frowned. “I thought she was from New York.”

  “That’s what she wants everyone to think, but she grew up in a Charleston suburb that she called white bread. She used a reference from Mom to get a gallery job in New York. She spent less than a year there, then she came back to work in Mom’s gallery again.”

  “So you guys were still together?”

  “Not really. I suppose she’d hoped to get back together. But she’d already changed so much, I just wasn’t that into her anymore.” He shrugged. “It was like she’d turned into someone else. Or maybe it was just who she’d always been underneath. Anyway, when she reinvented herself, I moved on.”

  Nicole chuckled. “Some of my students do that. Usually it involves a tattoo, blue hair, or a pierced nose. But I always hope they’ll outgrow it eventually.” She controlled the urge to point out that Amyra seemed a bit old for an adolescent makeover.

  “That’s right, you teach high school art, don’t you?”

  She nodded.

  “That’s very cool.”

  “I don’t know about that. It’s kind of gritty. Like being in the trenches.”

  “I really admire teachers. They should get more respect.�
�� He grinned. “And a higher salary.”

  She nodded. “I wholeheartedly agree.”

  “Mom said you’re an artist too.” He took the barstool across from her.

  “I guess that depends on how you define artist. I do paint some . . . when I have time. But I think if I were a real artist, I’d work harder to carve out the time.”

  “Maybe you will. Maybe it’s a timing thing. Like you’ll know when the time is right because you’ll be ready.”

  “Maybe.” She shook her head.

  “What’s wrong?” He studied her with a creased brow.

  “I was thinking about Collin Turner, how he didn’t get serious about painting until after retirement.”

  “Precisely.” Ryan nodded. “Timing is everything. He probably knows that.”

  “Yeah, but now all I can think of is how I may have helped that couple steal his valuable painting today.”

  He grimaced, then smiled. “I’m sure it’ll be okay, Nicole.”

  She sighed, wishing she felt as confident as him. Hopefully that painting wouldn’t give her nightmares tonight.

  8

  Monday morning at the gallery was very quiet. It was no surprise that Amyra had taken the day off. Nicole spent some time moving a few paintings around—trying to fill up the gap of the missing seascape—and praying that it had truly gotten a good home and a solid sale. The result was actually rather nice. An improvement, she felt.

  As the day wore on, Nicole’s confidence grew. Perhaps she really could handle this. She even came up with some ideas for the gallery. Since customers were few and far between, she decided to play manager like Vivian had encouraged and went to work rearranging some things. She was careful not to create any messes while she worked, just in case a real customer popped in. When she finally finished shortly before closing time, she felt that her changes were definitely better. And she felt certain Vivian would approve.

  She took her time locking everything up, going over her checklist even though she felt she had it memorized. Pausing by the back door, she thought about the “gallery ghost” and wondered if, since they were closed on Tuesdays, perhaps he’d enjoy having the place to himself tomorrow. She laughed as she got into Vivian’s SUV.

  She drove through the charming town, taking time to go through a couple of historical neighborhoods, and wondered how long it would take to walk to work. Perhaps she would do a practice run tomorrow to see. It would be fun to take her time in these neighborhoods. All the older homes in this city were amazing. It was no wonder Ryan loved his work of restoring them.

  As she drove up to the Graham house, she felt disappointed that Alex wouldn’t be around tonight. He’d flown to New York early this morning. He’d left her a sweet note in the kitchen, saying he wouldn’t be home until late Friday, but if she didn’t have plans, he wanted to take her to dinner on Saturday. He asked her to text an answer, although he’d forgotten to leave his phone number. She hadn’t known what to tell him anyway.

  She went into the house, still feeling unsure. As much as she liked Alex’s attention and would probably enjoy going to dinner with him, she was uncomfortable with his marital status. Call her old-fashioned, but if his divorce wasn’t final . . . well, he was still married.

  Nicole went to check on the cat, enticing her from the sunroom to have her dinner in the laundry room. “Did you have a good day?” she asked Mimi as she dished out some canned food. “Get lonely?” She stroked Mimi’s back as the feline leaned down to eat. “Missing your mama?” Nicole continued chatting to the elderly cat, waiting until she was all finished, then carried her back to the sunroom. “Now I’m going to get my dinner,” she said as set the cat down.

  Knowing that there were plenty of leftovers from last night, Nicole had been looking forward to dinner ever since she’d gulped down her lunch of an apple and yogurt. But when she opened the fridge, all of the leftovers were gone. “Huh?” She looked more closely, poking around. She knew Alex hadn’t touched them since they’d still been in the fridge this morning. Perhaps Ryan had stopped by for lunch. Or maybe Miss Doreen had polished them off. Seeing a milk glass and a dirty plate in the sink, Nicole wondered if Miss Doreen had forgotten to clean up after herself too.

  Although Nicole planned to get a few groceries tomorrow, there was still plenty to make a small dinner. Before long she was settled outside on the patio, happily dining on cheese and crackers and butternut squash soup. The air, though still moist, had cooled significantly this afternoon, and now dark clouds were gathering in the east. The weather report had been for evening thunderstorms, and it looked like that was about to come true.

  Just as giant raindrops began to splatter down on the stone patio, Nicole gathered her dishes and hurried back inside. A Southern thunderstorm would be fun, and if Mimi didn’t mind, she would watch it with her from the sunroom.

  The lightning and thunder was bright and loud. Impressive. But the storm quickly passed over, so Nicole began to wander around the old house. It was hard to imagine how just two people could feel comfortable in such a large home. Certainly, it was all beautifully put together—and luxurious—but it was so big.

  Finally, feeling the need for a cozier space, she went up to her bedroom. Her plan was to unpack some of her art supplies, hoping that if she laid them out, she might be more inclined to put them to use tomorrow. Perhaps if she got involved in a project, she would take it to the gallery and work on it when things got slow there. Vivian had even suggested she might do that.

  She was just opening her acrylic paint kit when she heard a strange scratching sound above her. She looked up at the pretty coved ceiling, wondering what that could be. The ghost? The house settling? Perhaps the rain was making the boards expand or something. It was probably nothing.

  She returned to unpacking the bag of art things, then heard a loud clunk above her. Now she was unnerved. Was someone in the attic? Had they broken into the house while she was gone? Grabbing her phone, she hurried downstairs, trying to think of what to do. Calling the police felt like overkill. What if it was simply the house settling . . . the “ghost”?

  On the counter were Vivian’s notes. Nicole started poring over them, as if she might find the answer there. What she did find was Alex’s phone number. He had asked her to text him an answer. With trembling fingers she shot off a quick text, saying she was unsure about Saturday night and that she’d heard a suspicious noise in the house, asking if he thought it was a ghost.

  She hit send then waited, hoping that he’d get right back to her. But after several minutes, she suspected that he wasn’t paying attention to his phone. He was probably preoccupied with the Big Apple right now. She looked back at Vivian’s list, seeing that Ryan’s number was there too, so she called him. To her relief, he answered on the second ring.

  “Sorry to bother you,” she said quickly. “But I, uh, I think I hear the ghost.”

  “The ghost?”

  “Yes. In the attic.” She described the noises.

  “There’s not really a ghost, Nicole.” He sounded serious.

  “I know that. But there are noises up there.” She told him about the missing food and dishes in the sink. “Do you think someone broke in?”

  “Was the security system still running?”

  She confessed that it was.

  “Then I doubt anyone broke in. That system is state-of-the-art.”

  “But there were noises in the attic.”

  “I believe you, Nicole. I’m heading over there right now.”

  “Oh, good.”

  “Do you want me to call the police?”

  “I don’t know.” Suddenly she felt a little foolish. “What if it’s just the house settling? You know, the ghost noises? I’m not familiar with the sounds it makes yet. What if I’m overreacting?”

  “That could be. But just in case, how about if you get out of there for the time being?”

  “Where should I go?”

  “Get in Mom’s car and leave.” He told her wh
ere to meet him. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

  “Good idea. I’m on my way.” She grabbed up her purse and headed out the back door. “Thanks, Ryan!”

  They met as planned, and she followed him back to the house, which she’d left unlocked. “I’m sorry if I’ve overblown the whole thing,” she said as they went inside. “I mean, it’s not as if there was any sign of a break-in. I just sort of freaked when I heard those noises overhead.”

  “It’s totally understandable.” He led the way back into the kitchen, looking around as he went. “Just for the record, it would be totally out of character for Miss Doreen to help herself to food that wasn’t offered to her. And she would never leave dirty dishes in the sink.”

  “Oh.” Nicole felt a shiver go down her spine as she followed him through the house.

  “And you know it’s not Mimi?” he asked as he paused by the sunroom.

  “I’m sure it’s not. I left her here after the thunderstorm.” She called out, “Kitty-kitty,” and Mimi emerged. “See.”

  “Okay then.” He went over to the fireplace, picking up a poker like a weapon. “Just in case.”

  She grimaced. “Maybe we should call the police.”

  “Keep your phone ready.”

  “Okay.”

  “Let’s go to where you heard the noises,” he whispered as they crept up the stairs.

  “My room.” She led the way to her room, pointing up to the ceiling. “It was up there.” They both waited in silence as if the noise would reproduce itself. But nothing happened.

  “Do you think I overreacted?” she said quietly. “Like it really is the ghost—I mean, the house?”

  He looked uncertain. “I’m not sure, but I’m going to check the attic.”

  “You think that’s a good idea?” She stared at him, unsure of whether to be impressed by his bravery or to question his sensibility.

  “Well, there was no sign of a break-in,” he said calmly. “That makes me think it is just the house . . . or the ghost.” He gave a little smile. “Anyway, I’ll find out.”