The Color of Forever (6 page)

Bailey thought about that. “He’ll still think you’re a nutcase. Besides, what else do you know about him? He could be married with a family of his own and his wife might think you’re a husband stealer. Or maybe he’s a cocaine addict, or some kind of weird freak.”

I heard what Bailey was saying, but her words seemed to float over my head without really sinking in.

“I’ve never been to Maine,” I said contemplatively.

Bailey gave me a look. “I know what you’re thinking. You want to go there.”

“Why not? I could just…” I thought about it for a few seconds. “I could make an appointment to have my teeth cleaned.”

“Careful. You’re starting to sound like a stalker.”

“Well, I have to do
something
.” I leaned forward in my chair and placed my hands over the keyboard. “Let’s just find out if he’s single. It’s an important fact to know, don’t you think? It will affect how I handle this.” I typed in his name again, and another link popped up. As soon as I saw the image, my stomach exploded with fascination.

“Oh.” Bailey laid a hand on the back of my chair. “I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised—a good-looking guy like that, and a dentist to boot. He’s a great catch. She’s a lucky woman. Wow, gorgeous.”

I stared, transfixed, at the photo for a long moment, taking in the bride’s simple, classic wedding gown and white flower arrangement. Her blond hair was pulled into a loose knot at her nape and spiraled tendrils framed her face. She had a sparkling, joyful smile.

Chris also smiled as they walked down the church aisle, surrounded by family and friends.

“Look at the date,” Bailey said. “They were married just last February. They’re newlyweds.” She squeezed my shoulder. “Sorry, Katelyn.”

“It’s okay,” I replied with surprising resilience, glancing up at Bailey. “Really, I’m not devastated, even though I thought he might be my future husband. This is so weird. I think a part of me expected this, and it doesn’t change anything. I still want to talk to him. And her.”

“But why?” Bailey asked.

I sat forward and began to type again. “I just need to know why I saw what I saw.”

Bailey went to the kitchen and helped herself to a cup of coffee, then returned to the computer and leaned on the edge of the desk, facing me. “You’re still thinking about the boy.”

Trying to ignore the note of concern in her voice, I scanned the computer screen, searching everywhere on the web. “Now I’m wondering if Chris has any kids, maybe from a previous marriage.”

Nothing popped up to suggest he had children. The lack of an answer frustrated me.

I let out a breath and propped my elbows on the desk, cupped my forehead in my hand. “Lord, maybe I
am
going crazy. I don’t know what’s happening to me. You should have me committed.”

Bailey gave no reply. She simply watched me, waiting to see what I would do next.

I sat back and drummed my fingers on the mousepad, then stood up and went to the kitchen to look at my calendar, which was tacked to the wall next to the refrigerator.

Bailey followed me and set her water glass down on the island’s countertop. “I can see the wheels turning,” she said. “I’m afraid to ask. But what are your intentions, Katelyn?”

I turned to face her. “I want to visit Maine. I have a bunch of vacation days owed to me, and my boss has been encouraging me to take them. I could probably get some time off this week. I could even go tonight if I can get on a flight.”

Bailey’s mouth fell open in disbelief. “Part of me
does
thinks you’re crazy, but another part of me admires your determination and sense of adventure.”

“You should come with me,” I suggested. “We could make a vacation of it and lie on the beach, drink lots of wine and eat lobster. We could stay in some quaint little Victorian bed and breakfast with a view of the Atlantic. Wouldn’t that be great? Besides, I could really use a friend, just in case I really
am
losing my mind. Could you take a few days off?”

Bailey inclined her head as she thought about it. “I’m the boss. I can take time off whenever I like.”

We regarded each other for a long moment, our thoughts percolating….

“Do you feel like checking out some flights?” I asked.

“I’m on it.” Bailey whipped out her phone and wagged her finger at my computer. “You go and look for a nice hotel. Where are we going, exactly? Portland?”

“Yes, that’s where Chris’s dental practice is. I’ll see if there’s anything nearby, on the water.”

While she searched for flights on her phone, I sat down at the computer. Without looking up, she mentioned, “I’m only coming along to keep you out of trouble.”

“Of course, I appreciate that, but don’t pretend you’re not loving this. I know how much you enjoy a good mystery. And you’ve always wanted to see the Atlantic. We’ll visit some lighthouses. You know…I used to be obsessed with lighthouses when I was a kid.” I keyed in a search for hotel accommodations around Portland, and scrolled through a number of options before my eyes zeroed in on a magnificent white Palladian-style mansion that caused my whole body to quiver.
Please, let it be on the water.

I clicked on the link, saw a view of the Atlantic at sunrise beyond a rocky beach at the edge of the lawn, and knew, without a doubt, that it would be the perfect place for us.

“How about this?” I glanced over my shoulder. Bailey moved closer to check it out. “It’s just outside Portland, in a coastal community called Cape Elizabeth.”

“It looks beautiful,” she said. “Can we each have our own room?”

I picked up my phone. “I’ll check on that right now.”

While Bailey continued to search for flights, I waited for the innkeeper to answer the phone. I clicked through the picture gallery, admiring the mansion’s massive front veranda with Georgian-style columns and high portico. Inside, the house maintained a historical style with antique beds and a spectacular dining room with gilt-framed family portraits on the walls.

At last, someone answered. “Fraser House Inn. Could you hold for a moment, please? I’ll be right with you.”

I waited with high hopes that there would be two rooms available.

o0o

“That’s the strangest thing,” the woman said to me on the phone. “I had to put you on hold because I was handling a cancellation for two rooms just now. Otherwise, we were fully booked. So yes, I can most certainly accommodate you tonight. How long will you be staying?”

“Let me check.” I glanced over my shoulder at Bailey and spoke quietly. “They have two rooms available. How long will we stay? A week?”

“Yes, that sounds good. And I found a flight. It’s at 5:10 p.m. Flying time is under six hours, so we should get there around midnight. But we’ll have to pack in a hurry. Might have to skip lunch and grab something at the airport later.”

“No problem.” I spoke into the phone again. “We’ll be staying a week, checking out next Saturday. Will that work?”

The clerk paused while confirming it. “Yes, that will work out fine. And if you’re arriving at midnight, I’ll unlock the front door for you. Just come in and I’ll get you settled.”

“Thank you so much.” I gave her our names and our credit card information, then hung up.

Turning to face Bailey, who was still working on our flights, I said, “I can’t believe we’re doing this. It’s so impetuous.”

She nodded, somewhat distracted. “I can definitely use a getaway.”

Ten minutes later, after the flights were booked and paid for, Bailey left to go home and pack, while I ran upstairs to do the same.

Maine

Chapter Fourteen

It was past midnight when our cab turned off Cape Elizabeth’s main road and pulled onto a narrow, wooded lane.

“I’ve never been inside the Fraser House Inn before,” our driver said, leaning forward over the steering wheel as he drove slowly through the fog. The beams of his headlights barely penetrated the dense wall of mist. “I think it’s a good thing that someone is finally making good use of it.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, it’s a historic landmark, of course,” he said, as if he shouldn’t have to state the obvious. “But it was empty for a number of years after the wealthy, New York widow who owned it, passed away. Actually, it was empty for quite a while before that because she hadn’t set foot in the place after her son and husband died there—on the same night. It was a terrible thing.”

“What happened?” I asked, glancing at Bailey who raised her eyebrows at me.

“Oh…let me see…” He tapped his thumb on the steering wheel. “As I recall, the father had a fight with the teenage son and he got a bit rough with him. He pushed him into the fireplace and the kid cracked his skull right open and died. Then the father, upset with himself, no doubt, went upstairs and did himself in.”

“That’s horrible,” I said. “When did that happen?”

“Not that long ago,” the driver explained. “Less than twenty years, I would guess. Time seems to fly by so fast these days. I can’t keep track anymore. Ah, here we are.”

Bailey gave me a look and shook her head with disbelief, as if to say,
Why in the world would he tell us that
?

All I could do was shrug my shoulders.

We emerged at last from the tree-lined lane, and the brightly lit house appeared before us, like a giant sailing ship, out of the mist.

“It’s bigger than I expected,” Bailey said.

I sat forward on the seat, craning my neck for a better view while the cab’s tires crunched over the white-gravel parking lot, until the car came to a halt at the foot of the wide, painted staircase.

As our driver got out and retrieved our luggage from the trunk, I slid out of the back seat, set my feet on the ground and stood up to breathe in the delectable, briny scent of the sea, while working hard to purge that tragic story from my mind. I closed my eyes, inhaled deeply and held my breath for as long as I could before letting it out.

When I re-opened my eyes, I wished I could see the water, but there was nothing but blackness and fog surrounding me, cloaking the thunderous roar of the surf crashing onto the rocks beyond the edge of the lawn.

“The surf’s not usually that loud,” our driver informed us, “but we had a few days of high winds. It should calm down for you by tomorrow. It’s supposed to be a clear, windless day. The ocean will be quieter.”

“That’s good to hear,” I replied as I accepted my large red suitcase and paid him his fee, plus a tip. “It’s kind of frightening. It doesn’t make me want to go for a walk in that direction.”

He inclined his head. “Me neither.”

Bailey, standing beside me and looking up at the steep staircase, extended the pull bar on her suitcase. “This should be a challenge. As usual, I packed way too many shoes and books.”

“Two of my favorite things,” I said with a grin as our cab drove off. I lifted my bag and led the way up the stairs to the front door.

o0o

“Welcome to Fraser House,” the innkeeper said, crossing the spacious entrance hall from a room at the back. She was a slim, attractive older lady with upswept hair and rimless glasses. “I’m Angela.”

Standing on the welcome mat, I allowed my gaze to sweep across the dark wood wainscoting, antique portraits, and the large crystal chandelier over our heads. The staircase boasted an ornately carved, oak newel post topped with a brass statue of a woman, like a Greek goddess, holding a lighted globe in her hand. Everything felt very familiar, from the pictures I’d seen online.

I set down my suitcase. “What a beautiful home,” I said as Angela reached us.

“Thank you. I’m sure you’ll enjoy your stay here. But you must be exhausted after your long flight. Would you like to come this way? I’ll get you your keys.”

We followed Angela into a parlor to the left where the reception desk was located, along with a number of inviting-looking sofas and oversized upholstered chairs in front of a massive white marble fireplace.

I nudged Bailey and gestured toward it, wondering if that was where the son cracked his skull open.

No doubt this house held a number of secrets in its past. Wouldn’t it be interesting to learn them all?

A few minutes later, Angela showed us to our rooms on the second floor. She kept her voice low as we climbed the elegant staircase, so as not to wake the other guests.

“Breakfast is included,” she informed us, unlocking Bailey’s door first. “We serve it in the dining room from 7:00 until 10:00. You each have your own private bathrooms, and you should find everything you need in there.” She showed Bailey inside while I waited in the corridor, peeking over Angela’s shoulder to sneak a look at the room. I spotted a four-poster canopy bed with a floral quilt, and a braided rug on the floor.

Next, Angela took me to my room at the end of the hall and unlocked the door for me. I followed her inside and marveled at the canopy bed of my own with a clean white comforter and pillows. “Does the fireplace work?” I asked, strolling across the rug to the window, though I could see nothing but my own reflection in the glass.

“Yes, it does. There’s kindling in the box right there. You can use it whenever you like, or if you’d like some help getting it started, just let me know. Can I get you anything else before I retire? A glass of brandy perhaps?”