The Restoration Page 3

  You mean he’s scaring you. Dallas is fine, said the annoying voice in her head, but she pushed it aside. “There’s a situation I need to talk to you about.”

  “Yes? I’m not much for beating around the bush. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

  “I’m afraid one of your actors must have gotten confused. He’s been in the house since we moved in, and he’s frightening my daughter.” She silently apologized to Dallas for throwing her under the bus.

  “One of my actors? Whatever do you mean?” Vandermere still sounded amused, but now Terri could detect an undercurrent of irritation.

  “You know, from the tours. The historical recreations,” she said, feeling frustrated. Perhaps actor wasn’t the best word, but surely the woman understood what she’d meant.

  “My dear, I didn’t mean to give you that impression. Some of our staff would dress up from time to time, just a simple show-and-tell. No actors or historical recreations. It’s too fragile for that sort of nonsense.”

  “But…didn’t I see a brochure with some actors in period dress showing people around?” Her heart was sprinting again, and she found it difficult to breathe. It was as if iron bands were wrapped around her chest, forcing the air from her lungs.

  “Oh, we hosted a little event for the one-hundredth anniversary, but nothing since. Too much work, and too much hassle. Not to mention the cost to the house would be too great if we’d kept doing it. As I’m sure you’re aware, the general public cannot be trusted with such a priceless artifact.”

  “Did a boy take part in that event?”

  “No, no children.” Terri could imagine Vandermere pursing her lips at the thought. Unlike a lot of women her age, she was not charmed by children, which had been quite apparent when she’d met Dallas. “Children are even worse than the general public. So destructive.”

  Deep breath. “Miss Vandermere, my daughter has seen someone in the house. A young man, wearing period clothing. He told her his name was Niles.”

  The woman sighed. “Do you know why I hired you?”

  A million potential responses leapt to Terri’s lips, each one more defensive or egotistical than the last. She settled for, “Aside from my recommendations and expertise, no. Not really.” Remembering the other restorers, she prayed Vandermere wouldn’t tell her she’d been the last choice.

  “Oh, please. There are plenty of good people who have been in the restoration business longer than you’ve been alive. Recommendations and expertise come cheap. No, I hired you because you were brave.”

  Terri’s mind reeled from the woman’s not-so-veiled insult. Brave? But before she could ask what Vandermere meant, the woman continued. “When I heard you were the one who’d restored the Davis house, I thought, ‘This is the right person for the job.’ To be gauche for a moment, the fact that you needed the work didn’t hurt either.”

  She’d missed the last barb, as the mention of the name Davis made her knees buckle. The Davis house had been the site of a multiple murder: a churchgoing couple gunned down by their eldest son, who had then turned the weapon on his three siblings. It hadn’t been so much a restoration as a clean-up job. She had spent weeks separated from her daughter, scrubbing dried blood and brain matter off the walls, and had tried to erase it from her mind ever since.

  “Are you saying something horrible happened in this house?” she asked once she’d regained her composure.

  “Of course not, nothing like that. As you know, my brother passed away in that house, in the north bedroom, when he was sixteen. He had been ill for some time. There was certainly nothing nefarious about it. As for anything else you might hear, it’s nothing more than idle gossip from those who forget sensibilities were quite different back then.”

  Terri was beginning to feel sorry she’d called. Rather than reassuring her, Vandermere’s words were having the opposite effect. “What do you mean ‘sensibilities were different’?”

  “How people raised their children, for instance. What would be considered ‘abusive’ today was simply good discipline back then. Children weren’t indulged, coddled, and handed everything on a silver platter. They had to earn their privileges, and were expected to behave.”

  The smugness in her voice, especially since the woman had never raised a child in her life, made Terri’s blood boil. “And be seen and not heard, I suppose.”

  Her employer missed her sarcasm, or perhaps decided to ignore it. “Exactly. Children understood how to respect their elders back then. A little healthy fear never hurt anyone.”

  Healthy fear? She’d never heard a bigger oxymoron in her life. Best to bring this conversation to an end before she lost it completely. “I’m not sure what this has to do with the boy my daughter saw in the house.”

  “Do you remember what we discussed on the day I showed you the house?”

  Damn. She’d been hoping Vandermere wouldn’t go there. This had nothing to do with her imagination, or her daughter’s imagination. Dallas hadn’t had a clue who Niles Vandermere was. She couldn’t have conjured that name up. “Yes, but—”

  “It’s an old house. Old houses have history. They make strange noises, and occasionally, one might see funny things. Do you remember me telling you this?”

  “Yes, but with all due respect, we were talking about moving curtains. Not young men wandering around the house, claiming to be your brother. If he isn’t an actor, I’d like to know who he is.”

  “Have you seen this young man for yourself?” The woman’s voice was heavy with skepticism.

  “No, but I believe my daughter.”

  “We talked about this, Ms. Foxworth. I told you that I prefer employees without overactive imaginations.”

  “This is hardly an overactive imagination. How would my daughter have known your brother’s name? I certainly never told her.”

  “She has access to a computer, doesn’t she? A cell phone? Information about our family is easy enough to find.”

  “That’s what I thought too, but I asked her, and she swears she hasn’t looked up a thing.”

  “And children never lie, do they?” Before Terri could explode, Vandermere continued, clearly not expecting an answer. “You remember what I told you about the other workers I hired. They had to be fired due to their flights of fancy and ridiculous notions. I’d hoped I wouldn’t have to say the same about you.”

  “I thought it had been their choice to leave.” Terri swallowed hard, digging her nails into her palms. “You told me they’d abandoned the project and left you in the lurch.”

  “I couldn’t have you think I was difficult to work for, could I?” The amusement had returned to the woman’s voice, like she was winking, and Terri felt ill.

  “This isn’t my daughter’s imagination. There is a boy in this house, and he told her his name was Niles. She said he was wearing old-fashioned clothing.” As she said the words, she realized how ludicrous it sounded. Still, she believed her daughter. Dallas wasn’t the type to make things up, and definitely not something like that. How would she have known the name of Vandermere’s brother? If she had researched the family, there would be no reason to lie.

  “If you really believe a boy is in the house, the police would be the ones to contact. There isn’t much I can do.”

  “Understood. Thank you, Miss Vandermere. I won’t bother you again.”

  “I’ll hold you to that,” the woman said, and hung up.

  Bitch. Terri had known Vandermere was set in her ways, but hadn’t expected her to be so dismissive of Terri’s concerns – or so rude. Not to mention her antiquated ideas about raising children. The idea of someone laying a hand on Dallas was enough to make her seethe. Not all of the old ways had been good ones, but try getting someone from that era to admit it.

  Then there was the matter of the boy Dallas had seen. Maybe her daughter had imagined it, but that didn’t seem likely, not if he had
told her his name was Niles. If she saw him herself, she’d ask him to leave. No sense calling the police on a kid, especially a kid with a mental illness. Hopefully he’d get bored and leave on his own. Sooner rather than later.

  Plugging in the electric kettle she’d brought with her, Terri wished she did have an overactive imagination. If she had, perhaps she could have convinced herself that it was going to be that simple.

  Chapter Three

  “That is the box you want.”

  Dallas startled, but only a little. She’d known the boy was around; she could feel him watching her. Even her mom felt him – it was obvious from the way she kept looking around and rubbing the back of her neck. He made her neck prickle too, but Dallas found that interesting. She needed to ask him how he did that.

  “You’re not supposed to be here,” she said in her best stern tone, the one she used with younger children, though Niles wasn’t younger. Older or not, she wasn’t going to let him boss her around.

  He took a step backward, stumbling as if she’d hit him, and she instantly felt bad. “Whatever do you mean? I live here.”

  “My mom says that’s not true. She said you’re an actor, and that you’re confused. She says you shouldn’t be here.”

  “An actor?” He did look confused; her mother had been right about that.

  “She says you’re sick.”

  “It’s true, I have been ill,” he said, taking a seat on the floor. “It’s called die-a-beat-tees.”

  “I know all about diabetes. My grandmother has it. It means you can’t eat too much sugar. Right?” Seeing the deepening confusion on his face, she shrugged. “Never mind. That’s not the kind of sickness my mom meant, anyway. She meant the kind that’s in your head.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You know, crazy-sick.” Dallas spun her finger around her ear and made a face, even though she knew it was unkind. When people were sick in their heads, it wasn’t their fault. But she wasn’t trying to be polite. Niles scared her mother, and that meant he had to go. “Thinking wrong thoughts, like believing you’re Niles.”

  “But I am Niles.”

  Dallas exhaled, feeling very old and tired. How did this boy’s parents put up with him? “Where’s your mother?”

  His brow creased. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen her for a long time. Have you seen her?”

  “Of course not. How would I have seen her?”

  “She lives here too.”

  “Look, my mom told me all about you, okay? She says you’re an actor who plays Niles, but that you’ve gotten confused. She doesn’t want you here.”

  His lip trembled. “But it’s my home. She cannot make me leave my own home.”

  She returned to rummaging in the closet. “Whatever. But if she catches you, she’s going to call the police.”

  “That is the box you want, the big one on the left. That one contains my belongings.”

  “You talk funny.” Dallas wrinkled her nose.

  “I am not the one talking ‘funny’. You are the one who speaks strangely.”

  “Whatever.” It was her best retort, and never failed to piss her mom off, but it wasn’t having the usual effect on this kid. It didn’t seem to bother him at all.

  The box was heavy, and it was on the highest shelf. As he moved to help her, Dallas shrieked. “Don’t touch me!” There was something about his closeness that made it feel like spiders were crawling on her skin. She had nothing against spiders, but she didn’t want them crawling on her with their creepy little legs.

  “I was only attempting to assist.”

  She could tell by his expression that she’d hurt his feelings. Despite what her mom had said about him not belonging here, she felt badly. She didn’t like hurting people’s feelings. And it wasn’t his fault he was sick. Maybe that’s why his face was so flushed all the time. Maybe it wasn’t makeup.

  “It’s okay. I’ve got it.”

  The box was coated with dust. Before touching the flaps, Dallas carefully wiped them off with a rag she’d brought with her. Other kids would have used their sleeve, but she didn’t like being dirty, and besides, sometimes the dirt stained if it was thick enough. She glanced at Niles, expecting him to make fun of her like other kids did, but he’d resettled himself on the floor, watching her with a blank expression.

  She opened the box.

  “Wow.” Impressed in spite of herself, she examined the contents. It was like finding treasure. There were so many puzzles, and books, and games. She didn’t know where to start. “This is all yours? This is really cool.”

  “Yes.” He’d moved closer, but being distracted with the box’s contents had kept her from noticing the spidery feeling. Maybe it was something she could get used to over time. She hoped so. It would be nice to have a friend here. “That one is my very favorite.” He pointed to a board game, and she pulled it out.

  “The Checkered Game of Life,” she read aloud. “I’ve played this before, but this version looks different. The one I’ve played is called The Game of Life.”

  “It’s the only one I’ve played. Perhaps there are others.”

  “It also looks really old. Mom won’t want me playing with this.” As much as she longed to open the box and see what the little cars and people were like in this version, she didn’t dare. Her mom had told her over and over again how valuable old things could be. And besides, the contents of the house didn’t belong to them. They were the property of the people who had hired them to fix this place.

  “What do you mean? It’s brand new. My papa gave it to me for my birthday. It’s not ‘old’. I’ve barely played with it.” Niles’s cheeks were redder than usual. “It is unkind of you to call it old.”

  “I’m sorry, but to me it looks like an antique. If we play with this, I could get in trouble.”

  He scowled. “Why? It’s mine. It belongs to me. I can do whatever I like with it.”

  “Fine, here. Do what you want, but I’m not touching it anymore.” She shoved the box at him harder than she’d meant, and he fumbled with it, nearly dropping it. Dallas cursed herself. She had to stop getting so angry all the time, or she’d never have any friends. But she was angry, a lot. She didn’t understand why.

  “I was angry much of the time as well,” Niles said, startling her. The game remained on his lap, untouched. As excited as he’d been to find it, he didn’t appear to be in a big hurry to open it. “I didn’t like that I was ill so often, and that I had to stay in bed when other children were able to play. My sister used to tease me about it, and I hated her. Some days I would have liked to kill her.”

  Dallas was shocked. She’d never heard a kid speak like that. As furious as she felt sometimes, she’d never wanted to kill anyone. “You shouldn’t talk that way.”

  “Why?” He looked at her in that intense way of his, and then lowered his eyes. “I have frightened you. I apologize.”

  “It’s not me you should say sorry to, it’s your sister. I can’t imagine feeling that way about my family. It’s not right.” She tried not to think about all the times she’d told her mother she wished she were dead. She’d never meant it, not really. She’d just wanted her parents to stay together. When she’d heard her dad crying at night after Mom left, it hurt her heart. “I’d love to have a sister.” Or a brother. Anyone to break up the boredom of being alone all the time.

  “Not my sister, you would not. She is a monster.” Niles made a face, clearly not paying any attention to her scolding. She’d noticed that about boys. They said and did whatever they wanted. They never listened to anyone, especially a girl.

  “What does she do that’s so bad?”

  “I told you. She’s forever mocking me, finding sport in having a laugh at my expense. It’s not fair that she is healthy while I’m always ill.”

  “That doesn’t sound very nice,” Dallas con
ceded, “but maybe she’s teasing you.” Angela, her one friend from her old school, had an older sister who’d teased them, but never in a mean way. Dallas missed Angela, and Angela’s mother, who’d made the most amazing food, like tortillas and real Mexican tacos. At first she’d been disappointed that they were nothing like the kind from Taco Bell, but she’d decided that the real thing was much better, to the delight of Angela’s parents. She’d loved how happy the family was, and how they talked about actual stuff at the dinner table, not just how school was going and other boring crap. She loved how Angela’s mother rested a hand on her head when she walked past, and called her mi reinita.

  “I cannot tolerate her. My other sister can ride a horse better than any man, and she’s a wonderful shot and a good fencer too.”

  “Fencer? Like, with swords and stuff?” She’d seen fencing on the Olympics. It looked pretty boring to her, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. He wasn’t talking about wanting to kill his sister anymore, and that was a good thing.

  “Yes. She’s very impressive.”

  “That’s cool.”

  “I have an idea of a thing we could do to pass the time.”

  “I told you I can’t play that game with you. I wish I could, but my mom would get angry with me.”

  “It’s not the game I’m thinking of. Why don’t we put everything in the box back in my room, the way it was before?”

  Dallas stared at the contents of the enormous box. “Everything?”

  “Yes, everything. It will be a laugh – come on.”

  It didn’t sound like a laugh to her. It sounded like unpacking, and unpacking was anything but fun. Packing wasn’t fun either, but at least packing promised the excitement of a new adventure. Unpacking was boring. “But there’s so much here. Where will I put my stuff?”

  She wondered if she should have chosen another room. Niles was getting a bit controlling. She wasn’t ‘his bitch’, as Angela would say.