Logan added and grinned mischievously.
Emma shook her head and turned to Marshall. “What do these people who have moved in look like?”
“I only saw one of them,” he said, then remembered the image he’d seen behind the woman and felt a chill snake up his spine. “She could have been a ghost.”
Emma shot him a disapproving look. “I’m asking if they seem like decent enough people and if they do, I think as their only neighbor you should go over there, introduce yourself and be neighborly. I’ll bake something for you to take.” She was already on her feet.
Hoyt was shaking his head. “You might want to get the lay of the land before you do that. Who knows who might have moved in there? We’ve had trouble with drug runners from Canada, escaped prisoners from Deer Lodge, criminals crossing the border through some barbed-wire fence and heading for the first house they see. Until you know who you’re dealing with—”
“Hoyt!” Emma chastised. “I’m sure all those instances were rare. I’ve read the local paper. There is hardly ever any crime up here. And Marshall is no fool. He’ll go over and meet them and make up his own mind. I’m sure they’re fine people if they’re remodeling the place and determined to live here.”
They all loved Emma’s positive attitude, no matter how naïve. But Marshall found himself poking at his food, his appetite gone as he remembered how his horse had spooked—not to mention his own reaction to what he’d seen just inside that balcony.
SUPPER AT WELLINGTON MANOR was served in the warm kitchen at a long, old table with mismatched chairs and dishes. The casserole that Carolina had fixed was delicious, and Alexa did her best to relax.
Carolina was a twenty-something, soft-spoken, pretty woman with blond hair, green eyes and porcelain skin. Her father, Sierra had said by way of introduction, had made his fortune in the hotel business. Carolina seemed shy and clearly embarrassed by Sierra’s introduction.
Her husband, Archer, was boisterous and big, a bodybuilder who apparently had been a football star until an injury had sidelined him. His father was a producer in Hollywood, his mother a lawyer.
The other couple, Gigi and Devlin, seemed cut from the same expensive cloth, both with parents who had retired to Palm Desert, California. Gigi’s long white-blond hair was pulled up in a ponytail, making her blue eyes seem even larger, her tiny nose all the more cute. A slender, athletic-looking young woman, she was in her twenties but could have passed for sixteen with her sweet, innocent face.
Her husband, Devlin, was a beach-boy blond with blue eyes. He laughed when Sierra introduced him as a rich kid whose parents owned a couple of vineyards in northern California. He’d had some wine shipped from home, which he poured with enthusiasm.
The lone wolf of the group was Jayden Farrell, whose father was an unemployed actor in Los Angeles, according to Sierra. Unlike the others, he was thirty-something and apparently hadn’t been raised privileged. But he was as movie-star handsome as the others, maybe even more so because there was intelligence behind his blue eyes that Alexa found both appealing and disturbing.
Not only that, Jayden also seemed to set himself apart from this group, watching them almost with amusement. Alexa doubted the rest of them had noticed the disdain for them that she glimpsed in his gaze. What was this single man doing here with these married couples, especially when she sensed he didn’t like them?
As the group around the table talked and joked, she and Jayden remained silent, she noted. She listened to them talk about their many university degrees, extended European trips and the benefits of growing up in sunny California.
None seemed to have professions, at least no jobs that kept them from helping their friends Sierra and Landon with their mansion, Jayden again being the exception. He’d made a point of saying that he’d studied business finance and would have to leave this fall to pursue his career.
The others seemed to see this Montana bed-and-breakfast venture as a lark, a great adventure, something to tell their friends about when they returned to their real lives. Jayden was more serious, which made Alexa all the more curious about his motives for being here.
Through all the laughter and camaraderie during the meal, Alexa found herself studying her brother. If she hadn’t known Landon so well, she might have thought he felt at ease with the assembled group, even though his roots were nothing like theirs. It was clear that Sierra had come from their world, though, rather than the one Alexa and Landon had grown up in. This made the reporter in Alexa curious, since Sierra had said she had been raised by a single mother in what she made sound like the Los Angeles projects.
Something was definitely wrong with that story, Alexa thought as she watched Sierra interacting with her friends. There was a gaiety to their stories. These young people had no worries—unlike her brother who seemed to be working hard not to show his.
Alexa also sensed tension within the group but couldn’t pinpoint exactly where it was coming from. All she knew for sure was that her brother’s forced merriment tonight didn’t fool her for a minute. If only their mother was here. Tallulah Cross would have sized up this bunch in an instant and known exactly what was going on.
Alexa hated that she felt bombarded by conflicting sensations in this house. Something was trying to break through the wall she’d built to keep these kinds of sensations out. For years, she’d feared she’d lied as much to herself as she had to her mother and brother. She felt things, things she didn’t want to feel. But if she truly had her mother’s gift, she was terrified of it, didn’t know how to use it and had done everything she could to block it for so long that she had no control over it.
Coming here had been a mistake and yet even as she thought about leaving, she knew she couldn’t abandon her brother. Not when she knew something was wrong in this house. He’d said he’d already had a series of accidents. What if he was right about something—or someone—wanting him out of the mansion?
By the time supper was over, Archer had the flushed face of a man who’d consumed more wine than anyone else. Sierra was in a friendly debate with Carolina and Gigi about the best sushi restaurants they’d ever gone to outside of California. Archer and Devlin excused themselves, saying they were going to try to catch the baseball game on television.
Alexa rose to help with the dishes.
“It’s Gigi and Landon’s turn to do the dishes,” Sierra insisted. “Come on. I want to show you the house.”
“Go on,” Landon said. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
Alexa had hoped to talk to her brother after supper and wished the two of them could have done the dishes together, but Sierra was determined to show her the house.
“You have to see this,” she said as they passed through the huge living area. She pushed open two large carved wooden doors. “The library,” she announced with a grand gesture. The books on the shelves had been moved and stacked as if someone had gone through them, the thick layer of dust that coated the room disturbed.
“We have so much to do before the house is restored,” she said. “But I love this room and can’t wait to get to it.”
Closing the doors, Sierra led her down a hallway, pointing out the servants’ quarters, most of the rooms empty except for one that Jayden was using. In another wing there was a music room with an old piano, and finally the ballroom.
All of the rooms looked
