Page 12 of Waiting For A Girl Like You (Haven House #4)
“ T hanks for stepping in on this,” Will said to Agent Anderson as they walked him to the front door. “Less than a month to go before you retire, and I dump this in your lap.”
Hands in his pockets, Anderson grinned as he took in the paintings and décor lining Haven’s central hallway.
“You’re giving me one last thrill before it’s over.
” He paused to admire the grandfather clock that had been counting the minutes at Haven House since the day she was built.
“And with Carter agreeing to come work for Liam, I couldn’t help but throw my hat into the ring. ”
Trailing behind Will and her father, Jamison leaned over to whisper in Liam’s ear. “Carter?”
“Carter is Agent Anderson’s grandson. Our families were close when I was a kid, and once Samuel hired me, the first thing I did was try to bring Carter in,” Liam told her. “But he wasn’t interested. He thought private security would be boring after being in the Marines.”
Jamison snorted. “He’s obviously never met us.”
They exchanged grins and continued arm in arm down the hallway once Anderson finally gave up his inspection of the grandfather clock. Simone waited at the front door, her posture perfect and that practiced smile of hers as sharp as ever.
“Ms. Howard.” Agent Anderson gave Simone a curt nod. “Thank you for allowing me into your home. ”
“I’m sorry it wasn’t under more pleasant circumstances,” Simone replied, the crisp politeness not missed by Klausen, who hurried past to wait on the porch. “I understand we’ll be seeing more of you?”
“You will,” Anderson confirmed. “I’ve assembled a small team, but they’re some of the best for handling this kind of situation.”
Simone frowned. “Do you see many situations like this?”
Agent Anderson chuckled along with Will. “More than you’d think.”
Jamison shot Liam a sideways glance, and he merely shrugged. “People are crazy.”
“Ah, but it’s the crazy ones who keep the job interesting,” Anderson said, wandering over to examine the small cluster of paintings near the foyer mirror.
“And if truth be told, I don’t mind. I’ve always wanted to see this place.
Haven House is something of an urban legend in my family, and when Tobias Miller was arrested, I realized my mom wasn’t completely nuts. ”
“Come again?” The smile on Simone’s lips dimmed. “What do you mean by ‘legend’ in your family?”
“My mom used to talk about this haunted house her grandmother grew up in and how she visited it once. My brother and I always thought it was just another one of her wild stories, but she swore it was real.”
Jamison noticed her father was also frowning, almost mirroring the guarded look on Simone’s face. “Only the Fairweathers have lived at Haven House. We’ve been here since the eighteenth century.”
“My mom was Anne Anderson. She was a travel photographer, and we were always in the Caribbean or on some exotic adventure growing up.” Anderson’s gaze drifted up to the massive crystal chandelier hanging over their heads.
“But this definitely is the place she talked about. Haven House. I think we even have a photo of that very chandelier stored in a box somewhere.”
“Ben, wasn’t there an Anderson family who once lived close to Haven?” Simone asked, relaxing a little, but not entirely. “I remember seeing the name on an old survey map when we added the gates.”
“Yeah, but that place burned down over a century ago,” he replied. “If that was your mother, it wouldn’t be the same family.”
Anderson shrugged. “My mother never married and kept her family name. The grandmother who supposedly lived here was from her father’s side, so maybe those Andersons do belong to me. ”
“Any idea if—” Jamison started to speak, but was cut off by her father laughing.
Loudly.
Everyone turned to stare. It had been so long since Jamison had heard him do much besides snap or bark orders, and the sound of his laughter had her heart feeling light again.
“Your great-grandmother was Wilhelmina Fairweather,” her father said, his laughter quieting when Simone gave him a look that meant he needed to get control of himself.
“Haven House might be a legend in your family, Agent Anderson, but your great-grandmother is a legend in ours. The story, as I know it, is that she ran off with her doctor, and the pair supposedly killed her father during their escape. Shot him on the curve of the forest trail and then buried him in the family graveyard.”
Jamison shivered. She knew exactly the spot he meant. The place had always given her the creeps, and whenever she passed it during a jog or while walking the paths, she used the unease everyone often felt as an incentive to move faster.
“Of course, there would be another murderer in your family tree,” Liam teased with an exaggerated whisper. “What’s one more at this point?”
“Well, I don’t know about her being a murderer.
The story we’ve heard went a little differently, but we’ve also heard of things like the conservatory,” Agent Anderson said.
“I was hoping to snap a photo for my brother. He’s been obsessed with genealogy stuff, even more so since retiring, and would love to see it. ”
Ever the hostess, Simone gestured back down the hall. “Would you like to see it now?”
“Ah, thank you, but no. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us, so I’ll grab one next time.”
Will escorted Anderson out to his car, leaving the four of them to watch as they maneuvered through the gauntlet of agents spread out on the lawn.
“That’s the last of them?” Simone asked through a clenched smile, waving at the agents staring back at them. “Anderson is the last of them inside the house?”
“Yeah, that’s it.” Liam glanced back over his shoulder. “It’s just family inside now. ”
Simone closed the new heavy front door, the clicks and whirls of it arming itself mixing with the sigh of relief that left her once it shut. “Thank God.”
She kicked off her shoes right there in the hall. One pump. Then the other. They flipped and landed near the entryway table, the move being the most non-Simone thing Jamison had ever witnessed.
“Are you okay?” she asked, a little stunned.
Simone waved her off. “I want to change my clothes and take a nap.” She gave Jamison her back and slid off her cardigan. “Unhook the top button of this dress for me.”
Per Liam’s request, they were wearing clothes that would remind Toby of the past and not the present. Her father was in a navy blue dress shirt and dark khaki slacks—his idea of casual—while Simone had chosen an old emerald green sheath dress she hadn’t worn since the nineties.
Evie chose a purple blouse because she supposedly had always dressed in purple as a kid.
For Jamison, it hadn’t been so simple. She had been a baby when Toby left, so Liam had the idea of dressing her in her mother’s clothes.
There were trunks full of Laura Jean’s things in the attic, but Simone also had a few pieces tucked away in her closet and pulled out a simple white tank top and green gingham broom skirt for her to wear.
“It’s not even noon yet.” Her dad watched Simone warily. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m old, Benjamin.” Simone smacked his arm with her cardigan. “As are you, you know?”
“Not old enough to nap before lunchtime.”
Simone rolled her eyes and walked barefoot down the hall. “I’ll be in my room.”
“She’s not sleeping at night,” Jamison told her father once she was sure Simone was gone. “None of us are, but it’s hitting her hardest.”
“Yeah. I hear her shuffling around in the kitchen. She won’t take anything to help her relax, so I don’t even bother bringing it up, but something’s got to give.”
“My mom hears her, too,” Liam said. “I’ll ask her to talk to Simone. Maybe she’ll listen.”
Simone trusted Bernie. They were both survivors in their own way, and Simone had learned to lean on Bernie for support every so often, but none more than now .
Her father smirked at Liam. “That’s pretty smart.”
Liam shrugged. “I have my moments.”
“What?” Jamison glanced between them. “What’s smart?”
Her dad clapped Liam on the shoulder. “He’ll tell you.”
“Hey, hey, hey!” The front door opened, and Taylor stuck her head inside the foyer. “Are you all finished?”
Everyone fixed smiles on their faces. Jamison was well aware she would have to be nice to this woman for the rest of her life.
Taylor had come through and saved all their asses by calling the police that night, and while Jamison still didn’t care for the way she threw herself at her father, she was going to have to get over it.
“Yeah, we’re done.” Her father gestured for Taylor to come inside. “But our conference call with Johnson isn’t until this afternoon. What are you doing here?”
Taylor popped through the door fully, waving two neatly folded paper bags with a logo that promised something sugary and delicious.
“I know how you get in the mornings when you don’t have a little caffeine and sugar in your system, and with that awful phone call happening at the crack of dawn, I figured you would need a pick-me-up before the afternoon. ”
“Thanks,” her father mumbled, trying to look anywhere but at Taylor’s prominently exposed décolletage. One wrong move on her part, and they would get an eyeful. “I probably do need to eat.”
Jamison felt sorry for him. While she and Simone had made a vow to be forever kind to Taylor, it was her father who had to endure the brunt of the woman’s attention .
In the beginning, he made excuses for the behavior, but over the last week, Taylor had entered a kind of hyper-fixation mode, where she constantly chased after him with something he supposedly needed .
And always while wearing the shortest skirts imaginable.
Forever the hero, Liam snatched one of the bags out of Taylor’s hand. “Who wants donuts?”
His shout was like a siren’s call. Two sets of pounding footsteps hurried in their direction from the parlor. Harper and Theo appeared seconds later, still dressed in their footie pajamas.