Haunting at Remington House. Laura V. Keegan
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21
Tom, unshaven, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, was talking on the phone with John Atwood when Joe arrived the next morning. Tom nodded and waved to Joe as he passed by on his way to the kitchen. John relayed the news to Tom about Nate’s brother, Harold, and about Nate. “The judge released Harold yesterday afternoon without pressing charges—at least not at this time. Jim Wood, Harold’s attorney, took him to the hospital to see Nate. Rosa was there visiting. She reluctantly agreed to let Harold go home with her for a few days, until other living arrangements can be made.”
“Hope he doesn’t drive Rosa crazy. But he’s better off staying with her for a while,” Tom said. “She’ll make him toe the line.”
“We shall see. It sounds as if Harold is more obstinate than usual. His dark side seems to have a fairly strong presence. I hope he gets some help. For now, he’s off the streets at least.” Tom could hear John drumming his pen on the desk as he talked. “Now the news about Nate. The fracture and resulting wound from the bone tearing through the flesh will keep him hospitalized for at least a more few days. The doctor is worried about infection. Nate will likely be out of commission for weeks. He might need to stay with Rosa, too. Or, if it’s okay with you, Tom, he could stay on at your Jamestown house—we could hire an in-home nurse to take care of him.”
“I think we better leave that up to Nate. I’ll do whatever he wants,” Tom said. Out his window he watched a gaggle of snow geese fly to the north. He jumped when a raven flew at him, turning before it hit the window glass. It flew in a large circle, then come back to land on the porch railing. Cawing and flapping its wings, it took another dive at the window, then flew away.
“Still there, Tom?”
“Yeah, sorry. Just watching a crazy bird. Keep me posted about Nate . . . and Harold.”
“More bad news?” Joe asked when Tom hung up the phone. Tom told him what was going on in Jamestown. Joe expressed his sympathy and left when Tom answered another phone call. He returned in a few minutes with a tray of coffee and plate of fresh donuts. They sat quietly at the small dining table watching the rain as it fell in endless torrents. It was a cold, gray day; the entire horizon was filled with dark clouds.
“How was your dinner last night?” Joe asked trying to lighten the heavy mood.
“Hmm? Oh, last night? Well, the food was excellent, the booze plentiful, Sara was charming, Jimmy was a trooper and Billy was a brat. . . . And then there was Vivian! Thanks for asking. All in all, a crappy introduction back into the social scene for me. Not quite the night I envisioned. I’m glad I kept it foremost in my mind that the kids and Sara were there, or I would have gotten completely smashed.
“And might I add, I’m generally not one to get loaded as an escape. A waste of good booze, to be sure.” Tom got up and paced in front of the window. “It seemed like I spent most of the night, between Vivian and Billy, watching my back. Vivian spent most of the evening alternately insulting me, then trying to impress me, always making sure I paid no attention to anyone else. I think she's afraid I might be higher up on the social ladder than she is. Billy is just a brat looking for trouble—at anyone’s expense. He tried his best to get a rise out of me.”
Joe laughed. “Sounds like a fun night. Wish I’d been there. And to think I spent my evening playing pool with the guys.”
“It might sound funny now, but trust me, last night was not fun. Next dinner at the Harrison’s, I’ll make sure you get invited, too. Misery deserves company.”
Joe cleared his throat. “Not my scene. I’ll pass. I’m not much for fancy dinners. I’m the quiet dinner-at-the-cafe type.”
“I’m serious, Joe. Why should I have all the fun? After all, this is your town. If I have any other social invitations, I’ll take you as my guest. You’ll see how the other side lives, learn the value of years of proper etiquette learning which fork to use for which dinner course. Critical and invaluable stuff. More importantly, you’ll see why I hate it. Then you can help me convince my sister, Cassie, that my reintroduction into society is not the right direction to go. Give me a cold beer and a pool table any day. Now that sounds like a good time.”
Joe added, “It is. We have a great time in town at the 8 Ball. A bunch of us guys meet there Friday nights. Glad to have you join us any time.”
The two were quiet for a while as they watched the storm, then Tom said, “Don’t get me wrong. Wealth definitely has its advantages, but it sure doesn't have much to do with making a person happy.”
“Yeah, well I wouldn’t mind a bit giving it a try. Been struggling my whole life.” The sun broke through the heavy clouds, the choppy waves lit up with mirrored reflections of light. “Oh, well, things aren’t too bad. I’m not complaining.” Joe stood up. “Storms moving out, looks like there’s a break in the rain. I better get up on the roof and check for loose shingles. Wouldn’t want any water leaking in the house—that wind was incredibly strong last night, and I don’t know how long this roof’s been on.”
“Mind if I give you a hand? I’d like to get out of the house for a while. I’m feeling cooped up.”
“Make sure you have shoes with a good grip to the soles. The roof will be slick after this rain. Have you been on a roof before?” Joe grinned at Tom as he wrenched the rain-swollen back door open.
“Yeah, sure have,” Tom lied. “Be right back, I need to change shoes.”
There was a light, brisk wind blowing, but the sun quickly warmed the air as it burned through the clouds. Climbing the ladder, Tom smiled to himself anticipating what he hoped would end up being a morning of hard labor. Even though he’d had little sleep last night, he wasn’t physically tired, and he craved rigorous physical activity. Looking around the roof they found several areas where roof tiles had lifted from the hard-driving winds and pounding rain.
“I’ll be right back; you want to wait up here?” Joe hollered as he backed around the top of the ladder to start down. “I need a few things from the shed.”
Tom teetered on the steep slope of the roof, then was angry with himself for showing his clumsiness to Joe. “Yeah, go on.” Tom regained his balance and cautiously walked around the roof to a vantage point next to one of the chimneys where he could see for miles in all directions. To the east was the Atlantic, its swells shimmering in the brilliant sun. To the north, high atop the bluff, the Harrison estate rose—austere and proper, easily evident as the residence of someone wealthy and in the upper echelon of society.
Thick woods covered the landscape between his property and the Harrison’s. Though the trees were nearly bare now, in the summer they would be masses of green against the azure of the coastal sky, their boughs home to birds and wildlife, a cacophony of orchestrated melodies carried for miles across the ocean on the gentle breezes of summer. Looking far to the west was the town of Ravenswood, a town of perhaps five thousand year-round residents, the majority of whom lived in an area about three miles square. From this distance, the town seemed small and insignificant compared to the expanse of the Atlantic to the east.
Tom realized he wanted to find out more about Ravenswood. About all he knew was that it was founded in the late 1800’s as a mill town. It was populated with workers, their families and the businesses necessary to keep the town alive. He wondered if the mills were still operating. Tourism kept the economy alive in the summer, but how did the town survive the rest of the year? He’d have to ask Joe. See if there was anything he could do to help out. He might look into starting, or maybe investing in, a business in town.
“You look a million miles away, Tom. Guess you didn’t hear me hollering. Here, grab this.” Joe hoisted a wooden handled, canvas bag filled with roofing supplies up over the edge and onto the roof. “Awesome view. The last owners thought it would be ideal to build a lookout up here. I had to ruin their plans. Anything other than a solidly built structure would be pounded mercilessly by the rain and wind—wouldn’t stand up for more than a season or two.” Joe climbed onto the roof, pulling a small roll of tarpaper he had attached to a rope.