A Twist In Time. Lee Karr
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shadows of the second-floor landing.
Della stared after them, unable to move. I’m hallucinating. I have to be!
Chapter 2
D ella’s breath was short and her heartbeat rapid. She was frightened and yet curious. She’d never closed her mind to new experiences and even as a warning went off in her head, she moved slowly to the bottom of the stairs. Putting a shaky hand on the newel post, she stared up the old staircase. There was no sign of the ghostly figures that had been there a moment before. Cautiously, she mounted one step, then another until she reached the first landing. After turning on a wall light, she looked down the hall in both directions.
Empty. Workmen’s clutter was everywhere—lumber, sawhorses, boxes, sacks of plaster, cans of paint. Everywhere was the same mess she’d left earlier in the day.
She walked to the steps leading to the third floor and stared upward. She couldn’t hear anything in the echoing darkness except the clatter of rain upon the roof. She swallowed a hard lump in her throat. The hotel was as it had always been.
She turned around and slowly went downstairs to the lobby. A wash of relief swept over her when she saw it was again in shadow, except for the night-light at the hotel entrance. The old chandelier was once again lost in the darkness of the vaulted ceiling. Everything was exactly as it had been before the weird impression of light and ghostly women.
Della’s forehead beaded with nervous sweat as she looked around the lobby and up the empty staircase. How could her senses have fooled her so completely? She brushed a hand across her eyes and suddenly a swish of cold air hit her face, blowing her blond hair back from her face.
She cried out and turned to flee. For an instant, she saw the silhouette of a man reflected in the windowpane. Colin? In the next instant, the impression was gone. A bleak light from a streetlamp illuminated the deserted street outside.
She fled down the hall to her apartment. Her fingers trembled as she shut the door on the rest of the unoccupied hotel and leaned against it. Her heart hammered in her chest. Her breath caught. Her eyes went to the wing chair, which still held the impression of Colin’s body. Could his obsession with the past have affected her more than she realized. Yes, that must be it. His emotional reaction to the discovery of the tunnel and his talk about Shawn Delaney’s murder must have planted subliminal images in her mind. He had made the hotel’s past come alive and she had momentarily lost touch with reality.
Angry with him and herself, she was tempted to call him and tell him what had happened. The impulse died quickly. She knew she wouldn’t tell him. She wouldn’t tell anybody. The whole thing was too bizarre.
She was tired. The problems of renovating the hotel were getting to her, and Colin’s visit had unsettled her. She wasn’t sure how she felt about him. He fascinated her, in a strange way. When he held her hand, she felt drawn to him in a way that mocked her usual cool demeanor toward attractive men. And when he’d talked about his mother, she’d been jolted by the force of raw emotion emanating from him. The hatred in his eyes when he’d talked about his great-grandfather had been so intense that even now she felt herself recoil from it. Surely he didn’t believe anyone who had been dead over a hundred years could be responsible for tainting the heredity of all the Delaney men?
As she prepared for bed, Della was determined not to think about the odd experience in the lobby. Her vivid imagination had played a trick on her, that was all.
A few minutes later, on the edge of sleep, the vision came back so sharply and clearly, she could have described the old-fashioned gowns in detail: velvet green and red satin peplum overskirts pulled back into ruffled bustles that trailed down to the floor; low-cut necklines edged in silk flowers and gathered ecru lace; scalloped streamers and velvet-ribbon bows dotting full skirts and puffed sleeves. Even the lace gloves and glittering fans were clear in her memory. I must have seen an old picture like that at some time, she told herself. That was the only explanation that made sense.
The next couple of days were hectic and Della had little time or energy to think about anything but the renovation of the hotel. She solved one crisis only to be faced with another. The work proceeded at a snail’s pace and the estimates of time and money were way off. She raised hell with the construction foreman and then called her banker who confirmed what she feared—her cash flow was edging toward the danger point.
“You better get those cost overruns under control,” he told her.
She checked every invoice to make sure she wasn’t being ripped off. Her investment was turning into a fiasco and confidence in her business judgment was waning. Della let the phone ring three times before she grabbed it impatiently and barked, “Hello.”
“No need to ask you how your day’s going,” Colin said in his deep resonant voice. “You sound ready to eat bear.”
“Bears, snails, rattlesnakes. Anything that moves.”
“I guess this is a bad time to remind you about the civic development dinner. I was going to suggest that I stop by and we walk over to the restaurant together.”
She ran an agitated hand through her mussed blond hair. “I’d forgotten about it. I don’t think I’ll be going.”
“It’s important that everyone pull together to make the area a financial success,” he said in a reasonable tone that added to her irritation.
“I know that,” she snapped. “Save your chamber of commerce speech for someone else.” Then she instantly felt ashamed. She leaned back in her chair and threw down her pencil. “I’m sorry. It’s just that…well, I wouldn’t be very good company.”
“You have to eat,” he answered reasonably. “And I could round up a snail or two to put on your plate if that will make you happy.”
She was surprised at his light tone. She could picture a slight smile on the edge of his lips. Well, why not, she thought. Maybe she just needed to share her problems with someone who would understand. Besides, she really wanted to see him again. He’d been in her thoughts more than she was willing to admit.
“Forget the snails, bears and rattlesnakes,” she said. “Roast beef will do fine.”
“Good. I’ll pick you up about seven-thirty. The restaurant’s only a few blocks away. If you don’t mind walking…?”
“I don’t mind. See you then.” She hung up, surprised to find that their brief conversation had somehow restored her equilibrium. With new energy, she cleared off her desk and then left the office. She walked all over the hotel, checking on the work.
She was on the third floor talking to a painter, when a brush of cold air hit her face and she broke off in midsentence. At the same instant, she heard the sound of running water, and a woman’s soft laugh came from a nearby room that had originally been a shared bath. When Della jerked open the door, she couldn’t believe her eyes.
A voluptuous naked woman with red hair piled high on her head was taking a bath in the old claw-footed tub. She hummed contentedly and poured water over her face with cupped fleshy hands.
Della gave a choked cry.
“What’s the matter, miss?” asked the small wizened man who was filling his paint tray a few steps away. Della pointed.
He walked over, looked into the bathroom and shrugged. “Just an old tub. Don’t see nothing to get excited about.”
“That’s all you see? An old tub?” An arctic chill crept up her spine.
“Yep.” He gave her a queer look and returned to his painting.
Della looked again. The old tub was empty and dry. And yet she was positive she could still hear humming and splashing water. Like someone caught in a nightmare, she turned and walked away. When she reached the stairwell, she looked back down the hall. The shadow of a man stood watching her, his stance frighteningly familiar. Colin?
She pressed her hands against her temples. I’ve