He stood to leave, and Kate threw her arms around him, pulling him into a hug. “I loved you, Kevin, I really did,” she said, her voice wavering. “And I wish nothing but the best for you.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her ear, his own voice cracking with emotion.
They stood there for a long moment, holding each other. And then he walked away, Kate watching until he disappeared from view, not knowing if she would ever again see the man she, at one time, believed she’d grow old with. She didn’t know what the future would hold, and she never knew that he wouldn’t marry again until very late in life, and that on his deathbed, Kate’s name would be on his lips.
Meanwhile, renovations had begun in earnest on the third floor. As the workmen were refinishing the wood floors, installing bathroom fixtures, painting, and coming and going with furniture and window treatments, Kate was busy finding and framing photos of the past.
Simon had taken the photo of Addie, Jess, Harrison, and Celeste—the one that had ultimately led them to the truth about what had happened all those years ago—to a local artist, who painted a portrait of Addie and Jess using the photo as a guide. Simon intended to hang it over the fireplace on the third floor, newly dubbed Addie’s Ballroom.
One snowy night, Kate opened the door to find Nick holding a bottle of wine in one hand, a bouquet of flowers in the other.
“Wherever did you get lilacs at this time of year?” Kate asked, taking the flowers from him and lifting them to her face to drink in the scent, which would forever remind her of Addie and Jess.
“I have my ways.” Nick smiled and pulled Kate into a kiss. They lingered there, on the doorstep, snow lightly falling around them, the delicate chill in the air caressing their cheeks.
“I like your ways,” Kate said, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.
“I knew we’d be christening Addie’s Ballroom tonight, and I thought lilacs would be a nice way to honor her,” Nick said.
Kate’s eyes lit up. “Wait until you see it,” she said. “I’m so glad I didn’t let you up there during renovations until the big reveal tonight. It’s really gorgeous.”
She took him by the hand and led him inside the house, where they found Simon and Jonathan in front of the fire in the living room.
“The long arm of the law has arrived,” Simon said, flashing Nick a smile. “Welcome, Detective.”
“Thank you, citizen,” Nick said. “But I have to tell you, I’ve been here for all of two minutes, and I do not have a drink in hand. I think that’s a felony in some counties.”
“Shoddy hosting,” Jonathan said, crossing the room to pour a pint of Scottish ale and handing it to Nick with a wink. “It’ll get you two to four years, hard time.”
And the evening had begun. The four of them chatted over drinks for a bit, then retreated to the dining room for a dinner of salad, boeuf en cro?te, roasted brussels sprouts, and red potatoes. Dessert and champagne were to be served upstairs in the ballroom.
A feeling of celebration wafted through the air—the inclusion of Addie and Jess in the history of Harrison’s House with the completion of Addie’s Ballroom just felt right.
But not all the occupants of Harrison’s House felt the same. As Kate, Simon, Jonathan, and Nick made their way through dinner, a storm was brewing on the third floor.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
“I can’t wait for you to see it,” Kate said to Nick as the four of them made their way up to the third floor. “It all came together so—” But her words stopped and hung in the air as they all walked through the doorway into the ballroom.
Most of the photos that Kate had painstakingly chosen and had framed were now on the floor, their glass panes shattered. Furniture was upended. Champagne bottles, which had been chilling on ice, were cracked and lying in a pool of still-bubbling liquid. One had been thrown against the wall, a wet stain spreading out over the fresh paint. Several of the new window shades were torn down, and the doors to the turrets were standing open, signaling that the carnage had spread there.
“No!” Kate cried as she noticed the portrait of Addie and Jess sizzling in the fireplace, their faces melting in the flames. She rushed toward it and grabbed the frame, only to drop it again, its heat burning her hands.
Nick was at her side in an instant with the ice bucket. “Here,” he said, guiding her hands into the slush.
Kate could sense a presence, the same one she had encountered in this room weeks before, a malevolence that seemed to permeate every corner, every alcove. It was a blackness that seemed to grow as her fear grew, stronger with every beat of her heart.
None of them was able to find any words. It seemed that they were frozen, looking around the room that was in shambles, unable to process what they were seeing. It wasn’t until the only photo still hanging on the wall flew across the room and hit Kate directly in the forehead that they were startled out of whatever it was that entranced them.
“Okay, we’re getting out of here,” said Nick, pushing Kate toward the stairs and dropping the ice bucket in the process. He turned to Simon and Jonathan, still staring in stunned silence. “Move, you two.”
The four of them hurried out of the room, almost tripping over each other, and didn’t stop until they were on the first floor, breathless and panting.
“My God,” Simon said, staring at Kate’s forehead. “Jonathan, run and get a washcloth.”
As Nick guided her to the sofa in the living room, Kate reached up to her forehead and felt a trickle of blood with her shaking, stinging hands.
“What was that all about?” Nick said, taking the cloth from Jonathan and holding it to Kate’s forehead. “What happened up there?”
Simon sat down in one of the armchairs next to the fireplace with a thud, shaking his head. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, unsure of words to describe what he had seen.
“Obviously, somebody broke in,” Jonathan mused. “But who? Who would do such a thing?”
“When is the last time any of you were up on the third floor?” Nick asked, looking from Kate to Simon to Jonathan and back again.
Kate just shook her head. Simon ran a hand through his hair.
“It was earlier today,” Jonathan said. “For me, at least. I ran up there to put some champagne on ice not long before you got here. Five o’clock, maybe?”
“And everything was—”
“Fine. Perfect. Just as it should be.”
“Was anybody coming and going since then? Workmen? Employees? Hotel guests? Nobody heard anything?”
Jonathan shook his head. “Nobody. Charles left as soon as the dinner was served, and we don’t have any guests, not tonight.”
Nick stood up. “Can you show me the back or side doors?” he said to Jonathan. “Any other entrances, first floor and basement windows, that sort of thing. Fire escapes.”
Nick rubbed Kate’s shoulder as he examined her wound. “I don’t think it needs stitches. You just stay here and tend to that head. I’m going to take a look around.”
She covered his hand with hers. “Thank you,” she said.
When Nick and Jonathan had left the room, she turned to Simon. “I think we both know this wasn’t any workman.”