Cedar Hollow (2 page)

“You must be Ben Riley.” Cassidy said brightly trying to hide her shock. Her imagination had conjured the image of a crusty old loner living in this haunted house on a hill. She had not been prepared for Mr. Tall, Handsome, and Brooding. He glared back at her for what felt like an eternity, but in reality was probably only a few seconds.

“Cassidy St. Claire.” She introduced herself,
smiling her full wattage smile and extending her hand.

“Mr. Woodard warne
d me you’d be coming.” Ben Riley continued to glare, his green eyes flashing angrily. “Follow me.” He said turning from the door and walking into the house. He didn’t even bother to glance at her outstretched hand.

Anxiously Cassidy rubbed her palms against h
er slacks and followed Ben into the dark house. No lights were lit on the first floor. There was a sense of spaciousness but in the suffocating darkness the house felt as quiet and still as a tomb. Cassidy tried to shake off the feeling as she rubbed the goose bumps from her arms and followed him up the stairs.  A soft glowing light came from the top of the staircase.

When they reached the landing Cassidy
noticed a split-level staircase leading back up to the next floor, they crossed beneath the staircase as Ben led her down the right wing of the second floor. A single lamp on a narrow table provided the only light in the dim hallway.

Ben
stopped in front of the first door on the left and pulled an old iron key from his pocket, unlocking the door from the outside. He pushed the door open and gestured inside.

“You can stay here
, Miss St. Claire.” He informed her without smiling.

“Please call me Cassidy.” Cassidy smiled at him again. She was well aware of the power her smile held. This smile had opened doors for her in her
career, this smile had sealed deals, and melted the coldest of hearts. She looked up at him with her big blue eyes through her long lashes utilizing the full power of her charm. He regarded her with the disgust one would regard a bug they were considering stepping on. The force of his instant dislike for her was staggering. He didn’t even know her.

She pulled her eyes from his and tentatively stepped into the dark room feeling along the wall for a light switch. She found one and flipped it on. A warm glow filled the r
oom from two bedside lamps.

“I’ll see you in the morning
, Miss St. Claire.” She wasn’t sure if she imagined it, but it seemed that he emphasized her last name, as if to point out that he was unwilling to call her Cassidy. He turned and left closing the door behind him.

She wandered through the small room, absorbing the New England motif. The queen sized
bed was covered with a bold navy blue comforter with white pinstripes and alternating blue and white pillows. The headboard and footboard were made of a white-washed wood that matched the small desk as well as the rocking chair that sat near the window. The pale pine floors were covered with a blue and white threadbare rug. The wood paneled walls were painted white and the large window was masked with heavy navy blue floor length drapes.

Apparently their color palate was limited in New England, Cassidy thought wryly.

There appeared to be no closet but there was a six drawer dresser nestled in the corner. Opposite the bed was a closed door. Cassidy approached it with fingers crossed and sighed in relief when she opened it to find a private bathroom.

“Thank God.” She muttered to herself as she entered the small blue and white tiled bathroom. The white porcelain pedestal sink was topped by a round gilded mirror that was tarnished around the
edges, a small stand-up shower occupied one corner. She turned from the sink and was overcome with joy when she saw the old fashioned claw foot tub against the far wall.

Immediately some of the tension drained from her shoulders at just the prospect of a nice warm bath. She crossed to the tub and examined the exposed brass plumbing leading down the wall to the faucet over the tub. She turned th
e hot water handle and jumped at the loud groaning sound that reverberated through the walls. The pipes began to rattle and shake, clanging loudly.

“The hot w
ater tanks are empty.” Ben Riley’s voice came from the doorway and nearly made her jump out of her skin. She whirled around to face him.

“There’s no hot water?” She asked incredulously.

“There’s a small personal hot water heater used by the staff. It holds enough to take a quick shower. The larger hot water tanks are only filled when there are guests. The tubs are connected to those.”

“I’m not a guest?” She challenged, irritated by his tone and more than a little creeped out by his sudden presence in her room.

“No, you’re not.” He answered matter-of-factly.

She bristled at his unmasked animosity. It was completely uncalled for. However, if there was one thing Cassidy knew how to do it was smile in the face of
adversity. She quickly composed herself.

“I guess I’ll take a shower then.” Cassidy smiled sweetly.
“Unless you needed something else?” She questioned innocently, challenging him to explain his reappearance in her room.

He grunted in response and turned and left her room again. This time she followed him to the door. Seconds later the soft glow of light that was seeping under the doorway was extinguished, leaving complete darkness on the other side.

Cassidy searched for a lock on the door, but found that there wasn’t one. Apparently this door only locked from the outside.

“It’s only for one night.” She told herself as she dragged the desk chair over to the door
and braced it under the handle.

Cassidy woke to wonderful smells that overwhelmed her senses and momentarily she was transported back in time, to a time when her mother would bake blueberry muffins for breakfast on Sunday mornings. A time when life was uncomplicated, and her biggest concern was what to wear to school that day, or who to go to the homecoming dance with.

As she floated in th
at limbo between sleep and wakefulness for the briefest moment she was fifteen again, without a care in the world. Resentfully she allowed her eyes to slip open, wishing she could hold on to that feeling just a little bit longer.

Bright sunlight slipped through the crack in the heavy blue curtains drawing her gaze and all too quickly Cassidy remembered where and when she was. Shaking off the grief that came with the morning she jumped out of bed and crossed to the window, pulling the heavy curtains wide open and accepting the sunshine. She was stunned by the view.

From this vantage point high on the hill she had a full view of the ocean and the bay down below. Rolling hills covered in dense pine forests surrounded her and the sky was a cerulean blue with perfect little white puffs of clouds along the horizon.

She admired the view until the wonderful smells wafting from downstairs finally tempted her away from the window. She quickly dressed in a charcoal grey pencil skirt and a
white buttoned blouse. She slipped on her favorite pair of silver stilettos which made her about six inches taller and always made her feel like she could take on anything. She wished she had an iron as she attempted to smooth out the wrinkles in her clothes. She hadn’t bothered to unpack her bag, since she didn’t plan on staying more than one night.

She ran a brush through her long blonde
locks and then pulled them up tight into a high bun on the crown of her head. She efficiently applied her make-up and brushed her teeth. Taking one last look at her reflection in the round mirror above the sink, she nodded her approval. Yesterday she had tried for friendly, today she was all business.

She didn’t want to be here anymore than Mr. Ben Riley apparently wanted her to be. Today she was going to sign whatever needed to be signed and then she
was going back home to Chicago.

She moved the desk chair from under the door handle and laughed at her anxiety from the night before. She’d never been a superstitious person, definitely not easily spooked. She wasn’t sure what had gotten under her skin last night.

The natural light flooding in from the large window at the end of the hallway reflected off the pale pine wood floors, giving the hallway the appearance of practically glowing. As Cassidy made her way down the hallway to the stairs she couldn’t believe this was the same house that had felt so dark and desolate last night. As she passed under the staircase leading up to the third floor she felt a chill, but she quickly dismissed it and continued on downstairs.

The first floor was furnished in darker woods. The pine wood floors were stained
a deep amber, as was the heavy wooden furniture. Cassidy glanced into the room to the left of the staircase and found that it was filled with large pieces of furniture that were covered in heavy drop cloths, the drapes were pulled on all the windows leaving the room in shadows. She ventured farther into the entryway, examining the antique grandfather clock that stood just to the left of the large heavy front door. The right wing had a matching dark room of shadowed furniture hidden beneath heavy cloths.

Somehow all the bright cheeriness that had greeted her upstairs had evaporated. This house had such an overwhelming effect on a person’s sense of well-being. It was unnerving.

Cassidy turned from the front door and saw bright light filtering through the gloom just beyond the stairs. She fled toward the light, once again feeling as if the darkness was suffocating. She emerged into a brightly lit kitchen.

She took a moment to adjust to the light as she blinked and looked around the kitchen, taking in the white countertops and
bright yellow walls. A middle-aged woman turned from the stove holding a tray of freshly baked blueberry muffins.

“Good morning
, dear.” The woman said sweetly as she carried the tray to the small round kitchen table. “Would you like a muffin?”

Cassidy stared at the tray of large blueberry muffins, the kind with the crumbles on top just like her mom used to make. For a moment she was reminded of a happier time. She smiled at the memory.

“I’d love one.” Cassidy agreed eagerly.

“Please have a seat. My name is Lucy
Owens, I’m the cook and housekeeper here at Miller’s.” She smiled proudly.

“It’s nice to meet you
, Mrs. Owens.” Cassidy said as she began to nibble on her muffin.

“Likewise, I’m just happy to have someone else to cook for. It gets kind of lonely around here
in the off-season.” The older woman smiled kindly down at her and Cassidy was relieved to know that not everyone in this little town hated her.

“How long have you worked here?” Cassidy asked conversationally as she enjoyed her muffin.
Cassidy estimated Mrs. Owens to be in her sixties, she appeared strong and sturdy, but her graying hair and lined face betrayed her age.

“Oh let’s see…”
She pondered as she poured Cassidy a glass of orange juice. “Nearly forty years now. Mr. Owens and I came to work for Mr. Miller just after we married. My Harold was the grounds keeper here. Of course Ben takes care of all that now.” Mrs. Owens smiled fondly when she mentioned Ben, the way a grandmother might smile when speaking of her grandchildren. Cassidy’s interest was piqued. Last night he had seemed like a simply awful man. Perhaps this nice old woman could shed a little light on why he was so angry.

“How long has Ben worked here?” Cassidy asked casually, concentrating on her muffin and trying to seem disinterested.

“Quite a few years now.” Mrs. Owens answered vaguely as she moved from the table and busied herself with wiping down the counters. Apparently she wasn’t going to be the source of information that Cassidy had been hoping for.

Ju
st then, as if on cue, Ben Riley sauntered into the kitchen through the back door.

“Speak of the devil.” Cassidy muttered under her breath.

“We try not to do that around here.” Ben retorted dryly. Mrs. Owens giggled and the childlike sound was strange coming from someone her age. It made Cassidy a little uncomfortable as if she wasn’t getting some sort of inside joke.

Despite his comment Ben had not looked over at Cassidy which gave her the freedom to ogle unobserved. He wore a faded pair of blue jeans, work boots, and a plain blue t-shirt that was pulled tight across his broad shoulders. His unruly brown hair was haphazardly brushed away from his eyes, and
a light stubble covered his chin shadowing the planes and angles of his face. He looked rugged and untamed, dangerous. Cassidy couldn’t take her eyes off him.

He casually leaned against the counter next to Mrs. Owens as she studiously cleaned the already spotless countertops.

“Good morning, Lucy.” He said kindly.

“You’re tracking dirt on my floor.” She admon
ished with disapproval.

“It’s the off-season
, Lucy, without me to clean up after you’d be bored senseless.” He teased with a mischievous smile playing across his lips. Then he finally glanced over to the table and saw Cassidy watching him. Immediately the smile vanished.

“You don’t have to cook for her you know.” He said to Mrs. Owens, while glaring at Cassidy. “She’s not a paying customer.”