When the Squeaking Starts...
by Mary Lee Tiernan
Copyright 2012 Mary Lee Tiernan
Smashwords Edition
Discover other titles by Mary Lee Tiernan at http://www.smashwords.com/b/115574
Cover design by Laura Shinn
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Grabbing a coke from the ice chest on the kitchen counter, Sandy turned to the old wood table and chairs, the only furniture left in the house. Just as she lowered herself into a chair, it was yanked out from beneath her. "Damn-it, Danny!" she screamed as she fell to the floor. Sticky drops of brown liquid dripped over the edge of the table from the over-turned can into her hair. "Yuck!" she exclaimed, wiping her hand across her hair and pulling herself to her feet.
"What's the matter?" her father asked, running in from the backyard.
At the same moment, Danny rushed through the door from the hall. "What'd yuh..." he began.
"He pulled out the chair when I went to sit down," Sandy wailed.
"I did not!" Danny emphatically denied.
"Did too."
"Did not."
"Okay, okay, cut it out," their father demanded. "Danny, where were you?”
"I was just lookin’ 'round the house when she yelled," Danny answered defensively.
"Sure, you were," Sandy retorted. "You pulled out the chair then ran..."
"Stop!" Their father walked over to Danny and looked him straight in the eye. "Son," he began, "did you pull..."
"I didn't. Really. I wasn't even in the kitchen."
With the exasperation of a teenager who has to put up with an eight-year-old brother, Sandy sighed. "Right. The chair moved all by itself."
Her father, knowing this to be one of those unanswerable arguments, turned to face Sandy. "Maybe you just missed the chair when you sat down," he soothed. "It's happened to me."
"I give up. If you're going to believe him and not me..." She reached over to the sink, found the sponge, and began to wipe up the coke still dripping to the floor.
"Kids, please," their father entreated. "I have a lot to check out before I can decide whether to make a bid on this house or not. Try to stay out of each other's hair for awhile, okay? Explore around. I really want your opinion about whether we should buy this place. Maybe you could go upstairs and figure out which bedroom you'd like for your own if we decide to buy." He looked from one to the other. Slowly, they both nodded agreement.
As their father walked back outside, Sandy threw the soaked sponge into the sink and the can into the garbage. Then she turned to her brother who still stood in the doorway. "Okay," she said, "let's go upstairs and look at the bedrooms." She paused and grabbed his shoulder, "But if you ever pull that stunt again..."
Danny wrestled out of her grasp. “You're always blamin' me for everything," he rebutted and stomped away toward the staircase.
Sandy followed behind. "You want to be in the front of the house or the back?"
"How do I know till I look?"
They reached the second floor and began peering through doorways. The first room opened on to the front of the house. "Wow, this is big. Bet Dad will want this one." Danny looked up at his sister for her opinion.
"I think you're right. Let's keep looking."
A second room, much smaller, didn't impress either one of them.
Opening the third door, Sandy felt a shiver of pleasure. "I think I'm going to like this one," she stated with assurance.
"How'd yuh know? You haven't even seen it."
The door opened wide and they entered. "It's twice the size of my old one," she said looking around. A pair of French doors on the opposite wall caught her attention. "Hey, look." She ran across the room and threw open the doors. A large porch extended from the room. "This is perfect," she said. "And during the day, that big tree will shade this end..."
Her brother didn't hear the rest. Figuring his sister had already claimed this room, he was anxious to find his own and left.
Sandy dreamily walked around the porch. How neat to have a room and a porch all her own! The warm sun beat down on her. As she neared the far end of the porch overlooking a stone patio, a chill passed through her. Startled, she looked back toward the tree, but its still branches defied any possibility of a cool wind. "Weird," she thought.
From inside the house, her brother summoned her. "Sandy, come 'ere. Look. I found my room."
She found her brother in a room down the hall at the back of the house. He was racing back and forth, pointing and yelling. "You can see the whole backyard from here," he said pointing out the window. "Look, I can put my bed here." He bounded back across the room. "And my bookshelves here." Running past her, he continued, "And my desk here."
She reached out and snatched him. "Whoa, slow down. You'll wear out the floor." She smiled at his enthusiasm and tousled his hair. "I'll help you fix it up, if you want."
He smiled back, but brushed her hand away. "Promise?"
"Promise."
He looked at her beseechingly, wanting her to believe. "Yuh know, Sandy, I really didn't pull out the chair. Really."
A sarcastic remark popped to her lips, but she held it back seeing the plea in his eyes. "Promise?"
"Promise."
"Kids, where are you?" their father's voice called from the top of the staircase.
"Back here, Dad."
When he appeared in the doorway a minute later, Danny resumed his spiral race around the room. "Look, Dad, I can put my bed here, and over there my desk, and..."
His father laughed. "Hey, slow down. I haven't even decided whether or not to buy the house yet.”
"And look, Dad," Danny added pulling his father into the hall. "I got my own stairs down to the kitchen."
"Are you telling me your vote is a 'yes'?"
"Yeah, I like this room. Can I have it?"
"Okay with me if we buy." Mr. Carlson turned to Sandy. "How about you? You pick a room too?"
"Down the hall. Come see." Sandy led him around the corner and down the hall. "Isn't this neat?" Running across to the French doors, she stepped outside. "Look, it's even got its own porch." She advanced farther outside as her father crossed the room.
"Hold on," he warned. "Don't go too near that railing until I check whether it's safe."
Sandy stopped. A waft of warm air circled around her and she smiled from its gentle caress. Her father, meanwhile, inspected the porch railing. "Looks okay for now," he decided. "But don't lean against it or sit on it till I have a chance to really inspect it, okay?"
"Okay."
They stepped back inside to discover Danny pulling open a door. "Look," he announced. "There's even a bathroom."
"A bathroom?" Sandy rushed across the room. "My own bathroom? Oh, this is too good to be true." She peered inside. The white tiled bathroom reflected the taste of another era: an old tub complete with clawed feet, a pedestal sink, and a chain dangling from the overhead tank of the toilet. And it was plenty big enough to add a dressing table and chair.
"This is weird," Danny decided.
"This is charming," Sandy corrected. She could envision soft pink towels hanging over the racks; a pink rug covering the tile to keep her feet warm as she stepped from the tub.
"Interesting. This hasn't been modernized at all like the other bathrooms. It'll be expensive to remodel..."
"Dad, I like it just like this."
"Still have to update the plumbing." He mentally calculated the cost and added it to the growing sum for needed repairs. "Do I take it this is a 'yes' vote from you too?"
"Sure is," Sandy grinned.
"And what about my room?" he teased.
"We left the big one in the front for you," Danny said solemnly. "Come see."
The three proceeded toward the front bedroom. "This is big," Mr. Carlson agreed. "Unusually big. I wonder if it was originally two rooms." The carpenter in him guided him to the wall midway down the room. He brushed his hand across the wall, then lifted his gaze up, across the ceiling, and down the far wall. Then, noticing another door farther down the wall, he concluded, "Yup, originally was two rooms."
"Do you like it?" Danny asked.
"Sure do. Let's head back to the kitchen for a family powwow."
Once settled around the kitchen table, Mr. Carlson said, "Kids, I've loved this house for years. We'd never be able to afford to buy it, if I couldn't do most of the repairs myself. But even then, it'll take money. I think I can swing it, but it'll mean that things will be tight for awhile." He looked from eager face to eager face hoping they really understood. "Are you willing to forego extra money for movies and cokes for awhile?" They both nodded agreement.
"I'll even help you," Danny offered. "I can do lots of stuff."
Mr. Carlson smiled at his son. "I'll remind you that you said that," he teased. Then his face grew serious again. "There's one more thing."
"You mean the stories?" Sandy asked.
"Yes. Like any old place, this house has a history. Miss Menteuse was a recluse, so naturally people gossiped, and gossip..."
"But, Dad, they don't really say anything bad about her," Sandy interrupted. "Just that her younger sister died and she got weird after that."
Upstairs a door slammed shut. The unexpected noise startled them. "Must have a draft somewhere," their father said.
"Maybe it's a ghost," Danny suggested, his eyes open wide.
"Sorry, Son, but I don't think we're buying a ghost. It's natural for old houses to have drafts and noises. You'll get used to them. Most of them will disappear, anyway, when I get the place fixed up." Again he paused to look from face to face. "Think we should decide now or sleep on it?"
"Let's buy it," Danny said. "Me and my friends want to climb all those trees."
Mr. Carlson wished all his decisions were so easy. "Sandy?"
"I'm for it.. And I'll help too, but I bet I'll get stuck with cleanup, as usual."
But her smile belied her words, and her father knew she wasn't really complaining. He felt a surge of love for his children. Their support was important, since buying the house would impact their lives too. His dream was about to come true. "Okay, then, let's head for the real estate office and give Mrs. Owens the good news."
As the car rattled down the bumpy driveway, they turned to look one more time at the magnificent Victorian, proudly perched on the sloping hill, once the home of the Menteuse family. Danny saw he and his friends spying on the occupants from their perches in the neighboring trees. Sandy saw herself on the wide porch with Nick, kissing in the moonlight. Mr. Carlson saw the faded, peeling paint transformed into shades of mustard, gray, and pale yellow.
What none of them saw was the scowling face staring after them from an upstairs window.
When the news of her parents' death arrived, Nora Menteuse lowered her eyes, not to hide her pain, but to hide her ecstasy. Only one word echoed through her mind. Freedom! At nineteen, she felt stifled by this backwater town. She'd begged and begged to be allowed to go to New York, to be alive, to be modern. But the more she begged, the more adamantly her parents refused. And now they couldn't!
Her mind closed out the voices and commotion around her. Mentally she reviewed the plans she'd refined over the years. She'd stay at one of those hotels for women. That would be safest in the beginning. Besides, with other young women staying there, she'd make some contacts...
"Nora, Nora? Someone get her a glass of water. She must be in shock."
Not shock, she thought, happiness. Now wouldn't that shock them! She raised her head, careful to wash her thoughts from her face. Looking as upset as possible, she reached out her hand. "Please," she pleaded, "please help me to my room."
"Oh, this has just been too much for her," said a concerned voice. "Here, dear, let me help you."
Nora leaned into the matronly neighbor as though she were too weak to walk. "Walter, come over here. We need a strong arm."
The neighbor handed Nora over to the young man. "I'll help you up the stairs," he offered. The neighbor fussed behind them, as Nora and Walter treaded their way up the stairs. When they reached her room, he lowered her into the large, overstuffed chair by the window while the neighbor lit the lamp on the table. Walter exited quickly, uncomfortable in a young lady's bedroom. The neighbor fussed again. "Oh, poor child. Let me get a damp rag for your forehead. Then I'll help you into your nightgown."
"No, please," Nora protested. "Just leave me. The shock has been too much. I just want to sit here quietly for while."
"Oh, poor poor, dear. Are you sure I can't..."
"No, please," Nora repeated. "Please."
"As you wish, dear. But remember we'll be right here. If you want anything, just call."
"Yes, thank you."
Nora closed her eyes wishing the woman from the room. After a minute, the woman turned and left, closing the door behind her. As soon as Nora heard the click of the latch, she jumped up and swirled around the room.
"Freedom, freedom, freedom," she sang to herself. Looking out the window across the sweep of the back lawn to the town lights twinkling in the distance, she said, "And I say ado to you, ugly, awful town."
Her parents finances were in good order, she was sure of that. Half would go to her, half to her younger sister. Alessandra, of course, presented a problem. At sixteen, her sister was too young to be on her own anyway, and being in a wheelchair... A picture of her sister's radiant face flashed through her mind.
Nora automatically clenched her fists. What did her sister have to be so happy about stuck in that ugly wheelchair? She'd never share a romantic dance in the moonlight with a handsome man smiling down on her. She'd never dress in one of those wonderful flapper dresses her mother refused to allow her to wear. Just wait till I get to New York, she thought defiantly. She stopped in front of her freestanding full-length mirror. Unpinning her hair, her tresses dropped half-way down her back. I'll get my hair bobbed too, she thought, pulling her hair back and turning from side to side trying to determine how she'd look with bobbed hair.
Her sister's image stared momentarily back at her from the oval mirror. Facially their features were similar. But her dark unruly hair which she fought with constantly contrasted with the her sister's lighter brown hair which curled naturally. What did her sister need with that beautiful hair? Nora felt cheated. She should be having the time of her life fighting off envious suitors. Instead she was stuck here, because her sister needed the fresh country air. She should be dropping into clubs alive with music; instead she pushed her sister onto the patio and listened to the radio. She should be leaning on the arm of a handsome young man, seducing him with a flirtatious smile. Instead, she watched Walter prod up the staircase with his workman's callous hands. How unfair! How terribly unfair!
Nora tilted the mirror slightly and frowned into it. Everyone doted on her sister. Alessandra needs this, Alessandra needs that. No wonder Alessandra always smiled. The world waited on her while Nora slowly dried up in this nothing-ever-happens town. Her frown transformed into a grin. But not for long. She could almost smell New York and see the hustle and bustle in the streets. All she needed to do was shed Alessandra. A live-in housekeeper would solve that problem. Mrs. Kinz, their housekeeper, was a widow and lived in a rather dreary little cottage. She'd probably love to be a live-in instead of just a daily. Perfect, perfect, perfect.
The days between her parents' accident and the funeral were a trial. Nora had to play the consummate actress, feigning the sorrow of the grieving daughter. Inside, her heart burst with anticipation. When she could safely steal away by herself, she divided the clothes in her closet into yes's and no's, what she would take with her to New York and what she would leave behind. Most of it she'd leave behind. One day she even locked herself into her mother's room to rummage through her mother's jewelry. She selected several pieces, including a long strand of pearls, and stuffed them into her pockets. These she added to her 'yes' pile.
Finally the day arrived. Mr. Thayer, the lawyer, gathered them into the study for the reading of the will. Very solemnly he began to read, "Being of sound mind and body..." She vaguely listened to small bequests. Hurry up, she thought, hurry up. "... the remainder and main body of our estate..." Her attention peaked. "... will be split between our daughters, Nora and Alessandra, on condition that..." Slowly the words seeped into her mind.
"Wait," she interrupted the lawyer. She could not be hearing this correctly, she could not! "What does that mean?"
The lawyer cast her a disapproving glance. "After the reading, I'll be happy to..."
"No," she cried. "I don't understand. Explain now."
He glanced around the table. Everyone stared at Nora.
Trying to cover up the real reason for her outburst, Nora stumbled through an excuse for her behavior. "Excuse me, I ... I ... well, I just want to be clear on my responsibilities for my sister." Bravely, she turned and smiled at Alessandra.
The lawyer softened slightly. "Basically, your parents have given half of the estate to your sister. The other half goes to you, as long as you stay here and care for her."
No, her heart screamed. This can't be! New York! My freedom! However, outside she remained in control. "What happens if I don't stay?" she managed to ask calmly. Seeing the quizzical look on the faces around her, she explained, "I mean, what if Alessandra wants to leave? Do we lose the money if we don't stay in this exact house?"
"Oh, I love our house. I'd never think of leaving," Alessandra reassured her.
"In answer to your first question," the lawyer began, "if you leave, you forfeit all rights to the estate. In other words, you would not inherit anything. As to your second question..."
But Nora did not hear the rest of his words. She fainted.
"What stories were you and Sandy talking about?" Danny asked as they drove into town.
"Didn't you ever hear any stories about the old Menteuse place?"
"Not really. Just that this weird old lady lived there and that she was really ugly." Danny did not add that on occasion, he and his friends had spied on the old house. Danny loved spying. They rode their bikes to the edge of the estate and sneaked through the trees until they saw the house. But nothing ever happened. They never even caught a glimpse of the old lady.
"It's a sad story," Mr. Carlson began. "A long time ago, let's see, probably back in the 1920s, the whole family lived there. The parents were killed in an accident. Don't really remember what kind. Anyway, the two girls continued to live there. I think it was the younger girl who was in a wheelchair. Then there was another accident, this time right at the house. Their lawyer found them. The two girls fell off the porch on the second floor..." He paused thinking. "It must have been the porch from your room, Sandy. It's the only porch on that floor."
"Wow!" Danny exclaimed. "Someone got murdered in your room."
"No one got murdered," his father said glancing over at Sandy to make sure the idea hadn't upset her. Satisfied she just looked interested, and not upset, he continued. "Sandy, I told you before to be careful of the railing. I'll move checking it up to the top of my list, but until I do, stay clear of it, okay?"
"Sure.. I think we'll have plenty to do before I have time to play Romeo and Juliet."
"But how did they fall off the porch?" Danny asked.
By now they reached the real estate office and pulled into the parking lot. "How 'bout I finish the story later?"
"Ah, geese," Danny complained.
Mrs. Owens looked up from her desk as they entered the office. "Made a decision?" she asked as Mr. Carlson returned the borrowed key.
"We all voted 'yes'," he grinned.
"I got the best room," Danny added.
"And did you have to fight off your sister and father for it?" she teased.
"Nah. They let me have it."
"How soon can we close?" Mr. Carlson asked.
As Mrs. Owens launched into the details and timing for the sale of the house, Danny and Sandy wandered over to look at the pictures of the other houses for sale that were posted on the wall. "We got the best one," Sandy decided.
"When do we move?" Danny asked.
"How about a month?" Their father stood over them beaming.
"So soon?" Sandy asked.
"Neat," Danny said at the same time.
"Well, being the house is empty and there's no other offers, all we have to do is arrange the finances. How about we go celebrate?"
"Ice cream," Danny suggested.
"Pizza," Sandy countered.
"Ice cream."
"Pizza."
Mr. Carlson ended the argument with "Let's do both tonight."
"Both?" they asked amazed.
"Everyone should be happy tonight. Besides, this will be our last big splurge before we have to start pinching pennies." That reminder brought the conversation back to moving. They made plans about packing and who should do what as they crossed the street to the pizza place.
While waiting for an extra large pepperoni pizza, Danny returned to the story of the Menteuse family. "So how did they fall off the porch?" Danny asked.
"I don't remember exactly. But the sister in the wheelchair died. The other sister, old Miss Menteuse, lived but she was badly disfigured by the fall."
"What's 'disfigured'?" Danny asked.
"Messed up," Sandy explained. "Guess that's why people say she was ugly, right?"
"Right," her father agreed. "Miss Menteuse rarely left the house after that. She lived there till she died last year."
"She must'a been ancient," Danny figured.
"Guess she was," his father agreed.
Sandy was quiet for a minute. "I can't imagine living so long all by myself."
"People worked for her from time to time, but until she was really old and needed a nurse, no one stayed in the house. She said that she couldn't protect them from her sister. Maybe all the deaths in her family made her a little crazy. I could understand that. I know how I'd feel if something happened to you guys."
They munched quietly on their pizza, each one thinking of the one member of their family who had already died. "Did you get a little crazy when Mom died?" Danny asked.
"Yes, I think I did. But I had you and Sandy, so I managed."
"Why’d she have to protect people from her sister? You said she died. Was she a ghost or somethin'?" Danny asked.
"No one who worked for her ever saw a ghost or anything unusual. I think she never quite recovered from the accident which she claimed her sister caused. She was just confused."
"Did you ever work for her?" Danny now wanted to know.
"A couple of times. When they needed some repairs. That's how I fell in love with the house."
"What did she look like?" Sandy asked.
"Don't know. Never saw her. Most of time someone else was there who explained what they needed and paid me when I finished. A couple of times there was simply a note on the door explaining what she wanted."
"But then who paid you?"
"She left money in an envelope. I took what I earned and left the rest."
"How come you just didn't take it all?" Danny wanted to know, thinking of the extra ice cream sodas he could have had.
"Because I didn't earn it all. If I was dishonest the first time she left money, I probably wouldn't have been called back. So in the long run, it pays to be honest."
"Oh." At his age, Danny would have preferred the extra ice cream sodas. One sounded good right now. "Can we get ice cream now?"
Since they'd finished the pizza, they left and headed for the ice cream store. By the time they arrived home, they were full, happy, and tired. Each went to bed dreaming about the new house. All thoughts of old Miss Menteuse drifted away, at least for the time being.
Nora slowly surfaced through the layers of darkness. She found herself alone in her room, lying on the bed. Night pressed at the window, its blackness matching the cold void in her heart. Tossing aside the blanket someone had placed over her for warmth, she rose and lit the lamp. "No money, no money," she murmured to herself.
Slowly the fury that she had controlled in the study surfaced. "Why did you do it?" she wailed to her unseen parents. "Why did you take away all my dreams?" She ran to her closet. Reaching in for the 'yes' pile, she furiously shredded the garments as she pulled them out. "And I won't need this..." Slash. "Or this." Rip. When she reached the bottom on the pile, she found her mother's jewelry. The most fashionable piece, the long strand of pearls, gleamed in the light, mocking her, taunting her. She grabbed them with two hands and yanked. The pearls flew in every direction, pinging as they bounced off furniture and walls.
Her fury spent, she collapsed to the floor. "Alessandra," she hissed. "You'll pay for this."
A soft knock at the door quieted her. "Nora? Nora, can I come in?" She refused to answer the voice of her sister, her enemy. Slowly, the doorknob turned and the door swung open.
"Nora, I heard noises and I wanted..." Alessandra stopped, seeing the wreckage of clothes strewn across the floor. Her eyes moved around the room until they rested on her sister sitting on the floor in front of the closet. Awkwardly she maneuvered her wheelchair into the room. "Oh Nora, I'm so sorry..."
"Get out of here. Now. I hate the sight of you," Nora screamed at her sister.
"Nora, please, listen to me."
"Get out, get out, GET OUT," Nora repeated getting up, her hand raised ready to strike.
"Nora, I'll give you the money."
Nora lowered her hand and looked uncomprehendingly at her sister. "You'll give me the money?"
"I know you want to leave. You shouldn't be forced to stay here just because of me." She smiled at her sister, meaning every word. "I want you to be happy too. I don't need all that money."
"You'll give me the money? I can go?" Nora sank back down to the floor. Was it possible? Could she really leave after all?
"We'll call Mr. Thayer in the morning. Surely we can arrange it somehow," Alessandra assured her sister.
Hope crept back. Handsome young men. Fashionable dresses. Parties. Dances. Life! Nora arose once more. "You'd really do this for me?" She examined her sister carefully, looking for any hint of a lie.
"Of course I'd do this for you. You're my sister. I'm happy here. And you should be where you'll be happy."
For that brief instant, Alessandra shone with the radiance of an angel in Nora's eyes. Behind her Nora saw the lights of New York beckoning. Unfortunately, Nora had a short memory and good intentions meant little to her.
Nora stooped to gather the torn clothes. "I'd better get this mess picked up."
"I'll see you in the morning then," Alessandra said. She tried to back out of the room, but a wheel of her chair tangled with a torn skirt.
"Here, let me help you," Nora offered. She freed her sister from the garment and pushed her down the hall to her room. "Let's get you into bed." Nora was willing to be as kind as possible for a few days.
At that moment, Mrs. Kinz also arrived to help Alessandra before she left for the night. "You can go, Mrs. Kinz. I'll take care of my sister."
"I'm so glad you're feeling better, Miss Nora. We were worried about you."
"No need to worry, Mrs. Kinz. My sister and I will take good care of each other, won't we Alessandra?"
"Of course we will," Alessandra agreed.
As Mrs. Kinz descended the stairs, she heard the two sisters laughing. A weight lifted from her shoulders. Miss Nora had acted strangely that afternoon in the study, interrupting that nice Mr. Thayer and then fainting. She'd been fearful of leaving Miss Alessandra with just Miss Nora in the house. Now she could go home, content that the two girls would help and support each other during these terrible times.
For the next month, the Carlson household bustled. Dad brought home a mountain of boxes and the long process of filling them began. First went the not-used-too-often items. Next came the winter clothes, since summer and the end of school swiftly approached. One day after school, Sandy tackled the kitchen. Carefully setting aside the plates, glasses, utensils, and pots and pans they'd need for the next week or so, she began rolling the other dishes in old newspaper. Very slowly the boxes filled.
"How's it going?" Dad greeted as he entered the house and saw Sandy in a sea of paper and dishes on the kitchen floor.
"This is the worst," Sandy complained. "I'll never finish!"
"Let me put these tools away and I'll help." Her father returned momentarily and plopped down next to her on the floor. They fell into a rhythm working together. The sea of paper began to recede as they filled, closed, and labeled more and more boxes.
"Where's your brother?"
"I sent him out to play with his friends. He wanted to help but kept dropping the dishes."
"It is important for him to feel a part of this."
"I know. I was good, promise, and didn't even yell. But when his friends came knocking at the door, he wanted to go with them anyway."
"You've been really good about taking over the packing, Sandy. I'm sorry that so much of this has fallen on your shoulders. Sixteen is young for all the responsibility you've accepted."
"I don't mind, really. I just keep thinking about my new room and how much I want to move my stuff in there."
Finished. They stood up and surveyed the pile of closed boxes with satisfaction. "The worst part," Sandy continued, "is thinking about having to unpack it all again and wash everything before we put it back on the shelves."
She turned to face her father. "Know what I'd like to do? Tomorrow's Saturday. I'd like to go over to the new house and get those kitchen cupboards cleaned and the shelves lined with new paper, so they'll be all ready to unpack this stuff. Is that possible?"
"Sure you want to give up your Saturday to do that?
"Nick and Anne and a couple of our friends offered to come with me and help. It'll be more like fun."
Her father pretended horror. "A bunch of unsupervised teenagers terrorizing our new house?"
"Oh Dad," she said punching him in the arm.
He laughed. "Actually it's no problem at all. Mrs. Owens already gave me the key. I've been trying to get a few things done there myself in between other jobs."
The backdoor slammed open and a voice boomed, "I'm home."
"Like we could miss it," Sandy mumbled under her breath.
"Hey, guy," his father greeted, but continued his conversation with Sandy. "Want me to drive you over in the morning?"
"Where's she going?" Danny wanted to know.
"Over to the new house to work on the kitchen."
"Can I go too?"
"No," Sandy blurted out.
Danny's face deflated. "How come?"
Dad came to the rescue. "I thought we guys should stick together tomorrow. I was hoping you'd help me with my tools."
"Okay," Danny easily agreed. As long as he wasn't left out, he was satisfied. "See yuh," he threw over his shoulder as he left the kitchen.
"Thanks, Dad," Sandy said.
"You deserve a day to yourself with your friends. So, I repeat, want me to drive you over?"
"Please. About eleven? Nick said he'd pick up the others and come over about noon after his baseball practice."
"You don't want to wait and go with them?"
"I'd like a few minutes to myself to get organized before they get there."
"When's dinner?" a voice called from within the house.
"Soon." With that, Sandy began preparations for dinner while her father moved the packed boxes out of the way.
The next morning dawned bright and warm. Sandy put on old cut-offs and a tee-shirt, but took care combing her light brown curly hair. After all, she'd be seeing Nick. At eleven her father drove her to the house, helped her unload the cleaning materials and the shelf-lining paper she'd bought, and drove away with a wave of his hand. Sandy circled the room trying to decide where to start.
"Might as well strip down the old paper first," she said to herself and moved to the first cupboard to pull paper from the shelves. She jumped when a door slammed somewhere upstairs. For the first time, she felt a little jittery being by herself in a strange house. "Maybe I should have waited for the others." A warm gentle breeze engulfed her. She relaxed and continued working.
She'd reached the third cupboard when a blast of cold air hit her. She shivered. At the same time, she heard a faint squeak from the front of the house. Pause. Squeak, a little louder. Pause. Squeak, louder still. She looked toward the door leading to the hall and the front of the house, expecting at any minute to see ... to see what? Squeak. Pause. Squeak. Pause. Like something rolling toward her. She fled out the back door into the sunshine in time to see Nick and their friends round the corner from the side of the house.
"Nick, that wasn't funny!"
Nick stopped and raised his eyebrows. "What’da yuh mean?"
"That noise. How did you make it?"
"You mean when we rang the front door bell?" He put his arm around her. "What's wrong, you look scared."
Front door bell? Could that noise really have been the front door bell?
"Scared an old Menteuse ghost is after you?" Jack teased.
"Oh, leave her alone," Anne came to her rescue. "I'd be scared too in a big old house like this by myself."
"Girls, such silly creatures! Now we men...”
A minor skirmish ensued, the girls pretending to attack, the boys defending themselves. Their playing relieved the tension and the incident was forgotten.
"Hey, you guys, time to work."
After entering the kitchen, Sandy directed each one to a post of duty and soon they were engrossed in their tasks. Not so engrossed, of course, that they couldn't share the latest teen gossip. The afternoon passed quickly. When the last piece of liner was placed, they sprawled around the kitchen, some on counter tops, some on the floor, and a few even found the chairs.
"I'm hungry," Jack announced.
"You're always hungry," Anne bantered back.
"Let's go get some pizza," someone suggested, answered by a chorus of agreement.
"Before we go, let's explore the house."
"Could we, Sandy? I'm dying to see it."
"Sure. Come on. Wait till yuh see my room."
The kids toured through the downstairs as evening descended. By the time they reached the staircase, shadows crept through the upper halls. "Where's the light switch?" Anne, who was in the lead, asked.
"The electricity isn't on yet," Sandy answered.
"What's a' matter? Afraid of the dark?"
"Of course not," Anne retorted. But when she reached the landing at the top of the stairs, she stopped abruptly causing the others to plow into her, knock her over, and fall themselves.
"Careful."
"Damn."
“Hey, watch it.”
"Why'd you stop like that?"
Anne disentangled herself from a pile of arms and legs. "It was weird. It got real cold all of a sudden like I walked into a freezer."
"I don't feel anything."
"Neither do I."
"Anne, are you nuts?"
"No, really. It suddenly got real cold."
"My dad says there's lots of drafts," Sandy offered. "That's probably what Anne felt."
By now they'd all regained their feet. They walked from room to room but quickly now as darkness surrounded them. Before long the tour ended and they piled into Nick's van. The girls oohed over Sandy's new room with its porch and bathroom.
"Who's room was that?" Jack asked.