Chapter One
It was late summer and Anna Jefferies stood in front of the refurbished Alabama plantation, admiring its towering white columns and the porches that spanned two levels. The oaks in front weighed heavily with moss that shivered in the evening breeze and framed the gravel driveway. A late crop of Confederate Jasmine sprinkled the walkway in yellow flowers and filled the air with a spicy scent. She'd seen the house in brochures, but a picture could never have captured the absolute splendor of the old mansion.
"Welcome to Haunted Hollow," a deep voice called from the end of the porch. The sound was warm and welcoming. While most Alabamians sounded Southern, those from the south third of the state had beautiful accents that sounded like characters from
Gone With the Wind
.
"Thank you." She smiled and glanced down the length of the veranda to a handsome, dark-haired man with nothing more than faded jeans and an open white shirt to separate his tanned skin from the white wicker rocking chair in which he sat. One ankle rested loosely on the opposite knee and a half empty glass of lemonade sat on the floor beside him.
"Ring the bell on the table and Miss Bethamie will check you in."
"Oh." When he looked at her, there was something familiar in those green eyes. The heat rose into her face and she glanced away. "Okay. Thanks again."
"Anytime."
She reached for the door, then gave the handle a tug. Her hands shook. Just one glance at the man and she'd been reduced to a hunk of quivering nerves.
Pathetic
.
Once inside, it was easy to see the care that the owner had placed in keeping the furniture and décor in the same period as the house. It was immaculate with its ornate sofas and lamps, paintings and doilies. To Anna's right sat a waist-high table with a guestbook. She took the silver pen from its holder and signed her name on the top of the second page.
"Miss Jefferies?"
She looked up to see a round little woman with white hair pulled into a bun. Her cream flowery dress almost matched the wallpaper, but it made her face look rosy.
"Yes. Just call me Anna." When the woman smiled, and she smiled back.
"Alright, Miss Anna, my name is Bethamie." She held out a key with a pink rose on the ring. "You're in the Pink Room."
Oh great
. She took the key and tried not to look disappointed. The room hadn't been on the brochure and with a name like that, it couldn't be good.
"Go to the top of the stairs, then to the end of the hall. The room's on your right."
"Thank you."
"If you need anything, just let me know. We don't normally let guests use that room because it was Widow Hamilton's boudoir, and the lights keep blowing in your suite but we're booked solid. The Widow can get a little frisky at times, but I figured with you being a ghost chaser and all, you wouldn't mind it."
Anna smiled. "It sounds like I came at just the right time then."
"I thought you might see it that' away." Miss Bethamie glanced behind her, then back to her face so that Anna wondered if she'd seen the man from the porch. "Dinner will be on the table at seven."
"Okay." She headed up the stairs to the supposedly haunted room. "See you at dinner."
vvv
Anna opened the door and stepped into the Pink Room. It was a room much like the rest of the house, but it certainly earned its name. A pale pink sheer that matched the bedding and curtains draped around the canopy of the bed. The chair in the corner held a cushion decorated in pink rosebuds that matched the throw pillows on the bed.
She sat the duffle bag on the bed and turned to close the door when she saw it. Over a sizeable fireplace hung a picture of a woman in a pink gown. It was beautiful, but the figure in the dress was the most striking aspect.
She blinked, but it didn't change. The woman looked surprisingly like her. Her hair was the same dark blonde as Anna's, though curly. Her skin was just as fair and her eyes just as dark blue-gray. Even her features resembled those that Anna saw in the mirror every day. It wasn't that the woman looked exactly the same, but enough that she could have been a direct ancestor.
She turned her back and reached a hand toward the door. The sensation of fingertips across her shoulder forced chills down her arm. Anna pushed the door to and glanced back over her shoulder at the same time.
Of course, nothing was there except her own vivid imagination, just like every other haunted mansion she'd visited.
vvv
"How do you like your room, Miss Anna?" Bethamie motioned her toward a seat at the opposite end of the head of the table.
"Here?" Anna gave her a questioning look and she nodded. "It's very nice."
"Yes, sit there, dear. Mr. Hamilton has named you the guest-of-honor for the evening."
"Oh really?" She slid into the seat and watched the old lady fill a large glass with iced tea. Quietly, the woman started out the door. "And when do I get to meet Mr. Hamilton?"
The door closed without a word from the woman.
The old bat must be deaf
.
That lovely male voice came from behind her. "How about now?"
She craned her head around to see the same dark-haired man from the porch. This time, he wore khaki pants and a white shirt that made his tan seem even darker. When he smiled, things low inside her abdomen clinched. She looked back at the glass of tea, hoping he didn't see the color in her cheeks. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Hamilton."
"Darrin, please." He slid into the chair at the head of the table. He made a quick snap with his napkin before he tucked it across his lap. "How is your room, Miss Jeffries?"
"Please, call me Anna." She followed his lead and put the napkin in her lap. "It's a very nice room."
"Don't you start eating." Bethamie slipped back into the room with a platter of roast that she sat on the table. "You wait for everyone else."
She nodded and Darrin wriggled his eyebrows, then snuck a roll from the basket next to him while Bethamie disappeared back into the kitchen. "I'm not fond of the color my great-grandmother chose for that room, but every time I've changed something about it, she starts smashing windows." He sniffed the roll, then sat it on his plate and settled into his chair.
"I wish I could get that on tape. It would be great for my show." Anna's heart sped up at the idea. She might actually get footage here. Was it too much to hope for a haunted house that was actually haunted?
"I'm sure you'll get something. Things have been--" He glanced toward the door that Bethamie had gone into, then back to her, quieter this time. "--things have been strange since you called."
"Really? How?"
He nodded and the door opened again as a different thin, gray-haired lady appeared with a dish of fried chicken. He smiled and wiggled his eyebrows again, as if to issue his own quiet challenge. When she left again he smiled. "Let's just say that things have been very active around here."
"You'll have to tell me about that later. I want all the details."
"After dinner, if you'd like, we'll walk the property and I'll show you where most ghost chasers get their best stuff."
"I'd like that."
The door to the hall opened and two young couples entered, laughing and stumbling over each other. Darrin nodded in her direction, and then stood as the other ladies took their chairs. He made a slight bow as he said in that thick drawl, "Good evening, ladies."
They giggled and answered back in almost identical Yankee accents. "Hi."
The girls were giggling, while the men looked defensive. Apparently, ghosts weren't the only thing that interested the guests in Haunted Hollow.
Anna took a sip of tea and tried not to laugh as the men took their seats. The tallest one draped his arm around his companion and turned his back slightly toward the host, while the other attempted to ignore him. The guy on the right grumbled to his friend. "This guy's all over the place. I wish he'd give it a rest."
