Page 13 of The Aura Answer
That had been the final straw. She’d done her best to turn off the instinct since—and to stay calm and focused and not blow off steam. Pouring her fears and frustration into writing seemed a good outlet.
Besides, Aster needed a college fund and her teacher’s salary wouldn’t provide it. She returned to typing the scene imprinted in her head... much more productive than flinging dirty rotten scoundrels against walls.
And then she’d told him they were a family of witches. Really, she wasn’t civilized enough to be let out in public.
The male protagonist in the scene took on a strange resemblance to Nick, right down to the Brit accent. She deliberately went back, deleted, and made him a blond, disheveled, Australian over six feet tall. With a beard. And maybe an eye patch. She’d have to think about that.
Spending Christmas break with her family was turning out to be more convenient than she’d anticipated, especially with Pris here. Her surly cousin was a professional caterer and was in her element practicing recipes on a family that would eat anything anyone bothered to cook. And Aster had the twins to play with and male attention for a nice change. Gracie didn’t feel guilty stealing a few hours for herself.
Psycat tried to leap on her laptop, but she pushed him into the cushion by her thigh.
Mmmmmthe cat muttered in disgruntlement.
“Merry Christmas to you too.” Evie and Iddy understood the cat. She’d never tried.
Evie texted asking Gracie to hunt for their father’s wooden box when she had a moment. That couldn’t be good. Gracie ignored it.
Although it was her sister’s silly solutions agency that had given her the idea for this mystery. Maybe she should encourage her.
She almost had ten pages written when she heard the door open. She hunkered down, hoping no one would see her. She needed to end this chapter with a cliffhanger—
A heavy box hit the floor. She finished the sentence before she heard male voices. Dang. They needed to go away. One more paragraph...
“If we move this old hall tree to the garage, we can put the shelves right here.” Nick’s voice.
Gracie groaned. Shelves? He hadn’t, had he? It wasn’t as if she were moving in here forever. Books were a nuisance to pack.
“Hall tree is sturdier than this cardboard piece of crap.”Dante.
The Italian count had inspired her as much as Evie’s weird stories. Her hero ought to be Italian, but Pris would object. Or worse, laugh.
“Jax has the good shelves in his office.”Nick. “I saw some nice pieces at the antique place. I could probably trade for the hall tree. They don’t make anything this solid anymore. The mirror just needs silvering.” The heavy oak scraped against the heart pine floor.
“Use the throw rug under it,” Gracie finally said in exasperation, setting aside her laptop to watch them. Psycat leaped down and stalked off in a huff. “You’ll ruin the floor.”
Holding one side of the wide hall tree, Nick grinned at her. “There you are! I couldn’t find you earlier. Dante volunteered to help me move your books and shelves.”
She could have asked how he got into her house, or why he would bother, or any of a dozen questions, but she wasn’t Evie. That he’d understood the importance of her books... shocked her into biting her tongue.
But she couldn’t stay silent after all their hard work. And she didn’t want to sound indebted for a task she hadn’t asked done. Keeping a lid on her emotions was tricky. “I suppose the books will see more use here, should anyone actually decide to read. I think the hall tree is original to the house and belongs to all of us. I’ll see if anyone wants to claim it.”
While the men placed hercardboardshelves where the hall tree had been, Gracie hit the family group text and sent inquiries.
“It’s a shame to part with family heirlooms.” Dante studied the library as if envisioning his own aging villa. “But a house can only hold so much.”
Nick tested the planks of the solid oak library table she’d once used for homework. “The hall tree should be in the hall to catch coats as people come inside, but the armoire out there works better for a large family. The hall tree needs to go to someone who can use it.”
Gracie watched an array of thumbs-down icons march down her message screen. “New houses have closets. Even Great-Aunt Val doesn’t want it.”
“Great-Aunt Val?” Nick inspected the cubbies of an old mahogany secretaire missing the front piece that once formed a desk.
“She lives in an antebellum mansion outside Atlanta. Her antiques are cherry and mahogany and more upscale than plain country oak.” Gracie tried to picture this box-filled library with her aunt’s delicate cherry, glass-front bookcases and wrinkled her nose. She had more modern tastes. Besides, no one bought print books anymore, except her. For the boxed and illustratedclassics she’d so carefully collected, she’d like adjustable glass shelving and... Ridiculous.
“Try living with worm-eaten seventeenth century shelving. In the UK, we have lots of grand old piles needing huge old furniture. Here—even your old houses are small in comparison, but there are still some wealthy homes needing good bits to add class. Furnishing with cardboard from China isn’t the same.” Nick patted the secretaire fondly. “They’re hunting for useful pieces like this. You’re sitting on some nice cash.”
Gracie snorted as Evie sent a thumbs down and a devilishly laughing face. The youngest and last remaining sibling of their grandmother, Aunt Val had appointed Evie as caretaker of this museum, for reasons known only to Val. Evie had no respect for the past—or much else. Maybe Val hadwantedEvie to clear the place out.
“Looks like, if you’re really bored and have nothing better to do, you can trade the hall tree for bookshelves.” Gracie hoped that would send them away. Nice bookshelves for her books, in a library she’d never use, made sense in some alternate universe. Right now, all she wanted to do was write.
