Sometime Yesterday Read online

  Memories of another loss closed her throat and she immediately cut them off. She wasn’t going to go there tonight.

  “Vannie?” her father called from the kitchen. “Is that you?”

  She found him making snack platters. “Poker tonight, Pop?”

  He nodded and grinned. “Yep. The boys will be here soon. Wanna stay and see if you can double your paycheck?”

  “Not with you, old man, you cheat. Besides, I write the payroll now.”

  He laughed and turned to wash his hands in the sink. Van noticed how stooped his once broad shoulders had become.

  “Did you finish the Whitney job today?”

  “Yes, and thank God for it.” She grabbed a beer. “If that harpy wanted us to change six things, she wanted us to change a half dozen of another.”

  He patted her shoulder. “Now, Vannie, Stella Whitney isn’t that bad.”

  Van turned her chair sideways from the table so she could stretch her denim clad legs out and debated whether she should tell him about Ms. Whitney offering her silicone inflated double Ds as a bonus to the final check she was writing. It had been a sticky, ha-ha situation, and Van considered herself lucky she got out with the payment and a pretty harmless pinch on the ass. Instead, she lifted her beer and mumbled, “Mmm,” figuring her dad didn’t need to know that bit of gossip. She gave him a brief rundown of what else was scheduled that week and then tossed her empty bottle into the recycling bin. “I’ll leave you to your game, Dad. I’m going out for a while.”

  Once out on the highway, she passed the turn to her house and continued to her favorite bar. She felt uneasy and kept checking her rearview mirror. When she reached the door, she turned to look over her shoulder. There was nothing there, but the feeling of being watched stayed with her all night.

  *

  Natalie barely noticed the view as she drove home. Her thoughts kept going back to the fact that her house was haunted. No wonder that real estate agent was so happy and pushed everything through so fast. Sneaky broad. One of the first things she was going to do when she got back was call her mother. She hadn’t talked to her much since the divorce, not that her mother didn’t try. Even though Jason was the one who cheated and left her, Natalie still felt ashamed.

  Well, for good or for bad, as Stan had said, the house was hers and she couldn’t give it back.

  Her mind was racing a mile a minute and Natalie slowed as she took the last bend in the road before turning off. Coasting the driveway toward her haunted house, she looked up.

  The bedroom window was open. This sucks.

  Her car was full. Natalie dragged the bags to the front porch before she unlocked the door. She repeated the process to get them just inside the door. She stood in the foyer with her purchases and shut the door.

  She looked around carefully. Nothing seemed to be disturbed. With the late afternoon sun streaming into the kitchen, it was hard to believe anything spooky was going on. Maybe she was wrong? Even as she asked herself the question, she knew she couldn’t explain the strange situation. As she unpacked her groceries, Natalie made a mental note to call Karen Small first thing in the morning and then sat at the table to call her mom. She twitched when the cell phone rang in her pocket just as she was reaching for it. She looked at the caller ID and grinned.

  “Hi, Mom. I was just going to call you.”

  “I know, dear. That’s why I called you first. What’s the matter?”

  “What makes you think there’s something the matter?” Natalie didn’t bother waiting for the answer. Her mother always knew when something was wrong, even if she chose not to say so. She usually waited for Natalie to discuss her problems when she was ready. “Evidently, my new house has other residents besides myself, and they are not of the earthbound variety.”

  “Do you want me to come?”

  “Would you, Mom? I know that you planned on coming during the summer, but you’re so much better at dealing with this paranormal stuff than I am.”

  She explained what had happened the night before as well as the day’s disturbing events of slamming doors and windows.

  Colleen O’Donnell-James was very quiet for a moment. “It’s an old house, Nat.”

  “I know that, Mom.”

  “I’ll call you right back. I have to talk to your father and check on airline tickets.” Her mother clicked off without saying good-bye.

  Natalie looked out the kitchen window. She blinked and then rubbed her eyes. The garden was beautiful. It was no longer overgrown and patchy. Lush, green lawn spread from the back porch to the cliff. Amongst the flower beds and neat little paths, she could see a white hammock swinging gently in the breeze. A yellow butterfly circled lazily in the afternoon sun. She ran to the back door and opened it.

  Only thick, dead grass and a couple of trees stood where she had seen the hammock moments before. She slammed the back door and sprinted back to the window. The pretty garden had disappeared.

  Wow. Her imagination was working overtime. It had to be all the talk of ghosts. She shook off the feeling of uncertainty starting in her stomach and turned her attention to unpacking. Natalie went back to the foyer to drag the rest of her bags in. Some were going upstairs and some were going to the basement. Though she knew she wasn’t going anywhere near it, until her mother arrived. Not after the talk of spirits. Some things you just never outgrew, and her fear of basements seemed to be one of them. She stepped carefully around the boxes in the front room. The movers had left the furniture somewhat in the areas she pointed out to them. Mary could help her organize the rest.

  Natalie looked at the painting apprehensively. The woman was still looking sideways. No changes there.

  Her phone rang again in the kitchen. By the time she got there, it had already gone to voice mail. It was her mother. She was arriving in three days, on Friday afternoon, and renting a car. Natalie was thankful they all seemed to come equipped with GPS these days; otherwise her mother would never find the house. Natalie heated a frozen dinner and ate in the silent room, thinking she had to find her stereo, since it was far too quiet in the house. She needed the background noise. She wished that Mary would call her back and she reached for the phone to call her instead. The battery indicator had no bars. She searched her purse but her phone charger wasn’t in it.

  Natalie finally went upstairs. She was relieved to find the doors were open as she’d left them and marched deliberately into her room.

  Shadows were filling the corners while the sun faded and the night was getting cold. She closed the window and spun around to face the room. Other than once again smelling lavender in the air, she couldn’t feel anything off. Natalie crossed to her suitcase and searched for the charger. It wasn’t there either, but she was certain she’d packed it. She dumped the bag out onto the bed. It was gone.

  Great. She was alone, in a supposedly haunted house.

  With a dead phone.

  Chapter Four

  Welcome.

  Natalie dripped water on the floor and stared at the word written in the steam on the mirror then cleaned off the writing with her towel, telling herself it must have been there before and she just didn’t notice it the night her bath went cold, since there was no steam left by the time she had gotten out. She blamed the doodle on the previous owner. Fingerprint drawings could last for a long time on a surface that hadn’t been cleaned, right?

  “Are you awake yet?” Mary called from downstairs, scaring her half to death. “It’s eight thirty.”

  Natalie yelled back, “I’m coming. I just got out of the shower. I need coffee.”

  Natalie dressed and headed downstairs in her stocking feet. Rock and roll music blared and she slid into the kitchen in her socks, playing air guitar. Although one or two minor noises had startled her sleep in the night, she hadn’t had any strange dreams.

  Sunlight was streaming in the windows, some of which Mary had already opened. Around the mountains of boxes, the glossy hardwood reflected the light, making starbursts across
the floor. Another beautiful morning in her new kingdom and all was well. So far, anyway.

  Natalie looked out the back door. The landscaping fairies didn’t make a visit in the middle of the night. The yard was still a nightmare.

  Mary was rinsing her coffee cup in the sink. “Your phone is dead.”

  “I couldn’t find the charger last night. It’s got to be around here somewhere.” She refilled her coffee and they both headed to the office down the hall. Neither mentioned the phone call about the house being haunted. It was too beautiful a day to talk about things going bump in the night.

  She let out a heavy sigh when she saw all the boxes. At least the movers had put the heavy desk and bookshelves in the right places. She opened the drapes. It was a corner room so it had windows on two sides. She thought it was perfect for an office the first moment she saw it. The room was painted a light khaki color and she knew exactly which of her paintings would complement the walls. She was excited for her collection to arrive. Natalie had contracted a company that specialized in moving art and sculpture. She’d heard far too many horror stories about moving companies losing boxes. It was expensive, but worth it. She couldn’t wait to set up her painting studio upstairs. She grabbed a dust rag sitting on the shelf, stuck another in her back pocket, clicked her box cutter, and got to work.

  Natalie had her head in a box and her fanny in the air when she heard Mary come in with the phone installer. She bolted upright and hit her head on the desk, knocking herself flat to the floor.

  “Damn it, that hurt.” She felt dizzy and lay still for a moment.

  “Are you all right?”

  Natalie struggled to open her eyes. She saw an outline of a woman against the bright light from the windows. Brown hair hung in clouds around a face that she couldn’t quite make out. A small hand brushed her forehead.

  “Wha…” Natalie wiped her hands down her face and tried to focus. She tried again. “What? Who are you?”

  “It’s Sarah, silly. You must have hit your head hard.” The woman tucked her legs under her dress and sat beside Natalie. “Poor baby. Do you need for me to kiss it?” She pulled Natalie’s head into her lap to examine the bump.

  Natalie let her eyelids drop for a second. The scent of lavender filled her nose. She felt a pull of longing at the sound of this woman’s voice. Who’s Sarah? She looked at the face above her. She felt some shock when she realized it was the woman from the painting. Big, soft brown eyes regarded her with concern, and Sarah leaned over and kissed her forehead. Silky strands of long hair fell around Natalie’s face. She wanted to stay right here forever.

  She stared at the stranger who seemed so familiar, and feeling tenderness toward the woman, hesitantly touched her face.

  Sarah leaned in and kissed her. Natalie kissed her back, feeling as if she’d done it a thousand times before.

  “Natalie?” A hand shook her shoulder hard.

  “Natalie, wake up.” The voice grew louder.

  “Ow. Quit yelling at me.” Natalie rubbed the back of her head. She looked around quickly and settled her gaze on Mary’s face in front of her. “I don’t suppose you saw her, did you?”

  “Saw who, honey?” Mary looked worried. “Stay here. I’m going to go get some ice.”

  “Dude. That was cool.” The phone tech sat back on his heels. “I heard your head crack all the way in the hall. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Despite how odd she felt, Natalie smirked. “I’m just stellar, dude.”

  “Right,” he said, drawing the word out into three syllables. Well, I’m going to finish installing your phone now. Can you move out of the way please?”

  Natalie stood slowly and went into the living room. While sitting quietly in a chair, she tried to analyze what had happened and why she felt so sad. She reasoned it must be a hallucination as a result of hitting her head. That the woman in the painting was part of it clearly had to be a subconscious thing. The only thing not freaking her out at the moment was the kiss they shared. Natalie loved it. She would have to mull over that later. Mary came back in with some ice for her head. “Stay here,” she ordered. “I’ll take care of the phone guy.”

  Natalie wanted to call her back and tell her what she had seen, but stopped herself. She didn’t feel she could explain it without sounding completely crazy. She could hear Mary in the office talking with the newly arrived cable technician. She traced the outline of her mouth with the tip of her fingers. The room was hot but she shivered against a sudden chill. She felt a soft fluttering on her cheek but didn’t see an open window in the room. She swore there was a hint of lavender in the air and she felt a hand smooth her hair. Natalie shifted on the pillow. Now she knew she was going crazy. How was it possible for her to yearn for something she never had?

  “Nat, honey? What’s wrong?” Mary sat beside her and pulled Natalie’s hand into hers. “Does it still hurt?”

  Not trusting herself to speak with the lump in her throat, Natalie shook her head. She made a decision not to say anything to Mary just yet. She didn’t think she could answer the questions that Mary would have. Instead, she dried her tears and stood. “C’mon, let’s get something to drink.”

  “All finished in here.” The phone guy popped his head in the doorway. “I left the invoice with your new phone number on the desk. If you have any problems, just give us a call.”

  Natalie showed him out. “Thank you.” She closed the door and rested her head against it for a moment. She felt a warm breath on her neck and she looked back uneasily. A loud crash and scream came from the kitchen.

  Natalie ran into the room. “What happened?” She took in the details of Mary’s white face and the broken glass on the floor.

  “I thought I saw something run across the room.”

  Natalie felt her stomach drop. “What kind of something?”

  “It was nothing, just my imagination. Sorry about the glass.”

  Natalie carefully stepped over the ice and water. “S’okay, buddy. What’s next on our list?”

  Mary smoothed her shorts and started listing the work they had already completed. “Damn, we’re good, lady. At this point, I think the art moving company is the only thing we’re waiting for.”

  Natalie’s fingers grew warm. They always did that when she thought of painting. Impatiently, she rubbed them against her legs. Like an addiction, the paints and canvases called to her. Mary washed her hands. “It’s that time, Nat. I have to go and pick up the boys from school. Ready to face the monsters yet?”

  Natalie hugged her. “Not tonight, I still have a headache. I’ll eat some of that pasta salad you brought me and go to bed early.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to go and get that lump looked at? I don’t like that you blacked out.”

  “I’m sure. Thank you.”

  Mary headed for the front door. “Call me if you need me, okay?” She blew Natalie a kiss on her way out.

  Natalie made sure the front door was locked and stopped to look into her office. She leaned slightly and warily peeked over the top of her desk. She almost expected Sarah to be sitting on the floor. She felt her blood heat as she remembered the kiss. What was that about?

  Chapter Five

  Van drove up the long driveway leading to the old house, feeling a tingle on the back of her neck. She vaguely remembered her father telling her that one of her great-whatever-many-times-grandfather used be the head gardener for the original owners.

  She had bragged about it when she was sixteen and her friends thought it would be fun to party in the abandoned house. So one stormy night, armed with beer, flashlights, and sleeping bags, they paired off and spread out throughout the rooms.

  She couldn’t help but grin when she also recalled that she made out with the head cheerleader, Missy, that night. If the other kids were scared and reported slamming doors and spooky knocking noises, she hadn’t heard them over her raging hormones. Van didn’t believe in ghosts. She had, however, believed in making it to second base with
Missy Barnes.

  The state of the grounds on either side of the driveway brought her back to the present. Karen Small had come to the nursery earlier in the week. While Van was ringing her purchase, Karen mentioned that the new owner of the old Seeley place might need the services of a good landscaper because she was certain it would be too much work for an individual to take on by herself. Karen pulled out a business card and wrote the new owner’s name on the back of it.

  Van continued to the house and mentally made an automatic checklist of what was needed to restore the gardens. Maybe the new owner would trust her experience to design a new plan for the yard. Oleander trees, azaleas, and rhododendrons grown out of control encroached on the driveway; thimbleberry and oxalis grew haphazardly around the scattered coastal trees; weeds and grass as tall as an adult in some areas, ran through the acreage. The sweet smell of honeysuckle in the sunny afternoon wafted through her open window and Van took a deep breath. She loved the amazing beauty of the California coast and knew she wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.

  The house came into view and she admired the wraparound porch. She didn’t remember the house being pink before, but the color really stood out now. Definitely not a choice she would have made, but then again, she didn’t own it.

  By the time Van reached the door, she had already processed approximate cost, and how many of her crew she would need, though she wouldn’t know for certain until she saw the back of the house. She pulled the owner’s name out of her back pocket. The nursery did well, but she was excited about the scope of this job, and it would give her crew something to do during the summer. She reconsidered the size of the property and amended that estimate of time to continue right through the fall. They were booked solid for the next few weeks of spring.

  Van heard the click of the dead bolt opening and had to look down at the woman who answered the door. She was momentarily caught off guard. Damn, she was a sucker for a redhead. Especially ones with freckles sprinkled across their nose and eyes as green as diamond cut emeralds. She cleared her throat and handed her one of her landscaping cards. So much for her standard business pitch. The woman stared back at her. It was the woman from the store parking lot, the one whose pockets she admired.