Chapter 5: Suffocating

CHAPTER 5

Suffocating

Leo and I decided what we referred to as the “pink room” upstairs would be the best place for me, at least for a little while. We were planning on playing a bit of musical chairs with the furniture when the flooring restoration started, and the pink room was the last on the plan. Until then, I’d have the whole floor to myself, which felt right from a privacy perspective for both Leo and me.

The first night, Leo lugged all of my boxes into the dining room so I’d have easy access to pull out anything I needed urgently, but the rest would be out of the way enough not to bother either of us, or the construction workers. Laughing at my slow pace up the stairs, Leo wrestled my large suitcase away from me, and took it the rest of the way up.

I crashed so hard in that pink frilly canopy bed the first night. Physically exhausted from driving for hours on end and mentally exhausted from the roller coaster of a day I’d had, I was dead to the world within moments of my head hitting the pillow.

The initial couple days were a mix of awkwardness and odd familiarity as we shared the space twenty-four seven. After all, I had worked there for two months; I knew all the nooks and crannies pretty well by then, but I had rarely been at the house after dark. And in the evenings, the house took on a whole new sinister demeanor—one that I tried very hard to ignore.

At night, shadows stretched longer, the smallest noises echoed louder, and my imagination was intent on playing tricks on me around every corner. I couldn’t get the conversation I’d had with Margot out of my mind, knowing that in the last few decades alone, more than a couple people had passed in and around the property.

I thought back to my first impression of Willowbrooke, the day of my interview. I had told Mina I thought the place looked haunted, and I’d meant it. And now I was witnessing firsthand how the space ebbed and flowed between day and night—how it moved around its inhabitants, perhaps waiting for another soul to add to its collection…

Each morning I would wake up to the same fresh cup of coffee waiting on the counter and Leo across from me, ready to hear what we had in store for the day. The counter at that point was a makeshift coffee bar I had cobbled together on a side table I’d brought into the living room from upstairs.

The ritual that had developed between Leo and I from the beginning of the project had long been the highlight of my day, and I’d spent most of my morning commute scripting what I would review with Leo and looking forward to the bitter steaming dark liquid I knew would be ready for me upon my arrival.

While our morning procedure largely stayed the same, without my long commute, we could start work over an hour earlier, which now included us taking our coffee to the living room and watching the tail end of the sunrise over the oceanside cliffs beyond the back lawn. Although Leo had always opened the curtains before my arrival, I began to take on the task myself, while he tended to the coffee machine.

“Val gets the coffee from a local place; they get fair-trade beans directly and grind the beans in-store,” Leo told me one morning a couple weeks into the project, after I had asked about the unlabeled black bag of coffee grounds. Every now and then I’d get glimpses of the Leo that hid behind his self-built walls, keeping everyone and every emotion out, but also keeping himself locked away inside. I’d made a note that day that coffee was something that was important to Leo.

Whether it was the liquid itself, the caffeine boost, or simply the morning ritual of it all, our first sips together every morning were a quiet moment of zen that I never took for granted. The brief spark of sheer joy on Leo’s face when he saw the coffee station I’d put together was well worth the effort. It was a lesson that paying very close attention and becoming attuned to his almost imperceptible shifts in mood or emotion would pay off eventually.

Having dealt with Adam’s mercurial mood swings for a long time, I was used to ferreting out the smallest indications of how a person might react, or how their perception of an interaction would play out. Leo’s reactions, or lack thereof, were much more diminutive, but I was slowly learning his quirks. Try as he might, he couldn’t keep me out forever. I was determined to build a friendship between us, yet whether he wanted to count me as a friend or not was up to him.

I tried to ignore the small voice inside that suggested he could become something more than a friend. Those thoughts were the hardest to evade. The hope that came with them was even worse.

It only took a matter of days, staying at the house full-time, for Leo’s walls to very slowly start crumbling. So gradual was the progress, that I doubted he was even aware of it happening.

“C’mon, use your muscles, Pen,” Leo chided as I struggled to help him move a heavy chest of drawers from one room to the other as we prepared for the flooring work to begin. He had been teasing me more lately and had taken to calling me by a nickname when it suited him. I didn’t mind. Mina was the only one who usually called me “Pen” for short.

My family wouldn’t dare use the moniker. It had, after all, taken them years as a teenager to convince them that I preferred to be called Penny instead of my full name: Penelope. It was an old family name which my parents had fallen in love with, never considering their daughter would have to live with the name for the rest of her life, whether she liked it or not.

I hated being called Penelope, but Penny…I felt like a Penny, and when Mina, or now Leo, used the shorthand version, it made me feel warm and fuzzy inside. The implied familiarity from Leo made me nervous…but the good kind of nervous. It was a secret code being shared amongst allies. I didn’t think either of them knew how endearing it felt to me. Maybe I didn’t have to tell them—they could probably see it on my face.

Late afternoon the second day after I moved in, I caught Leo mindlessly scrolling through the stock artwork on the new frame TV, which could mimic the look of artwork when the TV wasn’t in use.

When Leo asked my preferences, it sparked a great debate that culminated in an empty wine bottle split between the two of us, and a disagreement over modern and abstract art versus more traditional styles. I wasn’t a fan of the former, but he disagreed. I suspected Leo didn’t like modern art either, but it seemed he enjoyed playing devil’s advocate and pushing my buttons.

But after the debate, I found that most days Leo chose artwork that was well within my personal preferences, typically classical subjects in a baroque or rococo style. He liked to try a new piece every day.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was growing on him.

Evenings at the house were a little bit awkward. Leo was still cranky since the kitchen wasn’t accessible, so once we’d eaten our second meal of the day, which Leo would order in, I’d make a quick retreat to the pink room, not wanting to disrupt whatever normal nighttime routine Leo had. As far as I was concerned, I wanted him to forget I existed outside normal working hours, so he didn’t feel as though his space was being invaded.

Regardless of my tactics, we would occasionally have fleeting run-ins, but I avoided him as much as possible. Still, I had to admit to myself that it was nice to see a different side to Leo. After hours, he was a bit more relaxed, but also a bit more morose. Most nights, he’d post up in the living room with a glass of wine and read.

Although I had argued it would be better to wait to order the new sofa with all the construction in the house, he couldn’t stand the floral monstrosity any longer and practically begged me to order it early. It was nice to see he was putting it to good use. The deep cognac leather sectional fit well in the space, and I was excited for how the whole room would look when everything was put together.

Seeing him out of work-mode was both comforting, but also disquieting. I could feel myself being pulled to him. I had to remind myself with increasing frequency that it was simply a line I could not cross. But the more Leo came out of his shell around me, the more I found myself thinking of him and what it would be like to be with someone like him…or just him.

I was playing a dangerous game.

William stopped by mid-week to share a glass of wine with Leo in the library. The two of them were awfully secretive, which had me wondering if they were conspiring against me. But contrary to my conspiracy theories, William pulled me aside to apologize for not stepping in the day Leo had found me in the solarium.

“What could you have done?” I shook my head, waving off his apology.

“I could have said something—I should have.” He frowned. “It weighed heavily on me after you left, and once the shock had subsided, I gave Leo a piece of my mind about how he had handled the situation.”

So that’s why Leo had displayed such a quick turnaround.

It didn’t make his apology any less genuine, but it did explain why he’d felt so tortured about how I’d left the house that day.

“I appreciate what you did,” I thanked him.

“I’m glad you’ve decided to stay.” William’s admission surprised me.

“Oh?” I managed in response.

“Leo’s been alone too long—I think it’ll be good for him to have you around.” William smiled gently. “He’s different with you.”

“Hopefully in a good way.” I laughed awkwardly.

William joined me. “Yes, in a good way.” He chuckled. “Take care of him.” His tone was still jovial, but the message was sobering.

“I will,” I promised, giving him a small wave as he took his leave.

Margot joined us for lunch on Thursday. I’m not sure what I thought her reaction to the new living arrangement would be, but she appeared delighted at the idea.

“You’re always so generous and thoughtful, Leo,” she gushed over her salad. “I raised you well.”

As I had come to expect with Margot, she got a little too deep a little too quickly, when she asked if I had any family to stay with.

Leo looked up at me across the table, silently giving me permission to circumvent the truth if it was uncomfortable. But I feared Margot would sniff out any lies or half-truths, so I was honest.

I explained my recent estrangement with my family after leaving the firm, and how my sister and I had never really been close because our parents had pitted us against each other…a silly gambit because everyone had known Sloan would win, whatever the contest was.

“I know it’s hard, honey, but don’t close that door if you can manage. Look at what happened with Leo and George.” Margot took a sip of her sparkling water.

Leo held his breath, waiting to see how much Margot would divulge. After I’d confessed to knowing why the solarium was kept closed because Margot had spilled the beans, he had to know that wasn’t the only thing we’d spoken about. But I wasn’t about to give Leo a full debrief of our lunch conversation.

“Thank goodness my prodding worked on both of them—if they hadn’t reconciled…” She reached across the table and took Leo’s hand in hers. “You would have regretted it for the rest of your life.”

Leo looked a mix of a broken little boy, unsure if the acceptance he was hearing was true, and the grown man who was broken in a different way, still grieving the loss of the father he barely knew, and now, never would.

Her gaze held his for a long moment. I thought she might have forgotten I was in the room, but then she retracted her hand from Leo’s as she cleared her throat.

“You might consider talking to your sister as well. Maybe as adults you can find common ground. George and I had a difficult relationship growing up—it’s not easy feeling inferior your whole life. But I’m glad we worked through our childhood to see that our differences were an artifact of the way we were brought up, not because he and I didn’t get along,” Margot commented.

I couldn’t even remember the last time I had talked to Sloan—more than just passing words anyway. The apple of my parents’ eye, she had gone to school to be a structural engineer and was being groomed to take over the firm when my parents were ready to retire in the next ten or so years.

Sloan was the opposite of me in so many ways. Where I was short, freckled, amber-haired, and tomboyish, she was tall, willowy, feminine, with curves in all the right places, and long naturally blonde hair. The only feature we shared was our blue eyes, and if we hadn’t had that in common, I would truly have looked the part of the red-headed step child. I was treated like one, so our identical gaze didn’t seem to matter much.

Where I had failed and struggled in school, she had excelled and was top of whatever class she was in. My parents constantly sang her praises, and more than once, I’d heard them begrudgingly lament why I couldn’t be more like her. They had no idea how devastating that treatment had been for me at such a formative age. I didn’t think I could ever get past it—no amount of therapy in the world could squash those kinds of issues.

It wasn’t even until meeting Mina in college that I’d realized how abnormal my treatment had been, and I had slowly started trying to wake from the haze I had been drifting through my entire adolescence.

Sloan and I had never been close. She was always so quiet, obedient, and bookish. We had nothing in common. If I called her that exact moment, I wouldn’t have even known what to talk to her about.

But Margot wasn’t wrong.

I’d grown up with Sloan, but I didn’t know a single thing about her as an adult, other than her profession and place of work. Granted, she hadn’t tried to connect with me either, but maybe she’d gone through a similarly traumatizing experience growing up, which had kept her so compliant. I resolved to reach out and give her the benefit of the doubt. The worst-case scenario was that things stayed as icy as they currently were, and I was fine with that arrangement as well.

Had Leo seen a fellow tortured soul in me the day of the interview? Had he asked me to take the project sight unseen because he’d seen himself in me? Both our parents had pushed us away and shaped us into perfect little humans filled with self-hatred and crippling doubt.

Could we overcome our fate?

Or were we doomed to succumb to self-fulfilling prophecies?

I had been staying at Willowbrooke for just under a week when more odd occurrences began to happen.

At first it was just little things, like my door being left open when I was sure that I had closed it, or the curtains being drawn when I knew for certain I had pulled them open that morning. But then it escalated when I continued to be awakened in the middle of the night by a singular thump, at exactly 2:13 a.m., coming from the crawl space above the pink room.

I was hesitant to mention any of it to Leo because he had been somewhat dismissive of my earlier claims of a potential haunting. Even I had to admit to myself that I sounded a bit neurotic about the whole ordeal, but part of me wished he had given my concerns more validation.

While I didn’t not believe in the supernatural, I was definitely skeptical in most circumstances. But in this case, where I was the one experiencing numerous things and was starting to feel a bit unraveled, it was easier to consider a paranormal source, when the alternative was me losing my mind.

It was the fourth night in a row that I had been awoken by the thump, at the exact same time as the previous three nights, that I sat up in bed, fearful and unable to get back to sleep. I could feel anxiety rising in me; my stomach was in knots.

Seeing a sliver of moonlight streaming through a crack in the curtains, I drowsily made my way over to the window to peek outside at the lawn below. The sight that met me sent me stumbling backward, tripping into the bed.

Walking across the lawn was a woman in a white nightgown, long dark hair flowing down her back. Her feet were bare. She had to have been freezing, as the temperature was well into the 30s at that time of night—or rather, early morning.

The woman’s steps were slow and methodical as she crossed diagonally through the lawn toward the cliff. And when I thought of the cliff, it dawned on me that although I couldn’t see her face, she looked familiar.

Shortly after arriving back at Willowbrooke, Margot had stolen me one afternoon to show me a family album in the library. We had spent over an hour together as she’d prattled on over adorable baby photos of Leo with his parents. The woman below reminded me of someone I had seen in those faded photographs taken decades ago. She had an identical figure and hair to Leo’s mother, Christine.

I went back over to the window, and the figure was gone. But she’d already been so close to the cliff when I’d seen her. She could have jumped. If I really was seeing a specter repeat her last moments, or if it was a real person, maybe a neighbor sleepwalking, she could have found cover in the tree line, which offered little visibility past the first stand of willow trees, even in the late fall, with their lack of leaves—the branches were too thick and too many, with the trees clustered so close together.

I was debating on what to do, feeling my heart pounding in my chest, when a clatter from downstairs sent me absolutely over the edge. Had the woman made it inside the house? I had no idea how heavy or light of a sleeper Leo was; would he have heard the noise? He’d never mentioned the thumps, but they were coming from two floors above him, so even if he was a light sleeper, the chances of him hearing them were slim.

The uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach had spread to every part of me, making my fingers and toes feel numb, save for the thrumming of my rapid heartbeat.

Something was very wrong—I was scared. But I felt a sudden and overwhelming need to find Leo. I couldn’t stand to be alone in the dark any longer.

So, very slowly and as quietly as I could muster, I made my way down the main staircase to the ground floor, hoping that whatever, or whoever, had made the noise was already gone, or wouldn’t hear me approach.

I realized halfway down the stairs, when I saw a dim light from the kitchen, that I hadn’t thought through a plan at all. Was I going to confront the intruder or try to sneak past to find Leo in his room?

After another few steps, I froze when I saw a figure illuminated by the kitchen light, behind the translucent plastic sheeting that Danny had put up to make sure dust and dirt particles from the construction wouldn’t contaminate the rest of the house. Again, I could hear my heart pounding in my ears, so loudly that I wondered if the intruder could hear it as well.

Another clatter caused me to stumble backwards on the stairs, shocked by the noise. Followed by the figure cursing at the noise he had caused. And upon hearing the voice behind the plastic curtain, I realized it wasn’t an intruder; it was Leo.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm whatever was left of my nerves, and made my way over to the sheeting, pulling it back to approach Leo. The crinkling of the plastic must have shocked him because he dropped his bowl again, scattering pretzels across the newly installed tile flooring.

Leo spun around, a gasp hanging from his lips and his hand over his heart. “Jesus, Pen, you scared the shit out of me.” He gulped.

I paused, taking Leo in for a brief moment. He was wearing charcoal gray sweatpants, a white crew neck shirt, and slippers. I realized I’d never seen him out of his regular uniform of well-tailored slacks and crisp button-up shirts, always complete with a pair of shiny lace-up shoes. He was handsome and put together no matter what he wore, it would seem.

“Well, you scared me first,” I accused him. “What are you doing up in the middle of the night?” I realized I had no right asking him what he did in his own house, but the sentiment arrived too late for me to retract the question.

“I—” He paused, weighing if he should tell me the truth or only part of it. “I have insomnia,” he admitted.

“Oh.” I winced. “I’m sorry.” I wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to say, but it felt right in the moment.

Leo waved a hand to dismiss the thought, telling me not to worry about him without saying it aloud. “I’m sorry about the noise—a bowl fell out of the cabinet, and then I slipped on the tile—and then you—scared the shit out of me.” He sighed as he began to pick up the broken pretzel fragments from the ground, placing them back into the bowl.

“I was awake before I heard you…” I admitted.

Leo looked up from where he was crouched in the middle of the kitchen. “Are you alright?” He seemed to sense that something was amiss.

“I saw someone outside—a woman, walking across the lawn…to the cliff.” I had debated whether I should say the last bit, but if I had seen a real person, they might be injured or in danger.

Leaving half the pretzels on the ground, Leo set the bowl on the counter and said, “Show me,” as he motioned for me to lead the way.

I crossed the living room and pulled back the drawn curtain covering the glass door that led to the back patio and lawn. There was no one within sight. “I swear I didn’t imagine it.”

Leo didn’t reply, but gently nudged past me to unlock and open the door, letting in a gust of freezing air in the process.

Instinctively, my arms wrapped around my chest to brace myself from the cold. I stayed inside, but watched Leo tread across the stone patio to the edge of the grass, where he abruptly stopped.

“Come back inside; it’s too cold out,” I called to him in a half whisper.

“C’mere.” He beckoned me outside.

I grimaced as I stepped over the threshold; my socks immediately felt soggy as I crossed the damp patio toward Leo. When I made it next to him, he pointed a few yards away, where I could see marks in the dewy grass.

“What is that?” I squinted in the barely-there moonlight.

“Footsteps,” Leo said.

I blanched.

I knew I had seen the woman from my bedroom window, but I think there was a part of me that assumed I had been seeing things.

“Go get your coat and some shoes,” Leo instructed.

Making haste, I did as I was told and met Leo back downstairs, where he had also swapped his slippers for a pair of worn sneakers and a large black wool peacoat. He handed me a heavy-duty flashlight, matching the one he held in his own hands. The cold metal of the flashlight bit into my fingers.

Following alongside the set of footprints, we slowly made our way across the lawn. The depressions in the grass ended right at the cliffside, which perturbed both of us.

“Stay here,” Leo said before walking right up to the edge, gently crouching down, and lying flat on his stomach in the dirt to peek over the edge of the cliff. Surely his light wouldn’t penetrate all the way down to the coast, but there might have been just enough moonlight to see if there was someone at the bottom.

Leo shook his head before delicately extricating himself from the ground, brushing off the dirt from his coat. “Nothing,” he said.

Placing a gentle hand on the small of my back, Leo escorted me into the house, where he took one last wary glance across the lawn before locking the door and drawing the curtains closed once more.

“I told you Willowbrooke is haunted,” I stated half-joking, half-serious.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Leo shook his head.

“Then what do you think it was?” I asked, mildly upset that he still didn’t believe me. Either way, there was evidence that something was going on, supernatural or not.

“Maybe it was from Carl…” Leo speculated, needing a logical explanation. “He was here today. Maybe the grass where he walked made the dew appear differently…” We both knew he was grasping at straws.

I wanted to say, “But why did the footprints go to the edge and disappear?” or “What about the woman?” Instead, I quietly muttered, “Maybe…” to appease him. Joking about the house being haunted was one thing, but the reality of it felt too distressing to dwell on.

An uncomfortable silence fell between us.

Leo broke first. “The woman you saw…” he said quietly, “what did she look like?”

“She was barefoot, wearing a sleeveless white nightgown that went to her ankles. She was short—not much taller than me, slight frame, with long dark hair—the moonlight reflected off her, and her hair moved in the wind…” I remembered as I spoke, tugging at my mind for other small details, but none materialized. “I swear she was real.”

Leo pursed his lips, maybe he had been hoping I’d be more descriptive, or that hearing what I’d seen would make him suddenly realize what was actually going on.

“And…she looked like your mom.” I heard my small voice escape me, before I realized the impact of what I’d said.

Leo’s jaw clenched at the mention of his mother. He remained silent.

I felt dread building in the pit of my stomach. I’d overstepped. I felt awful.

“I’m sorry,” I breathed. But it was too late.

“Go back to bed, Penny,” Leo commanded flatly.

“Leo…” I reached out to him, but he flinched away from my touch.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I relented, leaving him brooding in the dark living room, not daring to look back as I made my way upstairs to my room.

I didn’t sleep.

I knew things would be tepid between Leo and I the next day.

What I didn’t anticipate was that he would avoid me entirely. How was I supposed to clear the air if he couldn’t even stand to be in the same house with me, let alone the same room?

For the first time since starting the project, I wasn’t greeted with Leo and a fresh cup of coffee upon waking. Instead I ran into Danny and his crew, who were starting early, as the kitchen was almost complete—only missing some finishing, but critical touches.

“Where’s…Leo?” I asked, confused.

“Went into town—said to tell you he’ll be gone most of the day,” Danny grumbled, annoyed to be playing messenger. “Lover’s spat?” He waggled his eyebrows, teasing.

I rolled my eyes in response. “Hardly.” I scowled, making my way over to the coffee station, where there was exactly enough for one cup left warming in the glass carafe…he hadn’t forgotten me after all. I felt my cheeks redden at the thought, and then my blush deepened, embarrassed that it pleased me so much.

Does Leo think of me as much as I think of him?

“Are you still on track to finish tomorrow?” I asked Danny, while pouring the steaming coffee into my usual mug.

“As long as you don’t have any more last-minute changes,” he growled.

“It was one thing—it’s not my fault they delivered the wrong tone of hardware.” I shook my head, knowing that Danny was joking, but also knowing that he’d never let me live down the mistake, as if I had packed the wrong parts in the box myself.

“Someone got crumbs all over the floor. You know anything about that?” Danny glared at me.

I threw my hands up defensively. “It wasn’t me,” I said honestly, leaving out the part where I had seen Leo commit the offense the night before. “I’ll be upstairs moving furniture if you need me.”

“I’ll send a couple guys up in a bit to help you—just need them for a little longer,” Danny offered.

“Thank you.” I smiled, and carefully made my way up the back stairs.

The flooring guys were finally available to start refinishing the hardwoods, after they had rescheduled multiple times due to other jobs running longer, which didn’t bode well for my project timeline. Danny insisted that they ran late because they did quality work and wouldn’t leave a job until it was perfect.

Danny’s endorsement was enough for me to swallow my pride and growing anxiety over the timeline extending well past the holidays. Leo seemed ambivalent about the delay, and frankly, about the holidays in general.

Just before lunch, one of the workmen who had been helping me came back upstairs from a quick break and told me Margot was downstairs with a woman he didn’t recognize.

Confused by Margot’s unexpected appearance with a guest, I trotted down the steps, hoping I wouldn’t be judged too harshly in my workout leggings, an old paint-splattered shirt, grubby sneakers, and a sweaty disposition from moving all the furniture on the second floor into the round master above the solarium.

“Hi Margot,” I greeted Leo’s aunt. “We weren’t expecting you today; Leo’s out running errands,” I told her, not sure that he was actually doing so.

Margot’s laugh tinkled as she said, “I didn’t know I needed an appointment to come and go from my own home.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologized instinctively. “It’s just a messy day, is all.”

“Don’t worry, dear, we’ll only be a moment,” Margot said. “This is Miss Hawthorne.” She stepped to her right, allowing me to see the beautiful young woman that had been standing behind her.

The woman couldn’t have been any older than me, perhaps in her late twenties. Her flawless pale skin was juxtaposed by her dark hair, pulled back into a sleek bun at the crown of her head.

I didn’t have to see the labels on her clothes, purse, or shoes to know they were designer. If I didn’t know Margot was childless, I would have mistaken the woman for her daughter, for her taste in apparel alone.

“Nice to meet you.” She smiled sweetly, and extended her hand to shake mine. I would have found it odd that she didn’t share her first name, but occasionally Margot was overly formal, so I disregarded the thought. And honestly, there was much I didn’t know about people at Margot’s level of affluence; maybe this was common?

“Oh.” I looked down at her hand, then at mine. “I would—I don’t want to get you dirty.” I could feel my face heating. I would have worn my usual jeans-shirt-blazer combo if I’d known we’d have company.

“It’s alright.” She beamed, her politeness disarming me.

“Did you need something in particular, Margot?” I asked, trying to be helpful.

“Actually, Miss Hawthorne just moved back to the area,” Margot began.

“I grew up here,” the young woman clarified.

I nodded tentatively.

“We’ve been busy planning a charity gala in George’s honor, and she mentioned she was looking to decorate her new home. Naturally, I told her how well Leo’s renovations were coming along while we were at brunch this morning, and since she didn’t have any afternoon plans, I thought we’d stop by so she could see for herself.”

“Oh,” I felt even more embarrassed. “Well, did you have any questions about the project? We still have quite a ways to go,” I admitted.

“I can see that—but the kitchen…what an improvement.” Miss Hawthorne marveled at the open kitchen behind her. “I’m impressed.”

“We’ve got a great contractor.” I smiled at Danny, who was busy concentrating on fixing grout lines to his level of perfection.

“Do you have a business card?” Miss Hawthorne asked genuinely.

“I don’t.” My face fell. “But I’ll still be working on this project for a while. I’m sure Leo wouldn’t mind if you stopped by—if you have any questions.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t,” Margot agreed, smiling at Miss Hawthorne.

“I’m opening up a gallery in town in the new year,” Miss Hawthorne told me. “You’ll have to come visit some time.”

“Of course,” I agreed without thinking.

“We’ll let ourselves out,” Margot informed me, which was her nice way of telling me to get lost.

“I’ll be in touch.” Miss Hawthorne gave me a small wave, her jewelry sparkling in the sunlight.

“Have a nice day, ladies.” I gave one last curt smile before heading back upstairs, feeling awkward about the entire exchange. I thought Leo might have minded his aunt bringing over a stranger—but then again, she’d mentioned the kitchen being an improvement, so maybe she’d been there before. If she’d grown up in the area, perhaps she knew Leo.

Carefully stepping over the giant pile of linens we planned to donate or discard, I made myself busy helping the workmen move the rest of the furniture. The only things that remained were the bedframe and nightstand in the pink room. I had planned on sleeping on the couch for a few days while they worked upstairs, but since learning that Leo would likely be up most nights, due to his insomnia, I’d have to work out a different plan with him, whenever he deigned to return.

Leo didn’t get back until almost six that evening, bringing a bag of takeout food with him. “I just got your usual,” he said quietly, before making a beeline for the library with his dinner.

He remembered my order…

The first waft of my favorite ramen order hit me like a ton of bricks. I hadn’t realized how hungry I’d been because I was worried about where Leo had been all day and anxious that he was mad at me for bringing up his mom when he’d never said much to me about her before.

Everything I knew about Christine was from Margot, and I wasn’t sure I was even supposed to know as much as I did. If I hadn’t been so tired and so frightened the night before, maybe I would have had more sense than to suggest that her freaking ghost was haunting the backyard. “Idiot…” I mumbled to myself.

After enjoying every last bit of my dinner, I waited around the kitchen for a while, hoping that maybe Leo would come back out to throw away his food container; he’d never leave it in the library. But when he still hadn’t returned after an hour or so, I sighed, knowing that I’d have to risk angering him further by finding him first.

Slowly, quietly, I made my way to the library.

The door was open just a crack, enough for me to hear the tail end of a conversation Leo was having. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, and frankly, I didn’t want to because I had come to make sure we were okay, not violate his privacy further. But it was clear whatever he was talking about, he was upset.

When I was sure the call had ended, I rapped lightly on the door, pushing it open just enough to peek around it. “Leo?” I asked quietly.

Leo was sitting at the desk at the far end of the library, his shoulders hunched over. Whatever the call had been about…Leo seemed distraught.

He looked up, his eyes pained when they met mine. “It’s okay. You can come in,” he said.

“Are you alright?” I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I knew he wasn’t okay.

“What did you need, Penny?” He ignored my question.

“I came to apologize about last night.” I approached the desk cautiously, unsure of what kind of response I would receive.

Leo’s brow furrowed. “Apologize?”

“What I said about…” I didn’t want to say it out loud, but Leo didn’t seem to understand. “...about your mom…” I said the last words so quietly I barely heard myself, but Leo definitely heard me.

He sighed. “Have you thought I was upset with you all day?” Leo somehow saw right through me.

I was frozen. “You—missed coffee,” I stuttered.

“I left you a cup,” he said defensively. “I’m not mad at you. I had an early meeting—I should have said something yesterday, but I forgot.”

“Okay,” I replied, unsure of what else to say.

Leo raked his hand through his hair as he stood. He turned away from me to look out the window toward the cliffside. It was a cloudy night, so not much could be seen beyond the illumination of the outdoor house lights.

“Maybe you were right about this place being haunted,” Leo murmured. “But if there’s anyone haunting this house, it’s surely my father.”

Surprised by his admission, I could only ask, “Why?” as I approached him at the window.

“Restoring the house wasn’t my father’s only request on his deathbed, you know.” Leo fiddled with a tassel on the curtains. “He also asked that a private autopsy be conducted after his death.”

I stayed silent, knowing that it would be inappropriate for me to interrupt Leo’s confession. He was rarely this vulnerable with me, but I would be there for him, whatever he was about to confide in me.

“It turns out, it wasn’t the cancer that got him in the end—he was close, but not quite there yet. The forensic pathologists said there was strong evidence he was…suffocated.” Leo’s voice trembled as he shared his discovery.

“And they’re sure?” It seemed so out of left field.

“I’ve gotten several opinions, and they’ve all come back with the same findings.” He sighed. “The one I met with today said I need to stop looking for more opinions and face the truth.”

“Leo…” I breathed. I didn’t know what to say.

Leo turned to me then. “Penny—you’re the only person in this house I can trust.” His face was solemn, but resolute.

“Why me?” I said quietly.

“Because I didn’t even know you at the time—whatever happened to my father, I know you weren’t involved,” he told me. “You also seem to be incapable of lying to me, much to your detriment.”

I couldn’t help but give a short, humorless chuckle at that. He was right. I was a terrible liar at the best of times, but I also wondered if he knew that even if I could lie to him, I wouldn’t want to. I only ever wanted to be honest with Leo.

“I’m so sorry,” I told him.

“I know.”

Seeing Leo standing there so broken and alone, I did the only thing I could think to do to comfort him…I hugged him.

I was surprised when Leo returned the embrace, holding me tightly to him, as if he hadn’t been hugged in ages…and perhaps he hadn’t.