Hacienda Moon (The Path Seekers) (2 page)

“May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?” he asked, giving her a smile that lit up the entire airport.

You deserve to be happy again.

Tell him your name.

Go ahead. Do it.

“No, you can’t,” she muttered.

“Ouch,” he held a hand over his heart and winced.

Standing
up
quickly,
she
stepped
on
the
edge
of
her
pants
and
stumbled
backward.
Her
unintentional
hero
caught
her
with
ease,
steadying
her
body.
What
else
would
she
add
to
her
klutz
list?
She’d
probably
do
something
stupid
like
slip
up
and
fall flat on her face next.

“Thanks.
Again,
I’m
really
sorry,”
Tandie
said
and
moved
around
him.

“Wait.
Can
I
carry
your
bags
for
you?
It’s
the
least
I
can
do,”
he
said
in
a
voice
to
match
his
looks.

“I’ll
be
fine,”
Tandie
said, walking
toward
the
rental-car
garage.
Behind
her,
she
felt
him
watching
as
she
scurried
away.
 

* * *

Six years had passed since Tandie last travelled through her home state. So much in her life had changed, but everything in this place seemed to have stayed the same. Victory over her ex-husband’s attempt to ruin her life was something that she could finally taste.

Tandie’s Camaro strolled to a stop in front of the large three-story plantation with two of the top levels surrounded by a wraparound balcony. The 260-year-old Chelby Rose was the queen of haunted looking houses, the perfect fit for a writer.

The chipped wooden siding was a faded pink. Some of the boards were caked with moss and dirt that was so old it had to be from the original day the house was built. The black shutters surrounding the top and bottom windows appeared to be in decent condition; but patches of rust were scattered across the metal roof. Overgrown trees hung over the top as if reaching down to protect the house with their mangled branches.

The place needed work—lots of it. Tandie could only guess that the inside posed as much of a challenge as the outside. And she didn’t even want to think about the family cemetery that was hidden somewhere in the woods behind the house.

Strangely, she felt a stirring in her chest, a pull as if the house were beckoning her to come inside. She was torn. Her mind wavered somewhere between feeling happy and freaking out. When Frieda Sampson’s picture of Chelby Rose hit Tandie’s inbox, she felt an instant connection to the place.
She looked forward to spending time catching up with her best friend. They had lost so many years together and she wanted to make up for moving away and leaving her female soul mate for someone who turned out to be unworthy of the sacrifice. Being close to someone was just the thing she needed to mend the hole left in her heart.

Although it was still early evening, the moon rising over an opening in the trees appeared as if it were eating away at the side of the roof. It was a strange scene, but one that filled Tandie with a peaceful feeling.

She got out of her car, walked up the porch steps, unlocked the door, and stepped into the musty hallway. The creaking door groaned a loud welcome for its soon-to-be-new owner.

“Talk about neglect in a big way.” Tandie’s voice echoed through the area. The hallway’s dusty pink walls were covered with portraits of women dressed in colonial style dresses and wide-brimmed hats decorated with white flowers. To the immediate left, a door with a missing top hinge waited to be opened and the room behind it explored. A large dining room sat to the right side of the entrance door.

She explored the rest of the house and then made her way up to the master bedroom. A king size, four-poster bed with matching end tables took up most of the room. Tandie set her shoulder bag down on the wood floor, and ran her hand along the bed’s curvy footboard. She closed her eyes, surrendering to her mind’s third eye. There was no mistaking that the house held a glorious history. Parties, birthdays, ceremonies, and heartache: all of the vibrations were there.

If anything could restore the psychic visions she lost shortly after the accident, then Chelby Rose was most definitely the thing to do so.

A burst of cold air rushed through the room along with a whispering noise that sounded an awful lot like a human voice. “Okay. What the hell was that?” Tandie hugged her shoulders and shivered.

Beside her something tapped on the window beside the bed. Her heart leapt a small beat as she walked toward it. A tree limb blew up against one of the panes.

“Well that’ll be the first thing to get done. We won’t get any sleep with skinny-tree fingers tapping away like that.”

“I said the same thing almost a hundred times,” a male’s deep voice said from behind her.

Inhaling sharply through her racing heartbeats, Tandie spun around. A man either in his late twenties or early thirties stood there and studied her with an amused look in his bright blue eyes. First thing she noticed was the way he hulked over her. Tandie figured he must be a little over six-feet tall and well-proportioned. Striking waves of dark blonde hair were combed away from his face. The tailored dark-gray suit he wore indicated he’d just come from a party of some type. Or maybe that was how he dressed every day.

There was only one man he could be. Saul Chelby the oil tycoon who owned the house she’d be renting to buy.

“Mr. Chelby?” Tandie asked, her face flushed.
 
Oh hell.
He heard her comment about the trees outside the window.

“At the lady’s service.” He walked over to Tandie and held out a hand. “You must be the lovely, Mrs. Harrison.”

Tandie’s face heated even more. This was the first man who’d called her lovely since Jack. She didn’t know how to react and felt super awkward.

“Yes. I am her. I mean, I’m Mrs. Harri—I’m Tandie Harrison.” Tandie sighed.

What an idiot. Get it together, woman.

“Saul Chelby. Your benefactor extraordinaire, Tandie Harrison. Also known as the landlord guy.” He gave her a fetching smile that lit up the darkening room.

Stepping over to the old night table beside the bed, he pulled out a paper and smoothed it out for Tandie to read. “Your contract. Look over it in your spare time. It basically says that after twelve weeks of renting, we’ll review the situation and discuss purchasing at that time. Since this is early July, then we’d review the arrangement around Halloween. And don’t worry, Tandie. If you ever need extra time to pay—”

“I can handle my bills, Mr. Chelby. I know what you’re thinking. Struggling writer, divorcee, an all-around risky tenant, right? But be assured, I can handle my finances. Are we clear?”
Note to self: wait until after you buy the house before you tick off the owner.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be snappy. It has been a long day. I’m normally not so….”

An amused expression crossed his face as he added his thoughts to her sentence. “Actually, I hadn’t pegged any of those things on you. But I most definitely believe we’re very clear now.”

Sighing, he stared deep in Tandie’s eyes, a faraway look in them. She found herself wondering why he didn’t simply send an assistant out to handle such a small thing. “Please understand, Mrs. Harrison, selling this place is like giving up a part of me. To trust someone with something like that is difficult. I’m having trouble finding the right words. Work with me, if you don’t mind.” Blushing, he stuffed his hands into his pockets. He was incredibly humble for someone known as an oil tycoon. Tandie wanted to know more until she remembered what he just said:
I’m the landlord guy.

“I know all about finding the right words, Mr. Chelby,” Tandie said. “And I understand what you’re trying to say. There’s no need to worry. I’ll take good care of your family’s home.” She didn’t need to tune into him psychically to understand what he wanted to say.

“You’ll do just fine. The house likes you. Also, I’ve hired a contractor for you. He should start in a few days,” he said, giving Tandie a sad smile.

“Sounds good. But what do you mean when you say the house likes me?” Tandie asked.

The faraway look faded. Blinking his eyes, he met Tandie’s gaze with a business like face, the dreamy look gone. “You must think I’m the strangest landlord. Either that, or a psychopath.” He made a nervous laugh.

“Are you kidding me? I’m a psychic, Mr. Chelby,” Tandie said, offering a smile in return. She wanted him to loosen up. The man seemed as though he’d jump through the roof at any moment. “I purposely choose to make the strange and odd a regular part of my life.” They both shared a nervous laugh.

“Please call me Saul. Mr. Chelby was my father and grandfathers before him.” An awkward moment of silence passed before he said, “I left a couple of your bags outside the door over there. What did you put in them? A new kitchen sink?”

“Not quite. Thanks.”

“Enjoy your new home as I’m most certain she will enjoy you.” He hesitated as if he wanted to say more, just before he turned around and walked out the door. The man was like a phantom. Breena used to be the only other person who could sneak up on her that way.

Eager to discover what treasures waited on the third level, Tandie brought her bags into the bedroom, exited it, and walked along the hallway until she came to a fifth entry at the end. She assumed it led up to the third level of the house. The door was situated on the wall between the two sets of doors leading into the four bedrooms. The old knob on the door didn’t turn or even budge an inch. It was locked and didn’t respond to any of her keys. “Okay then, Mr. Saul Chelby. We’ll have your contractor deal with this first, I think.”