Read Online A Stranger in Wynnedower by Grace Greene - Free Book Online Page A

A
remembered sound. Gosford Park —that was it. Or maybe Downton Abbey .
Rachel closed her eyes. She could see them in their white uniforms and caps,
professional servants with their own class systems and their own cares. It had
probably been almost that long since this house was filled with life and
laughter and purpose.
    And now, she was here.
    ****
    Jack was pouring coffee
when she entered the kitchen the next morning. He asked, “I got caught up in my
work last night. I’m glad you went ahead and ate supper.”
    “No problem. What kind
of work do you do?”
    His pause was barely
perceptible before he said, “May comes in to cook. She prepares the meals in
advance so I can reheat them. You’ll run into her. She’s my…she’s like a member
of the family.”
    “May? Of course. Mike
accepted her casserole as payment. He also called you Wynne, your last name.”
Rachel opened the fridge and decided not to repeat her question about his work.
She’d try again another time. “I’m going to scramble an egg for breakfast. Can
I fix one for you?”
    “No, just coffee for me
this morning. I’m guessing you don’t want any coffee. Unless you’d like some
with your sugar?”
    She looked down at the
floor, surprised, but not really embarrassed. “It always smells so good. Seems
like it should taste good, too.”
    “No law against using
it for air freshener, I guess. Or that dried stuff that smells? What’s that
called?”
    “Potpourri?”
    “Yes, that. Java
potpourri.” Jack paused near the door, his cup of coffee in hand. “Wynne? Some
of the guys I grew up with around here call me that. I won’t be back for a few
hours. Are you set? Do you need anything?”
    She pulled a folded
square of paper from her pocket. “Here’s a very short list. Colored tags and a
marker and a couple of other things.”
    “I’ll take care of it.
Remember, if anyone suspicious comes around, call the police. I taped the
sheriff’s number to the fridge.”
    He was gone. Definitely
not a guy who wasted time on goodbyes.
    She melted the butter
in the pan as she whisked the eggs, then popped bread into the toaster. She had
a full day planned. She intended to focus on the keys, identify all of the
rooms where items remained to be inventoried and make lists. She liked lists.
Neat lists, colorful lists with big checkmarks to show progress.
    ****
    Day three with no
Jeremy. She kept her cell phone in her pocket and carried it with her
everywhere. It was irritating to know he might be anywhere, even close by. Or
he might have taken a trip, but the world was a very big place.
    After a morning of
testing keys and affixing orange, red, blues and green tags, she took her
notebook and pencil up to the second floor and entered the stairwell area at
the far end. The heat hit her. She returned downstairs, happy to change her
mind. She wasn’t in the mood to work up a sweat while she was still reasonably
well-groomed. Where was Jack? Not returned yet?
    As she passed the
dining room doors, Rachel slowed. The hallway with its wall of windows, blind
and void at night, changed with the daylight to bright and shining, a stunning
interplay of the sparkling glass panes and shadowed patterns cast by the window
inserts. The dark shadow lines ran from the ceiling, down the wall, and spread
across the floor. Like some crazy kind of art work. Like an invitation. She
exited into the garden.
    The dining room
extension was to her left. The dining room windows faced this way, but their
elevation was well above the level of the garden and a lot of scraggly bushes
and weeds occupied the area between the dining room and where she stood. It
impossible to make out what was inside.
    Never mind. She turned
to stare at the wasted garden.
    Standing there, seeing
without really focusing and letting the garden speak to her, she understood how
the bricked paths had run, how the dry fountain, now overwhelmed by grasping vines,
had anchored the layout, and how the spindly,