Read Online Manolos in Manhattan by Katie Oliver - Free Book Online

junk, but I want you to go up and have a look, please. Here’s the key.”
    “But I’m not dressed for rummaging around in the attic,” Holly objected.
    “I only want you to look at what’s up there and report back to me. Here – take a pad and pencil with you. I’ll want a full inventory so Alastair and I can decide how to dispose of it all. Now go.”
    Without another word, Holly took the key, and the pad and pen Coco held out, and turned to leave.
    She took the lift up to the fourth floor and found the attic stairs. After unclipping the velvet rope, she climbed the steps to the attic door and unlocked it.
    Holly pushed the door open and groped for the light switch. The place was crammed from one end to the other with boxes and junk and festooned with cobwebs and dust. She sneezed.
    At least this attic was the kind you could stand up in, with a wooden floor and a small, diamond-shaped window at either end. It would make a nice office for her father eventually. She stepped through the door and wondered where to begin. A pair of dangling light bulbs illuminated an assortment of mismatched chairs, a dressmaker’s dummy, old lampshades, and boxes...
    ...dozens and dozens of boxes.
    Grimly Holly set to work opening the nearest one. It contained a bottle with a model ship inside, stacks of old magazines, a jumble of jelly glasses and plates, most of them chipped or broken, and what looked like an old-fashioned bottle opener and several cocktail shakers.
    It was the same story in the other boxes. She unearthed an old toaster, galoshes, stacks of dinner plates, a lamp harp, old newspapers, and a rusted plant stand – all junk. But Holly suspected some of this stuff might be of value; that Victrola, for instance, or the lamp – Tiffany, if she wasn’t mistaken – standing in the corner. She spotted a charming wicker settee; with a bit of cleanup and re-caning, it’d be perfect for the entryway. Her father really needed to take a look at this stuff. He knew a lot more about antiques than she did.
    After noting the items on Coco’s inventory list – Victrola, Tiffany lamp, wicker settee – Holly straightened up to leave. She glanced down at her skirt in dismay. Cobwebs clung to her fingers as she brushed the dust and dirt from her knees, and she sneezed again.
Damn Coco, anyway.
    As she made her way around the jumble of boxes and junk and headed to the door, Holly felt a cool breeze drift past her face. She came to an abrupt stop. Was one of the windows open? Her glance strayed to the tiny windows at either end of the attic but they were both firmly shut, and looked as if they hadn’t been opened in years.
    Holly shrugged, feeling just a little spooked, and turned to go. There must be an explanation for the breeze; she just didn’t have a clue what it might be.
    Again, a slight stirring of the air rooted her once more to the spot. She smelled, very faintly, the scent of lavender and citrus, with just a hint of vanilla, and she swore she felt the brush of a silk glove against her hand. Panicked, Holly stumbled backwards as goose bumps rose on her arms. She had the oddest feeling that something – no, some
one
– was in the attic with her.

Chapter Twelve
    Yet she wasn’t afraid. Whatever – whoever – it was meant no harm; she knew that, somehow. Suddenly she noticed the fire escape. How had she missed it? It was nothing more than a short ladder leading to a narrow iron door; it opened out onto the roof, and was hidden behind the pile of boxes she’d just finished investigating.
    Feeling herself compelled forward, Holly retraced her steps and came to stand before the fire escape. She hesitated, then climbed the short ladder to the door and tried the handle, but it was rusted firmly shut.
    Sirens wailed nearby, and Holly glanced down at her watch, surprised to see it was nearly lunchtime. She turned to climb back down the ladder, more than ready to get out of this creepy attic and go grab a ham and cheese