She paused, hoping Lexie would respond. Normally, she would. But nothing. Belle refused to give up. “I wonder what kind of people will move into the house, if they have kids or a dog. What kind of adventures they’ll have here. What kinds of meals they’ll cook or parties they’ll host.”

  She kept at it, talking about the parties, going back to the food, then the books. It was when she was on the third round, jabbering about books, that she caught the look on Lexie’s face. Still hurt. Still sullen.

  It sucked all the wind out of her. She deflated.

  That’s when they heard the moaning.

  It was low at first. Then, it grew. It sounded tortured.

  Then there was creaking again.

  She froze. Goosebumps rippled across Belle’s arms, and a tingle shot down her spine.

  “It’s haunted,” Lexie stated in a whisper.

  “I don’t think so.” Belle wasn’t sure she believed in ghosts. She supposed no one did until they saw or experienced one. Or they liked to believe in them, the idea of ghosts. If ghosts were real, Belle would love to sit and chat with Aunt Eliza’s apparition.

  “I think maybe it’s time to head for the kitchen.”

  She walked out the door, barely able to stand the silent treatment from Lexie. She stopped. This wouldn’t be the first time she’d make a mistake. She wasn’t used to watching a ten-year-old and the kind of danger they could manage to find. This wasn’t the first time she’d apologized to someone here in Everly and it wouldn’t be the last.

  She turned. “Listen, I’m sorry I snapped at you.” Her throat ached, then her eyes. “You terrified me when you hung over the railing. I imagined what would happen if you’d fallen. I’m not your parent. I shouldn’t have been so harsh, but I can’t stand this silent treatment.”

  Lexie stared at the ground. “I get it.”

  Something still didn’t feel right. “Are you going to continue ignoring me?” Belle asked.

  A sigh escaped Lexie. When she spoke she mumbled. “No. I just needed time.”

  Well, Belle could understand that. “Alright. To the kitchen?” She stuck out her arm, inviting Lexie to hook elbows with her.

  There was a moment, a pause, then Lexie accepted the invitation.

  They crossed through the foyer to the east side of the house. More interested parties, couples and families were starting their tour. That was good. She was sure someone would snap up this house within the week. The mouth-watering scent of baking bread led them to the right room.

  The kitchen was gorgeous. A gas stove range, a stainless-steel fridge that seemed way too large for one house. Under their feet were light gray and white speckled marble flooring. The counter space could house every gadget imaginable. To the right, near the front windows, on top of a white tablecloth were platters of crackers and cheese, grapes, almonds and cashews.

  “No cupcakes,” Belle whispered.

  Finally, the hint of a smile crossed Lexie’s face.

  Someone cleared their throat; it was Jamie Finch. He stood there scrolling on his phone. His client must be wandering around the house. It would be nice to see everything without an agent hovering. Phil Graystone wasn’t to be seen.

  “Why don’t you stock up on snacks,” Belle suggested. She was about to say, I will too and we can head to the backyard, but she saw someone flash by the front window.

  Was it Mona? The woman from The Beanery this morning? She swore it was. Words popped into Belle’s mind: I’m here for murder and Do you know Detective Graystone?

  Why was Mona at this open house? Was she looking for Lucas? Belle supposed the woman might be here for the showing; maybe Belle just hadn’t seen her previously. But no. That was not what her gut instinct told her. Something else reared up inside her, the same something that yanked Lexie off the railing. It was the desire to protect.

  “Lexie, you stay here. I’ll be right back, then we’ll head outside.” Belle moved away, but before stepping into the hallway to peer out more windows, she made sure Lexie was staying put. The girl was diving into the snacks like she hadn’t eaten all day. Reassured, Belle moved into the next room.

  The large front yard spread out in view, but as Belle peered through the window and over the hedges, she didn’t see the mysterious figure with black hair and thick orange glasses.

  She did see Phil Graystone.

  Once again, he was deep in conversation. This time with Jeremiah Fisher. Boy, was he angry. She could imagine his icy words, the sarcasm, the disregard for the owner of the company where he worked. She saw his sneer, the way his eyes flashed, the way his body language was straight, his fists tight by his side. Not exactly friendly.

  But Phil Graystone was giving it back; he was not a silent participant, just taking it. He had things to say, and he seemed equally as angry.

  What were they talking about?

  Was Phil telling him about Jamie Finch’s accusations? Was Jeremiah a crooked agent? Maybe working in underhanded ways behind the scenes. What a terrible day for it all to come to a head, the day of a big open house.

  If only she could hear what they were saying. Wouldn’t it be nice if she could let Lucas know his dad seemed to be having trouble? Wouldn’t it be nice if she had more than angry facial gestures and clenched fists when she told him?

  She was standing by a window.

  After peeking into the kitchen, seeing Lexie going back for seconds, Belle returned to her spot. With a small turn, the window unlocked, so she eased it up. The cool breeze hit her leg.

  “Hey, what’re you doing?”

  It was Lucas.

  Why couldn’t he have waited about five minutes?

  “Oh, just looking at the yard.” She waited a moment. “There’s your dad.”

  Lucas peered out, noticed his father talking with Jeremiah but didn’t seem to give it much thought. Belle wanted to point out their heated discussion. Didn’t Lucas see Jeremiah’s worked-up state? Or was all this normal? She’d have to ask him.

  Once again, images of Lexie falling from the second story went through her mind. She’d also have to tell him what happened. Better to hear it from her than from Lexie. He’d never let Belle watch his niece again.

  “Lexie is in the kitchen.” Belle pointed toward the room.

  “Of course. I assume you looked at some of the house first.”

  “Yes, yes.” Now, Belle thought. Now was the time to pull him aside and explain exactly what happened: the railing, the yanking, the snapping, the fighting. “This way.”

  Lexie brightened as soon as she saw Lucas. “No cupcakes.”

  “You’ll have to bring that up with Grams.” He grinned. “She’s the cook.”

  It started small, the moaning.

  Again, the tortured sound.

  This time, it grew, it morphed. The moan turned into a wailing, almost a shriek.

  Belle shuddered. So creepy!

  “Let’s head to the foyer,” he ordered.

  They gathered by the front entrance; it wasn’t long until everyone was there; Jamie Finch, his client Hannah, Mia, Phil and Joan, Jeremiah, and a few others who’d been walking through the house.

  One of the others was a man with glasses that seemed too big for his face. He called out, “It’s haunted!”

  The tension in this place was over a ten on a scale of one to five. Belle studied the expressions of fear, panic, annoyance, the flashing looks of blame and judgement the agents cast at one another. She wasn’t surprised given what she’d seen today.

  The shrieking reached a pitch, then it stopped.

  Nothing.

  Jeremiah tried to calm everyone down. He was even smiling, which was a miracle in and of itself. “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for all this. A prank of sorts.” He sent a murderous, stabbing glare at Jamie Finch.

  “Still”—the man persisted, pushing his glasses up further on his nose—“something’s off.” He placed his hand behind a woman’s back. “Let’s go.”

  The other viewers left with them, one by one. The festive mood they’d worked so hard for, ruined.

  Belle watched as Jeremiah reached the boiling point. With a stutter, spit flying from his mouth, he exploded, “This is your fault.” He stabbed a crooked finger at Jamie. “You’re behind all this.”

  Jamie wasn’t ruffled. “Prove it.” He motioned Hannah to the door. “Good one. A top agent scares all buyers away. You might want to consider lowering the asking price if you want anyone interested.” He was out the door as he added, “Especially when the papers hear about this.”

  Jeremiah was a bomb about to go off. This guy might be a top agent, he might have all the money in the world, but he wasn’t nice. Jeremiah was a loose cannon.

  Lucas nudged Belle, nodded to Lexie. “Let’s go.”

  The restaurant was on the other side of town, a nice family place offering pub fare, burgers, that sort of thing.

  “I’ve been coming here for years. Best burger in town,” Lucas said.

  The hostess led them to a table on the side near the windows where they had a view into the bar. Lucas let her know they were waiting on two others.

  Belle wanted to talk through what just happened at the open house. Tell him everything she overhead, what happened with Lexie—oh, the shame!—and she couldn’t forget Mona. The strange conversation Belle had with her that morning, the fact she swore she saw her through the window at the open house. She had a feeling Lucas wouldn’t want to talk about all that in front of Lexie. While they peered at the menus, Belle stewed in those thoughts.

  Lexie chirped, “So do you think that house is really haunted? Has there been a murder or something?”

  “Highly unlikely,” Lucas said.

  A second later, Belle said, “Maybe.” She quickly corrected. “I mean, most likely not.”

  “Well, I’m going with what Belle said first. That’s more exciting. Maybe we should go back. Investigate.”

  Lucas lowered his eyebrows and used a stern tone. “How about we investigate the menu instead.”

  “What’s good here? I need suggestions.” Belle peered at him over the menu, trying to change the subject. “What are you going to order, Lexie?”

  She looked bored. “Chicken fingers and fries.”

  “Any of their sandwiches are good.”

  The waitress arrived with water for all of them. They talked about the upcoming holidays, and the Pumpkin Festival the next weekend. There was a meeting with Forsythia and the Women’s Charitable Organization about it soon, where Belle was sure she’d be given all the hardest tasks. They talked about weather, school, and friends. But nothing too deep. Finally, Lexie used the restroom.

  Both Lucas and Belle spoke at the same time. They laughed. Lucas nodded. “You first.”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t tell you.” Of course, she avoided the hardest stuff concerning Lexie.

  “No, go ahead.”

  “Well, I saw your dad have two very intense conversations with the agents. It didn’t seem like your average arguments over small details. Like it was about bigger stuff. Just thought you should know.” She pictured their faces. They hadn’t even attempted to hide the fury.

  He played with the paper wrapper from the straw. “That business can get tense. They are always competing with each other for sales, even within the same agency. My dad has to deal with that drama all the time.”

  “Hmm. Seemed not that average.”

  “Let me guess, a Mr. Jeremiah Fisher was one of them,” he said. “He’s been a thorn in my dad’s side for years.”

  Belle nodded. “Yes, and Jamie Finch. Sounded like Jamie was complaining about Jeremiah. Is he above board?” She remembered there had been accusations of cheating.

  “Who, Jeremiah? Far as I know. Don’t think my dad would keep him on if he wasn’t.”

  “What was going on with the moaning, creaking, all those ghostly noises?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. A prank. Local teens. Sabotage.” He squirmed in his seat. “Sounds like something I might have done as a teen, encouraged by friends. I’m sure it’s nothing. Definitely not a ghost.” He glanced toward the bathroom.

  “You know,” Belle said. “Kids love the idea of ghosts, the scariness, the thrills. It’s exciting in the day-to-day monotony of school.”

  “Yeah, I get it.” He motioned as his mom walked in, looking for him.

  “Um, Lucas? There’s something I should tell you—”

  Lexie slid into the seat and called out, “Grams! Over here.”

  “Can it wait?” he asked.

  She bit her lip. “I guess so.” She didn’t want to wait, but at the same time she didn’t mind putting off the uncomfortable conversation. It would have to wait.

  “Where’s Dad?” Lucas asked.

  “He dropped me off. Said he had something to do. He wanted us to go on without him. I say we order some appetizers and wait for him.”

  “Sounds good.”

  They picked at loaded potato skins and chicken wings, talking until Phil arrived thirty minutes later. He looked flustered, hair askew, color in his cheeks as if the temperature had dropped and the wind picked up.

  “Apologies!” he offered profusely. “Let’s order!”

  Of course, Lexie brought up the ghost again, and they talked about that after placing orders. Soon the meals were delivered. They started eating.

  It might be the wrong place, the wrong time, but she could always claim naivety, and she was curious about the work environment at a real estate agency. “Mr. Graystone, I’d love—”

  “Phil, please. Mr. Graystone makes me sound old.”

  Joan chuckled. “You’re no spring chicken, dear.”

  “Age is a state of mind,” he quipped. “Now, what do you want to know, Belle?”

  “Seems like it would be hard to manage all the agents, all their different personalities, the way they compete against each other,” she said, tentatively. She wanted to straight-out ask him about Jeremiah. Why not? “Mr. Fisher seems like he would be especially difficult.”

  Phil laughed. “He’s an old coot. Some of that tension is the result of an ongoing bet between Jeremiah and Mia Harmen, who was also there today. I don’t mind friendly competition between agents. It pushes them. Something to do with who earned the most profit within a certain time period.” He paused, frowning. “Though it has taken a bit of a dark turn recently. Something I’ll need to step in and manage before it gets worse.”

  “Well, I admire your ability. Makes me thankful it’s just me and Bixby at The Beanery.” And her and Sir Jack at home. She had enough on her plate.

  Phil smiled. “What if we talk about an upcoming special event.”

  “Ooh, the pumpkin festival?” Lexie asked.

  “Nope. Something even better!” Phil said.

  “Christmas?” Lexie tried again.

  “Definitely equal to Christmas. It’s the anniversary of the date I met the love of my life. We’re going to celebrate.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Joan said, but there was love in her eyes, written on her face, the kind of love Belle dreamed about but had already determined wasn’t for her.

  “How about we invite extended family and all go out for a big dinner at a fancy restaurant. We’ll get dressed up and everything.”

  Joan placed her hand on Phil’s arm, her smile warm, excitement at their upcoming anniversary evident. “That sounds wonderful…” Joan thought about it, then said, “I appreciate the idea, and the extended family part will be a joy. But how about we have them all over at our house, and I’ll cook a big roast beef.” She made it sound settled.

  “What if we had it catered?” Phil proposed.

  “You love my roast beef, dear,” Joan said.

  “I’m trying”—he tried to hide the exasperation but failed—“to make it so you don’t have to lift a finger.”

  “I don’t mind,” she said, lightly.

  Belle watched as they played ping pong with their words; Phil trying to get a little more fancy; Joan trying to bring it down a couple notches.

  Finally, Phil raised his hands. “You got me. I know when to surrender.”

  They finished the dinner. Belle enjoyed listening to the family stories, the funny anecdotes, the ones that embarrassed Lucas.

  As they left the restaurant, it was determined Lexie would sleep over at her Gram’s. They had a drawer full of extra clothes, and Joan had a toothbrush for Lexie that stayed at her house. They were in the parking lot when Phil pulled Lucas aside.

  “I could call the police, because someone broke into that house to plant some kind of recording device, but since you’re here…do you mind swinging by the house again, checking it out. See if you can get to the root of this mystery?”

  “Sure, Dad.” Lucas looked to Belle. “You up for it?”

  “Always.”

  Chapter Four

  Lucas could tell on the drive back to the house that something bothered Belle. He had a talent for driving and, during slow straightaways with no traffic, or at stop lights, sneaking in looks to study the person in the passenger seat. He’d had to learn how to do that to read Lexie. Sometimes, she gave away a lot more than she realized by what she didn’t say, or the expression on her face.

  Exactly like Belle acted now. She bit her lip. She stared out the window, then down at her hands twisted in her lap. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it. Something was going on.

  He’d also learned when dealing with Lexie that it was much better to wait until she was ready to talk. If he pressed or asked questions, or pointed out that something bothered her, she’d clam up. Sometimes she would bring it up at the strangest times: eating cereal with milk dribbling out of the corner of her mouth, right before she left the car during the traffic in front of the school in the drop-off lane, just as he was falling asleep on her bed while saying goodnight. He’d learned to drop everything and listen.

  Now, Belle was a little different. She’d hold it in and hold it in, then in a whoosh, spill what was bothering her.