Crow Moon, page 1
Crow Moon
Shawna Romkey
Copyright © 2020 by Shawna Romkey
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
About the Author
Also by Shawna Romkey
To my witchy women friends.
Diana’s Grove, I miss you.
Acknowledgments
As always, much thanks to the Romance Writers of Atlantic Canada, my writers group, for their support and encouragement; my editor, Sharon Pickrel, for helping me polish my book; my critique warrior princess, Kerri-Leigh Grady, for telling me what this book was; my beta reader goddess supreme, Reese Reed, for being awesome; and my beta reader team Ariana McWilliams, Zoe Densmore, Nancy Griffis, Pat Thomas, Jennifer Durkee Smith, and my mom, Elaine Tyler, who helped me make this a better book; and thanks to all of my friends, family, bloggers, writer buds and readers who have bought, read, and spread the word about my books.
Do good things!
One
The day would’ve been dark and dreary enough on its own without the added task at hand. How had it come to this? She stared straight ahead as she drove to her new home to live with an aunt she’d never met. The charcoal clouds hung heavy over the road, reminding her of how they looked just last week, the day of her father’s funeral.
The straight shot from the highway gave her nothing interesting to look at. Trees were sparse. Some quiet farms popped up every now and then, but for the most part I-70 lay straight and plain. Fields still cold and barren were iced with the latest blanket of snow. Lazy windmills weren’t motivated enough to spin without the wind egging them on. After taking the exit ramp though, the trees filled out. Soon enough she made it to her aunt’s where things became more interesting. Bentley Manor was off a lesser-known, less-traveled highway, and sat up on a hill, staring menacingly down at the passers-by below as though to say, “Keep driving. Nothing to see here,” though it was the most intriguing thing she’d seen in the past forty-five minutes.
She meandered up the winding, tree-canopy covered gravel drive to Bentley Manor. Though she’d seen images of it on Google Street View, it was an experience in person. The facade was a dark brick, a rusty red, and the crow’s nest sat on the top lined with sharp, wrought-iron rails. Four majestic white columns striped the front face, but two were closer than their counterparts, making the front asymmetrical, off key. The thick woods of the state park crowded up to the property on the left, and cleared farm fields stretched for acres on the right. A large barn and some outbuildings stuck out to the side from behind the mansion.
Two thick, naked trees rose higher than the mansion itself, stripped of bark, hacked by axes, and scarred by lightning. They stood, an angry guard, at the front of the estate. One, using what few branches it had left, pointed accusingly in the direction of the driveway at would-be guests.
Leni fought back the urge to speed away with a deep breath and forced herself up the crescent-shaped drive.
The snow from last night dusted the cement stairs to the front door. There was a cold January bite to the air. She tightened her blue and green plaid pea coat snugly around her and gazed warily up at the front of the home.
She knew of her mother’s family without having gone through the trouble of meeting them. Her parents had told her about them at least. The Bentley’s were wealthy. This was just one of the properties her grandparents had given their children. She didn’t know what they did to earn such money. How was it that her mother’s family could have multiple homes including this extravagant one? To most people, one mansion in the family would be enough, but not the Bentleys.
The front double doors burst open before she’d raised a hand to knock causing Leni to jump back. A tall woman in her mid-forties with pale skin and dull, red hair braided to hang down one side stood in the doorway. This had to be her aunt. Leni could see shadows of her mother in this woman. They shared the same hair color, the same green eyes, and of course, the same skin color. Leni pulled back as apprehension seized her. She was suddenly cognizant of her black hair, grey-green eyes, and dark skin. These were things she’d shared with her father, and she’d had very little to do with anything of her mother’s once Debra had walked out on them when Leni was only ten years old.
“Lenore? I’ve been expecting you.” Her even voice gave away no warmth, but no irritation or enmity either, which Leni took to be a good sign.
“Aunt Diana?”
“I’m glad you decided to come. I wasn’t entirely sure you would.”
“It was either that or join the circus, and I don’t think Barnum and Bailey are due back until the summer, sooo…” Leni muttered.
“Come on in. Do you need help? My staff isn’t in today, but I can…”
Staff? Her father had always taught her to work hard. The Bentleys had more money than God, he’d said. Of course, their historic Civil War mansion would be equipped with staff.
“No, I’m fine.” To be honest, it would give her something to do. Keeping busy was key. Leni took a few bags full of her things and headed up the front stairs. Diana held the doors wide for her to enter. Every detail of the mansion was unique. The doorknockers, bronze hands hanging down in fists, ready to knock on behalf of the guests. A row of stoic sepia portraits eyed her suspiciously. A suit of armor stood at the ready. Everything was different albeit a bit creepy.
Inside the home opened up, revealing a grand curved staircase that wound around the interior walls, as though looking for its way out. A large chandelier of antlers hung in the center, drawing attention. The floors were black and white in alternating tiles shined to perfection.
Diana closed the front doors and started up the stairs. “Here, I’ll show you to your room.”
Leni followed behind dutifully.
Diana stopped and turned to Leni. “Let me start again. I’m your aunt. I’m not sure if you remember. I haven’t seen you since you were a baby.”
“Not really.”
“I’m so sorry about your father. Robert was a good man.” Diana leaned in and opened her arms to embrace her.
Leni didn’t put her bags down, but didn’t retreat either.
Her aunt hugged her and kissed the side of her head. “This must all be so crazy for you.”
A lump formed in Leni’s throat. She preferred ignoring all of it.
“I want to make sure you’re okay with everything. I want you to make yourself at home here, Lenore.”
Leni glanced around briefly at the ornate, carved antiques that probably cost more than her dad’s car, at the portraits of people in historic garb who glared at her, unsmiling, and at the entryway itself which would swallow the brownstone in the city she moved from. The size and the extravagance of the mansion dwarfed her.
“Leni. People just call me Leni.”
“Leni,” her aunt said, trying it out. “You can call me Diana or Aunt Diana or whatever. I’ve never had nieces or nephews around before.”
Leni nodded, not trying out the names.
Diana returned to the tour, the easy part. “The house is large, as you can see.”
“Definitely.”
“So there are a number of rooms I could put you in. If you don’t like it, you can choose something else. As it’s just me rattling around here by myself, I run the place fairly economically. So what that means is, even though there are grand master suites on the upper floors, I tend to stay in what would have been the servants’ quarters off the kitchen on the main level.”
Sure, servants’ quarters. Leni had read up on the mansion before coming. Slaves’ quarters were more likely.
“The house was built in the mid-eighteen hundreds, you see. I use that area because I then only heat that section of the house.”
The entryway and the staircase were cold as she made her way up the stairs.
“I use the kitchens and have my TV and computer set up in the sitting area off the kitchens. I use the larger of the servants’ bedrooms. There’s a woodstove back there, so it keeps things cozy and small. You can get lost here, and sometimes I find the place overwhelming.”
Leni could see how that could happen. She felt dizzy just circling up the marble stairs.
Diana gestured to the side halls leading to the wings off the second floor landing as they continued to the top floor. “There are beautiful, large bedrooms here, if that’s more your thing, but they are more expensive to heat. However, I’m not destitute. If that’s what you prefer, you can have one of those.”
“I’m sure whatever you picked will be fine.” Leni wasn’t choosy.
“The movers were here earlier with your furniture, so I had them go ahead and put you up here. They were thrilled about lugging furniture up to the attic level, let me tell you.” Diana laughed, sounding a bit out of breath herself as they made it to the top level.
“The rest of the house is decorated with antique period furnishings my family has colle
She opened a pair of double doors at the top of the stairs on the third floor, and inside was a soaring cathedral ceiling with exposed wooden beams and an arched stained glass window on the opposite side of the room. Hardwood floors that had probably been there since the eighteen hundreds stretched across the expansive room. Bookshelves lined every wall that didn’t have a window in it. On the interior wall was a large fireplace. Leni’s small, efficient Ikea furniture appeared way out of place in this historical mansion.
“Wow.”
“I know, it’s a bit much, but the whole place is. I thought this might be cool for you, like your own loft apartment.”
“Yes, it’s amazing.” Leni dropped her bags to the floor with a thunk. She eased into the room, went over to the bookshelves, and traced the spines of the books with her fingers, feeling a bit like Belle from Beauty and the Beast.
“I’ll bring a space heater up from downstairs and get a fire going. Though, lugging wood up here isn’t fun. I’ll have the staff do that each week. That’s what they’re paid for,” Diana said, standing in the doorway.
“You really have staff?”
“Good God, yes. How else could I manage this place?”
“What do they do?”
“Everything. Michaels lives in an apartment at the back of the barn, so he’s here full time. He manages the grounds and the farms. Then I have staff who come on the weekends to do some cooking and cleaning. I keep my area clean, but they maintain the rest. They also occasionally give tours and tell tourists about the ghosts. The cook is mainly a nutritionist rather than a necessity. I can cook fine myself.”
“Ghosts?”
Diana seemed to be confused by the interruption and frowned briefly. “Oh yes, Bentley Manor is haunted, a rumor that started a while back. We keep it going to get more tours.” Diana winked at Leni, so she didn’t know if she were serious or not.
“This is lovely, thank you.”
“You’re very welcome. If there is anything else you need, other furniture or anything you can think of. Oh, I’m having a ceiling fan installed up there to keep the heat from rising. Things like that. And if you prefer to be downstairs, closer to me, just let me know.”
“No, this is fine.” The room was gorgeous. Though, always the skeptic, Leni was concerned, too. If things were too good to be true, they probably were. There was something that wasn’t right with the Bentleys. If her mother could up and disappear on her husband and daughter when Leni was just a girl, and if the rest of the family could be so distant with their own relatives, then something was definitely off. But what?
Oh, wait. She didn’t care. She was here because she had no choice. She almost forgot.
They looked at each other, out of things to say. “Okay, well then, bring up the rest of your stuff, and I’ll let you get settled. I’ll get that space heater. I would have had a fire going, but wasn’t sure when you’d come.”
“That’s fine. I can get a fire going.”
Diana headed downstairs, and Leni started a fire with the kindling that was already there. Once it was safe to leave it, she brought up the rest of her things from her car. By the fourth and final load, she’d gotten a great workout heading up and down the stairs and was warm enough without the fire.
When Diana returned with the space heater, Leni was kneeling on the floor, already halfway through putting clothes in her dressers.
Diana smiled and plugged the heater in. “Though I wish it had been under better circumstances, I’m glad to have the chance to spend time with you now.”
Leni wanted to interrogate her on that point. Why had she never contacted her or her parents before? She wasn’t that far away. Why didn’t they have any sort of relationship like normal family? But she was tired and hadn’t settled in yet. So she pursed her lips and let it go.
“There’s no TV up here, but you can come downstairs and watch with me if you’d like.”
“I’m fine. I have my laptop. I can stream shows, as long as you have Wi-Fi?”
A confused look spread across Diana’s fair face. “Wi-Fi?”
Leni’s heart sank. She could live without cable and satellite, but she had to have Internet access.
Then Diana laughed. “I’m kidding. I realize this place is pretty old, but we are wired for sound. We have Wi-Fi, and since we’re out in the boonies, there’s no password.”
Leni’s shoulders relaxed considerably. “Thank God. You had me going for a minute. Oh and my car? Where would you like me to leave it?”
“Wherever you like. In the drive, in the barn slash garage. It’s up to you. Why don’t you finish up, and come down to eat at six p.m. We can talk logistics then.”
Leni nodded and Diana left her to her work.
She stalled with unpacking. Nothing fit anywhere. They fit space wise, but seemed wrong anywhere she put them. Her clothes didn’t match the armoire her aunt had left. Her small white shelves looked stupid next to the barn wood shelves twice their height. Her cheap makeup and jewelry didn’t belong on the antique vanity. Everything seemed off and out of place.
Eventually her clothes were put away, some in the antiques and some in her dresser from home. Her laptop was set up on the IKEA desk the movers had brought from her dad’s place. She found the box with her bedding and her digital clock and made her bed up. Her bed was a canopy, which might come in handy here, to hold the warmth inside the curtains. Luckily, the cold had never bothered Leni too much. She’d always hated to be overly warm.
The place was a dream home. Everything was perfect. Everything except her. Here she was, a biracial young woman with modern clothes and new furniture stuck in an old Civil War mansion with slaves’ quarters that still utilized servants. She longed for her brownstone in the city. She longed for her father.
She finished getting everything in place and stood back with her arms crossed to inspect her handiwork. The stained-glass window behind her desk actually split down the middle and opened outward. She unlocked it and pushed the glass panels out to find it led to a rooftop balcony overlooking the grounds.
The vast expanse of rooftop had a low balustrade around it. She walked to the edge and inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with clean, winter farm air. “Fresh as a Missouri morning,” as the ice cream commercials said. What a contrast to her view of the townhouse behind hers in the city. The land stretched on for miles until it met the horizon. Snow-splotched fields to her right, scarred with fence lines to divvy up the crops faded to gray as it met with the January sky. There wasn’t another house for as far as she could see beyond their own outbuildings. The park forests clustered along the west, butting up against the fields. It was breathtaking. The barn, the outbuildings, and a covered wading pool were placed haphazardly behind the historic home.
She rubbed her hands up and down her arms for warmth and then retreated back into her attic room—a room that would probably cost her $5000 a month if she rented it in the city.
At least.
She latched the window and checked the time. Almost time for dinner. She hadn’t eaten most of the day, and her stomach growled in protest.
Leni hadn’t seen anything of the rest of the house except for the entryway and stairs, so she peeked in a few rooms on the second floor on her way downstairs. Each was still decorated in an eighteen hundred’s style, stuffed with antiques, washbasins, oil lanterns, artwork, and tapestries. A place stuck in time. She wouldn’t have felt comfortable in any of those rooms.
At the bottom of the stairs, she snooped around a little, trying to find the kitchen. Her aunt had gestured to the west side of the house when she’d discussed the servants’ quarters, so Leni headed in that direction. Off the entryway was a large sitting area with a huge fireplace. The furnishings were, again, all Civil War era and impeccably set. It was clear this room wasn’t used.
