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“What was all that?” Addie asked, and the care in her voice, the softness of her tone, made me wish I could pull her into my arms again. But now—especially now—I could not.
“Nothing,” I said, refilling my coffee cup. “Let’s get to those floors.”
18
A Moose on the Loose
Addison
Shelly left in a huff, and there was a noticeable change in Michael on the heels of her departure. I hadn’t missed her threat of a lawyer, and wondered what exactly she was talking about, but Michael’s face was closed and he wasn’t meeting my eyes. Clearly, the sharing part of our morning was over.
I’d just given him the truth about my own issues and fears—had opened up more than I’d intended. And then he’d taken me in his arms and given me a hug that was at once reassuring and—something else entirely. I hadn’t meant to, but I’d let myself consider that hard solid chest I’d seen beneath the T-shirt he wore, had let myself feel those strong hands on my body. And while I took comfort from the gesture, there was something more I couldn’t deny. I was turned on.
But it didn’t matter. For one thing, my life was not here in Singletree, and I wasn’t looking for love. I was coming off the heels of a devastating breakup, and I just needed to regroup and get back to New York. Besides, what in the world would my mother say if I hooked up with a Tucker?
We spent the day working on the house as the roofers finished up overhead, Daniel joining us and Michael remaining terse and distant throughout the effort. At one point, Daniel insisted we go back up to the attic to investigate the ghostly disturbances of the night before, and I thought he was actually quite wise. Nothing would look as terrifying in the light of day. We went up after lunch, picking up the scattered papers and letters, photos and newspapers that had been strewn around by the ghosts.
The letters were the most interesting thing we found, besides the pictures. But without knowing quite who the people in the photos were, it was hard to learn much from them—except that the house had been beautiful once. And I was starting to feel invested in the hope that it would be again. Even a couple days of pouring my energy into the place had made it feel more like mine, like something I cared about.
“This one is totally gushy,” Daniel called from the corner of the attic where he sat reading letters. “Listen. ‘My love, I cannot imagine what you’ve had to endure during your time in France. I can only hope that the knowledge of your imminent return home is as much a balm to your soul as to mine, and that the love I have for you will help to heal any wounds your soul may have sustained. I do not care what my father says. We will be together. As you said, it is fated in the stars. I wait for you, always. All my love, Lucille.’”
My heart warmed, imagining Lucille waiting for Robert to return. I’d read through dozens of their letters now, and the love story between Filene’s parents touched my soul in the same way a great romantic movie always did. They weren’t worried about what their parents thought about Tuckers and Tanners together. Of course, they’d never met Lottie.
“That’s a love letter, all right,” Michael agreed.
“Gah.” Daniel made a little retching noise. “Who’s Lucille?”
“Filene’s mother,” I answered.
“Who’s Filene?” Daniel asked.
“Filene Easter,” Michael said. “The lady who left us this house.”
“This letter is addressed to Robert Tucker,” Daniel said. “And it’s from Lucille Tanner. So who is Easter?”
“Those were Filene’s parents. Easter was her married name,” I explained, setting the mannequin back upright as I suppressed a shiver at the gash in its torso.
“So Mrs. Easter was a Tucker?” Daniel asked, looking pleased.
“And a Tanner,” I reminded him.
“Oh, that must’ve made people mad,” Daniel said.
“Probably,” I agreed. “My mom says the feud has been going on for hundreds of years.”
“What started it?” Daniel asked, his freckled face lit by the dusty sunlight coming in from the high round window. He looked so young and innocent in the daylight, and the attic itself looked so harmless and ghost-free.
“I’m not sure.”
“I don’t think anyone remembers,” Michael said. He’d been quiet for a while, sorting newspapers in the far corner.
“Then why don’t we give it up?” Daniel asked.
“Old habits, I guess,” Michael said. “And people get their feelings hurt and want revenge.”
“Aunt Verda’s feelings are definitely hurt,” I said. Mom had told me that Verda saw moving her moose around town as akin to desecrating her husband’s grave. Mom had been pretty upset about it herself, telling me that she was going to help get revenge this time. I’d suggested we could be the bigger family and just let it go. But it didn’t sound like that was what Mom had in mind at all.
“Virge and Emmet are so invested in the whole thing,” Michael said. “I’ve tried to get them to just give it up, but they have so little else going on, I guess.” Michael had spent the better part of an hour this morning on the phone with them, walking them through what needed to be done at the store in his absence. They didn’t sound like the brightest fellows to me, but they were family to Michael and Dan, so I kept my mouth shut.
