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Slowly, the double gates began to open. “Yikes!” she cried, returning to her vehicle and jumping into the driver’s seat. Hurriedly, she backed up so the thousand-pound gate wouldn’t pick up her car and push it across the road and over the cliff.
A niggle of excitement shot up her throat as she entered,tires crunching on the gravel, at the sight of the oversized gate closing shut in her rearview mirror.
She prayed she could pull this wedding off. Her cousin said they would all pitch in and help, but the wedding party would be much too busy, and guests were, well,guests! At least there was still a full day—tomorrow—before the first guests arrived.
Caitey rolled down the side window and a cool cross breeze wafted across her cheeks. The temperature had lowered dramatically from the freeway. She had to be two or three thousand feet higher than the Pacific Ocean coastline.
Overhead, the dense trees rattled their leaves while Caitey leaned forward to peer through the windshield at the twisted limbs of old oaks and a carpet of pine needles and grasses that muted any sound. Nerves knocked at her throat, nibbling away at her confidence.
This wasnottypical Southern California weather in the fall, which was usually mild. But she was in the mountains now. Summer was a far distant memory, and Autumn was fast disappearing, too.
Slowly, Caitey drove down the narrow, paved entrance, her palms sweating, and her heart pounding as her vehicle crept through wild bushes with sunlight dripping through the dense trees.
This was exactly how she pictured Manderley Estate on the coast of England!That iconic and mysterious house on the cliffs of Cornwall overlooking the ocean from her favorite novel,Rebecca,by Daphne du Maurier.
Last night, I dreamt I went to Manderley . . .except it was today, more than a decade after she read that book as a teen.
But she was driving in a cool-ish California afternoon in early November. There was no idyllic British countryside or ocean waves pounding in the distance.
Might there be a romantic pond or lake somewhere on the property? A potential location for the wedding reception?
At the moment, the only thing before Caitey’s eyes were overgrown trees, brambly bushes, and half a mile of deep woods. She wondered if she had taken a wrong turn since there was no sign of a yard or house in the distance—even though she was on the only road after pulling through the gate.
Finally, the pavement widened, and the ominous woods faded, revealing a splendid stone manor house with chimneys and balconies and a circular drive. Ivy crawled up the stone walls, and the expanse of upper story windows shone in the afternoon sunshine, sparkling off the glass.
The riot of wildflowers along the drive became a breathtaking rose garden with flowers of every color. Caitey gasped at its beauty.
She slowed her SUV in front of the steps to the massive double front doors. “Okay,cousin. You said it was a nice house, not practically a castle.”
Caitey bit her lips, throat dry. Her usually composed and unruffled wedding planner persona shrank just a bit in her seat.
“I think I need a second pair of hands to pull this off,” she muttered to herself.
Turning off the engine, Caitey unfolded herself from the seat. She was overdressed for the task of unloading all the wedding paraphernalia she’d stowed. She had assumed there might be family or staff that could help her.
Not a soul in sight. No greeting, no other parked vehicles. Where was everybody?
Had she driven up on the wrong day?
Her stomach growled. She’d forgotten to eat lunch; by now, it was mid-afternoon.
Digging into her handbag, Caitey found a granola bar, peeled it open to take a bite, then gulped down the last of her water.
The grounds were both wild and lovely. Burgeoning flower beds and an exquisite rose garden. She’d have to tour the entire property for that hoped-for fountain.
Brushing crumbs from her palms along the sides of her sheath dress, she turned in a circle, gazing at the woods and the grounds before stepping onto the stone path, then the wide steps to the front door, and rang the bell.
A beautiful melodic chime echoed through the house, but nobody answered. Not a sound anywhere. No passing traffic—although she wouldn’t hear any vehicles this far into the private property.
Perhaps everyone was in the back of the house unloading chairs and tables.
A prickle ran up her neck. Feelinglike the only person in the world right now was eerie. And then a new thought bounced around her brain.
What if she had the wrong house? She hadn’t seen a number. There was no mailbox, just her Google map telling her she had arrived. But the code Jenna had given her opened the property gate, so shewasin the right place.
Whirling on the ball of her foot, Caitey decided the only thing to do was drive around to the back of the house and find any sign of life—or people.
A dark shadow flitted in the woods when she lifted her eyes. Her heart clutched with anxiety, and Caitey swallowed hard. It must be one of the grounds men—or maybe just a squirrel.
