Waiting for Butterflies Page 3

  Maggie unlocked the front door. “But here’s my favorite part.” She opened the door to reveal the foyer.

  The couple stepped inside, their eyes fixed on the feature Maggie referred to. In front of them, in the center of the entrance, was an oak staircase leading to the second floor where it joined a balcony. The balcony stretched the width of the foyer and extended on both sides back toward the front of the house.

  “Isn’t this magnificent?” Maggie’s voice was reverent.

  Mrs. Hill pointed to the oak doors that lined the walls beyond the balcony. “Are those all bedrooms?”

  Maggie turned to the right and pointed to two doors above them. “Each side has access to two bedrooms, for a total of six. Two there. Two there. And two there.” She directed their gaze in a half circle around the balcony.

  Mr. Hill whistled. “That’s a lot of rooms.”

  “Yes, it is.” Maggie paused to study the couple. Were they all business? Or would they appreciate the history of the home? She let her intuition lead. “There’s a story behind all those doors. Would you like to hear it?”

  Mr. Hill shrugged and Maggie debated. The short version or the long version? But Mrs. Hill’s face was expectant. She deserved the details.

  “Connor Hitching built this house. The railroad boom in the early 1900s made him a wealthy man. When the tracks came through Cape Spring, they say Connor traveled here frequently and fell in love with the land, but that wasn’t all he fell in love with. A girl named Anna-Marie, a preacher’s daughter, stole his heart.”

  “Oh, a love story.” Mrs. Hill clasped her hands together. Her husband grinned and cut a sideways glance at her.

  Maggie held up a finger. “But Connor wasn’t ready to settle down. He was still chasing his fortune. He returned every chance he got, to see Anna-Marie, and to purchase more land. But each time he left, he promised it would be the last time. It took Connor Hitching five years to finally keep his word, but when he did, he made Anna-Marie his wife and built her this house, promising to fill every bedroom with Hitching children.”

  “And did they?” Mrs. Hill’s eyes sparkled beneath her raised brow.

  “Most definitely. Four girls and four boys, the last of whom passed away a few years ago. His children inherited the property and, well, the house has been on the market ever since.”

  “If the rest of the house is this beautiful, I can’t wait to see it.” Mrs. Hill stepped toward the grand staircase.

  Maggie accepted the invitation. “Let’s look at the first floor, and then we’ll go upstairs.”

  As she led the couple through the home, they visualized each room aloud, and her heart fluttered. They saw the house with her eyes. Rather than examine the flaws one by one like previous clients, they imagined the possibilities.

  “You know—” Mr. Hill rubbed his jaw. “This is a lot of house for a retired couple.”

  Maggie’s heart clenched. Of course, it was. The match didn’t make sense from the start. She prepared for the letdown.

  “So we’re thinking about this as a project, a little something to do and a little income after retirement. What are the chances for a B&B to be successful in this area?”

  Maggie’s mouth opened but no sound followed. She glanced from Mr. Hill to his wife, whose nod confirmed Maggie had heard correctly. The words poured out quickly. “Truthfully, I don’t see how a good B&B could fail.”

  Mr. Hill crossed his arms and cocked his head. Lines deepened between his brows as they pressed together. “Is that so?”

  “You’re seven miles south of the city limits, so your guests will be a ten-minute drive from restaurants, shopping, the theatre, all the conveniences. Yet they’ll enjoy the solitude of this rural setting. And Cape Spring is a river town. With grant funding, the city spent the last few years revitalizing the historic downtown area. They repaired cobblestone streets, developed a river walk, built a gazebo in the park. Your guests can be entertained by live music every weekend evening, and they can even enjoy horse-drawn carriage rides.”

  Was it too much information too fast? She struggled to remain calm, so her enthusiasm wouldn’t overwhelm the Hills. She examined their faces carefully. Was she making the sale?

  And there it was. The look, the one buyers get when the house she is showing is not the house they are seeing at all. Instead, they see a home filled with their furniture, their family, their future. It was time to seal the deal, to make the buyers realize what Maggie hoped she already had. “So, Mr. and Mrs. Hill, can you see yourselves welcoming guests to your magnificent bed and breakfast for a romantic getaway or to escape the pace of city life?”

  “Possibly.” Mr. Hill strolled to a nearby wall and inspected a switch plate.

  “I’m sure you read online that the original wiring in the house had been replaced within recent years, and central heat and air were installed as well.” Maggie beamed. “Which makes the four fireplaces a luxury, not a necessity.” She placed her hand on Mrs. Hill’s elbow and motioned toward the front door. “Should we go outside and walk the property? You have ten acres here . . .”

  By the time they shook hands for the evening, Maggie was satisfied she did all she could to make the sale. Now it was up to them.

  “We have a lot to discuss.” Mr. Hill put his arm around his wife. “We love the property. We like the potential here. But we need some time to decide. It doesn’t sound like another buyer is on the horizon.”

  “True, but in this business you never know.” Maggie forced a smile. He was right, of course.

  With a promise from the Hills to call soon, Maggie got into her car and checked her cell phone for messages. She tapped a text from Sam. Made a sale yet? Though her giddiness had subsided, Maggie still felt some promise. Cross your fingers. On my way home. She looked at the clock—8:00 p.m., plenty of time to get home to tell the girls good night.

  After mutilating the magazines her mom had left her, Olivia had climbed onto the sofa with her dad and fallen asleep in his lap. It was after 9:00 and he was beginning to wind down himself. He should put Olivia in her PJs and tuck her in, but the sofa had a magnetic force he couldn’t resist. Besides, Maggie would be home any minute, surely, and they could put Olivia to bed together. Just as he flipped to another channel, headlights pulled into the driveway.

  Maggie decided to stop by the office to drop off the Hitching file. She would be a few minutes late getting home, but the girls wouldn’t mind staying up a little past bedtime. As she approached Route 40 and turned north to go into town, the emotion of the last two days rapidly drained energy from her body. From Sam’s investigation to the devastation of Nate’s death to the elation of having potential buyers, Maggie was ready to soak in a hot bubble bath and collapse into bed.

  Her thoughts of relaxation were interrupted by her cell phone, the ringtone identifying it as a business call. She grabbed the phone from its place on the console and glanced at the number on the screen. The Hills. Surely they weren’t ready to make an offer already. They probably just had a question. Or maybe they changed their mind. Maybe they weren’t interested after all. Quickly, before the call went to voice mail, she pressed the button to answer. But then she fumbled the phone. The rest happened in slow motion: The phone hit the console. It bounced and tumbled to the passenger side floor. Maggie bent forward to reach it. When she looked up, she saw headlights.

  With Olivia still asleep in his lap, Sam waited for the sound of the garage door opening and the jingle of Maggie’s keys in the kitchen door. The front doorbell rang instead. When the bell rang a second time, Sam gently shifted his sleeping daughter to the sofa. Why was Maggie at the front entrance? And why didn’t she use her key? He got up to answer the door.

  “Lieutenant.” Wade stood in the open doorway with Shaw beside him. For a moment Sam was confused. Then he realized why the detectives must have come to his home at such an unusual hour.

  “Did we get a break in the case?” He didn’t give them time to respond. “Did you make an arrest?
”

  “Uh, no.” Shaw stammered over her words. “That’s not why we’re here.”

  Sam’s confusion returned. “Oh. What do you need then?”

  Detective Wade looked to Shaw. She looked at him. Sam looked at them both. The pulse at his temple throbbed. “What?”

  Wade’s hands knotted, and he pressed a fist to his mouth. His voice was hoarse. “It’s Maggie.”

  “What about Maggie?” Sam turned again from Wade to Shaw for an answer, but they both dropped their gaze. Someone stood behind them. In blue jeans and a St. Louis Cardinals pullover rather than his usual Sunday tie and sport coat, Sam almost didn’t recognize the pastor from Maggie’s church. Why was he here? Clergy only accompanied officers when—

  Maggie?

  Sam’s head spun. As his knees buckled, he leaned against the doorframe to steady himself. His hands went numb. His shoulders sagged as the force of gravity multiplied exponentially, pulling him, pushing him down. He felt himself disconnect from conscious thought, and although his eyes were open, he couldn’t focus. Shaw’s mouth moved but the words came too quickly and were jumbled and didn’t make sense. Accident . . . crossed the centerline . . . head-on . . . instantly. His brain scrambled to find logic, but instead closed in on itself, refusing to process.

  The pastor’s voice drew him back. “Sam, where are the girls?”

  The girls. The girls? How could he tell—

  Suddenly a sob erupted from the top of the basement steps. He turned to see Rachel trembling, tears racing down her cheeks. Instantly aware that the look on his face betrayed his instinct to protect her, to guard her from the nightmare unfolding before them, he tried to speak, to tell her everything would be okay, but his mouth couldn’t form the words. He watched the truth seize her.

  “Daddy, no!”

  CHAPTER 4

  Maggie remembered the blinding lights and then closing her eyes. Her eyes still remained closed as consciousness returned. She wanted to open them, but what would she see? Where was she? She listened. Only stillness surrounded her.

  She tried to figure out how long she had been unaware, but all sense of time eluded her. The blinding lights. Now. What happened between? How did she get here, wherever here was? A gentle scent reached Maggie, one she had never experienced before but that demanded to be breathed in. By no will of her own, she inhaled deeply and the sweet fragrance filled her with peace.

  She opened her eyes. She stood . . . where? She felt a substance beneath her, but didn’t see a ground or a floor. There were no walls or ceiling, and she could see far beyond where she stood, but there was nothing, only empty space. Then, like a morning sun low on the horizon, a lavender glow rose in the distance. It continued until it filled the vast expanse high above, completely surrounding Maggie. She drank in the delicious hue and it quieted all her questions.

  A sound reverberated in the distance. Music, yet not music? It seemed to come from above. She looked up to see the lavender sky brilliantly jeweled with diamond-like objects falling toward her like a rain shower. As the diamonds fell closer, they danced into one another, creating a melodic symphony. A light source she could not locate struck the multi-faceted jewels, casting prisms of color all around. She had never seen anything so exquisite.

  Anticipating their arrival, she spread her arms wide and marveled how the diamonds disappeared the moment they touched her. Their touch was gentle, the brush of butterfly wings, barely discernable against her skin. As the diamonds rained down, a new sensation moved through Maggie. It started at the top of her head and moved downward across her shoulders, through her outstretched arms, down through her legs. The sensation exited her body through her fingertips and toes, leaving her weightless as if she could simply lie back and float in the purple sea. She laughed out loud.

  A movement caught Maggie’s attention. Ahead, almost out of view, someone stood as if waiting for her. Instantly her attention shifted from the beauty around her to finding who might be there. Maggie walked effortlessly in the direction the figure appeared. As she drew closer, a definite shape came into view. A few more steps and she could see it was a child. She tried to get closer but now, in spite of each step she took, she could not close the distance between herself and the boy.

  The child raised his hand in the air and waved excitedly, as if he were happy to see her. Initially drawn to him out of curiosity, Maggie was now compelled to reach him and frustrated because she couldn’t. She smiled and returned his wave. He beamed, his face radiant with expectation. She gazed at the boy, at the blonde messy hair she wanted to push out of his dark eyes. Somehow, he was familiar. Again, he raised his hand, but not in greeting this time. Instead, he motioned her to him, nodding encouragement.

  “I can’t,” she called out, taking another useless step forward, but he didn’t seem to hear her. He continued to motion her to him.

  Suddenly Maggie froze. Like a camera zooming in on its subject, his face came into focus. It was the face in the photos she had poured over, prayed over, for months. “Nate?” Her whisper carried across the distance between them.

  The boy slowly lowered his arm. His smile grew in acknowledgment. How could it be? An urgency to run to him, to pick him up, and swing him around and around, washed over Maggie. “Nate! Look at you! You’re okay! You’re . . . here—”

  But, how?

  Heaviness filtered through Maggie’s brain. She tried to wade through the thoughts she knew were there, but it took so much effort to push one aside and reach another. “Nate?” she questioned again. And then, another thought broke free, followed by one more.

  “Rachel . . . Olivia.” As the names crossed her lips, Maggie’s heart crumbled. She suddenly knew this place. But she wasn’t ready. Not yet.

  The boy turned from her and looked behind him as if someone had called his name. He nodded and turned back toward Maggie again. A smile remained on his face, but it was not the same joyful expression that had greeted her. When he raised his hand to wave this time, Maggie knew it was good-bye. Although they both remained still, the distance between them grew rapidly until Nate was once more an unrecognizable figure barely within view.

  It began first in her fingertips. The weight returned, crawling through her arms, past her elbows, squeezing her shoulders. It continued on its path, pouring into her chest, down her legs, until it consumed her entirely. She closed her eyes, and from somewhere far away, she recognized the cry of a little girl.

  CHAPTER 5

  Everyone gathered around the gravesite with heads bowed as the pastor offered the final prayer. Except Sam. His eyes focused ahead. The silver casket taunted him—hateful, unforgiving—adorned with a spray of pink roses and a sash: Beloved Wife and Mother. In moments it would be lowered into the ground, taking with it the part of him that had died with Maggie.

  He stared ahead, numb, as if he existed under a glass dome, a part of but oddly separate from all the bustle of the last three days. He functioned as his body commanded, putting one foot in front of the other to make funeral arrangements, standing beside the casket during visitation, reaching out to receive sympathetic handshakes or embraces, forming the words “thank you” as friends told him how sorry they were, how much they loved Maggie, to call if he needed anything. And now, as people stirred at the end of the prayer, he wondered if he could remove himself from this place, if he could walk away and leave Maggie behind.

  Some people returned to their cars while others lingered, whispering to Rachel and Olivia or squeezing Sam on the arm. Quiet tears rolled down Olivia’s cheeks. He should hold her. But he was certain his heart would implode if he allowed himself to feel. Instead, Rachel reached for the little girl, pulled her close, and whispered in her ear. Soft sobs rippled through the child’s chest as she leaned into the embrace. Sam bit his lower lip and turned away.

  “Lieutenant. Sam.” The chief of police approached, a man with whom Sam shared a deep mutual respect. When Sam was a rookie on patrol, the chief was his lieutenant and mentor. He watched t
he chief’s rise through the ranks, and while Sam had earned his own way up the ladder, he suspected the chief dropped his name a time or two along the way.

  “You take all the time you need, son. Give me a call at the end of next week, and we’ll decide where to go from there.”

  Sam nodded. He couldn’t begin to think about work, about being a single dad—the long shifts, the unpredictable hours, the danger. He couldn’t recall an officer who had raised his kids alone, but he could name several who were divorced because law enforcement and family life were a complicated mix. And, honestly, what did he know about parenting two young girls?

  “Yeah, Lieutenant, we’ve got everything covered.” Detective Wade gripped Sam’s shoulder.

  Standing beside Wade, Nikki Shaw nodded. “Just let us know if there’s anything we can do, anything at all.”

  His mouth moved to form words. “Thank you.”

  As his fellow officers turned to leave, Sam leaned his head back and inhaled the crisp fall air. Sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves overhead, bright reds and yellows. Beyond the leaves was a clear blue sky. And beyond that, was there anything?

  “Sam.”

  The interruption brought him back to earth. Laura stood beside him. The grief in her eyes forced Sam to lower his. She had been with Maggie since the beginning of Blake Realty, the only agent beside Maggie for a while, her best agent . . . and her best friend.

  “It isn’t the right time to bring this up, but it’s kind of important.” She pulled at the edges of a frayed tissue in her hands.

  Sam looked up, granting permission to continue.

  “I don’t know what your plans are for the office, but we can’t sell real estate without a broker.” She paused, cleared her throat. “Did Maggie tell you I recently got my broker’s license? I’ll do whatever I can to help you keep the business going.” The real estate office had not even crossed Sam’s mind. His mind that was trained to think through complexity, danger, tragedy, was defunct. “I appreciate anything you can do until I can figure things out, Laura. Maggie trusted you. I trust you.”