Carolina Mist by Mariah Stewart Read Free Book Online

and wide-eyed as she tried to digest the news of her indebtedness. “Which room you figure on using?”
    “I … I hadn’t thought about it. My old one, I guess.”
    “Linens in the closet where they’ve always been.” Belle tottered off down the hall, her voice trailing behind her. “Take a quilt from the chest at the foot of the bed. It’ll be chilly by morning.”
    Abby sat motionless at the table, Aunt Leila’s letter to her suddenly very clear.
    “… care for … any dear and gentle spirit you may encounter here—as best you can, as I have done …”
    Leila had passed not only her home but her best friend as well into Abby’s hands.

 
     
     
     
     
    5
     
     
    L ost in a dreamless sleep after her marathon drive of the previous day, Abby had no sense of time or place when she finally awakened. The windows permitted no clue of dark or dawn beyond their heavy drapes and tightly clasped shutters. She reached for her watch on the table next to the bed. Seven a . m .
    Grabbing her robe from the bedpost, she tied it loosely at her waist and opened the door. The house lay as silent as it had the night before when she had first crossed the threshold. She wondered if Belle was an early riser.
    Wandering down the stairs, she checked for coffee. Even instant coffee will do, she thought, suddenly craving the gourmet beans she used to splurge on back in her more affluent days. The cupboards held nothing but a box containing a half-dozen tea bags.
    She pushed aside the narrow blue-and-white-striped curtain that hung across the glass in the back door. Looking around, she found a wall hook upon which a key dangled on a thin piece of string. She fitted the key into the lock and turned it, the hinges protesting with a low-pitched shriek as she pulled it open. Abby took a few steps out into the morning air and peered at the old thermometer on the outside wall. Fifty-eight degrees. The sun was trying its best to will away a veil of clouds and make its appearance. Abby sat on the top step and stretched the long robe to wrap around her bare ankles.
    That the grounds had fallen into a sad state of neglect pulled painfully at Abby’s heart. Aunt Leila had been celebrated for her gardens. The local garden club had for many years included Leila’s property on its annual summer tour. More often than not, the event would culminate in a garden party, for which a young Abby would be pressed into service. From her perch on the back porch, she could almost see herself, dressed in a starched white summer dress that had once been worn by Aunt Leila herse lf, offering delicate tea sandw iches to the ladies who clustered around Aunt Leila’s lilies or her arbors of roses. Here, Leila had hosted family weddings and grand parties. Abby’s own parents had exchanged their vows right there, under that very arbor, when the white roses that once wound overhead had been at their very peak.
    What a shame. She lamented the sight.
    Vines and shrubs neglected for years had overtaken all. The cobbled paths that had once led from one pampered bed to another were obscured now, as were the beds themselves. Vestiges of Leila’s herb garden remained around the ornate birdbath which had once stood proudly in the center of the garden. The birdbath was cracked now, one section hanging off its base at an awkward angle.
    What a shame.
    “Broke Leila’s heart to let it go,” Belle said softly from the doorway, “but, of course, these last few years, neither of us could tend to it. And there’s been no money to hire out the work. ’Course, now that you’re here, you can tidy things up a bit.”
    “I wouldn’t know where to start.” Abby turned to look over her shoulder at the slight figure behind the screen.
    “You start with the obvious, Abigail,” Belle sighed with exaggerated patience. “First, you pull out what doesn’t belong there, then you tend to those things which do.”
    “I doubt I’d know the difference,” Abby muttered.
    “Read