Lavender Morning by Jude Deveraux Read Free Book Online Page A

one of them and she could see enough letters to know what it said.
    This is it, she thought, and pulled into the drive. There were so many huge trees that she could see nothing,
    and it occurred to her that maybe what she’d seen were photos of the house before it was torn down. She knew
    from the research she’d done at school that you had to read the fine print under the pictures to see if the house
    still existed.
    Suddenly, the trees parted and she saw the house, and it was exactly like the photos. Because she’d visited
    many old houses in her life, she immediately saw that the house was in pristine condition. There were houses less
    than a year old that weren’t as well kept as this one was. Every window, shutter, and rain gutter was perfect.
    On each side of the house was a wing with its own little porch, and for a moment Joce thought about
    knocking on the doors and asking permission to go inside. But that was ridiculous.
    With her eyes on the house, looking at every inch of it, she got out, opened the back of the car, and took
    out her suitcase. She pulled it behind her as she climbed the wooden steps up to the small porch in front of the
    door.
    She took the key out of her jacket pocket, inserted it into the old lock, and when it turned, her heart began
    to beat quickly.
    “Hello? Anybody here?” Jocelyn called as she opened the old door. From the look of it, the door was
    original to the house, which made it over two hundred years old. She left her big black suitcase by the door and
    slowly walked farther inside, her heels echoing on the bare wooden floor.
    She was in the entrance hall, and as she’d hoped, it went all the way through the house. To her right were
    two closed doors and to her left on either side of the staircase were two more closed doors. She hoped the
    house hadn’t been altered and that behind the doors were big rooms and not little cubicles that had been cut up
    by centuries of owners.
    The staircase was magnificent, and she felt sure that the banister was one piece of mahogany. Turning, she
    looked up to the top of the stairs and saw more closed doors—and, just like in the hallway, there wasn’t a stick
    of furniture to be seen.
    She walked to the far end of the big, bare hallway and looked through the window. Outside were giant
    trees that might be as old as the house. She wanted to walk under them and sit on one of the little white-painted
    iron chairs.
    As she watched, a young woman walked from the right side of the house with what looked like a dress
    wrapped in a towel and a sewing basket in her hand. Joce blinked a few times, thinking she’d walked into a time
    warp. Who sewed today? Who carried a big basket with what looked to be a pincushion top? Had Miss Edi
    sent Joce into a place where time stood still?
    She smiled at the idea, then, instantly, the smile was gone. Even though it had been months since her friend
    died, Joce still wasn’t ready to let her go. No more funny e-mails, no more telephone chats that could go on for
    hours. No Miss Edi to run home to whenever she had a chance. No more sitting together over a steaming pot of
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    tea and confiding all her worries, fears, and triumphs. Never again would she hear those familiar words, “Of
    course it’s none of my business, but if I were in your place, I would—”
    Joce blinked back tears and gave a glance at the closed doors leading off the big hallway, then back at the
    woman sitting under the shade tree. There were rooms to explore and she should see about groceries and
    whether there was a bed for the night. But she looked back at the woman—and she won.
    Joce had to use her key to unlock the back door, then she went out into the fresh spring air and toward the
    woman. She was so absorbed in her sewing that she didn’t seem to hear anyone approach, so Joce had time to
    look at her. She was quite young, early