This Old Homicide: A Fixer Upper Mystery Book Excerpt - Chapter 1
“I’d have told you if I were dating,” Emily assured her. “I’m not.”
Without missing a beat, Lizzie said, “Did somebody die?”
Jane laughed. “I don’t think we’d be drinking champagne if somebody died.”
“Are you sure?” Lizzie whispered. “Maybe that’s how they do it in Scotland.”
Emily, clearly excited, had shushed everyone and held up her glass. “I want to propose a toast to the town’s newest homeowner. Me.”
“You bought a house?” I said, a little stunned that I hadn’t heard. I liked to think I had my fingers on the pulse of the housing market in Lighthouse Cove, but Emily’s purchase had slipped past me.
“Cheers!” Marigold cried, clinking her glass against Emily’s.
Lizzie gave her a quick hug. “That’s fabulous.”
“Welcome to the wonderful world of homeownership,” Jane said, herself the owner of a B-and-B I’d recently finished renovating.
“Yes, congratulations,” I said. “You managed to shock me. I had no idea you were house hunting.”
Emily took another sip of champagne before placing her glass down on the table. “I figured it was about time I set down roots in Lighthouse Cove.”
“You think so?” Marigold said, laughing. “You’ve only lived here for fifteen years.”
She grinned. “I’m a thrifty Scotswoman. It takes me a while to part with money.”
Emily had moved here from Scotland all those years ago with her boyfriend, who was going into business with one of our local shermen. Sadly, a year later, the boyfriend mysteriously disappeared and was presumed lost at sea. Emily was devastated but decided to stay in Lighthouse Cove. She had only recently opened her tea shop and had a few good close friends who saw her through the tragedy.
“Where’s the house?” I asked.
“It’s over on Emerald Way,” she said. “Overlooking North Bay.”
I could picture the neighborhood with its glorious pine trees and amazing view of the coast. I’d worked on a number of homes in that area, and as far as I could remember, there was only one available house and it was . . . whoa. “You bought the old Rawley Mansion?”
“Yes,” Emily said, and paused to pat her chest. “I get a little breathless when I think about it. I can’t wait for you all to see it.”
I exchanged a look of concern with Jane and knew she was recalling the Halloween night when we were seven years old and I had dared her to look in one of the windows on the Rawleys’ front porch. She took the dare, but after one quick peek, she screamed and ran away. I wasn’t smart enough to follow but instead peeked inside myself and saw a beautiful woman with golden hair wearing an old-fashioned dress, sitting at a desk near the window, crying. She looked up and her smile was so sad, I wanted to cry too. I touched the glass, reaching out—until I realized I could see right through her. She was a ghost!
For years, I’d been convincing myself that it was just a silly Halloween trick. What else could it be? I quickly covered my unease with a happy smile. “If you need any help with renovation or with the move itself, I’m available.”
“We’ll all help,” Jane said.
“Thank you. That means so much.” Emily blinked, overcome with emotion. “And yes, Shannon, I would love your help with the rehab. It needs a lot of work,” she admitted, “but I had to have this house. I can’t explain it, but it spoke to me. It’s going to look like a fairy castle when it’s all spiffed up. I can’t wait to move in.”
“When do you close escrow?” Lizzie asked.
“Since nobody’s living there, I was able to get a fifteen-day escrow.”
“Good grief, that’s fast,” Marigold murmured. She had left her Amish community years ago but still preferred to live at a slower pace than the rest of us.