Rachel cleared her throat delicately and offered her visitors a polite smile. “Can I help you? I’m Rachel Lindquist.”
The rotund one stuck out a dimpled hand. “Miles Porchind, Miss Lindquist,” he said with a smile, “and my partner, Felix Rasmussen. May we take a few moments of your time to discuss some business?”
Her immediate reaction to the men was dislike, but she reminded herself beggars couldn’t be choosers, and invited the prospective buyers inside. She led the way to the study, the skin on her back prickling as she felt their gazes on her.
Once in the room, Porchind and Rasmussen looked around with hungry eyes, taking in the paneling, the old furniture, the bookshelves-particularly the bookshelves, with their dusty old tomes. Their expressions were like those of starving men who had stumbled into a bakery. Rachel half expected them to start salivating. Grimacing in distaste at the thought, she seated herself behind the desk and motioned the men to help themselves to seats. Oddly, they chose to sit side by side on the leather love seat, with Porchind taking up more than half of it.
Bryan wandered in then, jugging two apples and an orange. “Hello again,” he said, sending the men his most innocuous grin. He caught two pieces of fruit against his chest with his right arm, caught the remaining apple in his left hand, and promptly took a bite out of it.
“We’re here to discuss business with Miss Lindquist,” Porchind said with a trace of annoyance.
“So you said. Care for a piece of fruit?”
They merely stared at him, then turned to Rachel, clearly hoping she would toss Bryan out on his ear.
“It’s all right,” Rachel said. “Mr. Hennessy is the family retainer.”
She supposed she shouldn’t have, but she wanted Bryan there with her, and, for once, she gave in to her desire. He shot her a wink that seemed inappropriately intimate, and immediately heat streaked through her body. She had to force her mind back to the business at hand.
“Bryan tells me you’re interested in purchasing the house,” she said. “May I ask where you heard it was for sale?”
The men glanced sharply at each other and answered simultaneously. “In town.”
Porchind went on. “We heard you had come back to settle your mother’s affairs and close up the house. Perhaps it was nothing more than small-town gossip.”
“Gossip, perhaps,” Rasmussen echoed.
“No, I have been considering it,” Rachel said cautiously.
“But it’s nothing definite, by any means,” Bryan interrupted.
Rachel scowled up at him. “I thought you wanted to help,” she muttered between her teeth.
“I am helping,” he said, ignoring the anger he felt rolling off her in waves. He turned back to their visitors. “There are so many things to consider. The ghosts, for example. You must have heard by now, the house is haunted.”
The strangers exchanged another glance. “We’re not put off by ghost stories,” Porchind said.
His partner shook his head. “Don’t believe in ghosts.”
Immediately, two huge drops of water fell from the ceiling-one landing squarely on the head of each man. Before they had a chance to recover from the surprise, two more drops fell, followed by two more. Porchind looked up and caught one in the eye.
“And then there’s the plumbing,” Bryan said. It was almost impossible to contain his excitement. It churned inside him as he looked up at the ceiling, which showed no evidence of a water spot. Wimsey. He knew it. He could sense it. This was his first physical sign of Addie’s ghost.
“The plumbing is fine,” Rachel insisted. “That’s just humidity.”
“Humidity from hell,” Bryan said dramatically.
Porchind looked past him to Rachel. “My partner and I are interested in the house, Miss Lindquist. Have you set a price yet?”
“No, I haven’t,” Rachel said, trying to keep her anger out of her voice. She was going to skin Bryan Hennessy alive when this was over. “I need to discuss the matter with my mother,”
“Mrs. Lindquist doesn’t want to move, you see,” Bryan explained cheerfully. “She’s attached to the place. Hard to figure, isn’t it? But you know how elderly people are. They get something in their heads and there’s no telling them otherwise. She wants to stay here forever.”
Bryan tossed his apple core into the wastebasket beside the desk, then resumed his juggling, adding a paperweight to the apple and orange. From beneath lowered lashes he watched the two men scowl at him.
“Perhaps we should come back at a more convenient time,” Porchind said, heaving himself to his feet.
“When it’s more convenient,” Rasmussen muttered, rising and trying to straighten his suit over his bony frame.
“Once you’ve had a chance to speak with your mother and determine a price,” the round man said as he and his partner moved toward the door. “We only thought it prudent to let you know of our interest.”
“Interest.” Rasmussen nodded, smiling at Rachel in a way that made her skin crawl.
She managed a thank-you as she walked them to the door. When she returned to the study, she was seething. Bryan had seated himself behind the desk and was absorbed in one of his history books.
“How dare you interfere!” she snapped, releasing the pent-up anger not only over the house issue, but the anger and frustration that had been building inside her for days. She kicked a sneakered foot against the handsome walnut desk. “How dare you! Those men may be the only people in the free world strange enough to buy this house, and you practically chased them away! And even if they do come back, I’ll be lucky to get enough out of them to pay off the mortgage, thanks to you and your infernal ghost stories and your candor about the plumbing.”
“Addie isn’t going to want to move,” Bryan said calmly.
“It isn’t a question of whether or not Addie wants to move,” Rachel said, planting her fists on the desktop. “It’s the way it has to be. Will you face reality for once? I have a job waiting for me in San Francisco. I’m going to have to support my mother. Her medical bills alone will probably put me in debt for the rest of my life. Insurance would be a great help, but Addie doesn’t have any because she lined a bird cage with her premium notice and let the policy lapse. Are you comprehending any of this, Bryan?” She snatched up a pen and pad of paper and thrust them at him. “Maybe you should write yourself a note. I have to sell this house!”
Bryan looked up at her and sighed. “I know it’s a cliché, but you’re beautiful when you’re angry.”
Rachel clamped her hands to her head as if to keep the top of it from exploding off. She counted to ten and took deep breaths. Blessed, infuriating man! He could be every bit as impossible to deal with as her mother.
“I don’t think you should be too hasty about selling, Rachel.”
“Bryan, this house is as expensive to keep as a herd of elephants, and there’s no chance of me finding a job around here that would pay more than peanuts. You’re allegedly an intelligent man-you do the math. I have to sell this house. I haven’t got a choice.”
“We always have at least two choices, angel. You’re just too stubborn to look for yours.”
“I’m stubborn?” Rachel went red in the face as a hundred scathing retorts clogged her throat and cut off her air supply.
Bryan had turned back to his book. “I’ve got a bad feeling about Messieurs Porkrind and Rasputin. I think they’re up to something.”
Rachel didn’t like them either, but she was too angry to agree with him about anything. She regarded him with narrowed eyes. “I suppose now you’re going to tell me you’re a mind reader.”