Her words were punctuated by sobs. "It was William and his father, and they were so angry. At you! He wanted me to hurt you and I couldn't stop-" A choking hiccup cut off her voice.

"Who, Nola? Who wanted to hurt me?"

"The father-Harold. William was angry, too, but at something else. I think he was angry with Miss Julia, something about letting things go too far. And how it was all her fault."

I patted her back and waited for her crying to subside. "It's all right, Nola. It's not your fault-I know you wouldn't want to hurt me." I tried for a light note. "Unless I made you sing ABBA in public again."

Her cheeks wobbled in an almost-smile and I knew I'd hit my mark. I set her away from me, my hands on her shoulders as my mind tried to organize what I had to do next. "I want you to try to get some more sleep-but you can stay in here with General Lee. It's almost dawn, so I'm going to go ahead and get dressed, and I'll send my mother in to stay with you if you're still asleep when I leave."

She swallowed as her shoulders relaxed, and a look of relief settled on her face.

"I'm calling Chad first thing and having him bring a friend to move the dollhouse to your dad's condo until we figure out what to do with it-please let him have your key when he gets here. I've got an open house this morning on Daniel Island, but then I'm coming right back here. Should be around eleven thirty, so if you could be dressed and ready to go by then, we're going to head over to Miss Julia's."

Her brows knitted. "What for?"

"To tell her I figured out what 'stop her' meant and find out why Julia's asking for forgiveness. It's time to put a few spirits to rest." She nodded, our understanding that she'd never allow herself to be left behind not needing to be spoken.

I didn't mention that I was afraid to let her out of my sight, afraid that William and Harold might not leave her alone until we found all the answers. Or that her mother was still here, hanging on for reasons that continued to elude me.

Nola and I stood at the front door of the house on Montagu Street, watching water drip from the old eaves and listening for the sound of approaching footsteps from inside. Nola rubbed her hands over her arms, and I saw gooseflesh despite the warm temperature. "It's weird," she said.

"What is?" I asked, ignoring the obvious answers of "this house" and "its ghosts."

"I always have this creepy feeling when I'm outside the house and in the hallway. But never in the music room or in the Christmas room-which are pretty creepy but in a whole other way."

"That actually makes sense," I said. "Julia told me that her father didn't like Christmas and won't go into that room. And the music room . . . well, I guess that only William goes in there, since he was the one who enjoyed playing the piano. Then again, William isn't the most peaceful spirit, either, is he?"

She shook her head. "No. But I've . . . felt him in the music room. Like he enjoys listening. I've felt cold spots, but none of the bad feelings that I get in other parts of the house. Like right now, when I feel like we're being watched."

I nodded, not wanting to tell her that I'd seen the man in the turret as we'd approached, the man I was pretty sure was Harold, and how my skin had been p.r.i.c.kling ever since we got out of the car.

Dee Davenport opened the door, leaving only enough of an opening to stick her head out. "Miss Julia isn't well. I've had to set up a hospital bed for her in the back room. I'm afraid she can't see anyone right now."

I wished Jack were there, to charm himself in. Instead, I had to rely on my own devices. "This is very important, and I promise we won't be long. Please tell her . . ." I thought for a moment. "Please tell her that I know what William and her father were trying to tell her."

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Her brother and father have been dead a long time."

"I know. Just tell her. She'll know what I'm talking about."

Dee jutted her chin in Nola's direction. "Why's she here?"

Nola took a step forward, causing Dee to narrow the gap between the door and doorframe. "Because I wanted to tell Miss Julia how the party went. She wanted to know."

I looked at Nola with surprise. She hadn't mentioned any of that to me. I watched as she regarded Dee with a sweet, almost angelic smile. Apparently, the ability to charm people into giving her her way was an inherited trait.

Dee considered us both for a long moment. Finally, she said, "Hang on; I'll go check."

We waited while she closed the door; then she reappeared a few minutes later. As she closed the front door behind us, Dee said, "You've got fifteen minutes-tops. Miss Julia doesn't need a lot of excitement, all right?"

We nodded and followed Dee to the room that was denied the cheeriness of the Christmas season due to the presence of the shriveled woman in a high-necked nightgown, who now lay reclined in a metal-framed hospital bed. A folded newspaper lay on top of the blankets at her feet, and an oxygen tank sat next to her, its rubbery tubes running up her nose.

Her eyes brightened when she spotted Nola, then shuttered as her gaze settled on me. She motioned for Dee to leave, and with a sigh Dee placed a small hand bell on the table by the makeshift bed. "Ring if you need anything." She shot serious glances at Nola and me, as if she expected us to force Miss Julia into a foxtrot or something equally strenuous.

"Why are you here?" Julia asked, her voice gravelly, like she hadn't used it in a while. Nola sat on the edge of a chair that had been pushed against the wall to make room for the bed, but I remained standing.

"William and Harold paid a visit to Nola last night and shook her up pretty badly. They were blaming me for something, saying that it was too late for you, and that I would pay. They were talking about the construction on your property in Georgetown County, weren't they? That's what they were trying to stop-what 'stop her' meant. Isn't it?"

Her expression gave nothing away.

"I'm a.s.suming you know that the remains of a man and a woman were found buried on the property. Do you have any idea who they are or why William and your father didn't want them found?"

A Santa clock on the mantel chimed the hour. "You should try to be more informed, Miss Middleton. I'm a.s.suming you haven't read yesterday's paper yet." She indicated the paper at the foot of her bed, while I made a promise to myself to start reading the paper from now on.

I picked it up and discovered it had already been turned back and folded to an inside page, where the pictures of a burned-out sh.e.l.l of a large house were shown together with yellowed photographs of Julia's family. Squinting so I could see, I scanned the article, reading information that I already knew and had been printed in the previous article. Then my eyes stopped, stumbling over the words and making me read it twice before I understood what it was saying. For Nola's benefit, I read out loud: The remains discovered during the land clearing last week have now been identified as those of two males, despite women's shoes, corset bones, and jewelry being found with the remains of one of the bodies. Authorities are using DNA samples of a Manigault relative to determine whether there is any relationship to the deceased. Judging from the style of shoes and jewelry, preliminary reports indicate that the remains may date back to the nineteen thirties.

I lowered the paper, then raised my eyes to meet Julia's. "Could one of them be William?"

She shook her head, her forehead creased. "I don't know. I don't! But I can't believe it's William. He told me he was leaving in his note. Why would he have gone to Georgetown, where people knew him?"

"I don't know. None of this is making any sense to me. We need to know who's buried in those graves before we can even guess."

Julia's eyes closed, and I watched the shallow rise and fall of her chest. "I suppose we'll know something for sure rather soon. It was my DNA they took last week."

I considered her for a long moment. "If one of the bodies isn't William's, then why would they not want you to clear the land?"

Her mouth compressed in a firm line. "My father would never want scandal to touch our family-regardless of whose bodies those are. He always placed the family's reputation above all else." She grimaced, an awful, ugly expression on her wizened face. "That's how I always knew exactly how to hurt him."

I knelt by the side of her bed so I could look in her face. Quietly, I asked, "Is that why you needed William's forgiveness?"

She shrank from me. "Why are you asking me all these questions? I don't know anything!"

Angry now, I forced my voice to remain calm. "Because your brother and father are using Nola to express their anger, and we need it to stop. Now. I can also a.s.sume that you'd like some semblance of peace. And the only way I can figure out how to make any of that happen is if we deal with whatever it is that's keeping their spirits earthbound." I leaned closer to her and felt some satisfaction when she shrank back. "So why did you need William's forgiveness?"

She closed her eyes, and I watched as her fisted hands slowly opened like she was letting go of a long-carried burden. "Because I told my father things I shouldn't have." She opened her eyes but stared at a spot behind me, seeing something I couldn't.

I waited without speaking, afraid she'd stop.

Julia's gaze traveled to Nola, then back to me. "I can't . . . I can't tell you."

I leaned forward and very quietly said, "If this was just about you and your family, I would leave now. But it's not. Nola is an innocent victim of their maliciousness, which means that both she and I are now involved. So I guess we're going to have to sit here and wait until you tell us the truth, regardless of how painful it might be for you." I touched her hand. More gently, I said, "You need peace, too. Let me help you find it."

She closed her eyes again and took a shuddering breath. She didn't speak for a long moment, and I began to worry that Dee would come back before I'd had the chance to learn whatever secret Julia Manigault had been holding on to. Finally, in a voice so quiet that I had to lean toward her to hear, she said, "I told my father that William liked to dress in our mother's clothing and then go out wearing it." She turned her head away, but I wasn't sure whether it was from the shame of exposing William's secret or because of what William did. "He always made sure he went to places where he wouldn't be recognized. But I knew-had known for years. I always saw everything."

Her gaze reverted to my face as she searched for my reaction.

I kept my expression neutral. "Why did you wait so long to tell him William's secret?"

Her chest rose and fell again in another shallow breath. "Because my father was writing his will, and had left everything-the businesses, the property, everything-to William. William, who could recite pages of poetry from memory but couldn't add simple sums. I was the smart one, the one with business sense. I could have built an empire if he'd just seen beyond the fact that I was female. I thought that with Jonathan at my side it would make sense for us to run everything, and let William do as he wanted. We'd all be happy that way. I needed to make my father see."

Tears brimmed in the old lady's eyes, and I felt the weight of guilt carried for over seventy years. "That's why they argued that night," I prodded. "That's why your father killed him." I waited for Julia's reaction, to see whether I'd come close to the truth.

She shook her head, agitated. "But I have the note from William. My father couldn't have killed him." Her voice was desperate, as if she wanted me to agree with her truth. I remembered her brother's words to me, and chose to allow the truth to be what she wanted it to be. She believes it is proof of innocence where there is none. Let her believe it.

"If it is William's body buried at the old plantation, do you have any idea who the other male might be?" I asked.

She shook her head. "I don't know. Please. Stop." Her hand reached out for mine and I took it.

I patted her hand, hoping to offer rea.s.surance. "I'll do what I can.

They're both very angry right now-I don't know whether they'll talk to me, but I'll try."

She squeezed my hand. "Thank you."

She dropped my hand, then reached for Nola's. Nola stood and came to grasp it.

"I'm sorry if my family is giving you trouble. You're young and strong. Fight them."

Nola nodded. "I'll do my best."

Julia studied her closely. "How was your performance at the party? I wish I could have been there."

"I think I did okay. People seemed to like it."

"She was amazing," I interjected. "People were astounded that someone so young could have that much talent."

Julia's forehead creased. "And that 'Fernando' song, did people like that?"

Nola grinned. "Yeah. They actually did, believe it or not."

I glanced at my watch. "We should go. Jack should be home any minute now."

To my surprise, Nola leaned down and kissed the old lady's cheek. "Thank you, Miss Julia. And when you're feeling better, can we continue our lessons?"

"Of course," she said.

My eyes met Julia's, her expression one of pleading and something else, too. "It's my fault William can't rest in peace," she said. "Please, please find a way to give him rest."

I nodded, then led Nola to the door. It wasn't until we'd reached the porch that I realized what the other look in Julia's eyes had been; she was saying good-bye.

CHAPTER 26.

The first thing I noticed when I drove up to my mother's house on Legare was Jack's car parked across the street. The second thing I noticed was Rebecca's red Audi parked behind it. The third was Rich Kobylt, my contractor, and his exposed posterior standing at the front door and getting ready to knock. His truck was in the driveway, blocking my way.

I parked in front of Jack, calling to Rich as I exited the car and approached with Nola.

"h.e.l.lo, Miz Middleton, Miss Nola," he said, hoisting up his pants.

"Hi, Rich. What's wrong?"

He scrunched up his face at me. "Why do you always ask me that?"

"Because it's usually true. I hope the house didn't topple over after the party." I looked closely at his face to see whether I'd come anywhere near the truth.

"No, ma'am. The house is fine and we're already back at work. However . . ." He scratched his head. "I just thought you should know that there's been a photographer and a video guy out there all morning. They said it was for a book cover and promotional video. I thought it was for Mr. Trenholm's book, so I didn't think it was a problem, but then when Mr. Trenholm showed up . . ."

Dread clenched my throat. "Jack was there?"

"Yes, ma'am. Asked them why they were there, and when they told him he got real mad and told them to leave. Caused a real scene. I tried to call you, but your phone must be off, 'cause it kept going right to voice mail."

I'd turned it off when we'd gone to speak to Miss Julia and forgotten to turn it back on. I tried to keep my voice calm. "Did he say anything to you?"

"No, ma'am. And I was mighty happy about that, too. I'm glad it wasn't me he was angry at." He hiked up his pants again. "I figured you might be here and I wanted to let you know."

I forced a smile. "Yes, thank you, Rich. I appreciate it."

He tipped an imaginary hat. "Well, then, I'd better get back to work. Foundation won't fix itself."

I said good-bye, then averted my eyes so I wouldn't have to watch him walk away.

"Why would Jack be so uptight about people taking pictures of your house?" Nola asked.

"Oh, Nola. I didn't want him to find out like this."

"Find out about what?"

My eyes met hers. "You're going to find out eventually, so I guess it's better that I tell you now." I paused. "Marc Longo wrote a book about the mysteries surrounding my house-the same subject as your dad's-except since Marc's related to one of the families involved, the publisher decided they'd rather publish his book."

Her eyes widened, reminding me so much of Jack's that I had to look away. "And you knew this and didn't tell him?"

"I was going to. But I didn't have time, and I wanted to wait so I could tell him in person."

She crossed her arms. "When?"

"Today," I said softly, realizing how lame and stupid all my reasons for waiting suddenly seemed. Having that pointed out by a thirteen-year-old was both humbling and humiliating.

She sat down on the front steps. "I don't think I want to see this, so I'm just going to hang out here for a while until the coast is clear and I can run up to my room. I don't think I can handle an angry Jack and Princess Pink at the same time without hurling." She squinted up at me. "I don't think he'll hit you, but if he does I wouldn't blame him."

"Thanks, Nola." I looked down at the steps, tempted to sit next to her, or jump in my car and drive anywhere, maybe cross-country, rather than go into that house and confront him.

Nola must have seen my hesitation. "If you can face mean dead people, you can do this, Mellie. He might even forgive you."

"Or not," I said as I took a deep breath and climbed the rest of the steps before opening the front door. The house was silent, making me think that maybe the cars outside weren't Jack's and Rebecca's, and I could go upstairs to my room, turn on my phone and call Jack, and tell him everything. I'd almost made it across the foyer to the steps when I heard my name called.