Tears pricked her eyes and she blinked them back. Seymour wouldn’t want her to cry. Even on his deathbed, he hadn’t wanted her tears. “I’ve lived a long and interesting life, girl. I’ve got no regrets. Now it’s time for you to live life to the fullest.”
When she’d protested, he’d scowled at her. “Don’t think I don’t know the only reason you’ve stuck around here all these years is because of me. You don’t need to have some old man taking up all your time. You’re young. You need to get out there in the world and live a little.”
Amanda rubbed her eyes as the memories threatened to overwhelm her. Seymour had been family. The only one she’d every really had. After shuffling from foster home to foster home for most of her life, Amanda had been emancipated at the age of eighteen.
As a birthday gift, she’d been booted out of the home she’d been living in for the last six months, as the state would no longer pay for her upkeep.
Alone and desperate, Amanda had answered an ad in the local paper. It had simply said, “Assistant wanted.”
She’d been fascinated by Seymour Morton and his books from the moment she’d stepped into his jam-packed store on Mission Road. Books had always been Amanda’s escape from reality. The thought of being able to make a living and support herself while being around books was intriguing and very appealing.
Seymour had taken one look at Amanda and scowled at her. She’d scowled right back at him. Tall and thin to the point of being gaunt, he was an intimidating sight with his wild shock of white hair and his bushy white mustache. But she didn’t care. She’d been in the foster care system too long to show fear. To show fear was to give another person power over you, power they usually abused.
The strangest thing had happened then. Rather than be angry with her for scowling at him, he’d smiled, flashing two gold teeth in the front. “You’ve got spunk. I like that.”
From that day forth, she’d worked beside him, soaking up all his knowledge, which he’d shared freely. He’d become her teacher, her friend and the family she’d never had.
Now he was gone and she was alone again.
“Buck up, Amanda.” She walked down the final step and moved into the basement, flashing the light along the wall. The electrical box was somewhere on her left. She remembered that much from when she’d toured the house before she bought it. “You’re having an adventure.”
Although, this was the kind of adventure she could have done without. She shivered as a cold draft skated over her face. No doubt about it, she didn’t want to be down here, especially with nothing more than a flashlight.
She quickened her pace. The faster she found out the problem, the faster she could get out of here. The electrical box was right where she remembered it. Holding the light steady, she opened it and peered inside. There didn’t seem to be anything amiss.
This was so not good. Why hadn’t she checked the electrical system before she bought the house? “Because you were so in love with the house you would have bought it no matter what,” she muttered.
Slamming the door to the panel shut, she whirled around and bolted for the stairs.
What she needed was an expert. The electrical system was nothing to fool around with.
She needed to make certain she wouldn’t fry her computer system. That definitely wouldn’t be good for business.
The light in the kitchen seemed unusually bright after the pitch darkness of the basement and Amanda blinked several times to accustom her eyes. The mug of coffee she’d poured before she’d gone downstairs still sat on the kitchen counter. She laid aside the flashlight and picked up her mug, taking a large swallow. She hoped it would chase away the cold shivers.
She’d unpacked the coffee pot, supplies and her large sunflower motif mug first thing this morning. Amanda couldn’t imagine starting her day without coffee. After Elizabeth and her sexy brother, Jonah, had left yesterday, Amanda had spent the remainder of the afternoon making notes and running to the local stores. She’d bought cleaning supplies and some basic groceries, most of which were still in bags.
Her plan this morning had been to start cleaning the kitchen before she unpacked enough pots and dishes to get by on. She wanted to paint before she settled in.
Yes, she still had to work, but a couple hours a day on her laptop would take care of everything that needed to be dealt with. She’d worked hard preparing for this move during the past few months since Seymour’s death, and she had scheduled several weeks off to allow for painting and minor repairs.
She guessed this qualified as a minor repair. At least she hoped it was minor. She had a sneaking suspicion it would be anything but.
The big question was, who did she call?
She laid down her mug and stared at the boxes and bags piled in the middle of the kitchen. “Where did I put that phone book?” A quick search turned up absolutely nothing.
Amanda was slightly disgusted with herself. She was usually much better organized, but she’d been a bit scattered lately.
Picking up her cell phone, she dialed the one number in town she knew by heart. At the last second, she checked her watch and swore under her breath. It was only quarter to eight in the morning.
“Stone Manor, how may I help you?” A deep voice reverberated through the phone line. At least Cyndi’s husband, Shamus, was up and around.
Cyndi O’Rourke was the reason that Amanda had moved to Jamesville. She’d met the woman almost a year ago when she’d handled the library of her late father’s estate.
They’d become immediate friends. Cyndi hadn’t been married to Shamus then, but Amanda had known it would happen. A blind man could see how much in love the two of them were.
Amanda smiled. “Morning, Shamus. How are you this morning?”
He laughed. “Morning, Amanda. I’m good. How are you doing? Settling into your new home?”
She wrapped one arm around her waist and looked around, still unable to believe that this was all hers. “I’m a little overwhelmed, but I’m loving it.” She paused and added truthfully, “Well, most of it.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure.” She wrinkled her nose when she noticed a smudge of dirt on her hand. Great. She’d probably picked it up from the stair railing or the electrical box itself.
That probably meant she had dirt on her face too.
“Two of the outlets in the office don’t work. When I went to check out the problem, the bulb at the bottom of the stairs went out. That could just be a bulb, but I’m not counting on that. I need an electrician to come and check everything out. Can you give me the name of someone local to call?” As a contractor, Shamus knew everyone in the construction business. He’d know who was reliable and honest.
“I’m just on my way out the door, why don’t I swing by and take a look?”
“I don’t want to be a bother.”
Shamus snorted. “No bother.” He paused and Amanda could hear a female voice in the background. “Oh, and Cyndi says she’s expecting you for supper tonight.”
A feeling of well-being enveloped her. It didn’t matter that Shamus and Cyndi had been her friends for almost a year now, she was still taken aback by their innate kindness.
It was something she’d never take for granted. Kindness had been in short supply for most of her life. “I’ll be there.”
“See you in a few.” Shamus hung up and Amanda closed her cell phone, shoving it into the back pocket of her jeans.
She’d had some doubts about this move. About packing up her apartment, the only place she’d lived since she was eighteen, but the time had been right for a move. Besides which, she hadn’t had a choice. Seymour had owned the building and his will had stipulated that all his property be sold. She’d had three months to get her affairs in order and move. Even in death, he was still trying to direct her life.