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| JULY 1, 2010 RELEASE DATE FOR CAULDRON BY Billie A Williams ISBN 978-1-59705-474-4 (electronic) $7.50 ISBN 978-1-59705-527-7 (print) $11.95 |
Cauldron’s name seemed apt the
boiling turmoil increased daily in the
small town. “Who knows what evil lurks
in the hearts of men -- protection from
the undead—the never tamed evil in the
hearts of men—vampires? Everyone
knew there was no such thing as
vampires—didn’t they?
Chapter One
Tiffany Tarus poured over the interior design books looking for the right pictures for the Moore home. The place was a fabulous find and
Anastasia Fleur would only accept the authentic best. Tiffany was sure she could do the job. Tiffany thought about her realtor friend and
number one referral generator, Anastasia, she had faith in her, and Tiffany wouldn’t, couldn’t disappoint her. It had to be perfect there was
no other way. And Tiffany wouldn’t accept less from herself.
First, she’d need to find a contractor to redo all the woodwork. There were rooms that needed to be put back the way they were originally.
Why would anyone partition off already small rooms? The last people to occupy the house were Sadie Chase Moore and that monster she
married Reginald Brutus Moore. He was a piece of work.
The Moore’s were not her problem now, restoring the mansion was. She opened her book of contractors she had used before and began
calling them. One after the other they turned her down for various reasons. She expected most would be already booked by this time of
year. But Darnby Coles had suggested she call Hunter Wake, a new contractor--at least new to the Cauldron area. She didn’t like using
anyone she didn’t know, especially, on a job of this magnitude. But, he came highly recommended and she trusted Darnby. Unsure if she
should call him or try to go see a project he had already completed before she even talked to him She chewed on the pencil. Darnby said
he had done the Spitzer place.
~*~
Tiffany got in her car and drove the three miles over to the Gaylord Spitzer home. Everyone said Gaylord was the most particular person that
ever walked the face of the earth. If Hunter could please him, well, he had possibilities. The Spitzer place looked like it was decked out for a
party--Easter was only weeks away. Had they actually had a Maypole dance? She didn’t remember seeing anything about it in the paper. It
looked like they were going to if they hadn’t already. Did she dare intrude with her questions? Oh, what the heck, nothing ventured, nothing
gained. She slid out of the Camry’s driver’s seat and headed for the front door.
Victoria Spitzer greeted her at the door herself rather than one of the servants, and graciously invited her in. “To what do we owe the
pleasure of a visit from you, Tiffany, dear?”
“I really am sorry to bother you. It looks like you are preparing for a party.”
“It’s no bother,” Victoria said motioning to her to sit on the couch in the living room. “The children are doing a Maypole later this afternoon.
You know children need to know all the fun things there are to do in this world. You so seldom see children smile anymore.”
Tiffany had to agree. It seemed the children she saw in the stores or on the street, few of them smiled. Certainly they never smiled at
strangers--that was a definite taboo. She nodded in agreement. “That certainly seems to be the case.”
“Tell me dear, what is it you came all the way out here to ask me?”
“I have a job that I need a trustworthy contractor for. All the guys I usually hire seem to be tied up with other business. Darnby recommended
a man called Hunter Wake. He said you had him do some work for you.”
“Hunter? Oh, yes. A most personable, fine young man. His family was related to the Featherwok’s. Do you remember Angelina
Featherwok? She was a delightful woman. She was always doing good wherever she could. Her money always supported a good cause.
Hunter is her grand nephew.”
“So, he did work for you?”
He renovated the guest cottage returning it to the décor that Gracie loved so much. Would you like to see some of his work?”
“I hate to trouble you, but the project I have….”
“Oh, no bother. Come along, it will be a nice walk and you’ll get to see my gardens. They are just getting riotous with the spring blooms. It’s
a glorious time to be alive, don’t you think?”
Tiffany did love the seasons. Spring was always a favorite, a promise of better things to come, it seemed. She followed Victoria out of the
double glass doors onto the patio and through the garden. The heady scent of Grape Hyacinth blooming tickled her nose. The lilacs had
begun to bloom already. Spring seemed to be a month ahead of itself. The winter had been very mild so that was probably why. The stone
walkway wound around through the garden to the small cottage several football field lengths away. A wooded area shaded it and afforded
privacy from the main house. It reminded Tiffany of a doll’s house she had seen in a movie once.
Victoria led her through the front door. Tiffany’s breath caught in her throat. The house was an exact replica of Prideaux Place, the pride of
Cornwall --the magazine article had said. Its rich green walls and gold trim closed the room in around her. Old family portraits framed in
ornate gold frames positioned perfectly among the panels on the walls. She felt like she had stepped into another world. “You mean Hunter
Wake did all this?” She spun around to take in the full room.
“Well, the furnishings are those we gathered from various estate sales and auctions, but he did do all the remodeling and detail that the
walls, ceiling, and woodwork needed. He replaced the modern windows with thermo pane replicas of what Prideaux would have had.
Gracie said it feels more like home then home did the last time she was back to Cornwall.”
Tiffany was impressed. The work was done by a master artist not a carpenter, not a burly contractor with hammer and chisel. “It’s beautiful.
Where on earth did you find the intricate, ornate frames for the portraits?” Dumb question she thought, too late. They probably have been in
the family since time began.
“Some of them we had, some of them Hunter found for us. He is a remarkable man with a real sense of history and artifacts.”
He began to be more intriguing to Tiffany all along. If he was good enough for Victoria Spitzer, he should be good enough for Anastasia
Fleur. “Thank you so much for allowing me to see the cottage. I really appreciate your time.”
“You are welcome anytime, dear. You should know that.”
Victoria showed her back through the garden and into the sitting room. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“No, I think I have all the answers I need.” Tiffany proceeded to walk toward the front door. “Do you know how I might contact Mr. Hunter?”
Victoria reached for a slip of paper from her desk in the front entry way. “Here, I’ll write his number down for you.” She scribbled a few words
and numbers on the paper and handed it to Tiffany. “Good luck with your project, and do come back again soon.”
She closed the door behind Tiffany. It was as if everything she needed was suddenly falling into place. She couldn’t help but wonder what
kind of man Hunter would be. He no doubt had to have more than a few years under his belt to know where and how to do this type of
detailed renovation.
~*~
She dialed the number Victoria had given her as he drove back toward home.
“Hello.” A deep male voice answered on the third ring. “This is Hunter Wake, I’m not here, but if you leave your name and a number where I
can reach you. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
There was a beep and Tiffany hesitated. Should she leave her number or should she wait until she could talk to him before--what was she
afraid of? That’s why people had answering machines after all, so they could stay in touch with those who needed their help. She quickly
told her phone number. “I’m an interior designer working on a project that needs some careful renovation. Darnby Coles recommended
you to me.”
After she hung up, she wondered if she did the right thing. Did she tell him too much? Maybe she should have just said she needed a
contractor for a project she was working on. Well, it was too late. She’d have to deal with him when he called. She continued on back to her
office.
~*~
She immersed herself in the books and magazines that Anastasia had brought her to try to familiarize herself with what vision she had for
the Chase mansion. It was the Chase mansion, not the Moore mansion. Anastasia had made certain Tiffany had understood the place
was not one that the Moore’s had owned, originally. Anastasia did not like Reginald Moore; she also let that be known. Who was going to
buy the place? Why did they want it back to the original style, shape and complete interior? What had Reginald done to it that had changed
its character? Anastasia had promised to take her over to the place this evening as she had some unfinished business to take care of
today. There wasn’t much she could do until either Hunter or Anastasia showed up or called.
Wonder if there was any information in the newspaper archives about Sadie Chase? The family had lived in Cauldron, Wisconsin for nearly
one hundred fifty years. Surely there would be some mention of them with as much money as they obviously had. Sometimes being new in
town had its disadvantages.
~*~
Tiffany drove over to the library where they had an extensive historical archive in the basement of the new building. It fascinated Tiffany from
the minute she had arrived in town. Surely, she would find information about the Chase family there.
The stodgy librarian looked over her half glasses and showed a whom-do-you-think-you-are attitude. “I have a project to restore the Chase
Mansion. I’m an interior designer. I figured it would be easier if I could find some history of the family, perhaps some photos of what the
house looked like before the Moores took it over.”
The Mrs. Sartorus stood up, her scowl deepened. She pointed to her watch, “We close in two hours. None of the archive files can be
removed from the premises,” her starched, abrupt manner didn’t disappear.
“That isn’t a problem,” Tiffany felt like a student being reprimanded for breathing or anything else deemed in appropriate by this particular
adult.
The woman acted like she owned the files or the building or both and that any intrusion was more than a bother to her. She unlocked the
door and turned on the lights as they went down the creaky stairs. In a newer building you would think the stairs would be silent, especially
in a library. Chills ran the length of Tiffany’s body. The librarian turned on the green desk lamp at one of the high podium type desks. The
atmosphere seemed to suggest a Dickens’s Christmas Carol rather than a newer library basement.
“This is the best place to read.” She nearly ordered Tiffany to use the spot she chose for her. “What files would you like to start with?”
“When did the last Chase family member die?” Tiffany’s voice cracked because of the dank mustiness of the earthy basement smell.
Then Mrs. Sartorus waddled over to a tall file shelf and removed a stack of newspapers. “These should get you started.” She plopped them
on the podium desk and headed toward the stairs. “I’ll be upstairs if you need anything. You have...” She looked at her watch again. “About
forty five minutes.”
The librarian turned on her heel and marched back across the room and up the stairs. Tiffany jumped when the door slammed shut. She
didn’t know she would be locked in the room, but it wouldn’t surprise her if the woman had locked the door. A stereotypical librarian from an
old, old movie as she began to peruse the papers. A draft circulated the musky smell of the room. Tiffany wished she could take the papers
to a more comfortable spot to read them. The room felt like it was closing in on her. She looked down at the paper and the face of Sadie
Chase Moore, pale and frail, stared back at her. Sadie stood over a coffin. The woman in the coffin looked like a carbon copy of Sadie but
with wrinkles saddening her face. Something brushed by Tiffany’s face. She turned to see what the intrusion was. No one was there.
Suddenly, she had had enough of the library. Maybe another day she’d research the Chase family tree. She hurriedly put the papers back
where the librarian had pulled them and practically flew up the stairs. She could swear she heard laughter as she opened the door at the
top of the stairs. The woman at the desk grinned. The grin wasn’t a smile; it was a sneer. It was as if the woman knew what Tiffany would
encounter in the basement room with Cauldron’s past safely tucked between the walls of its cellar. “I’ll be back another time.” Tiffany
offered. The woman didn’t bother with an answer just the sneer, which stuck in Tiffany’s mind and followed her out the door.
Tiffany Tarus poured over the interior design books looking for the right pictures for the Moore home. The place was a fabulous find and
Anastasia Fleur would only accept the authentic best. Tiffany was sure she could do the job. Tiffany thought about her realtor friend and
number one referral generator, Anastasia, she had faith in her, and Tiffany wouldn’t, couldn’t disappoint her. It had to be perfect there was
no other way. And Tiffany wouldn’t accept less from herself.
First, she’d need to find a contractor to redo all the woodwork. There were rooms that needed to be put back the way they were originally.
Why would anyone partition off already small rooms? The last people to occupy the house were Sadie Chase Moore and that monster she
married Reginald Brutus Moore. He was a piece of work.
The Moore’s were not her problem now, restoring the mansion was. She opened her book of contractors she had used before and began
calling them. One after the other they turned her down for various reasons. She expected most would be already booked by this time of
year. But Darnby Coles had suggested she call Hunter Wake, a new contractor--at least new to the Cauldron area. She didn’t like using
anyone she didn’t know, especially, on a job of this magnitude. But, he came highly recommended and she trusted Darnby. Unsure if she
should call him or try to go see a project he had already completed before she even talked to him She chewed on the pencil. Darnby said
he had done the Spitzer place.
~*~
Tiffany got in her car and drove the three miles over to the Gaylord Spitzer home. Everyone said Gaylord was the most particular person that
ever walked the face of the earth. If Hunter could please him, well, he had possibilities. The Spitzer place looked like it was decked out for a
party--Easter was only weeks away. Had they actually had a Maypole dance? She didn’t remember seeing anything about it in the paper. It
looked like they were going to if they hadn’t already. Did she dare intrude with her questions? Oh, what the heck, nothing ventured, nothing
gained. She slid out of the Camry’s driver’s seat and headed for the front door.
Victoria Spitzer greeted her at the door herself rather than one of the servants, and graciously invited her in. “To what do we owe the
pleasure of a visit from you, Tiffany, dear?”
“I really am sorry to bother you. It looks like you are preparing for a party.”
“It’s no bother,” Victoria said motioning to her to sit on the couch in the living room. “The children are doing a Maypole later this afternoon.
You know children need to know all the fun things there are to do in this world. You so seldom see children smile anymore.”
Tiffany had to agree. It seemed the children she saw in the stores or on the street, few of them smiled. Certainly they never smiled at
strangers--that was a definite taboo. She nodded in agreement. “That certainly seems to be the case.”
“Tell me dear, what is it you came all the way out here to ask me?”
“I have a job that I need a trustworthy contractor for. All the guys I usually hire seem to be tied up with other business. Darnby recommended
a man called Hunter Wake. He said you had him do some work for you.”
“Hunter? Oh, yes. A most personable, fine young man. His family was related to the Featherwok’s. Do you remember Angelina
Featherwok? She was a delightful woman. She was always doing good wherever she could. Her money always supported a good cause.
Hunter is her grand nephew.”
“So, he did work for you?”
He renovated the guest cottage returning it to the décor that Gracie loved so much. Would you like to see some of his work?”
“I hate to trouble you, but the project I have….”
“Oh, no bother. Come along, it will be a nice walk and you’ll get to see my gardens. They are just getting riotous with the spring blooms. It’s
a glorious time to be alive, don’t you think?”
Tiffany did love the seasons. Spring was always a favorite, a promise of better things to come, it seemed. She followed Victoria out of the
double glass doors onto the patio and through the garden. The heady scent of Grape Hyacinth blooming tickled her nose. The lilacs had
begun to bloom already. Spring seemed to be a month ahead of itself. The winter had been very mild so that was probably why. The stone
walkway wound around through the garden to the small cottage several football field lengths away. A wooded area shaded it and afforded
privacy from the main house. It reminded Tiffany of a doll’s house she had seen in a movie once.
Victoria led her through the front door. Tiffany’s breath caught in her throat. The house was an exact replica of Prideaux Place, the pride of
Cornwall --the magazine article had said. Its rich green walls and gold trim closed the room in around her. Old family portraits framed in
ornate gold frames positioned perfectly among the panels on the walls. She felt like she had stepped into another world. “You mean Hunter
Wake did all this?” She spun around to take in the full room.
“Well, the furnishings are those we gathered from various estate sales and auctions, but he did do all the remodeling and detail that the
walls, ceiling, and woodwork needed. He replaced the modern windows with thermo pane replicas of what Prideaux would have had.
Gracie said it feels more like home then home did the last time she was back to Cornwall.”
Tiffany was impressed. The work was done by a master artist not a carpenter, not a burly contractor with hammer and chisel. “It’s beautiful.
Where on earth did you find the intricate, ornate frames for the portraits?” Dumb question she thought, too late. They probably have been in
the family since time began.
“Some of them we had, some of them Hunter found for us. He is a remarkable man with a real sense of history and artifacts.”
He began to be more intriguing to Tiffany all along. If he was good enough for Victoria Spitzer, he should be good enough for Anastasia
Fleur. “Thank you so much for allowing me to see the cottage. I really appreciate your time.”
“You are welcome anytime, dear. You should know that.”
Victoria showed her back through the garden and into the sitting room. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“No, I think I have all the answers I need.” Tiffany proceeded to walk toward the front door. “Do you know how I might contact Mr. Hunter?”
Victoria reached for a slip of paper from her desk in the front entry way. “Here, I’ll write his number down for you.” She scribbled a few words
and numbers on the paper and handed it to Tiffany. “Good luck with your project, and do come back again soon.”
She closed the door behind Tiffany. It was as if everything she needed was suddenly falling into place. She couldn’t help but wonder what
kind of man Hunter would be. He no doubt had to have more than a few years under his belt to know where and how to do this type of
detailed renovation.
~*~
She dialed the number Victoria had given her as he drove back toward home.
“Hello.” A deep male voice answered on the third ring. “This is Hunter Wake, I’m not here, but if you leave your name and a number where I
can reach you. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
There was a beep and Tiffany hesitated. Should she leave her number or should she wait until she could talk to him before--what was she
afraid of? That’s why people had answering machines after all, so they could stay in touch with those who needed their help. She quickly
told her phone number. “I’m an interior designer working on a project that needs some careful renovation. Darnby Coles recommended
you to me.”
After she hung up, she wondered if she did the right thing. Did she tell him too much? Maybe she should have just said she needed a
contractor for a project she was working on. Well, it was too late. She’d have to deal with him when he called. She continued on back to her
office.
~*~
She immersed herself in the books and magazines that Anastasia had brought her to try to familiarize herself with what vision she had for
the Chase mansion. It was the Chase mansion, not the Moore mansion. Anastasia had made certain Tiffany had understood the place
was not one that the Moore’s had owned, originally. Anastasia did not like Reginald Moore; she also let that be known. Who was going to
buy the place? Why did they want it back to the original style, shape and complete interior? What had Reginald done to it that had changed
its character? Anastasia had promised to take her over to the place this evening as she had some unfinished business to take care of
today. There wasn’t much she could do until either Hunter or Anastasia showed up or called.
Wonder if there was any information in the newspaper archives about Sadie Chase? The family had lived in Cauldron, Wisconsin for nearly
one hundred fifty years. Surely there would be some mention of them with as much money as they obviously had. Sometimes being new in
town had its disadvantages.
~*~
Tiffany drove over to the library where they had an extensive historical archive in the basement of the new building. It fascinated Tiffany from
the minute she had arrived in town. Surely, she would find information about the Chase family there.
The stodgy librarian looked over her half glasses and showed a whom-do-you-think-you-are attitude. “I have a project to restore the Chase
Mansion. I’m an interior designer. I figured it would be easier if I could find some history of the family, perhaps some photos of what the
house looked like before the Moores took it over.”
The Mrs. Sartorus stood up, her scowl deepened. She pointed to her watch, “We close in two hours. None of the archive files can be
removed from the premises,” her starched, abrupt manner didn’t disappear.
“That isn’t a problem,” Tiffany felt like a student being reprimanded for breathing or anything else deemed in appropriate by this particular
adult.
The woman acted like she owned the files or the building or both and that any intrusion was more than a bother to her. She unlocked the
door and turned on the lights as they went down the creaky stairs. In a newer building you would think the stairs would be silent, especially
in a library. Chills ran the length of Tiffany’s body. The librarian turned on the green desk lamp at one of the high podium type desks. The
atmosphere seemed to suggest a Dickens’s Christmas Carol rather than a newer library basement.
“This is the best place to read.” She nearly ordered Tiffany to use the spot she chose for her. “What files would you like to start with?”
“When did the last Chase family member die?” Tiffany’s voice cracked because of the dank mustiness of the earthy basement smell.
Then Mrs. Sartorus waddled over to a tall file shelf and removed a stack of newspapers. “These should get you started.” She plopped them
on the podium desk and headed toward the stairs. “I’ll be upstairs if you need anything. You have...” She looked at her watch again. “About
forty five minutes.”
The librarian turned on her heel and marched back across the room and up the stairs. Tiffany jumped when the door slammed shut. She
didn’t know she would be locked in the room, but it wouldn’t surprise her if the woman had locked the door. A stereotypical librarian from an
old, old movie as she began to peruse the papers. A draft circulated the musky smell of the room. Tiffany wished she could take the papers
to a more comfortable spot to read them. The room felt like it was closing in on her. She looked down at the paper and the face of Sadie
Chase Moore, pale and frail, stared back at her. Sadie stood over a coffin. The woman in the coffin looked like a carbon copy of Sadie but
with wrinkles saddening her face. Something brushed by Tiffany’s face. She turned to see what the intrusion was. No one was there.
Suddenly, she had had enough of the library. Maybe another day she’d research the Chase family tree. She hurriedly put the papers back
where the librarian had pulled them and practically flew up the stairs. She could swear she heard laughter as she opened the door at the
top of the stairs. The woman at the desk grinned. The grin wasn’t a smile; it was a sneer. It was as if the woman knew what Tiffany would
encounter in the basement room with Cauldron’s past safely tucked between the walls of its cellar. “I’ll be back another time.” Tiffany
offered. The woman didn’t bother with an answer just the sneer, which stuck in Tiffany’s mind and followed her out the door.