Midnight Whispers (Cutler 4)

"Who's harmless?" Gavin asked quickly.

"It's only Homer," Luther said. "He lives with the Douglases, our closest neighbors. Don't mind him," he added and started away.

"But Luther . . . he just came into the house and last night, I'm sure he was on the roof peering in the windows," I said. "I think he's been spying on us all the time."

"Don't mind him," he repeated and left.

"Who is he, Charlotte? Why does he come here like this?" I asked, turning to her.

She shrugged and smiled.

"He likes us and Luther always gives him things. I leave him cupcakes and cookies. All I do is leave them on the c

ounter on the table and some time during the day, he comes and eats them. Sometimes, he helps Luther with the chores."

"He didn't try to hurt you, did he?" Gavin asked. "No. I think I frightened him more than he frightened me," I said.

"He just wants to know who you are and why you're here," Charlotte said. "He's shy. Maybe because his mommy and daddy found him in a field."

"They found him?"

"Just outside their house. Like Moses floating in a stream. There he was one day, crying: They had no children so they considered him a gift. But everyone knows that someone left him; someone didn't want him."

She laughed.

"Poor Homer. He thinks he fell out of the sky. Anyway," she said clapping her hands, "Luther said I could make the chicken and we could have a party tonight. Won't that be nice?"

"Will Homer come?" Jefferson asked, wide-eyed.

"Maybe. Maybe he will," Charlotte said and hurried off to start preparing.

"Okay," Gavin said nodding, "I'm sorry for not believing you last night. Homer," he added, shaking his head. "I wonder what other surprises are in store for us here. Come on, Jefferson," he said, putting his arm around his little shoulders, "let's return to our slave labor. The menfolks have to do the real work around here," he added teasingly.

"Is that right? Well, for your information, Gavin Steven Longchamp, household chores are just as hard if not harder than farm chores, especially if the house has been neglected as long as this one has," I fired back, my hands on my hips.

"Uh oh, little nephew. We're in the doghouse. Let's get moving while we still can."

"Huh?" Jefferson said, confused. Gavin leaned toward me to whisper.

"When you get mad, real mad," he said, "you look even more beautiful."

I felt myself flush from head to toe and was speechless as he laughed and hurried off, Jefferson tagging behind.

That evening we did have a wonderful meal. In his quiet way, Luther got into the spirit of things and brought in fresh lettuce, tomatoes and carrots from the garden, as well as one large potato for each of us. Charlotte announced that she wanted us to eat in the formal dining room.

"Just the way we used to when Daddy had important guests," she added and Luther grunted his agreement. I dusted down and polished the long, dark mahogany table and Charlotte produced a beautiful lace tablecloth and then showed me their good china and silverware. She told me Emily used to keep all these things under lock and key in a big chest in the pantry.

"After she died and went to hell, Luther broke the lock and we took everything out and put back where it belonged. We're still finding things where Emily hid them in the house," she added joyfully. "Even money under a rug!"

Luther decided it would be all right to turn on the chandeliers during dinner. With the table set with the fine china and good silverware, the goblets and linen napkins, the dining room did look elegant. Luther produced two silver candelabra and set them on the table, too. Then we all went up to dress. Gavin decided he and I should dress up in the formal clothing we had discovered and Charlotte talked Luther into putting on a clean shirt and pants, as well as brushing his hair.

After Gavin helped Jefferson dress, he knocked on the door of the bathroom, where I had been inside preparing myself. I had used the brushes and combs from the small cherrywood chest to fix my hair so I would look like the young woman in the old silver frame, the sides of my hair brushed back sternly, but the back of it tied and pinned with one of the pearl combs so it flowed down the back of my neck. Then I put on a string of pearls and pearl earrings.

"Is madam ready to be escorted to dinner?" Gavin asked.

"One moment," I called and adjusted my crinoline. How did women wear all this? I wondered. When I opened the door, it was as if Gavin and I had fallen back through time. In his top hat and tails he looked handsome and elegant, and what. had been silly and humorous up in the attic now looked proper and fine. I could see the look of surprise and pleasure in his eyes as he gazed at me. For a moment neither of us spoke.

"You both look funny," Jefferson said, laughing.