Dead Reflections (2 page)

“You’re a pessimist,” she said, feigning irritation.

“I’m a realist,” he sent back. “This is our investment and where we want to stay for years, maybe for the rest of our lives.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” she said with a pleased sigh as she regarded the place. “Look at the land around it. I could even buy a horse.”

“No horses. No, that’s too much of an expense. A dog, sure. A cat, yes. No horses, no cattle. You can trot up the road and pat the farm animals over there if you want to socialize with agricultural beasties.”

He stared at its rows of dark, paned windows. It had a deep green tin roof that looked to be in good condition.

“It’s going to need a lot of yard maintenance,” he tried one last time, knowing he was already defeated. He wondered why he wanted to dissuade her, other than the sheer size of the house seemed formidable. One or two good wood stoves could adequately heat even a large house, although he hoped at least one would be wood pellet instead of hardwood.

“We’ll look but we won’t jump to a decision with the agent around,” he told her. “We’ll discuss it and then contact him. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said.

Robbie drove away, feeling defeated, knowing that Tanya had already fallen for a house whose insides she hadn’t seen. He watched it grow smaller in the rearview mirror. He shivered a little and attributed it to the cool weather and damp ground. He turned the car’s heater on and allowed the soothing heat to flow over him.

“What is it about old houses that draw you so much?” he asked Tanya just before they reached home. They had two months to find a house before their agreed-upon closing date. He’d always grown up in new places, his father having been military and moving his family about every three years, so Robbie held no special affinity for these turn-of-the-century places. Tanya was stubbornly enamored with them.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, smiling. “Their beautiful architecture; their high ceilings, and maybe this sense of tradition and pride, like you’re carrying on something special and these houses love you for it.”

“It’s just a structure,” he said. They pulled into their driveway and he cut the engine. “It’s brick and stone and plaster and wood. It’s not like the building knows or feels anything.”

“I don’t know about that.” She looked at him before they disembarked.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh,” she shrugged. “I’ve been in a lot of old places and they’re like quiet, polite guests at a party; they sit in the background and observe what’s going on around them. They don’t make themselves conspicuous, but they’re there, just the same.”

“That’s weird,” he said.

She just laughed.

* * *

10:00 A.M.: The Next Morning

They waited in the car. The agent, a fellow named Desmond Hawkins, had agreed to meet them in front of the place. At 10:02 they saw a car pull over a hill and up behind them. A stout, middle-aged man with short, dark hair, wearing a red ski jacket and black chinos, walked towards them. He held a clipboard with papers.

Tanya and Robbie got out and they shook hands with the man.

“Des Hawkins. Pleased to meet you.”

“I’m Robbie Parker and this is my wife, Tanya. Thanks for agreeing to show us the place.”

Hawkins laughed. “Hey, my pleasure and my job. It’s quite the house inside.”

They strolled up the long drive.

“I have a truck,” Robbie said. “If it’s what we think we want, I guess I’ll need to get a shovel attachment.”

Des Hawkins grinned. “There are a few guys in town who’ll plough for a reasonable fee, but sure, a shovel would save you money. The place comes with a lot of charms that will override things like long driveways. Wait until you see it.”

“Full wraparound porch,” Hawkins continued, “with a partially enclosed, winterized section that contains blown-in hot air from gas furnace vents. You’ll be able to sit out there in the middle of January to enjoy the morning sun and read your newspaper.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Tanya said.

“Oh, it’s quite the show place.” Hawkins brought them up to the front door, knocked first, and when he got no reply, used the passkey to let them into an expansive foyer of stained glass, polished oak floors, and a carved oaken staircase that bent around to reach the second story landing. Tanya pulled in her breath. Even Robbie had to admit he was taken by this first impression.

“It’s in beautiful condition,” he said. “But I have to ask…why are they letting it go at a break-even price, even if the fellow took another job? Sometimes a spouse will stay behind a few extra months in order to get a good price.”

Hawkins glanced at him, then down at his information sheet. “Here’s a copy of the real estate info on the place. From what the husband told me, and I’ve only met the couple twice, he has taken a job in Montreal. He travels a lot with his work. The wife doesn’t work outside the home and doesn’t want to be left here alone for several weeks at a time. She finds the house too big. They’re willing to forfeit profit in order to meet their required closing date.”

“Which is when?” he asked, curious.

Hawkins looked at him. “As soon as possible. They’ve already put in a conditional bid on a condo in the city.”

“Ah.” It made a little more sense to him now. They could lose their desired abode if this one didn’t sell quickly enough, and not everyone wanted a house the size of a small castle. The wife sounded a bit needy and nervous too. Tanya wouldn’t have a problem being on her own, but that was just Tanya, Robbie reasoned.

Hawkins brought them through the main floor with its sweeping kitchen, its formal dining room, its library, its den, its parlor, and a spare bedroom, all with expansive ten-foot high ceilings done in elaborate plaster molding and exquisite paneling and woodwork, each room with inlaid stained glass windows above long dormers. A powder room with a separate bath waited off the main kitchen. Cupboards and cubbyholes abounded everywhere. The place contained a feel that combined rural comfort with exquisite accessories. It had a dumb waiter in which to hurl laundry down to the basement apart from the main stairwell. They peeked into the dumb waiter.

“We’ll have to keep Cory away from that,” Robbie said. “He’d try to use it as a hidey tunnel.”

“Kids,” Tanya laughed.

“You have access from all ends of the house with an extra stairwell,” Hawkins commented. “Not only does it provide an interesting architectural design, but for safety reasons alone, having more than one access out is a positive consideration.”

Robbie nodded, thinking in terms of a house fire. He’d have never attributed it to anything else at that moment.

The second story via the main stairwell branched out in two directions and around the top of the main stairs, leading to six well-sized bedrooms, a main bathroom, a guest bathroom, and a built-in tub and shower in the master bedroom.

“Oh Robbie, it’s amazing,” Tanya grabbed his arm.

He had to admit that, for the money, it was a lot of house and, from what he saw so far, in exceptional condition.

Hawkins took them into each of the bedrooms, opening closets to display depth, shelving, storage nooks and crannies. They walked into the room dubbed the guest bedroom. The current family had done their best to decorate the house, but it had become clear to Robbie that it had been more house than they’d been able to adequately furnish. He had to say the same for themselves, but reconciled the fact that, one day, Tanya and he would have grandchildren from their three sons and that the extra bedrooms and living space would be better accommodated in the future.

The guest bathroom was small, but efficient with white tile throughout, a crisp old-fashioned claw foot tub, wrap around shower curtain, but modern showerhead. An antique barn-board cabinet held a small, oval porcelain sink above which sat a huge antique mirror framed in gold guild, its glass marred in spots with age and the silver lining behind it having broken down in spots. He regarded the mirror, thinking that, antique or not, he might want something clearer and more modern in here. Hawkins motioned for Tanya and Robbie to follow him into the corridor again.

A fly buzzed in the bathroom window; thick, furry bluebottle insect, intent on trying to get out. Another couple of flies just like it lay dead on the windowsill. It was spring, cow country; flies might be an issue. And then, out of nowhere, Robbie saw the fly spiral like a small jet shot down, buzzing, to the sill. He cocked his head in confusion. Insects didn’t tend to die like that. They’d gradually slow and become lethargic. The fly convulsed and thrashed, as if sprayed with some kind of neurotoxin, and yet nothing had touched it. Within seconds, it went still like the others. He felt fascinated observing it.

“Strange,” he murmured.

He went to follow Hawkins and found himself facing the mirror.

It wasn’t his reflection that looked back at him.

It was his clothes, his build, his haircut; the features were his, but the eyes were not. Something dark and foreign regarded him from the depths of his corneas. Horror burned like acid. He saw a shadow move across the wall behind him, and then, as quickly as the fly had expired, the impression and sensation passed. Robbie took a step back and felt himself hit the wall. He almost screamed. Tanya and Hawkins were in the next room, discussing something about floor stains. He stared at the mirror. Morning sunlight hadn’t penetrated this room yet; it remained in soft shadow. He leaned toward the mirror, examining himself. He saw the details that were familiar to his face – his freshly shaven cheeks and chin that promised a shadow of whisker by the evening; the small pimple that had popped out at the base of his chin a few days ago; the tiny capillaries beside each nostril. The dark blue eyes looking back at him were his this time. His expression was one of shock. He regarded the mirror from different angles. It must have been a play of light.

He left the bathroom, then on impulse, walked back into it again and quickly glanced in the mirror. He saw only himself and three dead flies lying on their backs along the sill, lined up like small trophies.

“Robbie?”

“Yeah!” he called. “Just taking a last minute look at the tub in here.” He caught up with them in the master bedroom, a magnificent room with polished, inlaid maple flooring, a massive stone fireplace mantel, and walk-in closets the size of a small bedroom he’d once had as a child. His heart pounded, but he forced himself to take a deep breath. A high molded ceiling in ornate plaster provided a gothic appearance to the room. The family had furnished in earthy, simple furniture and tones. Off of it, another bathroom, this one large with a fully sunken tub and expensive accessories. A wall-length mirror, modern, adorned one wall. He scanned it and saw nothing out of place; just his, Tanya’s, and Hawkins’ reflections, their expressions benign.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Tanya gushed. “Robbie, I love the place. If they want to get rid of it this cheap, that’s our gain.”

He wanted to agree with her because what he’d seen of the house so far had been wonderful. Hawkins brought them through the remaining rooms, up to the third story which consisted of four distinct sections of fully finished attic: a recreation style room, a small office, a play room, and a storage space where someone had built in a closet and intricate cedar shelving. The windows, although antique, were in sound shape. They finished on the main floor and basement, the basement a clean and solid concrete floor with a brand new natural gas furnace and recent plumbing. Electrical was up to code. Robbie couldn’t find a reason to fault the house, especially not for the price.

“Wouldn’t a place like this net them a lot more?” he wanted to know.

Hawkins shrugged. “Not everyone wants such a big house. It’s had a few showings prior to yours. Either they don’t want the maintenance of the grounds, or they don’t want to heat the place. It’s your gain if you don’t mind a big house, especially since you’ll be the folks who could turn around and sell it for a profit at any time, especially if you maintain it or add to it and you have the time to let it sit on the market for a while.”

“It’s a solid investment,” Tanya said.

“Yes,” Hawkins nodded. “A pretty good one, given today’s economic situation. The stock markets aren’t turning any real profit. Real estate usually turns over well.”

“But we won’t want to sell it,” she added. “This is my dream home.”

“What’s their closing date again?”

Hawkins face took on the expression of someone who knows he’s snagged a deal. “Exactly a month from now – May 12
th
; it doesn’t give you much time to secure a mover, but I’m sure I could pull a few strings. Then there’s the usual paperwork, but given you sold your last place for just under the price of this one…you’ll owe peanuts on a mortgage; less than most people’s car payments for a couple of years.”

“I can’t believe it.” Tanya beamed. “The kids are going to love it. Don’t you love it, Robbie?”

He glanced around the main foyer again. They walked outside and took a look at the general grounds. The house came with ten acres of property.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “It’s quite the deal.”

They had the papers signed and everything approved by eight o’clock that evening and the house was theirs. He thought of the mirror in the guest bathroom, but cast it from his mind. He’d not grown up in an old house, had never lived in one, and scratched the impression up to that of someone who felt a little spooked by a house so large. It had been a trick of shadow and light, he reasoned. Nothing else.

* * *

Their youngest son, Cory, who was nine, had the most questions about the house. They’d brought all three kids, Chris, eighteen; Cole, fifteen; and Cory, wedged between his brothers in the back seat, to see the outside of the place a week before the move. They’d all (especially the older two) been both curious and insistent upon knowing where they were about to live.

Chris, who was about to begin college the coming autumn, peered at the house through the car’s side window.

“It looks like the house in ‘
Salem’s Lot
,” he commented, wrinkling his nose. “I don’t know if I like it.”