Leigh Howard and the Ghosts of Simmons-Pierce Manor by Shawn M. Warner

Author:Shawn M. Warner [Warner, Shawn M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Rose Writing
Published: 2022-11-22T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

“Good morning,” a cheery, sing-song voice chirruped.

Leigh groaned. Rolling over, turning her back to the door, she punched her pillow deeper beneath her head. “It’s too early, Myra. Come back in an hour. Two would be better.”

Unfamiliar tittering made her eyes burst open.

“Myra is out in the garden. My name is Miss Tree.”

Leigh rolled over. “Oh. Sorry. Can you come back in an hour? Perhaps two?”

“No, dear. It’s time you were up.”

“I thought you were supposed to be my therapist or something, not my alarm clock.”

“I am a licensed therapist, but I’m also to be your tutor, your governess, your...”

“Warden?”

“Now, now. Let’s not get off on the wrong foot. Shall I draw you a bath?”

Not waiting for Leigh to answer, Miss Tree scurried into the bathroom. Leigh heard the water start to run.

“I agree,” Leigh called after her in a firm voice as she rolled out of bed, allowing her legs to dangle over the side. “We shouldn’t get off on the wrong foot. So, here’s the deal. I admit I could use some help. And I’m glad you are here for that. But otherwise? I look after myself. I take my own baths. I dress myself. I keep my own schedule. And, I get myself up in the morning.”

“Of course, dear,” Miss Tree said as if Leigh hadn’t spoken. “Breakfast will be ready in twenty minutes.”

As Miss Tree came out of the bathroom, Leigh glared at her, getting in a good look and making her first impression. Miss Tree was a middle-aged woman who could have been very attractive if not for her frumpiness. Her short-sleeved dress had a floral calico pattern with lace at the cuffs and collar. The hem was even with the bottom of her knees. Pretty streaks of blonde ran through her brown hair but, hanging limp and styled solely with an unimaginative part, they accentuated the frump. Her gum sole, sensible shoes completed the maiden-aunt image and made annoying squeaks as Miss Tree left Leigh’s room.

“I can already tell, this is not going to go well,” Leigh muttered, getting up to close the door.

Almost two weeks had passed since Tristin announced he’d hired a therapist for her. In that time, Leigh made it a point to keep on her best behavior. Not putting a toe out of line, she began to hope Tristin forgot about it, or reconsidered the decision. He obviously didn’t. Leigh shuffled to the bathroom feeling defeated.

She turned off the shower before brushing her teeth. Moving to her wardrobe beneath the stairs, she paid particular attention to making herself look unapproachable, hoping that would keep Miss Tree at arm’s length. She selected jeans that weren’t too formfitting but weren’t overly baggy, either; a dark t-shirt that was too big for her; her doodled-on Keds high tops and, of course; her hoodie, fresh from the wash. Outside the closet, she looked at reflection in her mirror with disappointment. She looked the same as she did every day.

Back inside the wardrobe the board covering Little Bodie’s hiding place wiggled.

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