A Wife In Time. Cathie Linz

her feet into another pair of high heels for what would no doubt be more standing tonight, so she instead chose a pair of velvet flats.

      Unfortunately, there wasn’t time to do much with her hair. Savannah’s springtime humidity had turned her dark waves into an uncontrollable mop. The best she could do was pin it up so she wouldn’t get too hot.

      The finishing touch to her outfit was an antique garnet necklace that was a favorite of hers. A matching pair of drop earrings and bracelet completed the set, which she’d inherited from her great-grandmother. Normally, Susannah didn’t bring the set on a business trip, but the promise of the costume party tonight had been too good an opportunity to resist.

      Glancing at her watch, she swore softly. She only had five minutes to get downstairs and catch the charter bus going to the party. Susannah grabbed her purse and was out in the hallway before realizing that she should have switched to a smaller bag.

      Such was her life in a nutshell, Susannah noted as she impatiently jabbed at the elevator button. She was almost organized. Almost together. But inevitably there would be one thing that threw a wrench in the plan. Tonight that one thing was her purse.

      She was the last one to board the bus, where everyone was dressed to the nines. Once they reached the historical house, guests had to show their invitations at the door in order to be allowed inside. It took Susannah five minutes to find the gilt-edged invitation in her bag—which still held the apple she’d picked up for lunch, along with the personal cassette player she’d listened to on the flight that morning, among other things.

      Slinging her purse back over her shoulder, and almost decking the man behind her, Susannah followed the crowd into the front parlor. The place was packed. Rather than head for the buffet table laden with food, she chose to join a tour that was gathering at the foot of the stairs.

      On her way there she bumped into someone, or more accurately her purse did. “Sorry,” she said with a smile that evaporated as she recognized Kane Wilder. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

      “Looking for you,” Kane replied. “I told you I wasn’t done talking to you.”

      “Well, I’m done talking to you.” With those words, she slipped past him and moved up the stairs with the rest of the tour group. To her dismay, Kane followed her.

      “Only two people to a step, please,” the tour guide requested when Kane joined her on the stairs. “We’re trying to minimize the wear and tear on the structure.”

      Wanting to minimize the wear and tear on her own composure, Susannah strove to keep her attention focused on holding up the long skirt of her dress as she climbed the steps. It was better than thinking about Kane—who was directly behind her.

      He’d looked incredibly dashing in his black formal wear, white tie and tails complete with a starched collar true to the Victorian period. She could feel his eyes on her and she wished she were ten pounds lighter. Maybe fifteen. The dress did nothing to hide her full figure.

      Kane was enjoying the view of Susannah Hall’s velvet-covered derriere. The stiff set of her bare shoulders radiated an ice-age chill. With her hair pinned up, he could see her pale nape as she leaned forward. For the first time since he’d arrived, he was glad he’d decided to attend this bash.

      He’d been tempted to stay in his hotel room and wait for his brother’s call, but past experience told him that Chuck wouldn’t be back for some time yet. When his brother got in a snit, he tended to brood for hours. Kane would check in with him again when this party was over. Meanwhile, he planned on hounding Susannah until she relented and agreed to leave his brother alone.

      At the moment, the tour guide was the only one talking. “The Whitaker house is a fine example of Federal architecture. In its heyday this house was at the center of Savannah society. At its low point, it was an apartment tenement in the 1930s and was almost torn down in the 1950s to build a parking lot when, thankfully, the Historical Preservation League saved it.”

      Susannah shuddered to think of this lovely home being demolished and paved over. Sensing Kane coming closer, she edged around the person ahead of her. Throughout the tour of the second floor she managed to weave her way in and out of the crowd, always staying one step ahead of him.

      “As you can see,” their guide continued, “the second floor houses the family’s bedrooms, which have been decorated with period furnishings. On the wall along the stairway you’ll see several family portraits, including that of Elsbeth Whitaker—who is said to have committed suicide on these very steps.”

      Susannah rubbed her hands over her bare arms as a chill settled over her. She couldn’t see the painting due to the crowd of people still clustered in the hallway where she stood. Then the crowd parted and she saw a flash of the portrait—a white face and sad eyes. The image lingered even after she’d turned away.

      “What’s up on the third floor?” someone asked.

      “It’s a storage area that’s presently under construction and being renovated. It’s not open to the public,” the guide replied. “Now, on our way back down, remember that only two people are allowed on a step at a time, so please come down the stairs slowly and in groups of two.”

      “We need to talk,” Kane growled in her ear. “I’m not letting you off the hook until you promise to stay away from my brother.”

      “Go away!” she hissed, angrily pulling back from him. She needed to lose him and fast. She was feeling unsettled enough as it was, tonight. She wasn’t in the mood for any more confrontations. But there was no place to hide. Unless... Her gaze was drawn upstairs. Maybe she could ditch Kane by sneaking upstairs and waiting a few minutes until the coast was clear.

      While the tour guide’s back was turned and she still had the protection of the crowd, Susannah did just that. She didn’t take time to think about her actions. She just did it. It was almost as if she were compelled to do so.

      Kane was about to go down when he saw her out of the corner of his eye. Susannah was going up the stairs. Muttering under his breath, he went after her, slipping past the tour guide. He wasn’t going to let her get away from him that easily.

      Instead of a storage room under construction as the tour guide had claimed, he saw a room that looked to be completely furnished although very dimly lit with a sort of flickering candlelight. He also saw Susannah, just over the threshold of that room.

      Not wanting to get caught in a restricted area before he had a chance to talk to her, he whispered her name when he wanted to shout it.

      Paying him no heed, Susannah moved forward, away from him and toward a bright blue light that was coming from a rocking chair in the far corner near the other entrance into the room.

      Enchanted, Susannah forgot all about Kane. She was drawn forward, as if pulled by invisible forces. The nearer she got, the more the light shifted away from her toward the second doorway. Following it, for one instant she saw a face amid the ethereal blue light—it was the face of the woman in the portrait!

      Kane was right behind Susannah as she reached out to touch the pool of light, but it disappeared as they stepped through the second doorway after it. Whatever it was they’d witnessed had vanished!

      “Did you see that?” Susannah asked in a whisper. When he made no reply, she said, “You’re not going to tell me that you didn’t see it, are you?”

      “I’m not telling you anything except to stay away from my brother,” Kane replied curtly.

      “You sound like a broken record,” she informed him before hurrying back downstairs.

      Kane let her go. She’d caused him enough aggravation for one day. He’d talk to her again tomorrow, get her promise to stay away from his brother then. God knew, he’d had an exhausting day with little to eat. As for that strange light they’d seen upstairs...it must have been a hologram, perhaps a future exhibit of some kind for the historical house.

      The party was in full force now. The rooms were packed