The Scent of Heather. V. J. Banis

houses never meant much to me. Right now I’m more attracted to things like penthouses and the excitement of city life.”

      “Then why in heaven’s name did you agree to come to Pinebrook to lease a house?” He fumbled in his jacket pocket for a cigarette. He shook one out of the pack and offered it to Rebecca.

      “Thanks.” She strolled toward one of the windows that overlooked the garden. David moved to stand beside her. He lit her cigarette.

      “It was really my idea, believe it or not. Losing our husbands was quite a surprise—both of them at once like that. Maggie really took it hard. As I told you, I wasn’t all that broken up about losing George. Naturally I didn’t want to see him dead, but as long as that was the way it happened, I accepted it readily enough. Maggie, though, started to mope around. You’ve seen what she’s like—all that mourning black, the long face, the whole bit. I suggested we get out of the city for a while and find some quiet little corner until she worked herself out of her depression. I thought if I got Maggie away from everything that reminded her of her husband she’d come out of her shell and turn back into being a woman.”

      “I think she’s a very attractive woman,” David said.

      Rebecca nodded. “Yes, under those widow’s weeds Maggie is quite a looker, but she doesn’t think she is. She has this thing about feeling sorry for herself and she expects everyone else to feel that way about her, too.”

      “You must be very fond of your sister to sacrifice your own happiness for her sake.”

      “Oh, I wouldn’t go as far as to say that. I know I’m being foolish to live my life to suit Maggie—at least for the time being—but, you see, Maggie more or less raised me from the time I was a child. So I’m kind of indebted to her, if you know what I mean.”

      “You should never try to live your life for someone else,” David said. “It usually ends up by making everybody concerned unhappy.”

      Maggie came back into the room. David turned to her. “Well, Mrs. Garrison, did everything go all right between you and Sophie?”

      “You’re right, Mr. McCloud. She’s a bit shy and more than just a bit odd, but I think we communicated.”

      “As I told you, she isn’t completely right upstairs,” David said, tapping his temple. “But she’s very sweet, a good worker, honest, dependable and a fantastic cook.”

      “Oh, I’m sure we’ll get along just fine,” Maggie said. “The only disconcerting thing about her is that she kept calling me Miss Heather.”

      “Well, Miss Heather,” Rebecca said pointedly, “shall we follow Mr. McCloud back into Pinebrook and find ourselves a place for the night. I don’t want to stay here. I’m afraid of the dark.”

      David laughed. “I’m afraid there isn’t any hotel in Pinebrook, but we have a nice little rooming house. It’s small but I think Mrs. Johnston, the owner, will make you comfortable.”

      “Do you live in Pinebrook, Mr. McCloud, or do you commute?” Rebecca asked.

      “I own a little place up in the mountains near here but I only go there on weekends or whenever I want to get away from things. During the week I rent a couple of rooms—like a small apartment—from Mrs. Johnston.”

      “Then we’ll be neighbors, at least for tonight,” Rebecca said.

      “That we will.” He gave Rebecca a wink, which Maggie did not see.

      CHAPTER TWO

      Mrs. Johnston was as nondescript looking as her house. She wore a long white skirt, white blouse and apron and looked more like a hospital attendant than an innkeeper. Her hair was dyed pale blonde. She was tall and thin, and her eyes were cool, almost cold. Maggie introduced herself and Rebecca.

      “Yes,” Mrs. Johnston said without smiling. “Mr. McCloud telephoned.” Her voice was pleasant enough and showed a kind of refinement. “I’ve been expecting you. This way, please.” She turned sharply and started along a hallway that ended at a flight of stairs. She marched rather than walked up the stairway with Maggie and Rebecca close behind.

      “In here,” Mrs. Johnston said, pushing open a door. “I don’t serve meals. The room will be eighteen dollars for the night.”

      “Thank you, it will do nicely,” Maggie said as she looked at the barren little white room. It was so bleached out it was depressing, but Maggie reminded herself that there was no other place to stay. “We’ll only be staying for tonight. We’ve leased the Lambert place and plan on moving in tomorrow.”

      Maggie saw the woman’s eyes widen and her chin drop but Mrs. Johnston—although obviously surprised at the news—made no sound. In a moment she regained her composure. She crossed her arms tightly as though hugging back any comment she was tempted to make. “I see,” she said as she straightened herself up to her full height. Saying no more, she pivoted and left Maggie and Rebecca alone.

      Maggie went to the door and closed it. “She certainly is a bundle of charm.”

      Rebecca looked around the room. “You can easily tell she had a hand in decorating this place. I’ve seen the inside of refrigerators that were cozier than this.”

      Maggie laughed, forgetting the friction between them, “Yes, it could use a bit of color. Mrs. Johnston obviously has a ‘white’ fetish.” She sighed and put her overnight case on the bed, unsnapping the lid. “Oh, well, it’s only for one night. What do you think of the house we rented, Rebecca?”

      “It’s okay. A house is a house. It’ll do for the time being. It’s bigger than I thought it would be.”

      “I like it. It is rather large, I must admit, but I think we’ll be happy there.” She took out her nightgown and draped it across the coverlet. “I thought the place had a nice personality, didn’t you?”

      “How can a house have a personality?”

      “Places and things have moods and feelings; haven’t you ever felt that?”

      “Can’t say that I have,” Rebecca answered, sounding totally disinterested in the conversation.

      “You will never really appreciate all there is to life, I’m afraid. You’re interested only in the superficial, the surface aspects of people and things. You don’t take time to look beneath the veneer where the real beauty lies.”

      “David mentioned taking us to dinner tonight,” Rebecca said, purposely changing the subject. “Did he say seven or seven-thirty?”

      “Seven. We have time for a nap if you like.”

      “I think it’s going to be hard enough falling asleep in this white snowdrift at night; I don’t think I’d be able to close my eyes in the daylight.” She went toward the door on the opposite wall. “Good Lord,” she gasped as she saw the all-white bathroom. “It looks as though somebody dipped this place into a bottle of Clorox. You can hardly tell where the sink and tub are against all this white tile. It’s so bright it’s giving me a headache.”

      Maggie walked over and stood beside her. “I see what you mean,” she said as she stared at the blinding white bathroom.

      “What would possibly induce somebody to go to such extremes over the color white?” Rebecca asked. “That old gal must be a little loose upstairs.”

      Maggie grinned. “Maybe she has a virgin complex.”

      “From the looks of Mrs. Johnston, I doubt if she’s aware that women are different from men.” Rebecca crinkled her nose. “Let’s get out of here and take a walk or something. This room is starting to get to me.”

      Maggie picked up her purse and followed Rebecca out of the room. In the hall, Rebecca glanced around. “One thing about this place does please me, though,” Rebecca said. “I wonder which are David McCloud’s rooms.” She grinned. “A man like that brightens up even