Ghost Moon Read Free Page A

exchanged startled glances. For a moment they stood there, hand in hand in the darkness, every sense alert, as a new and incongruous sound joined the chorus of the night.

CHAPTER 3
    ‘‘I THINK IT’S ‘TWIST AND SHOUT,’ ’’ OLIVIA said incredulously after a moment, as some of the tension begin to seep from her fear-tightened muscles. It was impossible to remain sensitive to ghostly atmosphere with that sixties hit reverberating through the air, she thought with relief. After a couple of seconds, a reminiscent smile curved her lips. The family must be having a party. Of course, that was why no one had answered the phone when she had called from the bus station. The Archers did things like that. In the summer, particularly in August, they had huge outdoor barbecues/dances to which the whole town was invited, and came.
    The Archers had always been bigger-than-life, more colorful and exciting than anyone else she had ever known. Since leaving them, Olivia realized, her life had turned as drably brown as an acre of parched land. Now, just as soon as she had set foot on Archer land again, peacock colors began seeping in.
    How she had missed their brightness!
    ‘‘It’s a party. Come on, we’re missing the fun.’’ She tried to infuse a note of gaiety into her voice, and was heartened to see Sara smile in response. Hand in hand, they walked forward with renewed energy, buoyed by the infectious beat of the music that grew louder with every step.
    ‘‘Wow!’’ Sara’s reverent exclamation echoed Olivia’s thought as they puffed their way up the last step cut into the twenty-foot-high limestone bluff. Standing side by side on level ground, they stopped by mutual, unspoken consent to absorb the scene before them.
    Flaming six-foot-tall citronella torches formed a picturesque and, as Olivia remembered it, highly effective mosquito barrier around the perimeter of the five-acre lawn. Will-o’-the-wisps of mist danced with the guests. The grass itself seemed to stretch out endlessly, looking as soft and lush as a jade-colored velvet carpet in the uncertain light. The torches ended just a few yards in front of where Olivia and Sara stood, so Olivia had the sensation of being on the outside looking in at the festivities through a haze of pungent smoke. Beyond the torches, tiny white Christmas tree lights glittered everywhere. They were wrapped around the trunks and branches of the flowering dogwoods and redbuds that dotted the lawn so that each tree was entirely illuminated. They were strung through the neatly trimmed boxwood hedges that lined the stone path leading to the gazebo and, farther on, to the various outbuildings and the Big House. They adorned the ancient magnolias that stood near the house, ringed the rose garden with its centerpiece bronze crane fountain, and dripped from the eaves of the gazebo and the Big House itself. In addition, the Big House, a twenty-four-room Greek Revival mansion of white-painted brick with a pedimented portico and more than two dozen soaring fluted pillars supporting twin galleries, was lit up like a jack-o’-lantern from within. Its long, rectangular windows glowed softly against the midnight-blue backdrop of the night. Although dozens of guests still mingled and danced on the lawn, it was obvious from the stream of headlights moving slowly down the long driveway toward the road that the party was beginning to break up.
    Once upon a time, Olivia thought, on a night like this, at a party like this, she had worn a short red dress, and danced and laughed and eaten boudin and jambalaya until she thought she would pop, and fallen in love. . . .
    The spicy scent of the rice and pork sausage that was boudin was in the air tonight, awakening her taste buds along with her memories.
    If she could only go back and have it all to do over again, she would do things very differently, Olivia told herself.
    A sharp slap on her left forearm brought her startled gaze around and