Soul Legacy: A Supernatural Ghost Series (The Windhaven Witches Book 2), Carissa Andrews [best books for 7th graders .TXT] 📗

my way to the large dining room, hoping to find him in there. Instead, the enormous table is pristine. With all the time I’ve been spending at Wade’s new apartment, I’ve hardly had any time to catch up with him to see how he’s doing.

Guilt twists through my insides and I recoil from the idea of hunting him down about this before I make a point to see how he’s doing. In fact, I really should make it more of a point to have deliberate conversations with my parents and make them more of a priority. Even if it’s just a phone call once a week or a conversation in the hall. I’d hate for either of them to think I only come to them when I need something. Even if it’s sorta the truth.

I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and set a reminder to call Mom and another one to talk with Dad. At least technology should be able to pull me outta my own head once in a while. Sighing to myself, I return the phone to my pocket and walk into the kitchen.

“Ah, Ms. Autumn,” says a man with peppered grey hair and a warm smile. He finishes putting some meat into the freezer and closes the door. “It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. Your father has spoken very highly of you.”

He wipes off his hands with the kitchen towel, then extends one. “I’m James.”

I walk up, shaking his hand, and narrow my gaze.

“The housekeeper,” he says, apparently sensing my confusion.

“Oh, right,” I say, shaking away the cobwebs. “Sorry, it’s just it’s been so long since Dad told me about you. I forgot…”

“It’s to be expected. I try to stay out of the way as much as possible. However, your father may be away for a bit of time and he asked that I stock the kitchen up for you,” James says, reaching for one of the canvas bags of groceries on the counter and opening it.

“I appreciate that. Any idea where he’s going?” I ask, leaning against the counter and crossing my arms over my chest.

It’s not like I have a right to keep track of his every movement, but a little bit of warning from him would be nice. But something tells me all his years of bachelorhood are hardwired in now.

“I’m sorry, he didn’t say, and it’s not entirely my place to ask,” James says, pulling out a package of strawberries and a bunch of bananas from the bag. He tips his chin at a notepad beside the cordless phone. “He only left me that note.”

I walk over to the counter and pick up the pad. The writing is faint, like he scribbled it quickly, but still legible.

James, I’m going to be gone for a while. Look after Autumn.

“I see. Well, thank you for doing all of this. Do I—is there anything I’m supposed to do? Like tip you or something?” I ask, a little well of panic erupting in my gut.

I have absolutely no idea how this works.

James chuckles. “No, Ms. Autumn. It’s all part of the job.”

Relief floods my body because I don’t carry a scrap of cash on me. So, unless he has an ATM hiding around the corner, the chances of giving him a tip is pretty much nil anyway.

“Okay, well, I’m gonna go get some, uh…homework done,” I say, pushing myself back from the counter and heading toward the door. “It was really nice to meet you.”

James tips his head cordially. “Likewise.”

Shooting him a lopsided grin and a quick wave, I make a quick exit and head back out toward the main entry. Scooping up my backpack, I walk down the hallway to my bedroom with faster-than-normal steps. My mind twists and turns over possible areas to look for the catacombs. If Dad’s not going to be home for a while, I’m going to have to do this on my own. Or maybe press Abigail on it, if she’ll let me.

I swing open my bedroom door, dropping my backpack onto my bed, then walk over to the large windows and take a seat. My eyes scan the courtyard, trying to spot anything out of place—or something that could be an entrance to the catacombs from here.

Shaking my head, I twist around, calling out, “Abigail—are you here? I need a word with you.”

I hold my breath, waiting for her specter to arrive, but after a few minutes, it’s evident she doesn’t plan to join me. Either deliberately or she’s busy doing whatever it is ghosts do when they’re gone.

My gaze falls to the floor and I can’t help but wonder…what do ghosts do with their time?

Inhaling deeply, I stand up and pull my gloves from my jacket pockets. Tugging them on, I walk out of my bedroom and down the hallway that leads out to the backyard. If there are catacombs somewhere on the grounds, there has to be an entrance somewhere. Who knows, maybe my abilities will guide me?

When I reach the end of the hallway, I turn right and follow it again to the very end, where the wing terminates in a little sitting area and large picture window that overlooks the edge of the pond. I honestly can’t tell which area is more beautiful—my bedroom, where I can see the whole courtyard in front of the pond, or this.

The pond is frozen solid, but its location is evident by the ring of trees that arch around its circumference like they’re holding it in a comforting embrace. I unlock the large wooden side door, pulling it open. The frigid breeze blazes inward, and I prop the door open with my foot so I can zip up my coat.

I take a step outside, close the door behind me, then continue a few steps into the snow-covered yard. Sweeping my eyes across the snowy landscape, there’s a creeping suspicion this will not be an easy task. Not only because our yard is massive, but because