“Of course,” Alexander replied, still surprised.
Alexander stepped back, but Sebastian didn’t follow.
“Just a minute,” Sebastian said. “I’ll get my things.”
“Things?” Alexander asked, his mouth hanging agape.
Sebastian had already taken off toward a vintage mint-condition 1960s black Mustang with silver racing stripes, which was parked in the Mansion’s drive.
“Alexander…who is…?” I began softly.
Alexander didn’t answer. Instead, he remained focused on Sebastian.
The handsome visitor popped open the trunk and reached inside. I could see in the distance that he was pulling out a large duffel bag and setting it on the drive. He reached in again and placed another bag on the broken pavement. Then another.
I assumed Sebastian intended to spend the night, but judging from the amount of luggage he possessed, I wasn’t sure just how many nights he planned on staying.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about this stranger’s visit—or move—into the Mansion. Alexander’s parents left
Dullsville and we were free to resume our independence. Now we were accepting boarders?
But more important, who was this person and why was he here?
“I better help him,” my boyfriend said, and headed for the Mustang.
From my vantage point on the crumbling steps, I wasn’t privy to their conversation. But by their gestures, I could tell the two chatted like reuniting brothers. After a few minutes, they carried Sebastian’s bags back toward me. I trailed the ghostly pair back into the Mansion, up the stairs, and into one of the vacant rooms.
The room was stark and cold. A velvet eggplant-hued curtain covered a single window. There wasn’t so much as a bed or air mattress. The only decoration present was a tiny vase with dead lavender flowers I’d placed on a small table a few days before.
“Appears you still like living in the past,” he said to Alexander. “Where’s the TV, man?”
“Down the hall,” Alexander said, pointing to the far end of the house.
Alexander retrieved a candelabra sitting on a table in the hallway. He lit a match and illuminated the room.
Sebastian dumped his oversized bags on the floor. They landed with a thud, making me suspicious about the weight of his clothes. He walked around the room with the candelabra.
“Lavender?” Sebastian asked as the candles spread light on the vase.
“It’s just Raven’s touch,” Alexander said.
“I can put it in another room if it bothers you,” I offered.
Sebastian gazed down at me. His eyes glistened in the candlelight. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Alexander stepped between us. “I’ll give you some time to settle in,” he said. “You must be tired from your trip.”
Sebastian surveyed his new digs and stretched out his arms while Alexander closed the door behind us.
I stopped Alexander before he moved. “Who is this guy?” I asked. “One of your relatives?”
“No. He’s my best friend.”
I was shocked. Alexander spoke so little about himself and Romania, I’d never heard about any friends, much less one best friend named Sebastian.
“You never mentioned you had a best friend,” I told him.
“He never came up.”
“Never came up? I talk about Becky all the time.”
“You talk about a lot of things,” he joked.
Alexander had a point. I liked to talk about every mundane thought I had during every minute of my day, while Alexander kept mum on even the most important subjects.
“So how long do you think he’ll stay?” I asked. I could only wonder what it would be like for the three of us to hang out at the cemetery, my house, or the Mansion.
“Perhaps a few days.”
“I thought he’d be here for weeks.”
“Sebastian? He won’t want to wear out his welcome.”
There was one piece of information I couldn’t wait to find out.
“I wanted to ask you,” I whispered. “Is he like you?”
Sounds of banging and hammering came from inside Sebastian’s room. Was he, too, redecorating the
Mansion?
The door creaked open and I saw Sebastian kneeling on the wooden floor, a hammer in one hand and a nail in the other. Boards peeked out of his duffel bag. It was a spookily spectacular sight—he was building a black coffin.
Alexander quickly reached for the door.
Just then we heard the locks being unlatched from the front door below.
“That’ll be Jameson,” Alexander said, closing the bedroom—or in this case, coffin room—door behind him.
“He will have to take you home tonight.”
“So soon?” I whined.
“It’s really late, actually. Even Jameson’s date is over.”
“So what are you guys going to do? I hope you’re not going clubbing.”