It was the house that had scared the bejesus out of every kid in Last Stop for the last century. It was the house that sat dark and looming, so people made it a point to always walk on the other side of the street instead of passing directly in front of it. It was the house with the creaking gate and the overgrown rosebushes, and it looked spectacular at Halloween. She never passed up the opportunity to help solidify her reputation by adding a little graveyard in front or sticking a voice box in the bushes that let out horrible moans. The house was rumored to have been haunted by Captain Bartholomew T. Payne and his wife, Annabelle, after old Bart had decided he'd rather see his wife dead than leave him for another man.
Miller had always been fascinated by the story, even though she'd yet to feel the presence of the original owners of the house. She rarely had visitors other than her friend Tess or her cleaning lady, so the outside was rather deceiving. Even with fresh paint and repairs done to the sagging porch and leaking roof, it still gave off a menacing presence.
She loved every square inch of it, and she would never move. The house fit her personality like a glove, and she cackled every time she peeked out her office window to see kids scurrying across the street and staring at the house in wide-eyed horror. It was the little things in life that brought joy.
She sighed as she passed the bed. The soft sheets were looking a little too enticing. She couldn't afford a comfortable sleep. Not until the book was done. If she got in that bed it might be a week before she woke up. It was important she keep her energy high, so she'd shower and dress, and then she'd go find some company-and if she was lucky, a sexual pick-me-up-before sitting back down at her desk and getting back to work.
She stripped out of her clothes and considered throwing them in the trash instead of subjecting Julia to laundering them. Julia was a single mom to five boys. She not only cleaned Miller's house, but a few other houses as well. Then she cleaned the schools on Saturday, and the church on Sunday evening. Miller could only hope that the laundry of five boys was worse than that of a writer, though she wouldn't have bet money on it.
The pipes creaked as she turned on the water in the claw-foot tub, and while she waited for it to heat up she found an extra box of hair color under the sink so she could tackle her roots. By the time she'd gotten the color on and her head wrapped in plastic, the water was hot. She lit the candles on the windowsill and dimmed the lights, and then she tossed a bath bomb in the water and hoped the smell of roses was strong enough to overpower the smell of deadline.
An hour later, her skin was pruny, her roots were dyed, and she smelled a whole lot better. She blow-dried her hair, moisturized her face, and put on double the concealer she normally would because she could've slept in the bags under her eyes.
By the time she got out of the tub, she was exhausted. And the sexual pick-me-up she'd considered didn't have any appeal at all. Her mind was still stuck on Elias Cole.
"Ridiculous man," she muttered.
Instead of a night out on the town, she decided to drop by and visit Tess to convince her to have a girl's night. Those didn't happen that often anymore since Tess's marriage to Deacon Tucker. They were still in that honeymoon phase of their marriage where if they weren't working, they were rolling around naked on whatever surface was available.
Miller was only a teensy bit jealous.
She put on black leggings, a sports bra, and an oversized gray shirt that warned people if they annoyed her they might end up in one of her novels. People always laughed, but she'd been known to kill off the occasional annoyance in one of her books. Comfort was the name of the game for the evening's activities. She'd give her brain a quick break, and then get back to business.
Miller hopped on the bed and struck a quick pose propped against a mound of pillows, and then she held up the latest release of one of her good friends. She took a selfie with the book and then uploaded it to Facebook, pimping her friend. The great thing about social media was no one would know she'd worked ninety-plus hours in the last few days, eaten nothing but carbs and chocolate, and drunk an unhealthy amount of coffee. She wouldn't change things for the world, though she needed to hit the gym very soon so her behind wasn't as wide as her chair. When it came to her readers, she'd continue to put on double layers of concealer so they'd see the fun and glamorous life they wanted her to live.
She stuck her head into the massive master closet and dug out a pair of black ballet slippers. Organizing her closet was on her to-do list, but she hadn't had time to get around to it. Along with the thousand other things on the list. She grabbed up her dirty clothes and robe, embarrassed to leave them for Julia to find.