“Meg?” I looked up to see Martha standing nearby. “Any chance I could go up and take a few measurements in the master bedroom?”
“Technically that’s still Clay’s room,” I said.
“Understood. And if the committee decides to let him stay, I’ll just have wasted a few minutes of my time. No problem. But if they decide to kick him out, I want to be able to say that yes, I absolutely can get the room ready by opening day.”
I thought about it for a few moments. Mother and Eustace still had a lot to do in their rooms. Sarah would be fighting the clock to undo what Clay had done to her room. And I couldn’t see handing the master bedroom over to any of the others. If we kicked Clay out, Martha would be the logical person to take over the master bedroom.
“I feel responsible,” she said.
“For everything Clay has done?”
“Well, not exactly,” she said. “But I am to blame for getting him into the decorating business in the first place. He used to work for me—briefly. Till he got too big for his britches and struck out on his own. Taking half my clients with him. The female half,” she added, with a bitter laugh. “A few of them started crawling back when they figured out they’d made a mistake, but by that time it was too late. My business was folding.”
No wonder Martha felt so miffed at Clay getting the room she’d wanted. If only I’d known from the start how much hostility there was between them.
“Take your measurements,” I said. “But be discreet.”
She smiled a small, tight, triumphant smile and turned to go upstairs.
“And if you’re thinking of searching his room for the missing packages, don’t bother,” I called up the stairs after her. “Already done that myself. Several times.”
She chuckled mirthlessly at that.
With my luck, Clay would come barging back in and catch her at it. I really wanted to be gone before that happened. Where was Rose Noire?
As if my thoughts had summoned her, the front door opened very slowly and Rose Noire peeked into the foyer. Her wild mane of hair frizzed out from beneath a purple knitted hat, and her expression was anxious.
“Meg?”
“There you are,” I said. “Just in time. Come in.”
“I can feel the negative energy trying to push me away when I try to cross the threshold.” She stepped inside, as if with an effort, and planted herself solidly, obviously expecting the negative forces to attack. “There’s something evil in this house.”
“Not at the moment. I chased him out for the rest of the day.” Rose Noire had taken an almost instant dislike to Clay, claiming he had a very negative aura. I didn’t share her faith in auras, mantras, energy work, and whatever other New Age concepts currently fascinated her. But I had to admit she was spot-on when it came to sniffing out a bad egg like Clay. “Close the door—you’re letting the cold air in.”
“Cold but clean air,” she said. But she closed the door as she said it. She was wearing a deep-purple dress instead of her typical pastels, and a lot more charms and amulets than usual hung from her neck and wrists. “It’s not just him,” she said. “There’s a lot of dark energy in this house. Is it okay if I do a cleansing while I’m here?”
“As long as you keep the decorators happy and busy and don’t let them break anything else, you can do anything you want.” I wasn’t sure I believed in Rose Noire’s smudging and herb sprinkling, but at worst it did no harm. And most of the time, it actually made me feel better. Anything that could improve the atmosphere here in the house was fine with me.
“By the way,” I said. “Clay isn’t allowed back until either Randall or I say so. If he tries to get in—”
“He shall not pass!” Rose Noire exclaimed, drawing herself up to her full height and lifting her chin in defiance.
“We’ll be fine, dear.” Mother appeared in the archway. “If Clay comes back, Eustace and I can help Rose Noire handle him.”
“And I’ll be here to help, too.” Randall was coming down the stairway, with his phone to his ear. “I’m calling him now to lay down the law. Clay? When you get this, give me a call. We need to talk.”
“And there’s a reporter here somewhere,” I went on to Rose Noire. “Student. Long red hair. Name of Jessica.”
“Right here.” Jessica appeared on the stairway.
“This is Rose Noire,” I said. “She’s taking over for me. She can answer any questions you have. Feel free to roam around, but please remember that the designers have a tight deadline. Oh, Rose Noire—when Ivy gets back—”