Rosecliff Manor Haunting Read Online Free

living room curtain back a bit too fast and almost toppled over while trying to catch a glimpse of the approaching visitor walking down the dirt road in front of her house. The unwanted distraction, her neighbor Addison Lockhart, was someone she recognized almost immediately. With shoulder-length ginger locks that made Addison’s hair look like it was on fire when the sun’s rays hit it just right, her young neighbor was impossible to mistake.  
    The timing of Addison’s visit was off.
    Way off.
    Helen didn’t want visitors.
    Not now.
    The last time they’d seen one another had been a couple of months earlier when Helen popped over to see how Addison was doing. In truth, the inquiry about Addison’s welfare was a precursor to the real reason she’d stopped by—to find out if the rumor going around town about Luke taking up residency at Grayson Manor was true.
    When he’d answered the door that morning clad in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts and a T-shirt, the answer was obvious. Luke and Addison were living together, out of wedlock, no less. And if Luke’s not-so-subtle hand grazing across Addison’s left butt cheek when he passed her was any indication, they were most likely sharing the same bed too. Probably for quite some time. This revelation didn’t bode well with Helen. So when Luke had finally exited the room, she clamped a hand down on Addison’s wrist, yanked her to the side, and gave her a good scolding.
    Addison had just smiled, and said, “These are different times now, Helen. Thanks for your concern, but I know what I’m doing.”
    Knew what she was doing?
    Women these days.
    None of them seemed to have their heads screwed on right anymore.
    “How could you know anything?” Helen had asked. “Your mother is dead, and your grandmother is off traveling the country. There’s no one here to guide you when it comes to these things.”
    “I don’t need a guide. I’m a thirty-year-old woman, not a child.”
    Thirty.
    She’d uttered her age with pride, boasting almost, like she thought thirty was the intellectual equivalent of a woman twice her age. She had no ring on her finger, which meant no commitment. No shock there. Rare was the man who would spring for a ring when the cow and its milk came free.
    …
    The doorbell sounded, a kind of a hollow, repetitive gong that Helen had never grown tired of hearing over the years. The sound always made her feel like she lived in a palace in China, instead of a historical village in New York. She waited several seconds post-gong then shooed her long-time friend Milton toward the door.
    Addison rounded the corner seconds later. “It’s good to see you again, Helen.”
    After their last interaction, Helen questioned her sincerity. “You could have called first.”
    “Why? I knew you were here. You’re always home.”
    “Whether I’m home or whether I’m not is beside the point. Calling ahead is common courtesy.”
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ll call next time. Okay?”
    Next time .
    “I suppose it doesn’t matter now. You’re here. Why don’t we both have a seat and you can say whatever it is you came to say.”  
    Addison nodded and sat, squeezing her legs and pulling down the hem of her short, bohemian tunic dress to keep from revealing more thigh than she had already.
    Helen reached for the tea cup next to her. Intending to put the glass to her lips, she’d lifted it halfway before noticing just how bad her hand was trembling. She set the mug back down.
    “Are you, okay?” Addison asked.
    “Never you mind. Why did you stop by?”
    “Because you’re friends with my grandmother.”
    “ Friends is a strong word. It would imply I have feelings of affection for Marjorie.”
    “You do have affection for her. You’ve known each other since you were in your twenties.”  
    Helen didn’t understand why Addison was stalling, or why she kept fiddling with the hem on her tunic dress. “What does Marjorie have to do