CHAPTER 10
Reagan
“Let’s take the trolley.” I stopped beside the red and white pole with the Trolley Pickup sign on top of it.
Nadia cringed. Her honey-blonde hair shimmered in the sun as she turned her head from side to side, looking around with a sheepish expression on her face. “It’s sort of a touristy thing.”
“I’m sort of a tourist.” I shrugged, an uncharacteristically carefree smile on my face.
I’d seen the trollies driving by since I’d arrived in Firefly and I’d been dying to ride one. I hadn’t had the chance yet since the boarding house where I was staying was only a block away from the law firm. But since Nadia and I were headed downtown, I figured that this was the perfect opportunity.
“It will take us fifteen minutes to get there if we take that. It goes all the way down by the pier. If we walk we can be there in five.”
As a New Yorker, my first instinct would always be to walk. But I’d been dying to see some of the island since I got here and what better way to do that than with your friend on a trolley.
“Come on, it will be fun. And right now, I need fun.” A niggle of guilt crept up in my chest at playing the I-just-got-cheated-on card when truth be told, I wasn’t all that devastated.
A resigned expression crossed her face before she pointed her finger and poked me in the shoulder, sighing and speaking in a serious tone, “Okay, but you owe me.”
“Well, since you still owe me for keeping your parents out of our dorm so you could sneak Derek Big Dick Hines out of the room, I’d say we’re even now.”
A twinkle lit in her brown eyes as her head fell back and a chuckle bubbled up. “Wow, I haven’t thought about that in forever! Ah, Derek,” she said with a sigh, this time it was of the swooning variety. “He really did live up to that name. All right, fine. We’re even.”
I’d just finished purchasing the tokens for our trip when the bell on the trolley sounded as it came around the corner.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Nadia mumbled under her breath as she boarded the trolley. Once she was seated she slumped down, the top of her head barely visible above the wood-planked bench. I smiled to myself and gripped the handle as I stepped onto the running board and lowered down beside her.
In college, Nadia was the free spirit in our group. She was wild, and would try anything. Nothing embarrassed her. She was the one that had talked me into doing the panty-run.
She was the one who’d signed us up to be figure models for drawing class and then didn’t bat an eye when we got there and it was explained to us that we would be nude. I’d bowed out. She’d robed up, and then disrobed proudly. And went back at least a half dozen times because it paid a hundred dollars a session.
In the four years we’d been roomies, she’d talked a lot about how she was a different person in college than she’d been growing up in Firefly. I never quite understood what she was talking about. But seeing the evidence of how embarrassed she was now was fascinating. Especially since we were the only two passengers, which made sense considering it was a weekday afternoon, which I assumed would not be peak tourist times.
“Hello, ladies!” A man wearing a conductor hat, white button-up shirt, black bow tie, and red suspenders standing at the front of the trolley spoke into a handheld PA mic. “Welcome to Firefly Island Trolley Tours—”
“Stew,” Nadia lifted her hand. “Save your breath. You don’t have to do the whole spiel.”
“I’m Stewart.” As the trolley began to move, he continued on as if she hadn’t said a word. “I’ll be your guide today. First off, let me ask, where are you lovely ladies from?”
“Seriously, Stewie? I sat behind you in first grade when you peed your pants in front of the whole class. You popped a boner when we slow danced at the seventh grade formal. You puked in my parents’ flowerbed after homecoming senior year.”
Unlike Nadia’s embarrassment about riding the trolley, Stewie didn’t seem the slightest bit ashamed about the not-so-flattering history Nadia had just shared. He didn’t even break character as he exclaimed, “A hometown girl! And what about you?”
“I’m from New York.”
“Ahh, yes, the Big Apple, the city that never sleeps, Gotham,” he said in what I could only assume was his Batman impression. “Well, now. Firefly Island may not have Times Square but we do have Abernathy Manor.”
“Abernathy?” My gaze cut to Nadia. “Is that…?”
“Jennings Abernathy’s great grandparents’ estate,” she confirmed.
Jennings Abernathy was my boss and senior partner at Abernathy & Associates. I’d yet to meet him face to face, but I’d spoken to him during my Skype interview.
Leaves draped above us as we turned down a long driveway tunneled by mature oaks. My jaw dropped when I saw the massive colonial style home, complete with large white columns at the end of the drive.
“Abernathy Manor has been featured on over a dozen paranormal television shows, most recently on Syfy’s Ghost Hunters. Legend has it that Lucille Abernathy was madly in love with, and engaged to be married to, a longshoreman who was beneath her station. She chose him over her family, giving up her wealth and inheritance and was disowned.
“And that was just the beginning of Lucille’s heartaches. After she was shunned, Lucille’s beloved called off their union and married a maid that worked for the Abernathys. Lucille tried to return to her family home but was turned away.