Irene Brand_Yuletide_01 by Yuletide Peril Page A

second floor were shattered. Branches from a tall spruce tree lay on the porch roof.
    “We had a bad storm a week or so ago. Looks like the lightning struck that spruce tree. It will have to be cut down.”
    The overall effect was disheartening. Janice wanted to turn tail and run, and authorize Mr. Santrock to sell Mountjoy before she went any farther.
    Noting the dismay in her eyes, Lance said, “We’re here, so we might as well look inside. Don’t forget, I didn’t hear anything until I started up the steps. I’ll go first.”
    Lance tested his weight on the steps and the top one buckled under him. He leaped on the porch to keep from falling. The porch floor itself seemed sturdy enough, probably because it was protected from the elements by a rusty roof. He half expected a repetition of the raucous noise he’d heard the other time he’d visited this house, but all was silent except for a mockingbird singing from one of the bushes.
    He held out his hand to Janice. “Watch your step.”
    Janice expelled the breath that she hadn’t realized she’dbeen holding and accepted Lance’s help. In spite of the fear clutching at her heart, as Janice stepped on the front porch of her ancestral home, she had the unfamiliar sense of belonging.
    Four windows fronting on the porch were placed symmetrically between a massive, oak door with an oval, leaded frosted-glass window. She put her face close to the cracked window panes, but they were too dirty for her to see the interior of the house. The sun shone brightly, but the towering spruce trees surrounding the house shut out the sunlight, and Janice shivered slightly. Lance tried the door but it was locked. He moved to a window, which lifted easily at his touch.
    Taking the flashlight from Janice, Lance stuck his head cautiously through the window and flashed the light around the room. No danger seemed to lurk in the dim interior, so he stepped into the room. He reached a hand to Janice and steadied her as she climbed over the window sill.
    Janice’s eyes adjusted slowly to the dark room.
    “The house is still furnished!” she said.
    Lance’s steps were loud as he walked around the room, the floorboards squeaking under his weight. He stopped beside a dark wooden divan upholstered in red velvet, noting two matching chairs.
    “I’ve always heard that this house was luxurious. This was elegant furniture at one time.”
    “Everything is dusty, and look at the floor—we didn’t make all of these tracks.”
    “I’d noticed that,” Lance said, wishing that Janice hadn’t. “The house hasn’t been as vacant as it looked. Stay close to me and we’ll look around.”
    The tracks had been made recently, Lance thought, and that there had been no effort to conceal them disturbed him.
    Janice took hold of Lance’s shirttail and, grinning, she said, “Try to get rid of me. I’ll stick to you like a burr.”
    They walked slowly through four large downstairs rooms, separated by a wide entrance hall that ran the length of the house. They’d entered the room to the right of the hallway. Behind it was a bedroom, and across the hall was a kitchen and a dining room. The rooms were of equal size except the bedroom, where part of the room had been partitioned into a bathroom accessed from the rear hall.
    Although the living room and the bedroom looked as they must have a hundred years ago, the kitchen held modern appliances. There were cabinets below and over the sink and Janice opened one of the doors.
    “There’s still some dishes and pans here,” she said, and stepped backward as a mouse jumped out of the cabinet. “Looks like I’ve inherited some livestock,” she said with a grimace.
    Lance grinned, surprised that she’d wasn’t scared. His sister shrieked and headed for higher ground when she saw a mouse.
    He turned one of the faucets on the sink. “No water, of course,” he said. “I suppose the plumbing was drained when John moved out of the house.”
    As Janice’s