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FOREVER NIGHT
    Xondra Day
    Copyright © 2011
     
    Chapter One
     
     
    There
was something about the painting, something that Carrie Ann couldn ’ t place her finger on. Standing before the fireplace,
she studied the canvas, her eyes tracing the subject, a man, over and over. His
smile managed to look both devilish and warm at the same time, and he certainly
made a most handsome subject, looking debonair in his dark gray suit.
    Like
everything else in the house, the painting came along with the sale. It was
another reminder of a bygone era — an era which had long since come to pass yet was
reflected through the decor in each room. Carrie Ann closed her eyes and
pictured what the house must have looked like back in the day, during a time
that would never come to be again. The thought saddened her.
    The
house was built in 1912 by the man featured in the portrait, Augustine LaMount . His name like fine wine flowed through her
mind as she said it over and over again, sounding out each syllable.
    A
crash of thunder boomed overheard in the night sky. She clutched her half-drunk
glass of burgundy, and lifted it in the air as a toast to her long dead
predecessor. “To us, and the house.” The toast was
simple, short, and sweet. No other words were needed. It was just the two of
them without another soul for miles. The storm carried on outside, the hard
rain beating against the windowpanes as huge gusts of wind blew in from the
ocean.
    The
lights flickered once, twice, and a third time. Candles — she needed candles. She found the candles in a
sideboard in the formal dining room and upon returning to the front parlor, she
placed three in a tall silver candelabrum before lighting them one at a time.
    Watching
each flame catch, her mind harkened back to her first encounter with the house
a couple months back, along with the curious circumstances that led her there.
It seemed like everything had been predetermined long before she made that
final decision to purchase.
    She hadn ’ t been looking for a property, for anything in fact
during that summer vacation upstate. Her small condo in the city suited her
fine. She didn ’ t need anything bigger, but when she first spotted the
house, it struck something inside of her. She was forever branded.
     
    * * * *
     
    “ The house dates back to 1912. It was built by Mr.
Augustine LaMount for his new bride, Maribeth . It has been empty for the past fifteen years. But
it ’ s my
understanding that the current owners have taken great care of the property.
Their initial plans had been to convert the place into a bed and breakfast, but
for some reason, it never came to be,” explained Mrs. Bonnie, the relator in charge of the listing. “The price is an absolute
steal in this harsh market. They could have priced it so much higher.” She
pointed to the ocean which fronted the property and smiled. “That view alone
and the frontage are worth it. Just smell that salt air, and listen to the
waves. It ’ s
glorious.”
    She
agreed. “It ’ s
lovely. You said they ’ re selling the house well below its value?” Overhead,
she heard a seagull cry out.
    Mrs.
Bonnie nodded. “Yes. I did try and sway them to ask for more, but they wanted
to get rid of it. I can understand why they would. It must be a terrible burden
for them. Upkeep for such a large house is expensive, especially since they had
to hire someone to look in on the place. They don ’ t live in the immediate area.”
    Carrie
Ann was extremely curious to see the house ’ s interior. “The listing states it possesses four
bedrooms, two bathrooms, a renovated modern kitchen, but still retains much of
its old time charm, including many of the original furnishings which are being
sold with the house.”
    “ Yes,” replied Mrs. Bonnie. “Let ’ s take a look inside. I promise you won ’ t be disappointed,” she gushed. She motioned with one
hand for Carrie Ann to follow her up the narrow, rock hewn path.
    On
the veranda, Mrs.