One Summer

By JC Doan

Some mistakes have far-reaching consequences, most secrets are better left untold, and bad neighbors can make your life hell. When Mia inherits her aunt’s aging Florida home, financial woes and sheer desperation cause her to set aside a decade-old vow to never again set foot in the Sunshine State. But she’ll soon find that her new home is full of shadows and secrets.

• Language: English
• Publisher: JC Doan
• Release date: Apr 6, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005249915

JC Doan

Evernight Teen author ❣️

Book preview

One Summer

by JC Doan

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright© 2022

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission.

Dedication

For those who wait.

Chapter One

Full Circle

Mia Thompson took a good look at her future—and decided that she didn’t want to live.

The past eight months had been bad enough, but this was the last straw. She eyed her aunt’s turn-of-the-century Victorian house with disbelief. A year ago, if someone had told her she’d be back in Florida… No. She couldn’t live here. She absolutely could not.

She had to.

This hard knowledge rose above the shock and shoved its way to the forefront of her mind. If she wanted to put Carmen through school, the two of them would have to live in this creepy, sagging, yellow … thing.

It’s got potential.

Aubree’s voice broke through her distress. Potential? Mia glanced at her best friend before casting a skeptical eye over the house. The potential to fall down, maybe.

She turned a half step to the left, toward the taller of the two women who silently flanked her on the cracked, crumbling sidewalk.

You’re sure this place is sound? she asked. Stability wasn’t the first word that came to mind when she looked at the house.

Her cousin Olivia nodded. Hard to believe, isn’t it?

The inspection report was good, really? Mia absently twisted the gold ring around on her thumb and cocked her head to one side. Next, she tried squinting, but the house still looked like crap.

The file’s in the car, Olivia confirmed, rummaging in her square-shaped, plum leather bag and coming up with a tissue that, much like the house, had seen better days. This place is free of mold, fungus, and asbestos. Dining room and foyer contain lead paint, but it’s intact. Half of the roof is newer, and the furnace and water heater were new in two thousand eight, she recited from memory, in full lawyer mode now.

Half of the roof? Hey, are you okay?

Allergies. Olivia smothered another sneeze. Apparently, six years ago, Aunt Viola had half of the roof replaced. Not an uncommon practice for an older woman on a budget, I’m told. She tucked the Kleenex back into her purse, then closed the bag with a swift snap.

What about the basement? Mia asked tightly.

Empty. There’s nothing down there but a furnace and water heater now.

Good, Mia said, taking a deep breath. That’s … good.

Are you ready to go inside?

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and shook her head. Go on without me, please. I’ll catch up in a minute.

Olivia reached out an ivory, manicured hand and squeezed Mia’s arm before nodding and heading for the house. Aubree hung back, hitching her brown leather satchel higher onto her shoulder and inching closer to Mia.

It’s free?

It was posed as a question, in typical Aubree fashion. Mia knew exactly what her friend was getting at. Aubree wasn’t asking if the house was free. She was aware Mia had inherited the place. This was her attempt to help Mia focus on the brighter side of the situation. And it worked, sort of.

Well, Mia sighed. There is that.

You don’t have to stay here, you know. Aubree wound the thick, pliant leather purse strap around one tan finger. Iridescent pink polish caught the combined light from the bright, late afternoon sun and the street lamps that were just beginning to kick on. Not yet, anyway. Come back to Georgia tonight. You can sign the papers. Then we’ll head back home. You’ve got, what, another three weeks before the fall semester starts for Carmen, right?

Two and a half. Mia’s lips curved wistfully. Thanks, Aubree, but I can’t. I’m supposed to be at the hospital tonight.

Already?

Mia nodded. One of the nurses went on emergency leave. They called last night and asked me to fill in. I couldn’t really afford to say no, so… She shrugged, letting the rest of the sentence hang in the air between them. Neither needed a reminder of Mia and Carmen’s current less-than-ideal financial situation. Carmen is turning our keys in to the apartment manager and driving down here first thing in the morning.

Okay. Well, in that case, we’d better get this over with so you can catch a few hours’ sleep before your shift. If you’re sure, I mean? Because you and Carmen can stay with me. You’re my best friend, and I feel like Carmen is my little sister, too. You know that. I’ll make room. We’ll get by.

Moisture stung Mia’s eyes. She blinked rapidly to clear her vision and pulled Aubree into a quick embrace, accepting that neither Olivia nor Aubree intended to let her have those coveted alone minutes right now. It was probably just as well. Dwelling on the hours, days, and weeks ahead was a pointless task.

Thanks, Aubree, but no, we can’t. Besides, everything is already set up here and … it’s what Mama would have wanted, for Carmen and me to be financially stable. For Carmen to go to college. It’s what Mama would have done if she were here. We will be fine, she said, raising her chin a couple of notches and narrowing her violet eyes.

If you change your mind…

I won’t, she said automatically, then gave a quick smile to erase the hurt look from her friend’s face. I won’t need to change my mind, because everything will be okay. Promise.

Then let’s do this, yeah? She held out one arm, which Mia accepted, laughing a little as they made their way up the broken sidewalk.

"So, how many words do you think there are for run down?" Mia asked, slowly getting into the spirit of her friend’s enthusiasm.

Hmm. Caramel-hued skin glistened in the fading sunlight, and one finger tapped plump, pink lips as she seemed to devote great consideration to Mia’s query. "Definitely established neighborhood."

Too easy, Mia scolded. Olivia already gave us that one.

Oh, right, right. Okay … urban.

Yeah, but not always.

Most of the time, which is close enough, Aubree argued good-naturedly, her flip-flops slapping against the used-to-be-white porch. Fine, then … distressed.

Ghetto, Mia countered, squinting at the abrupt change from light to dark, hot to cold, as they entered the dusty foyer.

Neglected, impoverished.

Slum.

It’s not that bad.

No, but it’s damn creepy, Mia said, rubbing her hands up and down her arms, referring to the house now. Wow. One hand came up to rest against faded, antique rose-and-stem wallpaper, and the other tucked a wayward section of long, dark hair behind her ear. This is just … eerie. She moved her head left, then right, for a panoramic view.

A little. Probably because it’s got that whole musty, abandoned thing going for it right now. Aubree shivered again. Jeez, why’s it so cold in here?

No, not that, Mia murmured, leaving the foyer behind and taking tentative steps into an old-fashioned sitting room. Look at this place.

Yeah. Aubree walked ahead a few paces and trailed one hand along the wine-and-cream-colored floral-print sofa. Delicate dull gold buttons marched up the armrests, faded splendor that matched the rest of the room. It’s not that bad. This stuff is actually kind of pretty. She frowned. I’d expected the inside to be even worse than the outside.

So did I. But it looks like time hasn’t touched this place in… Mia blinked and shook her head. At least fifteen years, she finally said, drinking in the grimy, pink-champagne Tiffany lamps which framed the same settee that had graced the same corner of the room the last time she’d been in this house, when she was eight.

Looks like all it needs is a good cleaning, her friend said. And as it just so happens, I’m free tonight. She smiled, bumping her hip lightly against Mia’s side.

Thanks, but no. You’ll miss work tomorrow if you stay tonight.

So?

I’m fine. Really. Mia gave her a small smile as they left the sitting room and ventured down the long, central hall off the entry foyer. Half bath—full bath was upstairs—formal dining room, living room, parlor. At the end of the enormous eat-in kitchen were two doors. One led to the backyard. The other to the basement. Staring at that door did funny things to her, made her feel vaguely sick, even after all these years. Not fine. Soooo not fine.

Mia?

Abruptly, she turned around, forcing a smile for Aubree’s benefit. Scout’s honor. I’m good.

Okay, okay. I give up. But if you need me, you’d better call or text, or e-mail. Send smoke signals if you have to.

Mia snorted as she led the way back down the hall, then up the stairs. Smoke signals? Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Livi! she called.

Up here! In the back bedroom!

She picked up the pace, glad she’d opted for sneakers instead of heels that morning. The staircase was huge, wide enough for Mia and Aubree to walk side by side, and it was long, easily twenty steps to the second floor.

A memory flashed through Mia’s mind. Her and Carmen as children, legs stretching wide as they took each deep step, childish voices keeping count as they climbed. Twenty-six. The answer came to her suddenly as they reached the second-floor landing. Carmen’s raspy childhood soprano echoed through the more remote corners of her mind. There were twenty-six steps here.

The second floor was even colder than the first.

I’m over here, ladies. Olivia’s muffled voice carried faintly down the hall.

Either the AC in this place is top notch, or the house is well insulated, Aubree remarked, mirroring Mia’s thoughts and shivering a little. Who would have known we’d need sweaters in Florida? she teased, turning left, toward the sound of Olivia’s voice.

They found the blonde on all fours, crawling the perimeter of the bedroom at the end of the hall.

Olivia, what are you doing? Mia asked, crouching beside her. She winced when a couple of random bruises on her knee—battle wounds from packing up their apartment and sticking most of their stuff into storage—came into contact with the floor. Why didn’t old houses ever have carpet in the bedrooms?

I’m seeing where this cord goes. I think this is your Internet cable. It’s too thick to be a phone line.

Couldn’t you just scoot the furniture over? Aubree asked, moving to stand beside the four-poster, full canopy bed the dignified lawyer was now practically underneath. Wow, look at this bed. I’m jealous. She ran an admiring hand over one of the glossy, dark chocolate posts that held up a section of lacy lavender canopy. Her purse hit the hardwood floor with a heavy thud, and a split second later she hopped onto the king-size mattress, bouncing twice and laughing as she used one hand to shove shiny brown curls away from her face.

Jesus, Aubree! Olivia exploded, scrambling out from under the bed. What if that thing had fallen on me?

Guys, Mia admonished as Aubree fell back across the bed, arms out, and rolled her eyes toward the purple canopy as Olivia continued to glare. So, why didn’t you just move the bed?

Do you have any idea how much furniture like this weighs? Olivia demanded, pointedly refusing to look at the bed in question or its occupant. Even without all the extra weight on it.

Mia pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. Okay, so what did you find? What cord?

Oh. This. Olivia reached down and used one arm to fish around the dark, cavernous space beneath the bed.

Better watch your arm, Liv. My big fat ass might make the bed fall on it, Aubree huffed, pulling her hundred-and-twenty-pound frame into a sitting position and scooting to the edge of the bed.

"It’s your