+1+ - Over The Hill - Agnes Obel Philharmonics
+2+ Six Feet Under - Billlie Ellish
Prologue
Claudia DeLune-Locke
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She’d seen right through it.
How could she not?
Nothing got passed Claudia DeLune-Locke.
At first she hadn’t know what to make of her baby sister when she saw her at the airport. I mean sure, she was used to Clara’s nearly flawless tan skin, her dark yet somehow bright eyes and her amazing black hair that, after discovering high priced salons in college, had gone from messy curls to well tamed loose waves.
But beneath all of that was something . . . slightly unnerving. Something different. Maybe it had something to do with their baby brother, Clarence DeLune, being there. Sure, at 12 years old he wasn’t really a baby anymore but it was hard not see him that way. Clarence followed behind Claudia in a carless way that made it obvious to anyone who was watching that (despite the 25.5 year age gap) Claudia was so not his mother.
Claudia spared an unimpressed glance at the giant cushion cut diamond on Clara’s hand when they hugged, but during the entire ride to Versailles she couldn’t stop staring at it. How did Clara not blind herself with it?
To that matter, even thought it was all quite glamorous, it wasn’t even fair to say Clara lived in Versailles. They’d passed the affluent little city miles ago and plunged further into the remote French countryside until they reached Monet Drive. Monet Drive was lined with beautiful rustic mansions. Each one bigger and more impressive than the next.
Just when Claudio thought they were reaching a promising look mansion that reflected Clara’s affinity for neo-modern design . . . they turned off Monet Drive and down a lonely looking narrow road.They drove farther and farther on the old worn road for minutes. They drove until it turned into a dirt path and then drove further out into . . . nothing.
After several minutes the car slowed down in front of a massive gate. It seemed the property was enclosed by a massive wrought iron fence that was perfectly hidden behind dense hedges and trees.When they reached an impressive and imposing gate, Clara impatiently clicked a little remote. After several minutes of nothing happening Clara asked their little brother to hop out the car and help her push open the gate. The grass was dewy and they’d tracked mud into the car.
They drove down a long half mile gravel driveway until Claudia saw the so called Château Mercier up ahead. Claudia had to admit, the château was impressive. A refinished stone façade and 18 mirror glass windows. It was enormous, stately, and regal. They circled the circular drive before pulling into the empty six car garage in the back.
The inside of the château was . . . underwhelming. Claudia would call it . . . bland. Cold. They’d all enjoyed a late dinner that Clara had warming in the oven. Clara had tried to make their mother’s six layer lasagna but it just didn’t taste the same, afterward there was some cheap store bought gelato that was just a bit to “milky” for Claudia’s taste.
Clara had given her siblings the grand tour and Claudia could have made a drinking game with all the times Clara said “unfinished” or “still working on” or “open floor plan.” Afterward Clarence had barricaded himself in his guestroom, probably sulking while Claudia and her sister indulged in some sisterly bonding.
During holidays Claudia always went to see her sister Clarice in Boston. They’d usually stay up all night lounging around talking about nothing. It had gotten to the point where Claudia’s 10 year old daughter, Alma and Clarice’s adopted 14 year old daughter could join into the tradition. Claudia wondered if her mother would be up to joining in when she came home that Christmas.
Best not to think about such things.
A part of Claudia looked forward to spending the same time with her estranged little niece. Honestly, the girl was a bit of an anomaly to Claudia. When her baby sister ran away to Rome eleven years ago she’d expected her to come back with a new haircut, married Peter Morrati or maybe even a (well, another) tattoo. Certainly not pregnant with a peculiar little girl like Rosalie Emily Fierro, who had spent the past ten years making Clara’s life very difficult?
It just hadn’t been what she wanted for her baby sister.
Fierro
The name struck a chord with Claudia the very first time she met the man. She couldn’t figure what it was about that name or him, but there was something when he first looked at her sister during a brief (although clearly not brief enough) meeting all those years ago. Something that said that perhaps they’d met before . . . maybe in another life? It was a silly thought to have all those year ago and yet here she was. In their house.
Rosalie Fierro’s skin was a blindingly bright eggshell white, her pinkish-brown eyes were far too big for her round face and she was so thin… so unsubstantial. The girl had been so quiet during dinner Claudia forgot she was there. Rosalie had carefully taken apart her lasagna and only eaten the mushroom, carrot and ricotta filling.
Later that evening, during their sisterly bonding time, Rosalie just sat on the end of her mother’s bed engulfed in a giant old book of New York Times crossword puzzles with a rather expensive fountain pen. Even more so Claudia had caught glances of the little wireless earbuds the girl had on the entire time. Rosalie was in another world while the sisters relaxed against the pillows and dove into a second bottle of wine and started giggling, trying to keep their conversation appropriate.
Rosalie had disappeared from the room somewhere between Clara giving Claudia a tour of her massive (half-empty) closet and the third bottle of (cheap) wine. The sisters had fallen asleep in bed together like years hadn’t passed between them.
So, when Claudia woke up at 2am she was quite surprised to find Clara missing.
+2+
Claudia sat bolt up and looked around the large bedroom room. It was decorated very sparsely in blush wine colors with glitter accents. Pink really, but blush tones was more sophisticated. Clara’s art collection was on the floor not yet. . .
Hung ?
The thought creeped up on Claudia. There was an assortment of wine glasses on the accent tables and the small reading nook in the corner of the room. Claudia could hear the hum of the discreet mini wine cooler Clara hadn’t pointed out, but Claudia had totally noticed.
“Clara?” she called out
Nothing
Claudia placed her bare feet on the cool carpet. It was freezing in here, Clara had said that the original pipes were “authentic” and that sometimes caused drafts and freezing bathwater. She said they were going to fix it . . . soon. She swore. Claudia slipped on a pair of slippers and peered into the hall.
“Clara”, she called and then felt a slush.
Claudia looked down to see she had stepped into a puddle of ice cold water. She shivered, Clara really needed to have those pipes looked at. Claudia supposed she could loan her money for renovations. More money.
Claudia walked to the end of the corridor toward the stairs, then she stopped. She smirked realizing that the previously wide open door to her sister’s fiancé‘s bedroom was now closed . . . and locked.
Okay then.
Well, if Clara was busy now was her chance to do a little sisterly snooping.
Claudia padded down the marble staircase, the floor felt cool and thick. It was real marble, she’d give her sister that. But the distant echo made it obvious that the walls were thin and poorly constructed. Clara had called the sparsely furnished downstairs minimalist but Claudia just considered it . . . empty
Claudia opened the kitchen cabinets to find them mostly bare. She’d eyed the china cabinet by the breakfast nook (why yes, there was no formal dining room). Claudia opened the little china cabinet and took out a plate. It was wasn’t china. It wasn’t even porcelain. Claudia turned the plate over to see Tesco stamped on the back. Nonna Romano’s Franz porcelain tea sets were the only authentic thing in the cabinet.
“For goodness sakes, Clara”, she thought.
Claudia confirmed the books in the drafty library were real but old. She snooped a bit more and found out that half of the electrical outlets didn’t work. The kitchen counters were all “marble” tile and the second oven was a showpiece. A sticker on the back of the TV and the furniture in the living room marked them as rented.
Claudia was just about done with her inspection when she heard a loud knock at the front door. The sound started off soft and got louder and louder.
“The hell?”
No one should be knocking at 3am. Clara hadn’t said anything about neighbors. But they had left the gate open when they drove in. Claudia shivered.
The door jumped on its hinges as the knocks intensified, each one louder than the last. Claudia’s heart jumped with each one . . . then there was silence.
“Who is there?” she called out.
Nothing.
She was being silly. It was most certainly the wind. Or maybe it wasn’t.
Claudia let out a breath and approached the front door. She looked through the peephole and didn’t see anyone. She opened the door keeping the bolt on and saw no one. She took off the bolt, carefully opened the door and peered over the portico railing. She saw what looked like drag marks in the soft dirt that should have been a paved driveway.
Had someone been dragged away . . . or toward the house?
“Don’t be silly”, Claudia said to herself. She bolted the lock and headed for the steps when she heard the thumping again.
This time it was coming from the back door in the kitchen.
Something was trying to get in.
Well . . . nothing scared Claudia Locke DeLune.
She went to the chef’s block (off brand, she noted) and picked up a hefty meat clever. This was what happened when you messed with Italian women. This time she saw the door jump in that uncanny rhythm, it sounded like a song. The chain on the backdoor snapped and the door blew open.
Claudia did a few Hail Mary’s before grabbing the cleaver with both hands.
She stopped with the cleaver above her head and stared open mouthed at her sister’s impeccable dressed, neat and slightly perplexed fiancé. His colorless eyes went to the meat cleaver and then to Claudia.
Before he could say anything Claudia burst out laughing.
“Oh, dear”, she said putting down the cleaver, “Oh, dear. I’ve had way too much to drink. My God this house is so big and in the middle of nowhere and I thought. I just let my mind get the best of me… I mean . . . hello.”
“How was your flight”, he said in greeting but he seemed . . . distracted. His mouth set in that steely straight line.
“It was alright. Look, this isn’t like me . . . but I do want to thank you and Clara for agreeing to take my brother for the summer. “
“Ms. Locke, I was under the impression that you informed Clara that she—owed you since you agreed to sell the DeLune Family Beach House to cover her debts.”
Claudia suddenly found the fake tile countertop quiet interesting.
“Well . . . that too. What are you doing anyway? Trying to break into your own house in the middle of the night. Don’t you have a key?”
He stepped inside, pulling a muddy piece of luggage with him that had clearly made the tack marks she’d seen. Duh.
“The rain causes the old locks to rust. I will see you in the morning. Goodnight, Ms. Locke”
Claudia was now more than convinced that if she sneezed this entire place would fall down. She studied the man. Sure he was a type of handsome, he had money but he wasn’t rich . . . certainly not wealthy and he also had a very old dark quiet soul.
No. . . . He hadn’t seemed like Clara’s type at all.
Not that she knew her sister’s type. Up until she got pregnant, Clara was her bubbly spoiled starry-eyed, sweet, goody two shoes-waiting-until-marriage-perfect-Catholic girl who was engaged to her first boyfriend and was maybe a little too attached to her piano.
Then it hit her.
“Wait”, Claudia said, “. . . Clara. I… woke up and she was gone. I thought she was with you.”
He carefully looked around.
“I’ve just gotten back into town.”
“But-”
Claudia hurried back up the stairs hoping to see her sister in bed, but she was gone.
“Clara!” Claudia called out, “Clara! God how do you find people in this house?”
“Ms. Locke”, Fierro said in whisper, “Please, you don’t want to wake Rose. I’m sure she’s--”
“Clara’s not here, I’ve been through every part of this house.” Claudia admitted to her snooping, “
This is what happens when you live in the middle of nowhere. Some hitchhiker could have broken in and kidnapped her.
Claudia followed him upstairs and watched him slip a key from his keychain and unlocked his bedroom door. Claudia thought twice before stepping in. Boundaries she reminded herself. He closed the door and now seemed concerned.
Claudia followed the man down the stairs and into the backyard, all she could see was darkness.
“Why is it so dark out there?” Claudia asked.
“It’s a new moon.” He said simply.
“Don’t you have garden lights?”
“I’m afraid not. You can stay in the house while I look.”
“I think not”, Claudia said.
Claudia turned on the flashlight on her phone, at the same time her future brother-in-law returned with two big flashlights.
She figured he knew the area better so she followed loose behind. He came to a stop and listened. Claudia heard it too.
“You think she’s out there?” Claudia asked
“He pointed his flashlight down and sure enough there were footsteps in the dirt. There were lots of footprints. . . more than there should have been, but she wouldn’t realize that until much later when she was back home.
Since Claudia wasn’t one for getting lost in her sister’s decrepit maze of a backyard, she placed her palm on his arm and followed him into the eerie darkness.
“I feel like we’re being watched”, Claudia said.
Fierro turned west with his flashlight and Claudia saw some movement in front of them. He set his flashlight down illuminating her poor baby sister.
Clara’s hair had come out of the pretty braid she’d restrained it in. Her black tank and tight flannel shorts were coved in dirt and her there was mud beneath her fingers. She was barefoot, covered in dirt and holding a shovel. She paid the pair no mind and kept digging.
“Clara”, Claudia scolded, “What are you doing? You’re standing in dirt.”
Clara just kept digging intently.
Fierro just observed her. Very keenly, like he was mentally taking notes on something. She just kept digging like she didn’t see them
“Somewhere . . . it’s here . . . somewhere”, Clara said
Claudia snatched the shovel from her sister and shook her.
“Clara!”
Clara stilled and stared at her sister, then her eyes went to her fiancé then she looked around her surroundings.
“What the hell, Clara. What are you doing?” Claudia demanded.
“I”, she looked up at her fiancé who was studying her in a way she’d never known any fiancé to took look at her. As if he didn’t know her.
“Clara?” he asked her
“It’s me. It’s fine. It’s nothing”, she said trying to convince herself, “I’m fine. I took some Ambien and I was drinking. It’s horrible isn’t it? I’m just adjusting to the time change from Austria. It has terrible side effects. Remember that time you took three sleeping pills Claudia and went skinny dipping in Dr. Locke’s pool “
Sure, Claudia had blamed it on Ambien but it hadn’t been at all.
“Where did you get the shovel from?” Claudia asked still not convinced her sister was all there.
“The glasshouse”, Clara said pointing behind her, “It’s at the edge of the property. Well it’s a greenhouse but it’s made of glass—“
Claudia had enough.
“You slept walked your way in the dark to a glasshouse, found a shovel and started digging?” Claudia asked...
“I. . . I was drinking all that wine... I’m fine. Come on Claudia I know you hate being out in dirt. Come on let’s go inside.”
She’d gone to pick up her fiancé’s hand but instead took his arm. Claudia sighed and picked up one of the big flashlights. Claudia followed the pair back to the house then snapped her fingers remembering she’d dropped her phone. She was about to call out when someone tapped her on the shoulder and handed her the phone.
“Thank you—“, she started
She shined the flashlight around her. Convinced maybe it was a maid or Clarence or Rosalie playing tricks on her. She’s had a lot of wine and she was jet lagged and maybe she thought she saw something for half a second or maybe she didn’t.
Either way, the next morning Claudia kindly informed her sister that she was cutting her weekend visit short because Alma wasn’t well and hurriedly told them that she’d see them again when she came back for Clarence at the end of the summer.
Claudia was very gracious and very quick about it and very sure she would not be coming back to that house off Monet Drive.
AN
So, I've posted numerous openers to PLT including the original prologue that was written years ago and the concept and story have undergone some slight changes so a lot has been retoconned so forget what you know. . .