LITMIR.BIZ

      The old Victorian house on the corner of Main and Palmetto Lane was at the western fringe of downtown Serenity. Not that there was much of a downtown anymore, Maddie thought as she stood with Helen and Dana Sue. The hardware store had stuck it out, as had the drugstore with its old-fashioned soda fountain, but Willard’s Grocery had been empty for a decade, ever since a superstore with discount grocery prices had opened twenty-five miles away on the outskirts of Charleston. It had quickly become evident that residents would rather drive all that way for a bargain than pay a few cents more to keep a local merchant in business.

      The white paint on the Victorian was peeling, the shutters were askew and the porch sagged. The lawn hadn’t been cut in ages and most of the picket fence was broken. Maddie dimly remembered the place as it had been when old Mrs. Hartley was alive. Yellow roses had tumbled over the white fence, the porch and sidewalk had been swept daily and the shutters had gleamed with dark green paint.

      Mrs. Hartley, who must have been in her eighties by then, had sat on the porch every afternoon with a pitcher of iced sweet tea and welcomed anyone who happened to walk by. More than once, Maddie had climbed onto the swing hanging from the porch rafters and eaten sugar cookies while her grandmother had visited with the elderly woman. Nana Vreeland and Mrs. Hartley had been witness to most of the changes in Serenity through the years, and Maddie knew she’d absorbed their love for the small town with its friendly people, old white clapboard churches and acres of green space with a small lake in the middle that was home to a family of swans. Free summer concerts in the bandstand by the lake drew everyone in town on Saturday nights.

      Despite Serenity’s charm, a lot of people Maddie’s age had been eager to leave and never come back, but not Maddie or Bill. They’d never wanted to live anywhere else. Nor had Helen or Dana Sue. The slower pace and sense of community meant something to all of them.

      “Boy, this place brings back a lot of memories,” Maddie said at last. “What a shame that none of Mrs. Hartley’s kids wanted the property or made any effort to take care of it.”

      “Their loss is our gain,” Helen said briskly. “We can get it for a song.”

      “I’m not surprised,” Maddie said. “Are you sure it’s safe to go inside? Looks to me as if all sorts of critters might have taken up residence in there.”

      Dana Sue nudged her in the ribs. “Do you think we’ve forgotten about your terror of spiders and snakes? Helen made sure the real-estate agent had it all swept out last week. There’s nothing in there but the resident ghost.”

      “Oh, please,” Maddie said. “How can there be a ghost? No one’s died here.”

      “But wouldn’t it be fabulous if there were a ghost?” Dana Sue persisted. “Just think of the PR value. There’s nothing a Southerner loves quite so much as a good ghost story or bragging rights to having one up in the attic.”

      “I’m not sure having a ghost would be much of a recommendation for a health club,” Helen said. “What if it appears in a mirror one day? It could scare twenty years off someone’s life and pretty much destroy the place’s reputation as a fitness mecca. I’m not sure even I could win that lawsuit.” She met Maddie’s gaze. “Ready to go inside?”

      “Sure. Why not?” Maddie said, still trying to see what the two of them obviously saw in the run-down house. Even her memories of the way it had once been didn’t help her to envision it as a thriving spa.

      Not two minutes later, though, once she’d stepped across the threshold and into the sunlight pooling on the old oak floors, her pulse began to race a little faster. The downstairs rooms were huge. The windows were dingy, but even so they let in streaming rays of sun. With pale yellow walls and white woodwork, the spa would be cheerful and welcoming. The floors could be brought back with sanding and a good coat or two of polyurethane.

      When she reached the dining room, which faced the back of the property, she realized that the French doors and tall windows opened to a wooded lot with a small stream trickling through it. Treadmills set up to face that way would give the illusion of walking or running outdoors. Wouldn’t that afford women a sense of serenity while they exercised?

      Dana Sue latched on to her hand and tugged her into the kitchen.

      “Can you believe this?” she demanded, gesturing around her. “The appliances are old and the cabinets are a mess, but the room is huge. Just imagine what we could do with it.”

      “I thought the idea of this place was to make people forget about food, not to feed them,” Maddie said.

      “No, no, no,” Dana Sue chided. “It’s supposed to give them a place to make healthy choices. We

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