Before Her Eyes (Constance Langdon x OC)

Moira, Vivien And Nora

It was around ten the next morning when Cassandra woke. She sat up and yawned, stretching her arms in the air before swinging her feet around to the side of the bed. She rubbed her eyes as she padded across the bedroom floor. "I bet Simon's already downstairs for breakfast," she joked to herself as she reached the staircase. Taking her time, Cassandra descended the stairs until she heard something going on in the kitchen. Taking the last few stairs at a quicker pace, she made her way to the kitchen. She stopped short when she saw a red haired woman in a maid's uniform standing at the counter. How do these people keep getting into my house, she thought.

"Um, hello," Cassandra said, wishing she sounded more authoritative.

"Why hello, dear," the woman responded, turning around to face Cassandra. Cassandra just stood there, staring at her for a moment, not sure what she should do next. "I'm Moira. I'm the maid. I come with the house," she explained. Cassandra gave a nod, still quite confused.

"I just, uh, I don't have any extra money to pay you," Cassandra explained.

"That's quite alright. You see, I perused your books last night, and don't worry, I only read the titles. I didn't even pick one up, but I think you'll be able to understand me when I say that I haven't needed anyone's money for many years."

Cassandra furrowed her dark brows until the realization dawned on her. "So you're...a ghost?" The statement should have felt more odd to her, but for some reason, she wasn't exactly surprised. Had Constance been a ghost as well? No, she couldn't have been. Simon had touched her.

Moira smiled warmly, and spoke again, drawing Cassandra's attention back to her. "Very good, dear. Yes. For many years now I've been bound to this house."

"And are there," Cassandra paused, searching for the right words, "more of you? More ghosts in the house, I mean?"

"Yes, but most tend to keep to themselves since the Harmons."

"The last owners?"

"Right. And you'll only see as much of me as you want to," Moira informed. Cassandra leaned back against a section of countertop and tried to take this all in. It wasn't so bad. Sure, her realtor hadn't informed her that there were actual ghosts in her house, but by the sound of it, it didn't seem like it was going to be a problem. If Moira was right, they'd mostly keep to themselves. She'd adapted to worse. She'd had a nightmare of a roommate in college. So, how bad could a few ghosts be? Now at least, when she talked to herself, maybe someone would actually listen.

"Okay," Cassandra said, as if Moira had been waiting for her permission to stay. "I think I can live with a few ghosts." With that, Moira wandered off to a different part of the house and Cassandra went ahead and poured a bowl of food for Simon. The cat seemed to pop out of nowhere at the promising sound of breakfast and Cassandra reached down to pet him before beginning the rest of her unpacking.

Half a day went by before Cassandra was done. She'd only grabbed a banana for a midday snack and once she'd sat down after everything was taken care of, she realized how hungry she was. She got back up with a huff and headed for the kitchen. She was instantly deflated at the chore of cooking something for herself, so she picked up a phone and ordered a pizza. No sooner did she hang up the phone that she began to hear music. She was sure she hadn't turned anything on, even by accident. She wandered the house and followed the music toward the living room. There, by the windows, was a woman playing the cello. Another ghost then, Cassandra thought. Odd how calm she was about the whole thing. You'd think it was normal for her to be living with ghosts. In a way, she supposed she was. Metaphorical ones, perhaps, but that didn't make them feel any less real to her.

Cassandra listened as the woman finished her tune and put down the bow of the instrument. "That was beautiful," Cassandra commented, and even though she wasn't always a classical music fan, she truly meant the compliment.

Not startled in the slightest, the woman got up and faced Cassandra. "Thank you," she said. "I've always loved to play. I hoped you wouldn't mind."

"I don't," she replied. "I'm Cassandra, by the way."

"So Moira said. I'm Vivien Harmon."

"Oh," Cassandra said, the word slipping out, though she hadn't meant it to. She put her hand to her mouth, but it was too late to take back the utterance. "You're the house's last owner."

"I was. Please, don't be scared. Ours were special circumstances. It's all in the past now."

"I know," Cassandra said, casting her eyes away from Vivien's gaze. "You're welcome to play anytime, Vivien. I really don't mind." That was the last thing Cassandra said before the doorbell rang, signaling that her pizza had arrived. She left Vivien and the woman began to play another song. She paid for her pizza and a modest tip to the delivery boy who scampered away in a hurry. She guessed this house really did have a reputation. She shrugged and took her pizza into the library with her. She wasn't going to work, especially not with pizza grease on her hands, but the books were a comfort and after meeting Vivien, someone who had only recently died here, she was a bit unnerved.

Cassandra ate more pizza than she had since college and put the leftovers in the fridge for tomorrow. Vivien was no longer playing, nor anywhere to be seen. Same went for Moira, and Simon for that matter. Perhaps the lazy cat had already gone to bed. Cassandra climbed up the stairs and found Simon in the hallway just outside her bedroom door. The hair on his back stood up and he hissed quietly. "What is it," Cassandra asked, passing the cat and peeking into her room.

A blonde woman stood at the end of her bed, looking towards the headboard. Maybe she ought to have asked Moira just how many ghosts roamed this house. "Excuse me," Cassandra said, unsure why she was concerned about scaring a ghost. The woman jumped and turned around at the sound of her voice, though she had kept her tone soft. "I'm Cassandra, the new owner. And who are you?"

"Nora. My husband built this house for me," she said, tearing up at the memory. Cassandra had done her research. This woman was Nora Montgomery. One of the first to die in this house in a murder suicide. She seemed different than the others, more forlorn, melancholy, but Cassandra couldn't help but be somehow drawn to her, perhaps out of sympathy for her story.

"If you'd like to talk about him, you could stay," Cassandra offered, though perhaps that was the wrong move to make. Nora looked at her in such a way that she seemed even more frightened than before.

"No, I really should be going," Nora said. "I have my baby." And before Cassandra could say anything else, she'd gone. Cassandra shook her head, in attempt to shake off the whole living with ghosts thing and picked up Simon, carrying him to bed. With Nora gone, he seemed to calm down and promptly curled up at Cassandra's feet. It had been a wild day, no doubt, but tomorrow it would be back to work as usual, and Cassandra would need to rest up for it.