Chapter Thirty

There were stains on the floral design. Mud worked deep into the weave of the carpet. In the entrance, the wardrobe door was open, the contents strewn across the floor. Silk scarves, a long black wool coat, hats, all tossed carelessly to the side. Red silk, bright as blood.

Great-aunt Roselyn bent to pick up the coat. Her mouth was a pinched, hard line. She shook out the folds, ran a hand down the fabric to smooth it. “I suppose we should be thankful nothing more was taken, but it’s difficult to be positive when faced with this mess. Dirt has been tracked all through the ground floor. We’ll have to soap the carpet to be rid of it. And to think a stranger touched our things. It’s enough to make me ill at the very thought of it.”

Kate could hear the anger in her voice. It matched her own. “I wish we knew who did it.”

She was sitting on the stairs, feeling restless and useless. Delegated to role of observer and all because she got hit on the head. Doctor’s orders. Annoyed, Kate shifted, stretched her legs out in front of her. The headache was almost gone now. It was hardly noticeable, really. At least this way, she could keep an eye on Great-aunt Roselyn. She was doing surprisingly well, considering everything that happened, but Kate preferred to stay close, for now.

Isra was sitting on the landing above, looking very much like a replica of the goddess Bast. A fierce protector, the “devouring lady,” in the form of a domestic cat. The feline eyes were watchful, the pupils narrow black slits.

“Luckily,” Roselyn said, “I managed to extract a promise from the repairman. We’ll be first on his route tomorrow. If all goes well, we may have glass in the window by the weekend.”

“That’s good news.”

“It’s about time we had some.” Roselyn passed Kate an armful of scarves. “Why don’t you fold these?”

The silk was smooth beneath her fingers, and Kate found herself relaxing as she concentrated on folding, matching corners to corners. “What was he looking for?” Kate wondered.

“Money, jewels?”

“The gold necklace Mom gave me, it’s still there. The drawer was opened, emptied for the most part, but the necklace was left behind. Why?” Her books spread ruthlessly across the floor. Anger flared again at the thought of it. “It would have been easy to take.”

There was the fur coat, hanging in the wardrobe. Had he not recognized its value? The vintage Rosenthal china too, what little remained of the set, was still on the glass shelves in the cabinet. All the pieces were there. She’d counted. The smaller items could have easily been carried, tucked into a jacket pocket.

“We must resign ourselves to the fact that we may never know why.” A good, clear voice. Great-aunt Roselyn had been like this all afternoon, as though the burglary had robbed her of objects but left her with new-found strength. Roselyn returned hats to their boxes with brisk movements, her focus entirely on the here and now. Kate watched her thin fingers nestle each hat within folds of tissue paper. Feathers, silk, and satin. Beaded jewelry giving off a sparkling light. The whisper of cardboard boxes as lids slid into place.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Penelope Crawford. Why does she seem so angry with you? So bitter?”

“Ah, well.” Great-aunt Roselyn took her time, replacing the box on the shelf. “We were friends once, long ago. She was always the stronger one from the two of us. Determined to do great things, to educate herself. She was disappointed by the decisions I made, and didn’t hesitate to tell me so.”

“Which decisions?”

“Marrying Frank, for one thing, and then the way I lived my life after the wedding. We were all young, but she had strong ideals. And she’s always been quick to judge.”

“These are so beautiful.” Kate reached for the hat lying near her, the one closest to her bare toes. The straw felt brittle, older than the hats in Great-aunt Roselyn’s rooms. “It’s a shame more people don’t wear hats these days.” Tempted, Kate tried it on. The sweep of the brim cut across her vision. The hat felt heavy. Kate had to tilt her chin, and when she did, she saw Great-aunt Roselyn looking at her. Kate gave her a grin. “What do you think?”

“It suits you. In fact, it was your grandmother’s favorite. It was mine, but she always used to take what she pleased. Often without asking.”

“Were you close?”

“Not like you and the boys. You and Ethan and Chris have always been peas in a pod, tearing through the house like little savages.” The memory had Roselyn smiling. “As soon as I’d hear you say, ‘Let’s pretend that…’ I knew trouble was brewing.”

“We can’t have been that bad.”

“It was always lively, let’s just say that.”

“She moved to Canada before your wedding, didn’t she?”

“Yes. Gone from one day to the next or, at least, that’s what it felt like. It broke my heart that she wasn’t there. I only realized how much I wanted her to be there when it was too late. To make matters worse, we’d argued only weeks before she left.”

“What did you argue about?” Kate removed the hat. The straw snagged in her hair, tugged at the roots as she worked it loose.

“There was a boy. Well, eighteen at the time. My age. He was…different. Sarah said so herself. So strange.” She gave the words a mocking twist, full of teenage disgust. The change in her voice had prickles rising over Kate’s skin. “He was gangly. Wore old clothes that never fit. Talked too fast, too much. Was too honest, in a way that alienated people.”

Contempt and something else in her voice. Sadness. And fear.

“He used to follow me home. I was quite pretty, back then. Everyone said so.” Head held high and proud. “He would leave gifts outside the house for me to find. They were always small things. Daisies stolen from a garden, a glass bead on string. I wouldn’t touch them. I didn’t want to encourage him.” A flicker there, in her eyes, and gone again. “But Sarah found one of those gifts and took it. It sounds innocent, but she knew what she was doing. It was a bracelet woven from reeds of grass. I knew she’d taken it. I saw it in her room, but she denied it when I confronted her. He thought I kept it, that I had accepted his token. It was the sign he’d been waiting for. The next gift was a book of poems, the pages marked. Left in the orchard, beneath my favorite tree.” She paused. “I was cruel, as so often happens at that age. The carelessness of youth. I left the book in the rain until the pages were swollen and gorged with water.”

Kate could see it. The pages thick, the cover warped and damaged. Then black with mold.

“Sarah always wanted what was mine. If the boy had hope, if he could be led to believe I cared, she thought he’d come to the house more often. Sarah wanted Frank to see him, to discover how callous I had been. She wanted to destroy the image Frank had of me. He idolized me, you know. I was on a pedestal. He worshipped me and Sarah wanted to shatter his illusions. I never truly forgave her for it. I wish I had, now. It’s easy to sever ties, and so much harder to mend them. When she had that stroke, it was so sudden, I never had a chance.” The grandfather clock chimed, counting the quarter hour.

“What happened to him? To the boy?”

“Have you seen the lid for this box?” Great-aunt Roselyn looked around with a frown, suddenly absorbed by the task again.

“Did you see him again?”

Kate heard Elaina’s voice then, in the kitchen. “It had to be something I gave to you.” Then she was in the doorway, standing hip cocked. Temper flashing. “Ian’s watch is missing. He’s not torn up about it, but I thought I’d better mention it.” Curls tumbled down from the loose bun. Ian was close behind her, holding a glass of water. “That’s about all we’ve discovered so far.”

“I’ll add it to the list,” Kate promised.

Elaina took the glass from Ian’s hand.

He leaned one shoulder against the doorframe and watched her as she drank from his glass, both amused and exasperated. “I offered to get you your own, just seconds ago.”

“I only wanted a sip.” She handed the glass back to him with a grin, brushed impatiently at tendrils of hair falling in her face. “We should have seen this coming. Everyone in town knows Mr. Wendell met his maker. It’s not surprising kids seized the opportunity for some petty theft and demolition. There’s not a lot of risk, not with the size of the house. Truth or dare, and up the ante. Prove who’s the toughest of the lot.”

Ian quirked a brow. “And you’d have taken that dare? Risked getting a record, for the thrill of it?”

“For the status, hell, yes. I always chose dare over truth.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.” Ian’s voice was wry.

“Very funny.” Elaina gave him a look. “Anyway, we’re calling it quits for tonight.”

Getting some rest sounded tempting. Kate’s headache was beginning to build again, pounding in her temples, pulling at the muscles in her neck. “I think I will too.”

Great-aunt Roselyn sighed, looking around with a pained expression. “I suppose the rest will have to wait until tomorrow.”

“We’ll have the house cleaned up in no time,” Ian told her. “It’ll be like it never happened.”

“And wouldn’t that be nice? If only it were that easy.” The wardrobe door closed with a click. Great-aunt Roselyn rested her hand against the wood, her face drawn and weary.

Kate thought of the book left in the rain. The awkward boy. The girl who would later become The Eternal Wife. And felt that familiar tug of an unfinished story. That need for the ending.

Why had Great-aunt Roselyn changed the subject?