Luke had only been gone for a minute or two before there was a knock at the door. Addison opened it. “Forget someth—?”
But it wasn’t Luke; it was an older woman with purplish-white curls atop her head. Her hair permanent was the tightest Addison had ever seen. She had a smile that exposed the wrinkles of someone who’d lived a full life. The woman leaned on a wooden cane with one hand and held a pie out with the other. “My name is Helen. Forgive my intrusion, won’t you?” She turned, peering at a man in the drivers-side seat of the car parked in front of the house. “I’ll just be a moment.” Then she looked back at Addison. “I live in the house next door. May I come in?”
“I’m sorry…we’re not finished working on the front room, so the furniture hasn’t been set out yet. I have nowhere for you to sit.”
“That’s all right. I’ll manage.” Helen pushed her way past Addison, depositing the pie into Addison’s hands as she walked by. She glanced around the room and grinned. “I’m glad to see someone is taking the time to fix up this place. I spent many nights in this house.”
“You stayed here?”
“Oh no, dear—not overnight. I’m talking about the parties.” She shook her head back and forth. “What fun we used to have. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss it.”
“The parties?”
Helen wasn’t listening. Her eyes surveyed the room while she rambled on about dancing in the parlor room with a man named Harold.
“Did you know my grandmother?” Addison asked.
The realization of who Addison was stunned Helen into complete silence. She turned, staring at Addison like she was seeing her again for the first time. “I knew Marjorie Grayson very well. Are you—Nancy’s daughter?”
“You knew my mother too?”
“When she was a little girl, yes. I used to watch her for your grandmother from time to time. She was quite an active little thing, your mother.”
“Did she like living here?”
“Of course she did.” Helen frowned. “How is it you don’t know any of this?”
“My mother never talked about her life here.”
“Then how…or why….?” Helen’s voice trailed off in her confusion.
“She passed away recently,” Addison stated.
“Your mother?”
Addison nodded.
Helen placed a hand on her hip and made a ticking noise with her mouth that sounded like tkk…tkk…tkk.. “So young. How did it happen?”
“It was an accident—when she died, I learned about the house.”
“How?”
“I inherited it.”
“What are your plans?” Helen asked. “Will you sell it?”
“I’m fixing it up.”
“Yes—yes—I can see that, but then what?”
“I’ll live here,” Addison said. “I plan to make Grayson Manor my home.”
Helen moved closer to Addison and squinted. “You look a lot like your grandmother. I can see that now.”
“Did you know her well?”
“We were neighbors…I suppose I did. Shrewd woman, Marjorie.”
“Did you just say my grandmother was a rude woman?” Addison asked.
Helen huffed, offended at the implication. “Certainly not.”
Addison was sure she’d heard her right, but she let it pass.
“I considered your grandmother one of my closest friends,” Helen said.
“Can you tell me anything about her?”
Helen looked around and frowned. “I can, but I’ll need to sit.” Addison led the elderly woman into the kitchen and found a cushion to place on a wooden chair for comfort. Helen lowered herself down with the natural grace of a royal. “Now. What would you like to know?”
“Everything.”
“Surely she’s in your life in some capacity—can’t you just ask her yourself?”
Addison shook her head. “I’ve only seen my grandmother once.”
Helen’s eyes were wide with disbelief. “Only once? Well, when was that?”
“I was very young. She showed up at our house. My mother looked out the window and saw her standing on the doorstep, ringing the doorbell. My mother turned toward me, pointing down the hall. She told me to go to my room, but I didn’t. I snuck around the corner, and when my mother wasn’t looking, I peeked.”
“And what did you see?”
“My grandmother. I knew it was her because my mother called her ‘mom.’ I’ll never forget it. She was dressed in a long, fur coat that went all the way to the ground. She had red, pointy fingernails, red lipstick, and red heeled shoes with rounded toes. Her hair was pulled back into a bun, and she wore big, round sunglasses. She looked like a model in a magazine.”
“What did Marjorie say?” Helen asked.
“She asked my mother if she could see me. She said it was important, and that my mother knew why.”
“And your mother—what did she say?”
“She lowered her voice and said something too low for me to hear. Then she slammed the door in my grandmother’s face.”
“How old were you at the time?” Helen asked.
“I’m not sure. Five, I think.”
“So young, and yet you remember?”
“My grandmother is the kind of woman one doesn’t easily forget—I suppose especially when I realized who she was.”
“And you know nothing else about her?” Helen asked. “It’s rather odd that your mother would turn her out in such a way.”
“Several years after her visit, I was told that my grandmother had died. When I asked my mother for details, she didn’t answer. She just said I didn’t need to worry about it. I tried asking my dad, and he just said to talk to my mother.”
“Marjorie—dead? I hadn’t heard. Of course, I never knew what happened to her after she left this place.”
“That’s another thing I don’t understand. Why did she leave?”
Helen opened her mouth as if to speak, then snapped it shut. “I need to get going. I just wanted to come over and introduce myself. We’ll talk again. Good luck with your renovations.”
Addison tried to respond, but Helen was already limping back to the car as quickly as a woman with a cane could. She offered a slight wave before the car disappeared around the corner. Addison stood on the porch wondering what had spooked Helen enough to flee her home in such a hurry and why she looked like she had something to hide.