Sunday afternoon, after church in the morning and Sunday dinner, as it is called in the South, at noon with Mae-Jo and Bob, Evan returned to Atlanta and to our home in Druid Hills, to Everett and their company. Mark and Karol had joined us for church and the three of them had talked at length in the churchyard afterward while I’d been kept in a small huddle with Arizona and Annaleise, both who—I felt—now considered me to be somewhat of a new big sister, in spite of being old enough to be their mother.
When I’d asked Evan about the conversation between him, Karol, and Mark he replied, “Just business stuff, ” as though I were no part of it. To best circumvent the topic he then added, “What about the twins? What sage advice did they seek today?”
For reasons I cannot explain, I accepted the diversion.
Valentine Bach had given me the go-ahead to enter the house as of Sunday afternoon, a fact I’d told no one. Nor had I mentioned to anyone, including Evan, about Valentine’s teenaged romance with my great-aunt. Additionally, I’d kept the secret room just that: a secret. Evan hadn’t bothered to ask about it, and I’d not exerted the energy to tell him. But as soon as his car disappeared from sight, I told Mae-Jo I was going to the big house and I wasn’t sure when I’d be back.
“Is it okay for you to walk around in there now?” she asked.
“Yes,” I told her. “Mr. Valentine asked that I allow the work on the foundation bricks a few days to set and I’ve done so. Besides, I can’t imagine what harm my one-hundred-and-twelve pounds could possibly render.”
“You have a point,” she said, then bid me farewell.
The cold inside the big house cut through my coat and the velour of the track pants and hoodie I’d changed into after lunch. I shivered as I stepped purposefully through the living room and toward the door leading to the butler’s pantry. Being near the French doors—left opened—I glanced at the staircase and considered going up and into my room to right the wrong of the men who’d rummaged through the boxes. The desire lasted only momentarily. I had a more important mission today.
I opened the door to the pantry. “Good gosh,” I muttered. The cold of the living room was like a sauna compared to the tiny space of parallel shelves and counters. I tucked my fisted hands under my crossed arms and looked around. Other than when we’d cleaned out the house, I’d never seen it devoid of items.
The room was dim, and I pushed both doors open to allow for more light, then reached over my head to pull the narrow cord connected to the overhead light. I studied the cracking of the shelves against the wall where I now suspected a secret room lay, swiped a layer of dust from one of the shelves, then tucked my hand back under an arm. I hunched and used my eyes to scan each and every inch of the counters. Finding nothing to indicate a way into the secret room, I squatted, resting my rear on my heels, and opened the cabinets beneath the counter. Though empty and the doors open, it was too dark to see well enough to determine if in fact there was a switch or lever. I frowned, thinking I should have brought a flashlight. I stood, closing the cabinet doors.
Under each countertop were two small drawers. I opened the two belonging to the secret room’s wall, pulling them all the way out, peering under them and around them, but finding nothing. I slipped them back into the grooves and pushed them shut. I stretched to see if I could spy anything along the shelves just out of my natural eyesight, but at only five-foot-four and five-foot-five on my tiptoes, it wasn’t much use.
I turned my back to the counter, pushed my rear up and on to it, then used the shelves as support to stand. I ducked my head to look under the middle shelf. It was then I found it, a small horizontal lever. I pushed it.
Instantly the counter and shelves shifted. I screamed as though I’d seen a mouse, and continued to hold on to one of the shelves. When the shifting came to a stop, it revealed an opening just large enough for a human body to inch through.
I gingerly sat on the counter then hopped to the floor on both feet. A blast of icy air pushed its way into the pantry, and again I shivered.
With a mixture of curiosity and anxiety, I pushed the door fully open. Then I slipped inside.