The next morning, I was dusting the shelves at Charming Books when my cell phone rang. It was Renee.
“I called in favors to every library I knew that had a connection to Thoreau,” she told me. “You owe me big time. All these people want to do is talk about him. I mean on and on and on. They are worse than you. You should have seen the level of rivalry between the libraries about who had what on him. I knew librarians could be competitive with statistics, like who has the best circulation and whatnot, but nothing like this. I thought I was starting a turf war or something.”
“I’m surprised you were able to get through this close to Christmas,” I said.
“The people I spoke to live and breathe Henry David Thoreau. Christmas is meaningless to them.”
“What did you learn?” I put my duster on the shelf and spied Emerson eyeing it from his cat bed by the hearth. I picked it up again. “Had any of them heard of Imogene?”
“Had they ever. They all had a lot to say about her too.”
I waited, even though it killed me not to ask more questions. I knew Renee wanted to tell her findings in her own way.
“Apparently, Imogene has been harassing them on and off for years. She would go to the libraries saying she wanted to research Thoreau, and then she would try to talk them into believing her story. I think at first they were curious about her and wanted to know more. That didn’t last long.”
“They don’t believe it?” I asked.
“Not even a little bit. Not a single expert I spoke to believes that Henry David had children out of wedlock. And we know for a fact that he didn’t have any kids in wedlock.”
“What did they tell Imogene when she shared her story?”
“The same thing you told her, I assume. That it couldn’t be true. But she was relentless. One museum banned her from the building completely after she’d chained herself to the archive doors, saying she wouldn’t leave until they accepted her story as fact.”
“It seems odd to me that I didn’t hear about this in an academic bulletin or something like that. I mean, that would be news.”
“According to the archivist, they kept it hush-hush by request of the university. You know the administration balks at the possibility of any bad publicity.”
I did.
“Imogene signed a letter promising she wouldn’t visit the campus again or contact any faculty or staff member. From what the archivist said, she’s kept her word so far.”
I wrinkled my brow and leaned back on the sales counter. “So she thought she would have better luck here in Cascade Springs. We’re hundreds of miles away from Walden Pond.”
“I don’t know the answer to that one,” Renee said. “I’m just reporting back on whether you have a loose cannon on your hands—and you do.”
I ended the call with Renee and bit my lower lip. This case was growing stranger by the day and time was running out. I had promised Rainwater I would let the case go by Christmas Eve.
I needed to learn more about Imogene. The easiest way to do that would be to speak to her, but I didn’t know where she lived. The one person who would know was her son, and I knew Edmund and Grandma Daisy had a meeting scheduled to walk around the village hall this morning. There was one problem. I didn’t have anyone to watch my shop so I could go find them. It would be foolish to close the shop just a few days before Christmas, even for just a few hours. This was the season when Charming Books made almost half of its annual revenue. And I had a wedding to pay off, so that money was valuable. I could only think of one person who could help me out.
A half hour later, Lacey walked through the door. “Oh, it smells like Christmas in here,” she said.
I grabbed my coat from the back of the tall stool behind the sales counter. “Lacey, thank you so much for coming on such late notice.”
“Are you kidding? This is such a treat. It’s not often that I can get away from the café, and this is the perfect time to. We just finished the breakfast rush. Danielle will be able to handle the customers until I get back. I do have to be back for lunch though.”
“No problem. I just wanted to run to the village hall and catch up with Grandma Daisy.”
“Oh! Daisy popped in the café this morning and told everyone there that the village hall would open in April. She was overjoyed about it.”
I wrinkled my nose. I was sure that my grandmother was excited about her new timeline, but I wasn’t so sure it was a great idea to tell everyone about it. What if she wasn’t able to deliver? It seemed to me that she could be setting herself up to look bad. However, this was one of the many ways that Grandma Daisy and I differed. She liked to make announcements about what was to come. If she didn’t reach those goals, she could explain why the changes were better. I, on the other hand, preferred to say nothing and let the work speak for itself when the time came.
“I’m actually hoping I will have a chance to speak to Adrien’s cousin too. Did you know he had a cousin so close?”
“I knew that Adrien had family nearby, but not in the village,” she said. “You can be sure I asked him about it that night. Adrien and I are partners in life and in business. We need to be honest and open with each other. We discussed it, and all is well between us. In marriage, communication is the key.”
“Your marriage is what I want our marriage to emulate. In my own family, I haven’t seen many successful examples of what real love and partnership should look like, so you are that example for me.”
She squeezed my hand. “You don’t know how much that means to me, Violet. Growing up, I looked up to you and Colleen so much. You were both so pretty, smart, and popular. I felt like the dowdy friend that two nice girls were letting hang around out of pity.”
What she said was like a small stab in my heart. Because there had been times growing up that Colleen, who was like a sister to me until she died much too early, and I hadn’t wanted Lacey around. Sometimes we used to feel exactly what Lacey was describing. This also signaled to me that Lacey was a lot more observant than Colleen and I ever gave her credit for.
“I’m sorry if we ever made you feel that way,” I said. “I’m sorry for how I treated you at times. I know Colleen would be sorry too.”
She smiled. “It was a long time ago, but I do appreciate your apology. Now, please don’t talk about it anymore because you will make me cry.”
“Okay,” I said with a smile of my own.
She cleared her throat. “Before you go, I have one more thing to tell you. You might want to ask Edmund about her cabin in the woods.”
I stopped in the doorway and turned back. “What did you say?”
“Imogene lives in a cabin in the woods.”
Of course she did. That’s exactly where someone with the last name Thoreau would live.
“At least that’s what she told Adrien the last time he saw her,” Lacey added quickly. “Neither of us knows where the cabin is, and we didn’t ask.”
Outside of Charming Books, I hurried down the sidewalk in the direction of the village hall. I was eager to talk to Edmund and learn where his mother’s cabin was. Could it be in the park behind Charming Books?
I supposed it was possible. There were four little cabins in the park that were rented out in summer, but I had never heard of anyone staying there in winter.
I let out my breath. I felt like I had had a breakthrough in finding the book as one of the clues that the shop’s essence had wanted me to pay attention came to mind:
I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately.
It was an early line in Walden. It seemed clear to me now that the shop had wanted me to take that passage quite literally and go into the woods. And not for spring water, but to find Imogene.
However, it would be helpful to be pointed in the right direction by Imogene’s son first. I decided to start with a conversation with him.
Even with how preoccupied I was over Roma’s death and Imogene’s missing book, I still took in the beauty of the village at Christmas. A fresh layer of snow had fallen overnight. In doing so, it covered up the ugly part of winter—the brown tire tracks and piles of gray ice, slush, and snow. Now, the village looked like a painting you could buy in any of its own gift shops or art galleries.
Fresh green garland and white twinkle lights wrapped around every gas lamppost. Each piece of garland was topped with a silver bell. A white carriage pulled by a tall white horse with a red ribbon braided through its mane passed by. The carriage driver was telling the elderly couple in the back of the carriage the history of the village.
“Cascade Springs has always been a special place. It was first settled by Native Americans for the healing powers of the springs. They were followed hundreds of years later by French trappers and then English settlers. Everyone who came here wrote letters home about the waters and spoke of miracles brought on by the water.” The driver waved at me as he continued to speak.
The couple appeared to be engrossed in his every word. It was a fantastical story, and I guessed for them that’s how it would always remain—just a story. For me, it was real life. The water from the springs did have powers. My family tree and the birch tree inside of Charming Books was all the proof I needed of that.
The oddest aspect of winter in the village was the river. Along the banks, it would freeze solid when the temperatures dropped well below zero at night. But that just made the current in the middle of the river that much more powerful, and the water would splash over the frozen parts beneath it. Some of it would then freeze in place while most of it pushed on toward the falls. It was almost like it was in a hurry to fall over the steep cliff a few miles away.
Grandma Daisy stood on the hall steps in a purple, knee-length winter coat and gray hat with a bright green pom-pom on the top. She gestured wildly as Edmund, in his pea coat and classic leather gloves, made notes on a clipboard. He didn’t wear a hat despite the cold bite in the air.
I pulled my own stocking cap farther down over my ears. I hated it when my ears were cold.
“This village hall has to come back better than ever. There is so much history here. We need to honor the people who struggled to make it to this last stop on the Underground Railroad before freedom in Canada,” Grandma Daisy said, projecting her voice so loudly, that I wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised if Lacey could hear her inside Charming Books. I also wondered if Grandma Daisy was testing out her words for a future speech for when the museum finally opened.
Edmund said something back, but I couldn’t make it out.
I wasn’t sure this was the best time to speak to them. They both looked very intent on the project at hand, but the clock was ticking and I needed to get back to the bookshop so Lacey could leave and help with the lunch crowd at Le Crepe Jolie. Besides, I knew that my grandmother wouldn’t mind if I butted into the conversation. Edmund was another story.
“How’s the project coming?” I asked from the foot of the hall steps.
Grandma Daisy and Edmund turned around to face me. Grandma Daisy smiled, but Edmund frowned.
“Violet, my girl, come up here, so we can tell you my vision.”
I noted that Grandma Daisy called it her vision, not their vision. I knew the word choice had been intentional. Grandma Daisy was proud of this project, and she was taking ownership of it. She deserved to, really. She had almost single-handedly raised all the money with countless meetings and creative fundraisers. Like Rainwater had said, no one in the village doubted that Grandma Daisy would get the job done.
I walked up the steps and stood a few feet away from them. “I hope I’m not interrupting your meeting.”
“We do have a lot of work to do,” Edmund said. “Your grandmother has this project on an ambitious timetable.”
“Bah!” Grandma Daisy. “What good does it do to take your time? We will get it done and up to code. Before you know it, the Cascade Springs Underground Railroad Museum and the village hall will number as one of the biggest attractions in the region.”
I didn’t think it was worth reminding my grandmother that Niagara Falls was only fifteen minutes away. She really did believe the museum would be more popular than one of the natural wonders of the world.
“All we have to do is prop up the building and throw some spackle on the cracks, and it will be as good as new,” my grandmother said. “If the hall looks a little rough around the edges, that’s all right. She is almost two hundred years old after all.”
“She?” Edmund asked. “The hall is female?”
“Of course she is,” Grandma Daisy said.
Edmund pressed his lips together as if stopping himself from saying something more about the building’s gender. “It is a little more complicated than just propping up the building, but it is doable.”
“That’s all I need to hear.” Grandma Daisy clapped her mittened hands together like it was a done deal. “Did you need something, Violet?”
“Actually, I wanted to talk to Edmund.”
His brow rose but he did not speak.
“Have you seen your mother?” I asked him.
“I haven’t seen her in a few days.” He scowled. “To be honest, I think she’s avoiding me. She’s got it her head that I’m somehow involved with her book going missing.”
“Oh?” Grandma Daisy asked. “Why would she think that?”
“Because I won’t buy into her story about Thoreau. She has completely lost her grip on reality now. It’s all she talks about. I told her I didn’t want to hear it any longer and have not seen her since. She then accused me of telling Roma to steal the book.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “As much as I hate that book, I would never do that. It’s too valuable.”
It was interesting to me that he said he would never tell Roma to steal the book because of its monetary value, not because it would hurt his mother to lose her beloved copy of Walden.
“Poor woman,” Grandma Daisy said. “It must be so hard to feel like no one believes you.”
“No one believes her because her idea is crazy,” Edmund said sharply.
Grandma Daisy and I shared a glance.
“Look.” Edmund ran his hand through his thick hair. By some miracle, every strand of hair fell right back into place. “I know that I sound awful.”
“You don’t sound great,” Grandma Daisy agreed. “But maybe one small step up from awful.”
He sighed. “I know, but if you’d had the same fabrication shoved down your throat your whole life, you might feel the same. In the last few weeks, she has gotten so much worse. She keeps telling me this is something that she must prove in order to legitimize our family before she dies. Like it’s her dying wish or something.”
“Is she sick?” I asked. “Is she worried about dying?”
“No,” he said. “She’s fine. She’s just being morbid.”
“Oh, I can understand that,” Grandma Daisy said. “You reach a certain age, and you start to think about your mortality. You can’t help it. You want to know what legacy you are leaving behind. She wants this to be her legacy.”
I frowned at the thought of my grandmother contemplating her mortality.
“Yes,” Edmund said. “I do believe it’s something like that.”
“Do you know where she is now?” I asked.
“No. She’s not at her place. I stopped by on the way here.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “She might not want to see me right now, but I’m still her son and have to make sure she’s all right. She’s my responsibility.” He said this as if this was a responsibility he was not thrilled to bear.
Even with my gloves on, my hands were beginning to become painfully cold from standing outside for so long and not moving. I shoved my hands into my pockets. “Lacey Dupont mentioned that she’d said to Adrien, your cousin, that your mom was living in a cabin in the woods.”
“Ahh,” Grandma Daisy said. “I knew that the parks department had gotten a request for a winter stay in one of the cabins. They’d told me about the request, but I said it was up to them to approve it or not. I have enough on my plate with the village hall to save. Imogene must have been the one who asked and they granted it. However, my understanding was that she wasn’t sleeping there because of the cold. I could be wrong.”
“Why would they let her do that?” He groaned. “I told her not to go there. The cabin has no insulation. She could freeze to death if she spent the night there. Do you understand what I’m dealing with now? She would rather have a Walden Pond experience, no matter how uncomfortable, than just accept that she’s a normal person with no legacy to leave behind. I have my doubts about the story that she is living there. Why would she tell Adrien and not me? She barely knows him.”
I shrugged. “Maybe she wanted to tell you but was afraid of your reaction.”
“Afraid of my reaction? She should be afraid of my reaction. She needs to let this crazy idea of hers go. She has no legacy.”
Grandma Daisy shook her head. “Everyone, no matter how humble, has a legacy to leave behind.” She glanced at me. “Some are more unique than others. That is all. Besides, how do you know her story isn’t true?”
“Because everyone she has ever asked told her it can’t be true.” He sounded like a stubborn child, and I was liking Edmund less and less by the second.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” my grandmother said. “If I believed every person who told me that something I said or believed wasn’t true, I wouldn’t say or believe anything. Just think of how many contractors told me this building should be demolished because it could never be saved. I didn’t believe them. I kept trying to find someone who would listen to me, and I found you. Now, the building will be saved. Your mother is just looking for that one person to believe her. That’s all she needs.”
My grandmother made a good point.