Chapter Two

With Estella clinging to his hand, Rich stood in the foyer of his grandmother’s house and was assaulted with so many childhood memories it was almost unbearable. This was the refuge where he came every summer to escape the sweltering city and the troubled marriage of his parents, and to get tender loving care from his paternal grandparents, who doted on their only grandchild.

Grandmother Gertie’s house was a solid old structure, dating from the time when his great grandmother, Hilda, came from Austria before the First World War and fell in love with a humble but highly-skilled carpenter who built her a stately, impressive mansion with two fireplaces and five bedrooms on the southern end of the town’s main thoroughfare.

The house now needed a bit of work, Rich realized, but most of it was reasonable and cosmetic. New paint and wallpaper would brighten and chase away the gloom. The cherry floors under his feet needed a good buffing and polishing—or maybe sanding and sealing—to look almost new again. And the scratches on the ornate cherry woodwork only needed to be touched up by someone with a skillful eye and a careful hand.

Estella tugged on his fingers. “You promised we’d see everything and then eat. I want to find my bedroom. You said I could choose. You promised, Daddy.”

“Okay. Let’s finish the downstairs first.” They peered into the massive front living room where little change had occurred over the years. A brown leather couch and gold velvet wingback chairs faced the marble fireplace and beside them sat matching, spindled end tables. A glass-encased bookcase along one far wall held treasures from a hundred years ago when his great grandmother arrived—1916 German coins, a wind-up tin car, and other odds and ends. In the dining room on the opposite side of the house, an antique, inlaid dining table surrounded by eight chairs looked as if it were purchased only yesterday. Just like Great Grandmother Hilda, Grandmother Gertie preferred to eat in the kitchen except for special occasions. A matching corner china cabinet held delicate bone china tea sets, a porcelain tea strainer, hand-painted vases, Bavarian fruit plates, and many more delicate knick-knacks from long ago.

“Everything here is sooo old,” Estella remarked, her voice a soft whine. She trudged behind him as he bypassed the study with its heavy, paneled door that had been locked when the house was rented, but was now open. Inside he could see his grandfather’s handmade, floor-to-ceiling glass cabinets flaunting even more paraphernalia and a huge collection of teddy bears.

“I know, Estella.” He nodded. He would have to find someone to help unload, inventory, and box up all the contents in every cabinet in the house. It was obvious why no one wanted to rent the place. The rooms looked depressing and outdated, stuffed with vintage items meaning nothing to families in a modern world. The place was tired and worn. But haunted? Ghosts? He shook his head. No, not possible. It was just a silly rumor, probably started by kids.

He headed straight to the recently redone kitchen, bypassing the downstairs bedroom. It was light and airy with new white cabinets, light gray granite countertops, and all new appliances. Two sets of French doors, the farthest one opening to a functional family room and the other leading to a back porch, stone walk, patio and backyard, now allowed the afternoon sun to flood the once dimly lit back of the house.

Rich peered out onto the porch where two white wooden rocking chairs invited guests to linger outside and enjoy the panoramic beauty of the stone-walled fields and forestland extending to the horizon. The same towering oak tree that once held an old-fashioned rope swing when he was young still shaded a corner of the backyard. Beyond it, the huge, colorful flowerbeds Torrie had mentioned stretched out, and beside them was a timeworn gazebo his grandfather had built. Up a path to the right, a carriage house stood among a stand of pine like a lone sentry on duty.

Estella ran to the front foyer and picked up her backpack, then raced back and shouted, “Come on. Let’s go, Daddy. I want to find a room where I’m going to sleep tonight. And I’m hungry.”

Together, they climbed the stairs to a landing where four spacious bedrooms filled the upstairs along with a walk-in closet, central bathroom, and steps leading to the third floor attic. Rich stopped at the first corner room, which used to be his bedroom when he lived with his grandparents. Colors of oyster and blue now accented the walls. On the shelves beside the long mirrored dresser, his grandmother had positioned his graduation photo along with pictures of his various high school sports. A stab of longing and nostalgia washed over him as he stared at them. His own parents had never made any effort to display any of his accomplishments when he was growing up. His grandmother, however, collected and proudly pinned every newspaper clipping mentioning his name on the front of her refrigerator.

From across the hall, Estella’s high-pitched squeal interrupted his reminiscing. “Hey, Daddy, look at this! It’s a room for a fairy princess! I’m choosing this one. Pleeease?”

Rich crossed the hallway. The room glowed a soft rosy color in the fading sunlight. Delicate striped wallpaper in shades of rose, pink, and white covered two walls while the opposite ones were adorned with a small cabbage rose design. A white eyelet comforter covered a full-sized canopy bed. A porcelain doll with dark hair, dressed in white silk and lace and wearing an intricately fashioned bonnet, sat on the window seat across from the bed. A battered toy chest had been placed against the wall below the dormered window, and Estella knelt and opened it, pulling out games and toys from Rich’s childhood in Hickory Valley.

Marlene, he said to himself. This must have been Marlene’s doing. He never recalled a time when the room was pink, even when he came for the funeral two years ago.

As if he had conjured up the woman, the doorbell rang. Before he could reach the bottom steps, Marlene opened the door and met him at the bottom of the steps, her siren-red, four-inch heels clicking on the wooden floor. Her short hair, almost as red as the shoes, was fashioned into a spiked, trendy hairstyle. A pair of stone-washed jeans hugged her tall thin frame like a second skin.

“How’d you get in?” he asked.

“I’m your real estate agent, remember?” She dangled a key in front of him. “Maybe you ought to keep this spare in case you get locked out. I brought the coffee and some good Jameson Irish whiskey, eighteen-year variety, not twelve. For later.” She wiggled her eyebrows at Estella and dropped the key in his hands, then held up a plastic grocery bag and headed to the kitchen in the back. “Please tell me you have the oven turned on, Richard Lee Junior, and the pan of lasagna pulled out of the refrigerator.”

He trailed behind her. “Not yet.”

She shook her head, snapped the oven on, opened the refrigerator, and took out the pan. From the bread box, she retrieved a loaf of bread. “The child should have eaten by now.”

“Estella and I were exploring.” Rich leaned against the doorjamb and watched her work. Marlene had been a dedicated friend and employee of Gertrude’s family for as many years as he could remember. Growing up in Hickory Valley, Marlene had worked with her father in real estate since she was sixteen. Twenty-three years later, when Howard Hess announced he was retiring and headed to Florida and life in a condo at the beach, it had seemed natural for Marlene to take over the business. Unmarried and a few years shy of fifty, she could give the thirty-year-olds a run for their money with her high-energy personality. The business hadn’t floundered in the least. Marlene had to hire more agents to keep up with the new clients and demands on her time. When Gertrude was alive, Marlene often popped in to see the old woman and have a cup of blueberry tea.

But what he recalled most about the woman was her efficient, assertive temperament and good business sense. Through the years, she was more like a big sister to him. When he was in grade school, she used to babysit on those summer nights when his grandmother went to play bridge or needed an evening out. She never let him beat her at any board game they played. Marlene was a tough cookie. Strict, but fair. In some ways, she taught him to be competitive and tough, too.

Through the screen from the opened French doors, a gentle breeze picked up the smell of new mown grass, phlox, and pine. It had been a long time since he had experienced such clean, inviting outdoor smells. “I’ve been meaning to ask you whether you might have a lead on someone who would be able to do some light housekeeping, cooking, and babysitting while Estella and I are here,” he said.

Marlene turned. “I was waiting for you to ask that question.” She sliced some bread and put it in a basket. She pointed to the cupboard. “Get three glasses out. Yes, I have someone in mind. Her name is Lucille Smith. Everyone calls her Lulu. She lost her husband last year and needs something to do to refocus her life. She knew your grandmother well. They played in the same card club and were best friends.”

“And just how old is this woman?”

“Seventy-five.”

“You’re kidding, Marlene. I need someone to keep up with Estella.” He set the glasses on the table.

“This ol’ gal can run circles around you, Estella, and me. She’s from a farm on the other side of town, and there’s nothing she can’t do. She raised five kids and has won numerous blue ribbons for her canned and baked goods at the county fair. I’ll have her stop over tomorrow morning, and you can decide.” Marlene set the kitchen table with three place settings. “Now go call Estella for dinner. The poor child must be starved.”

Later, while Marlene cleaned the kitchen, Rich tucked Estella into bed and showered before he rejoined her in the living room. In her lap, Marlene had the mysterious envelope, the unsent letter she had mentioned to him over the phone. It was the main reason he was returning to Hickory Valley. He was annoyed she refused to deal with it, but she said she felt uncomfortable opening it or sending it in the mail. “If it truly is important, and if it contains your grandmother’s last words to you…or requests of you,” she had told him, “you need to read it at the homestead.”

Beside her, on the end table, she had two glasses with amber liquid emitting the smell of rich smooth whiskey. When he took a seat in one of the wingback chairs, she handed one to him. “To a pleasant, prosperous visit to Hickory Valley,” she said, raising her glass and touching his with a soft clink.

Rich stretched out his legs and took a sip. “I was so pleased to see Grandmother Gertie had the kitchen remodeled and the bedrooms repainted and refurnished. It makes it so much easier for us to stay here.”

Marlene swirled the whiskey in her glass. “She started the renovations six months before she died and left me strict instructions to have them finished if something happened to her. The only thing I had to do was to get the front bedroom papered and painted pink, and have the canopy installed over the bed. I suspect Estella is delighted?”

“Estella is ecstatic over the room. Thank you. I wish my grandmother could see her now. She’s older and funnier and witty.” Rich took another sip of whiskey. “The old toy chest brings back a ton of memories. I’m going to check out some of those old games we used to play. Remember how you used to clobber me in chess?”

Marlene laughed. “Yes, but you beat me in Memory. I never could get those crazy tiles to match each other.”

He paused a moment to stare into his drink and reminisce before looking at Marlene. “The porcelain doll was really a nice touch. Estella loved it, since it has dark hair like hers.”

“What porcelain doll?”

“On the window seat.”

Marlene raised an eyebrow and a momentary look of discomfort crossed her face. “I never left a porcelain doll in the pink bedroom.”

Their eyes met, each clouded with uneasiness. Rich was the first to break contact and shrugged. “Well, someone did. Maybe someone from the cleaning service rearranged things. You don’t believe in ghosts, do you, Marlene?” He frowned and watched her expression change to one of faint caution.

“Well, Richard Junior, I’ve certainly not been able to get a house this grand to sell. And in Hickory Valley and the surrounding area, the housing market is getting stronger every month.” She handed him the sealed letter. “Let’s get this over with and find out what your grandmother had to say. We’re lucky we have this. If it hadn’t been for Ivan Winters, your grandmother’s accountant and loan officer down at the First National Bank, who suggested I check the house one more time for unopened mail and bills, I might not have found it. It was shoved into a pigeon hole on her desk in the study where she did paperwork.”

With steady hands, Rich took the envelope and tapped it on his knee. There was a faint smile on his lips. “The sweet old lady can reach me from the grave. Last wishes of the deceased are always the hardest ones to carry out.” Silence descended as he opened the envelope and read the one-page letter. Finally he looked up, his lips thinned in irritation. He handed it to Marlene. “Looks like she got me.”

Marlene took the letter. “You sure you want me to read this?”

He nodded.

She settled back into the chair and kicked off her shoes. Taking her time, she read the letter. When she was finished, she dropped it in her lap and sighed. “Well, I didn’t see this coming.” She looked down at it one more time, forehead wrinkled. “So, there’s hidden jewels, supposedly brought over from Austria before the war by your Great Grandmother Hilda, that never came to light in the last one hundred years. And you have a half-sister somewhere whom Gertie wants you to find for a trust she had set up for both of you.” Marlene shook her head. “Looks like your dad got you, too. A half-sister? Aren’t you shocked?”

Rich heaved a weary sigh and ran his hand through his still-damp, sandy-colored hair. “If you understood the pitiful marriage my mom and dad had, then no, it’s no surprise. They both cheated, I’m guessing.” He looked at her with a disheartened gaze. “I wonder why Ivan Winters never said anything about a half-sister when I was clearing some of Gertie’s accounts at the bank. He told me the trust would become available in three years when I was thirty-eight, but he never told me there was a stipulation to include a half-sister.”

“Was she mentioned in Gertie’s will?”

“No, of course not. This is all news to me.”

“Then, I’d guess he figured you already knew or perhaps were on a need-to-know basis. Since the trust didn’t directly involve you yet, but rather an individual whom no one could locate, it wasn’t critical to transacting business.”

“Wasn’t critical? Marlene, I’ve been handling my grandmother’s investments for the last ten years. The least that doofus Ivan could have done was to give me a heads up.”

“It wasn’t Ivan’s place to tell you about a half-sister, Richard Lee. It was only the bank’s responsibility to manage the trust.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Rich rose and paced the room, stopping at the fireplace. “Good grief, what a mess!”

Marlene chuckled a dry, heckling sound. “It looks like you might be extending your stay a little while longer than a month to sort out this tangled web.”

“You think this is amusing?”

Marlene yawned and rose. “No, I think I need to go home, take a shower, and go to bed. Things always look better in the morning.”

Rich walked her to the door. “Can you tell me, what’s the story with Torrine Larson? I see she’s back in town.”

“She has been for a few years. After she graduated from Duquesne in Pittsburgh with a degree in art, Torrie headed to New York City. Supposedly, she was engaged.” Marlene shrugged. “About six years ago, she returned. No diamond. No marriage. No reasons for her return. There was gossip, of course, but I’m not spreading any. I’m guessing there are more than a few scars, but it’s Torrie’s story to tell, not mine. Her parents and family are very supportive of her. Torr and Regina Larson have always been exemplary parents to all their children. Rumor has it Ivan Winters at the bank is very interested in her along with a dozen others, but she doesn’t return the attention.”

Marlene opened the door. “She started a business here with her older brother, Finn, and sometimes she helps Henry when he needs someone to man the phone. I believe she also does his bookkeeping. Her younger brother, Gus, is a mechanic and works for him, too.”

“Where does she live?”

“In a small apartment across the street from Henry’s main garage above a warehouse he owns.” Marlene leaned in and bussed Rich lightly on his cheek. “Welcome home. It’s so good to see you again. Don’t forget, if you need anything, just give a jingle. I’m on the payroll to help with whatever you might need.”

She slipped out the door before Rich could ask her what kind of business Torrie Larson had started.