CHAPTER SIX

 

 

Finally, the day arrived for Jennifer’s friend Sue to visit. It had been nearly three weeks since they last saw each other in San Francisco. Sue was taking off work that Friday morning to drive straight up the coast to Brynstol.

Jennifer went down to Roundmore and Innes’ about two o’clock to wait for her arrival, absolutely elated at the chance to see her again.

Jennifer had already met several of her neighbors who were uniformly surprised at her staying at “Squire House.” They had explained that the original owner was said to be an eccentric artist named Paul Squire who disappeared one day and was never heard from again. No one could come right out and tell Jennifer why her staying alone in the house perplexed them—other than it was remote, and she was “a woman alone.” But it was obvious that it did. Whenever she questioned Innes, he claimed to know nothing about the neighbors’ reservations or even the house’s history.

In general, however, people kept to themselves in Brynstol. In San Francisco, Jennifer always had someone nearby—her mother, Sue, co-workers, or simply masses of strangers. All that had changed in Brynstol and Jennifer was finally able to find out what it was like to truly be on her own. She found she liked it. The best part was that no one here seemed to find her weird for feeling that way.

“There she is!” Jennifer shouted to Innes as she stood looking out the window of his office. Innes looked up from his interminable pile of papers with a start, yet caught only the most fleeting glimpse of Jennifer as she dashed out of the office.

Sue had parked a little blue Miata, and stood beside it looking bewildered as Jennifer approached. The two friends embraced.

“What’s with this car?” Jennifer exclaimed. “I didn’t know you were getting a new car. It’s beautiful.”

“It’s not mine. Not with my rotten salary. And I haven’t robbed a bank since you saw me last.” Sue smiled. “It’s my new boyfriend’s car. He let me borrow it. His name is Brent Cooper, and he’s simply dreamy.”

“Dreamy, no less?” Jennifer had to laugh at Sue’s high school expression. “I do look forward to hearing all about Brent.”

“Oh you will, believe me.”

But then Sue stopped talking studied Jennifer. “My God, girl,” she said. “You look beautiful.”

“Sure,” Jennifer smirked.

“You do. The lines of tension in your face are gone. And you not only are tanned, I even see some color in your cheeks. You never have color in your cheeks.”

“I’m spending a lot of time outdoors between the land, my dogs, and simply biking back and forth to town.”

“Whatever, it’s doing you great. And I like your hair. I had no idea it was so long.”

For some reason, Jennifer had enjoyed letting it flow freely and softly down her back. Maybe when she was feeling so much freer than she ever had, it seemed wrong to pull her hair up into the tight knot she often used to wear.

They got into the Miata. The sun was low in the horizon, glowing magnificently behind Squire House as they reached the top of the hill, making it look large, imposing and beautiful. Sue was awe struck. “I can’t believe it,” she cried. “It’s absolutely marvelous. What the hell is going on? Did your mother rob a bank and not tell you? How could she have had a huge house like this and not do anything with it?”

Jennifer had to laugh. “Wait until you see the inside.”

As they pulled onto the driveway Beau and Jock came running toward the car, barking furiously. Sue slammed on the brakes. “Are they dogs or barking bears?”

“Pussycats, really.” Jennifer turned to the dogs and told them to be silent. They obeyed. “They’re great companions, and they keep away strangers,” added Jennifer.

“Don’t let me be the first to tell you,” said Sue, “but those monsters will keep away friends too! Especially this one.”

“Don’t worry. They’re fine. They even sleep in the bedroom with me,” Jennifer added.

“I won’t waste my breath asking about your sex life.”

When the two went indoors Sue was as enthusiastic about the house as Jennifer had hoped she would be. In preparation for her visit, Jennifer had readied one of the smaller bedrooms for use as a guest room. She used her old double bed and the dresser she had brought from San Francisco, and mixed in a few Squire House antiques. The result was an attractive old-world style room. Sue fell in love with it.

Jennifer cooked a simple dinner and they ate at the little table in the living room. The sun was setting, leaving the sky a dusky, reddish-grey. A fire blazed in the fireplace.

“I’ve never used the dining room yet,” Jennifer confessed. “I enjoy eating in this room and watching the ocean’s ever-changing views.”

“To think,” Sue said. “I had visions of you freezing in some leaky old dump. Not only is the house fabulous, but there’s something, I don’t know, almost mysterious or magical about it. Do you feel it? Or am I being goofy?”

“Not at all. I feel it as well,” Jennifer agreed.

Sue continued wistfully, “What stories this place must have to tell. Don’t you wonder what it could say if it could talk? More than ever, having known your mother, I don’t understand why she didn’t sell it. She loved money and the fun things she could do when she had it. A house in Brynstol was definitely not her style. And this place has got to be worth plenty. Unless something weird happened here that meant she couldn’t sell it—like someone was murdered here.”

“Gee, just what I want to know about,” Jennifer said with a scowl.

“Okay, not murdered. But still, something must be going on that stopped Rachel from getting her money’s worth out of the place.”

“If so, I’ve never heard what it might be.”

“A house like this just doesn’t sit around year after year collecting dust for no reason at all. You know what I mean?” Sue put her fingers to her chin. “I wonder how we can find out what that was.”

“What do you mean, ‘we’?” Jennifer asked. “I may not want to know. What if it was something terrible? I’m the one who’ll have to stay here alone, you know. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh come on now, don’t be silly. What do you know about the place?” Sue asked.

“Just what some neighbors said.”

“Tell me!” Sue was all ears.

“The original owner was a painter, an artist, who lived alone and never married. After he died, I understand they hunted for some relatives and found distant cousins. Somehow, the house was passed from one to the other, ending up with my grandfather, then my mother, and now I have it. That’s all I’ve heard. Not very exciting is it?”

“Did those relatives live here?”

“Apparently no one did, although my mother visited it and hired Gresham Innes to take care of it. But I have no idea why she didn’t sell.”

“Sentimental value?” Sue suggested.

“Come on, the only thing my mother was sentimental about was the green color of US dollars. I thought my grandfather might have forbidden Rachel to sell it, but Innes said no—that Rachel did want to sell, but could find no buyers. He claims the area is simply too remote. Maybe the simplest explanation is the true one,” Jennifer concluded.

“What about the artist?” Sue asked. “Is he known at all? Is his work any good?”

“That’s his painting over the mantle. There’s another in the dining room, and one in the master bedroom. More are apparently up in the attic.”

“In the attic? There’s an attic here too?” Sue was growing more curious about the house.

“There is,” Jennifer stated.

“Let’s go! I’ve always dreamed of exploring an attic in an old house. Who knows what we’ll find up there. How exciting! Can we go up there now?”

“No way.” Jennifer was horrified at the thought. “I’m sure it’s dark and filthy.”

“Tomorrow, then?”

“Perhaps. But we’ve got plenty of time.”

“You don’t really want to see what’s in that attic, do you?” Sue asked.

Jennifer looked puzzled at first, then she nodded. “You’re right. I don’t. I still don’t feel very much at home here. I don’t know how to explain it, but when I arrived everything was in place, looking so much like someone else was living here that it seemed as if I didn’t really belong. As if the house itself wanted me to leave. Eventually, as I displayed my own possessions, that feeling passed, a little at least. Sometimes, though, to go through the belongings of the former owner, to handle them, act as if they now belong to me, seems wrong. Perhaps I’m being silly. I am curious, I’ll admit that. “

Sue didn’t reply; she knew what was coming.

“Maybe with you here,” Jennifer continued, “I’ll be able to look at the stuff.”

“Yes!” Sue shouted with glee. “I knew you’d say that.”