Jane flew back to Denver to tie up loose ends. It took nearly a week to pack up most of her belongings and make arrangements for movers. She put the townhouse on the market with a good realtor, then spent her last night in Colorado with friends, telling them about her new house and thoughts about returning to music. They predicted she’d go stir crazy within two months—one claimed two weeks. But her calm certainty remained.
The next morning Jane sold her BMW. She really couldn’t afford it anymore. The dealership gave her a ride to the airport where she said her goodbyes to the white peaks of the Rocky Mountains, thinking it a fair exchange for the soft round hills of the Piedmont and the blues and greys of the Smokies.
Once her plane landed in Greensboro, she rented a car and drove to her new home. She carried in her suitcases and dropped them at the foot of the stairs. It was early evening. A glass of merlot in hand, she walked out to the back yard, where she found Winston lying in the middle of the dormant rose garden, gazing up at the trees, sniffing the air.
“Did Dorothea let you out?”
He licked her hand. She plopped down beside him. Together they watched the stars come out. A bat flew overhead, swerving this way and that, picking off the last of the insects.
Something soft nudged Jane’s back. Turning, she found a calico cat. A second cat announced his presence with one loud meow from the nearby tangle of honeysuckle, forsythia and barberry bushes.
Jane looked down at the bulldog. “There are cats, too?”
He wagged his stub of a tail in answer.
The calico settled in her lap, kneading her jeans, warm and purring. Jane picked up her tag and angled it toward a streetlight. It read ‘Suzie B’. She laughed. So Miss Essig had been a feminist.
After a long while, the night chill penetrated Jane’s light jacket. She stood, dislodging the cat, who grunted her protest. She strolled back to the house, the animals following. Winston trudged up the wooden steps to the back porch and waited at the closed door, his great tongue lolling.
“You and I need some exercise,” she told him.
Jane looked around just in time to see the cats duck into the greenhouse that jutted off the side of the basement. She walked back down the steps and found one of the window panes missing. A cat door of sorts.
Inside, she found the two felines already sitting beside their bowls, looking up at her expectantly. The cat hiding in the bushes turned out to be an enormous black long-hair complete with ear tufts. His tag read ‘Marvin’.
Okay, Marvin Gaye and Susan B. Anthony. Miss Essig was turning out to be more than a proper music teacher.
Jane inspected the pantry and found a bag of kibble. Some fancy kind that claimed to be organic. Chalk another one up for her old music teacher. Jane sprinkled food in each bowl and was rewarded by purring and chomping.
Instant family.
✬ ✬ ✬
Life settled down to a regular pace. In the mornings, Jane and Winston went for a run in Washington Park, under old trees and past covered picnic shelters, down to the creek. The route took her through what was now a series of baseball diamonds and soccer fields, across the bridge spanning Salem Creek to the dog run, and up to the elementary school she’d attended, then back again, her calves burning on the ascent. Winston panted heavily the first week, but soon kept up nicely.
One day she stooped at the edge of the water and lifted a few round, grey stones, but no Crayfish scurried for cover and no minnows swam in the shallows. The creek seemed empty of life; too much concrete for her taste. She remembered the gang of girls splashing in the creek on the endless hot days of summer, watching the crustaceans scuttle around. Or just lolling in the water, their assorted dogs lying in the shade watching as if their young charges were a flock of sheep.
The rest of her mornings she spent getting the house in order, but Jane dedicated her afternoons to music, starting with the grand piano in the living room. Nimble from the computer, her fingers soon remembered their way amongst the black and white keys. A stack of Miss Essig’s workbooks for students were in the piano bench, and she played her way through them in one sitting. The next afternoon she leafed through stacks of sheet music, deciding to start with Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. Once she felt proficient again, she’d audition for a group in town, work her way up to the symphony. Maybe offer private lessons. Continue the tradition of this being a musical house.
In the evenings, Jane went over to Dorothea’s, as she now thought of the big, brick mansion she’d been invited to the night of Miss Essig’s death, and ate with whoever turned up. It seemed like a gathering place—but only women came, sometimes with children, but usually for the evening meal like she did. Some seemed to come for counseling with Anna and stayed for supper. After the meal, Jane joined the cleanup crew, a fair exchange she hoped. Soon she’d have her own kitchen in order, but she had to admit she found this odd assortment of women good company. At night, she read or watched a film. She’d start her family visits soon.
One morning Jane came back from her run, ducking back through the hedge next to the pear tree, and was greeted by the sound of a leaf blower. A gardening crew swarmed over the yard, trimming, raking, even turning over the compost. She asked around until she found the supervisor and introduced herself as the new owner.
“Sí,” he said, “Mr. Dreher, he tell me about you.”
Jane didn’t recognize the name, but asked the gardener his.
“Julio Rodriguez.”
“The place looks great. I’d like to hire your crew.”
“We already hired, Miss. Trabajo por la firma.”
Jane wasn’t sure what firm he was referring to. “Yes, but now that I’m here, you’ll be working for me.”
He squinted at her in the sun. “But Miss Essig, she no pay.”
“If she owed you money, I can take care of it.” He shook his head, but she continued, “Can I get your number?”
Julio reached into his pocket with grass stained fingers and handed her a business card.
“Just let me know how much I owe you.”
“But Mr. Dreher, he pay. We do todos los jardens por el.”
Jane could follow most of his Spanish inserts, wishing her grasp of the language had survived since junior high so she could answer him. She’d ask Anna about this money arrangement later. For now, she and Winston followed Julio around the acre, Jane asking question after question, Julio answering readily, proud of his work. She asked how the daffodils and tulips were. Years ago, their blossoming had assured her spring had arrived. He admitted they could use some work and agreed to have a crew dig up the beds so she could replenish them. Retirement was turning out to be busy. How had she ever had time to work?
After talking with Julio, Jane entered the house through the kitchen where she grabbed a towel and blotted her face, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and headed into the living room. After downing the water, she decided it was time to unpack the cardboard boxes of books that had arrived a few days ago. She dusted off even the cheap paperbacks as she pulled them out of the boxes, stuffing the shelves in various rooms to their limit and piling the rest on the floor for future homes.
Miss Essig’s collection included the classics and a surprising assortment of contemporary fiction. But her music books were the real treasures. Jane lost herself amongst them until her stomach demanded attention. After lunch, she finished up, discovering a section on Moravian church history that intrigued her.
What puzzled her was the wall of metaphysical titles. It seemed Miss Essig had a sweet tooth for the mystical, everything from kabbala and western metaphysics to astrology, paganism—which really surprised her—and something called sacred geometry. “Math and music are kissing cousins,” the introduction to one declared. She thumbed through another. Platonic solids, Fibonacci spirals and other beautiful shapes, a discussion of the effect of shapes on human consciousness. Jane wondered if Anna knew Miss Essig’s little secret. She hadn’t tried to hide the books, though. They were in the library, although tucked in a corner that was squarely blocked by an overstuffed armchair. Dorothea would be scandalized, Jane was sure. Uncle Pat would damn them all to hell, his favorite pastime.
The next day, Jane decided to work on the two small bedrooms above the library. Maybe she’d remodel, put in a spiral staircase and join the two floors together. She recognized that she was avoiding the master suite where Miss Essig had lived and died. It wasn’t superstition, really. She just felt like she’d let the room sit for a full month. Let Miss Essig get used to her new home before changing her old one, although there was no sense of a lingering spirit. The animals never stared at empty space as if they could see someone she couldn’t. Such a peaceful death should leave no unfinished business. Miss Essig was likely with those old friends she’d mentioned or still listening to the celestial choir.
The first room overlooked the garage and the crab apple tree. A single bed with another star burst quilt stretched against the wall. A wicker basket in the corner overflowed with toys for boys. Trucks, guns, a cigar box full of plastic soldiers. She thought of the child fidgeting with his bowtie at the funeral. She’d write and ask if he wanted any of these. She hadn’t heard from the family. The niece had never called. She’d ask Anna for their address. The room just needed dusting. She let it sit for now.
The next room turned out to be another matter. It was filled with art. And not just any art. William Blake reproductions covered the walls and more were stacked in the corner. Heavy drapes of Jamestown toile blue with a thick lining blocked the light from windows that would have admitted the morning sun. Jane switched on the overhead light. She’d loved Blake in college. In the first painting, an old man emerged from a circle of brilliant gold and orange, leaning down to measure the universe. She couldn’t remember the figure’s name, but thought it was from the poem Jerusalem. Next to this, a youth stood in front of another sunburst of color, his arms spread with palms out as if he were holding back the dark edges of the painting.
Jane sat on a stool next to the small closet. The cats arrived, eager to explore behind a previously closed door. There might be mice, after all. More reproductions that she recognized from The Songs of Innocence and Experience covered the north wall of the room. She looked through a stack leaning in the corner. A heavily muscled man with mangy, long hair and beard crawled on all fours. A dragon hung over a woman dressed in red, her arms mirroring its wings.
Then she found pencil sketches. One contained what looked for all the world like an Advent star in the middle. On the edges the star had been unfolded and thirteen points lined up. At the top and bottom sat an eight-pointed star with an equal-armed cross. The next one looked more like the Blake she knew. A man hovered over a woman, both nude, his hand reaching between her legs. In the next drawing, a nude male figure reclined below a block of texts, but on the side a woman stood, her vagina and uterus drawn as the inside of a cathedral. Another showed a fully erect phallus.
“Miss Essig,” Jane exclaimed. Again, she imagined Dorothea’s face if she saw these. She flipped to the next sketch, but these were miniatures of domestic life drawn inside borders shaped like eyes or mouths. On the edges, phrases were written in German. Little blessings for the house, she imagined. Tame compared to Blake’s erotica.
Jane restacked the art carefully, then stood up and moved closer to the wall covered with paintings. She switched on the light over one. It looked like oil. She ran her finger gingerly over one corner of the painting and found ridges. Someone must have copied bits of Blake’s work as part of her art studies. Perhaps she’d want them back. But who? Another question for Anna. Jane called the cats and shut the door.
✬ ✬ ✬
That night at Dorothea’s, after the dishes were washed and the leftovers tucked away in their various containers, Jane made her way down the hall to the front of the house and knocked on the door of Anna’s office.
“Come in,” Anna called out.
Jane pushed the paneled oak door open but stopped abruptly. Anna had company. Male company. Something she’d never seen in this house before. Jane shook off her surprise. If she wasn’t careful, this place would turn her into a prudish old maid.
Anna greeted her with a nod. “I believe you two have met.”
This was the man who’d been reading to Miss Essig when she’d first arrived. He’d also officiated at her funeral. “I’ve seen you, but never caught your name,” Jane said.
“John.” She inclined her head toward the man. “Meet Jane Frey.”
Jane stepped forward, hand out. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.” He shook her hand. “I hope we’ll be seeing you at church. We could use a voice like yours in the choir.”
Flustered, Jane wondered how he knew she could carry a tune. She hoped they weren’t going to start pressuring her.
After an awkward silence, Anna asked, “Did you need something?”
“I do have some questions—” she gestured at Anna’s overflowing desk “—when you have the time.”
“I can always find time for you, Jane. What were you wondering about?”
“Well, the gardener for one. He didn’t seem to think I needed to pay him. And I wondered if Miss Essig’s family would like to have any personal items.”
“Just odds and ends, then,” Anna said.
“And I’d like to get the title switched to my name. Take care of the insurance.”
Anna’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Title?”
“To the house. I’d like to get the legalities taken care of.”
Anna set down the pen in her hand and looked at John. He put his finger up to his mouth, his brown eyes studying Jane. The ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway filled the silence.
After a minute, Jane asked, “Is there a problem?”
John cleared his throat. “No, I was just thinking through my schedule.”
“Your schedule?”
Anna intervened. “Why don’t you email me your schedule, Jane, and I’ll let you know when we’ve figured out a time when all the parties can meet.”
“This sounds a bit complicated.” Jane said. “I’m completely free, so just let me know when you’ve coordinated with the others.”
“Not complicated, really. I just need to get a few folks together,” Anna said.
Jane walked back down the hallway, avoiding the kitchen, and continued down the drive. Once she was out of sight of the house, she stopped and took a few deep breaths.
Clearly, there was a problem.
What have I done? She’d just turned her whole life upside down because on her deathbed, her mentor and second mother had given Jane what in her secret heart she’d always wanted. And now it was clear there were strings attached. To be fair, Mr. Davis had turned her life upside down first. But then she’d gone and jumped on the next opportunity. Mindlessly. Without a thorough investigation. How many clients had lost their bacon because they’d done just that? “Never follow your heart until your head has gone first,” she’d told them. But did she take her own advice? Apparently not.
She walked home—yes, she thought of it that way already—through her tunnel of cherry trees, wondering what kinds of strings these would turn out to be. No mortgage to pay and the proceeds of her townhouse helped with her tight finances, but how could she have been so hasty?
Then she remembered those last words, “Please, Jane.” How she’d thought at the time that she’d just take care of things for Miss Essig, then figure out what came next for herself. She hadn’t followed up with her attorney either. Uncharacteristic. She shook her head at her own foolishness. But now as it turned out, it was a good thing she’d spent some time in the cutthroat world of high finance. She bet these men were used to dealing with pliable, naïve women. Except for Anna, of course.
The smell of overturned earth drew her to one of the flower gardens. Piles of bulbs lay on the side. The earth lay rust red and smooth, ready to be replanted. She might as well finish this project. Someone would enjoy the flowers in the spring.
Inside Winston waited, his stub tail wagging. She bent and buried her face in his side. The two cats appeared and twinned around her ankles. She fed them a late dinner, then poured herself a big glass of her favorite red and took a few sips before heading to the library. She checked her email and found Anna had scheduled a meeting for the very next morning.
Too exhausted to sit up all night combing the internet, she had no time for research on the property. She finished her wine, and then climbed into the single bed she was still sleeping in. The animals jumped up and arranged themselves around her. In the morning, she’d listen to Anna and John’s presentation, and then take her time to respond. Tell them she had to consult with her attorneys. Always use the plural.