It was dark in the little hallway. The door to the morning room was closed, and so was the door into the laundry room. The door to the half bath was slightly open but its high window let in little light. The staircase, steep and treacherous-looking in the dim light, started just beyond the bathroom door. Mary stood at the bottom, looking up. Surely there was a light somewhere. There. Two buttons on the wall beside the bottom step. She pushed the top button and a weak light came on. Enough to stop her tripping, at least she hoped so, but certainly not enough to see much detail. And the electrical system … she needed to have a talk with Ellen. Those push button switches had been phased out years ago. How did the system support modern needs, such as the television set that sat on a cabinet at one end of the small dining area of the kitchen? Or the computer and printer she’d glimpsed on the very old mahogany desk in Mr Plym’s library? It was something to look into.
She climbed the stairs slowly, Millie tight by her side. The dog looked all around, seemingly somewhat nervous. Mary didn’t know if she was frightened but she clearly was not happy. Her usual brisk trot was missing, her stub of a tail limp.
‘I don’t like them either,’ she told Millie, ‘but we need to take a look upstairs. You’ll be just fine.’
They’d come to a landing that ended in a closed door, the stairs continuing upward just beyond it. Up to the attic? They looked narrower and darker than the ones she was on. The decision not to climb higher wasn’t hard. The landing was fairly large, at least Mary thought so, but it was difficult to tell. The bare bulb light that hung from the ceiling left a large portion of it in shadow. The cut-glass door handle, however, was easy to find and turned readily in her hand. She pushed the door open but, as she stepped through, something flickered. A red light. It lasted only a second but she was sure she’d seen it. She looked around. Nothing. She pulled Millie back and closed the door, leaving them once more on the landing. Millie whined and pawed the door. She’d seen escape from the dark staircase when the door opened and she wanted to be on the other side.
‘Just a minute.’ Mary tightened up on the leash and pointed at the floor. The dog sat, but not happily. ‘What was that flicker? I know I saw something. It came from up there.’ She looked at the door, letting her eyes run up to the top of the door frame. Nothing. Cautiously, she opened the door and scanned the inside frame. Something was up there. A thin white thing with what looked like glass in the middle that emitted a red beam. It reminded her of the beam of light that operated her garage door opener. What on earth … She stepped through the doorway once more, watching the white box intently. The flash came again as soon as she and Millie passed in front of it. She backed up once more, closed the door then opened it, this time letting only Millie go through. The dog happily obliged. Nothing happened. Mary passed through and there was the flash again. She turned to face the door and closed it slowly, watching the top where the door met the jamb. She opened the door once more but this time stayed where she was. No flash. The little white box was a motion detector and as she hadn’t moved through the doorway, it had nothing to detect. It hadn’t detected Millie either. The beam was set too high. But it would have detected Miss Emilie.
She stared at it a moment. ‘Caleb’s alarm system? It has to be. I wonder which other doors have one.’
Millie sat calmly in the middle of the hall, waiting for Mary to quit playing with the door. The motion detector held no interest. She got up, stretched and started down the hallway.
‘Wait,’ Mary told her. ‘I need a picture of this.’ She wasn’t sure she would get anything worth keeping, but she could try. There should be a zoom … there. And the flash. The picture wasn’t very good, but you could at least see there was something at the top of the door. ‘OK,’ she said to Millie, ‘let’s see what else is up here.’
The hallway was long, wide and gloomy. She looked around but didn’t see a light switch. There must be one and next to the stairway door seemed logical. Yes. The same white buttons. She pushed the top one and a hanging fixture glowed. One lightbulb.
‘If I lived in this house, the first thing I’d do is put in bigger light fixtures.’
The doorway they’d just passed through was at the extreme end of the hallway next to a large stained-glass window. The top of the main staircase was at the far end. There were four doors on either side, spaced unevenly down the hallway and all closed. She took a picture.
‘I’ll get a picture of the stained-glass window when we’re done with the rooms. The garden scene is actually pretty.’ She started toward the door diagonally across the hall from where they stood but stopped.
Millie looked at her.
‘Isn’t that the most hideous wallpaper you’ve ever seen?’ She allowed herself a shudder as she examined it more closely. ‘Whoever buys this place has a lot of work ahead of them. Come on. Let’s see what’s in here.’
She stopped in front of the door, admiring the glass door knob, but not the Oxford brown paint on the solid wood-raised panel door. How much work would it be to sand the door down and paint it white? Immediately she dismissed the thought. That would be someone else’s project. She let her gaze travel up the door to the top of the doorjamb. No sign of a motion detector on this door. She pushed it open, stepped in and stopped. The room was large enough to make the king- sized bed that sat against one wall look lost. There were two windows that looked out onto … what? She walked over, pushed aside the lace panels and looked out. There was the elm tree and the stretch of well-tended lawn. The daffodils that crowded the flower beds were in full bloom, iris were heavy with buds ready to explode and tall foxglove filled in the back, their lethal but lovely bells taking form and showing the first hint of the vibrant flowers that would soon appear. She must be directly over the covered porch off the dining room. She had noticed the flower beds when she looked out the locked French doors, thinking how pleasant it would be to breakfast on that porch. So, the carriage house and the driveway must be on the other side of the house.
She turned to survey the room. Large, maybe once two rooms? There were two windows and two doors leading into the hall but only one old fireplace in the far corner. No ashes, the firebox small, cold and empty. It had probably warmed a much smaller room with coal many years ago. The mantel held a wide variety of objects: a pewter candleholder and small etched-glass vases designed to hold only one rose and a pile of books. The massive dresser was covered with family pictures in silver frames, more books, jewelry, a lovely tortoiseshell hand mirror and old-fashioned personal items that had probably belonged to Miss Eloise, or perhaps her mother, all haphazardly tossed together on top of an embroidered table runner. A pile of bed linens, neatly folded, lay on the stripped bed, ready to be placed in one of the empty boxes that littered the floor. Several other boxes sat next to the open closet, taped shut. The closet was empty. Cassandra had been busy. What did she plan to do with the full boxes? Did she have a criteria for what to keep and what to give away? Millie poked her head into one of the empty boxes, decided it held no interest, sat and looked at Mary.
‘We didn’t come in here to poke our noses into personal stuff,’ Mary told her. ‘We came to look at the layout of the house and to see what kind of condition it’s in, so that’s what we’re going to do.’ She took another look at the windows. ‘They certainly haven’t been replaced. Judging from how many layers of paint are on here they probably don’t even open.’ She snapped a couple of pictures and moved on toward a door that seemed to lead into a bathroom.
‘I’ll bet this was a sitting room or a night nursery at one time. Someone’s turned it into a bathroom, and not recently. It’s a nice size, though, and claw-foot bathtubs are pretty popular, at least according to the decorating magazines at the beauty shop.’ She got a picture of it and moved on to the large white freestanding sink. No cracks, but the bowl showed the wear and tear years of scrubbing had inflicted. So did the white porcelain handles on the tall faucet. The mirror had silvered but the frame was still beautiful. The light above the sink hung from a black chain, the shade was amber glass and the bulb couldn’t have been more than twenty watts. Mary shook her head and took another picture. ‘At least they upgraded the heating system. There are vents in here and the bedroom. I hope they have A/C. I’ll bet it gets pretty stuffy in here in the summer.’
Millie yawned.
‘Let’s move on.’
They left what had been Miss Eloise’s room and her parents’ before her to examine the other rooms. There was nothing that wasn’t expected. The closed door next to what was now Miss Eloise’s was another bathroom. Mary was sure it hadn’t started out as a bathroom, but it had been turned into one some time ago. The tiles on the floor had been out of date for years, and the shower was small and dark. She didn’t even try to get a picture. The last door on this side opened into what must be the guest room where Richard was staying. It held a double bed with a black iron headboard, with a handmade quilt pulled neatly across it. The quilt was pretty but not unique. The pattern was one she’d seen before, but if it had a name she didn’t know it. The edges were a little puckered, the corners a little bunched, but the stitches uniform and straight. As an old home economics teacher, Mary wondered if this was one of Lorraine’s first attempts. If so, she’d done a good job.
The oak dresser was about the same age as the house and still had what Mary, a dedicated Antiques Roadshow watcher, thought were the original drawer pulls. Mary pulled out one of the drawers and hastily closed it. Richard’s personal belongings were in it, neatly put away. She took pictures of these windows, pushing back the sheer panels that covered them, then turned to look more closely around the room. It had been Richard’s father’s room while he was growing up. Had this been his furniture? Had he slept in this bed, kept his books and treasures on the long and largely empty oak bookshelf that covered much of the far wall? Did Richard know and, if so, how did he feel about it? Angry, probably. That seemed to be the way he felt about everything. She looked around to see if there was anything else she should photograph and decided no, they needed to move on but not before she looked closely at both the inside and hall side of the door. There was no little white box.
She was at the other end of the hallway, facing a door directly opposite Richard’s, the main stairs leading to the entrance hall on her right. The stained-glass window at the end of the hallway was on her left. Mary took a picture. She looked down at Millie, who stood at the top of the staircase, staring down with apparent interest.
‘The door at the very end by the window is where we came up. The landing is behind it, so let’s go back and look in the room next to it.’
She walked back along the hall, followed by a reluctant Millie, looking at the outside of each door frame for a sensor box. There didn’t appear to be anymore, just the one on the stairway door. She opened the door next to the one she’d come through. A linen closet, but bigger than any linen closet she’d ever seen. It was as big as some bedrooms in the new tract houses that were going up on the outskirts of town. There was an odor, not unpleasant, but familiar. She sniffed then breathed deeply and smiled. Cedar. Shelves and built-in drawers lined both sides of the room. A long rod stretched across the back. Only one long, black lady’s coat, badly out of date, hung on it. She supposed the room would have held bed linens, blankets, towels and hat boxes. Out-of-season clothes of all kinds would have hung on the rod across the back of the closet; all the things a family living in a late nineteenth-century home used would be stored here. Now the shelves were almost empty and only a vacuum cleaner and a mop and a pail remained. ‘This is huge for a storage room. Having a whole room cedar lined would be nice.’
Millie sneezed.
The last two doors must be the connecting bedrooms, but she wasn’t sure which was which. Neither had a little white box on the outside frame. Maybe on the inside? She opened the door closest to the staircase she came up. This must have been Miss Eloise’s bedroom before she moved into her parents’ room. It was the room Cassandra was using. Mary walked in, followed closely by Millie, and stopped. The room was large, sunny and looked as if it had been hastily furnished out of attic rejects. The Jenny Lind bed was old, its finish rubbed thin in spots, its covering a faded green chenille bedspread that fell to the floor. It was pulled up over what appeared to be two thin pillows. Mary walked toward the bed to get a better look. She shook her head slightly. They had better bedspreads go through the rummage sale than this one.
She turned to look at the rest of the room. A bow front oak dresser sat on the opposite wall. The mirror that was mounted on top of it tilted forward to reflect the cosmetic case and the neatly folded hand towel that lay on top of the chest. It had, at one time, been upright to reflect the owner. No longer. Mary stood by the bed for a moment, taking it all in. A bookcase that sat against the wall next to what must be the closet door held nothing but a somewhat battered volume of the King James Bible.
The small gateleg table beside the bed held a white ginger jar lamp on a slightly yellowed embroidered doily and a paperback mystery. That and the cosmetic bag on the dresser had to be Cassandra’s. Nothing else was that new. The room had the look of being hastily put together with whatever was to hand. Was that what happened? Had this room sat empty for the last few years, all of the things Miss Eloise prized moved to the big room she occupied until her death? How had Miss Emilie felt about that? The twins had slept next door to each other all their lives and Miss Emilie didn’t adapt well to change. She wouldn’t carry any purse but the old black one, and sat in the same chair in the morning room. You could tell what day of the week it was from the dress Miss Emilie wore. Probably the first time in her life she’d had a little privacy, but Mary wasn’t sure she’d felt safe without her sister next door.
Not a very welcoming room for Cassandra. Had it been hurriedly assembled for this visit or the one a year ago, when Cassandra was here for Miss Eloise’s funeral? In either case, Miss Emilie had spent close to a year up here all alone.
The door directly opposite it must lead into Miss Emilie’s childhood room. Had she kept the connecting door open to Miss Eloise’s empty room? Or had she felt more comfortable keeping it closed? It was closed now. She looked up to examine the top of the inside of the door. Nothing was there. That didn’t surprise her. There would be no need for one in an unoccupied room but there should be in the room next door. She motioned to Millie, who had decided one of the braided rugs was a good place for a nap, and walked back out into the hall.
This had to be Miss Emilie’s room. The door opened at the touch of her hand.
Mary stood in the doorway for some time, looking into the room but made no move to enter it. This was a girl’s room, a very young girl. The layout of the room was a mirror image of the one next door, but there the resemblance ended. This Jenny Lind bed was white, the bedspread pink plaid. The ruffles on its side hung limp and tired. So did the double ruffled white curtains. The wallpaper was tiny pink rosebuds and the molding around the windows and door was a darker pink. Fluffy pink rugs lay matted on a bare wood floor. There was only one chest of drawers in the room, a long, low one, also white with pink roses on each drawer. It was a room a twelve-year-old girl would have delighted in, a twelve-year-old in the forties. Mary wasn’t sure the room would appeal to girls of today, who she’d heard all had posters of rock stars on their walls, but the girl who had delighted in this room had ceased to be one decades ago. Somehow, she’d kept the room the same her whole life. She’d never had a husband, or children, nor a career, just this very pink room, the stuffed animals on the bed and the bookcase filled with books Mary suspected girls didn’t read anymore. Pollyanna, Little Women, Lad a Dog, more books about animals and what looked like a full set of Nancy Drew. Not one adult book. What had gone on in Miss Emilie’s mind all those years as she watched the world pass her by?
But that wasn’t why Mary was here. She took a step into the room and, out of the corner of her eye, saw a flash. She looked up and there it was. Sitting above the door, tilted down slightly so the beam would be broken by someone not very tall, like little Miss Emilie. She’d broken the beam. She must have. There was a red light on in the middle of the glass. She lifted up her hand and waved. There was the flash. So, if someone was monitoring it, they’d know she was in this room. Or at least they’d know someone had broken the beam. Could that someone tell if she was still here or if she’d left? She had no idea. She didn’t know how these things worked and she couldn’t think who might be watching. Lorraine was at her quilting meeting and Caleb was, she supposed, at work at the grade school. So if no one was home to monitor the system, why was it on? This whole thing gave her a creepy feeling, like she was being spied on. No wonder Richard told Caleb to turn the system off the night Miss Emilie was killed. However, it was too bad they did. If Caleb had known she was gone … but someone knew. A shiver ran down her spine.
She stood in the middle of the room and slowly turned around, taking it all in. Millie walked over to one of the rugs and lay down.
Everything in the room was worn but clean and well taken care of. The bed was made, three stuffed animals resting comfortably on the pillow. Mary stared at it for a minute. Why was the bed made? Cassandra had said the covers were partly on the floor when she looked in and found Miss Emilie gone. Had Lorraine come up and taken care of it, placing the small animals where they probably rested daily as a sort of tribute? Mary doubted it but would have to ask. Another odd thing among several.
The door on the wall opposite the bed must be the closet. The door swung open without a protest. The closet was small and it, too, smelled faintly of cedar. It held very few clothes, all of them dresses, all neatly hung. Two pairs of shoes sat on the floor, carefully arranged. Several shoeboxes were on the shelf, ends facing out so their contents were easily read. There was an empty hook on the back of the closet door. Where a bathrobe usually hung? Mary sighed. Miss Emilie’s black purse sat next to the shoeboxes. Mary reached up and took it down.
She walked over to the white chest of drawers that matched the Jenny Lind bed, set it down and looked at it. Should she? No, but she was going to. The large clasp wasn’t hard to open. The purse held very little. A small white handkerchief with lavender pansies embroidered in one corner, a dog biscuit, a square of white paper folded into fourths and an old-fashioned coin purse which held two one-dollar bills and some change. Mary put it back into the purse and took out the paper. Was this the note she presented to the teller each time she went to the bank? Carefully, she unfolded it. Miss Emilie’s name in bold print, her address and a phone number was all that was on it. Mary stared at it then looked back into the purse. There was no note. Shouldn’t there be? Maybe Glen had taken it. She closed the purse and set it back on the shelf. It was all so sad. It was also painfully tidy. That must be Lorraine’s doing. Miss Emilie was sweet but not tidy. If she’d hidden her money, it wasn’t in the closet. Lorraine would have found it.
A window on the side wall, like the one in the adjoining bedroom, looked out over the driveway and the carriage house, giving a view of the staircase leading up to Lorraine and Caleb’s apartment. Mary walked over to examine it more closely, Millie by her side. The curtains covered enough of the window so that no one could see in during the day, but you could see out. Millie had her front feet on the windowsill, the ruffled curtains draped over her head, staring intently at something. What, Mary couldn’t see. Instead, she took her picture. Ellen wouldn’t want it, but it was adorable. Should she get one of the closet? No. The size of that closet wouldn’t do anything to help the sale of the house. But she could get one of the connecting door.
Getting the shot to make sense was harder than she’d thought. She backed up, then one more step right into something sharp.
‘Ouch.’ Then, ‘Oh, dear.’ Something had fallen.
Mary wheeled around. She’d backed into a corner of the white dresser. Had she broken anything? No. She heaved a sigh of relief and set the white wood lamp with the pink checked shade upright. Was there anything else? A wooden box, also white with little rosebuds painted all over it, had been pushed to the side but it hadn’t fallen. Mary stared at it. A box. A good-sized box. The kind stationery used to come in when people wrote notes instead of emailing everything. Did it still contain stationery? No, and it never had. There was no need to lock a stationery box.
Millie, whose front feet were still on the windowsill, turned her head to look at her, decided nothing important was going to happen and resumed staring out the window.
‘You’re not much help,’ Mary told the dog. Her hand went out and touched the top then slid over the brass plate. There was a small keyhole but no sign of a key. The lid didn’t budge under the pressure of her fingers. What could have been so valuable Miss Emilie kept it locked? Keepsakes of some kind? She picked it up, letting it rest in her hands. It was large enough for her to need both of them to hold it, but it wasn’t heavy and it didn’t make any noise when she tilted it slightly. Maybe it was empty. No. Something shifted, but whatever it was made no sound.
Voices sounded in the hall. ‘Where are you?’
‘I’m in Miss Emilie’s room.’ She was still holding the box when Cassandra and Ellen walked in.
‘You’ve got her precious box.’ Cassandra smiled. ‘Another thing I’ve got to figure out what to do with. Some little girl would love to have it but I can’t find the key.’
‘What?’ Mary looked at the box then back at Cassandra. ‘The key?’
‘She used to keep it in that little dish.’ She pointed to a small white bowl with, of course, tiny pink rosebuds painted on it. ‘It amused me that she’d lock it and put the key in plain sight right beside it, but I guess that way she always knew where it was.’
‘What’s in it?’ Mary’s interest in the box had suddenly sharpened.
Cassandra shrugged. ‘Not much. Old pictures, Valentines, birthday cards, things like that. She showed them to me when I was here before but I’m afraid I wasn’t paying much attention.’ A rueful look passed over her face. ‘I was a bit distracted.’
‘Yes. I imagine you were. Have you seen the key since you’ve been here this time?’
Cassandra shook her head.
Mary dropped the subject and put the box back on the dresser.
Ellen turned slowly, taking in the room and shaking her head. ‘This looks like something straight from a nineteen forties’ home decorating magazine.’
Mary agreed, but she had another question for Cassandra. ‘Did Miss Emilie mind you staying in her sister’s room?’
‘She didn’t seem to.’ Cassandra smiled as if remembering something pleasant. ‘She came through several times, wanting to talk. At first she seemed surprised, but after that … I don’t think she ever figured out who I was, though.’
‘What did you talk about?’
From the look on Cassandra’s face, Mary thought she was increasingly uneasy with the direction of this conversation.
‘I’m not entirely sure,’ she finally said. ‘It was hard to tell if she was talking about things happening today or years ago.’
Mary nodded. She, too, had had trouble following Miss Emilie’s ramblings. It was easy to just let her rattle on, nodding and smiling and mentally putting together a grocery list. But sometimes … ‘Did she talk about Lorraine? Or Caleb? Or Gloria Sutherland?’
‘Lorraine. She seemed to love Lorraine, and it was plain she relied on her. She only mentioned Gloria Sutherland once. I think she was a little afraid of her. But it was Willis she talked about the most. I should have known …’
‘What did she say about him?’
‘The same thing over and over.’ Cassandra finally smiled. ‘I’d only been here a few days but she kept telling me her father, my grandfather, told her if she ever got in trouble, Willis would take care of her. What a stuffed toy dog could do, I have no idea, and I don’t think she did, either.’
Mary nodded. ‘The morning she … that you discovered she was missing. Didn’t you say you looked in here, found she was gone and the covers were on the floor?’
There was obvious hesitation before Cassandra answered – that and discomfort. ‘Yes. When I realized she wasn’t in the bathroom either, I grabbed my bathrobe and ran to wake up Richard.’
‘Did you come in the room?’
Cassandra looked at her blankly, then at the bed. ‘Yes. It was dumb but I was afraid she’d fallen out of bed, so I picked the covers up to make sure she wasn’t under them and checked the closet.’
Mary thought her next question was easier to answer. ‘Richard was asleep? Was his door closed?’
‘Yes, to both. Why?’ Cassandra was starting to seem wary of all the questions. It was time to back off a little.
Mary turned toward Ellen. ‘You’re going to want to go through these rooms yourself and make notes. Cassandra and I can measure, if you’d like.’
Ellen beamed at her. ‘Thank you. That would be wonderful.’ She took Mary’s phone and scrolled through the pictures. ‘You got some good ones.’ She handed it back, the picture of Millie in the window displayed. She pulled her tablet out of her tote bag along with a tape measure, a yellow legal pad and a pen, which she handed to Mary. ‘I assume you’d rather use these.’ She smiled.
Mary took the tape measure and handed one end to Cassandra. ‘I’ve learned to use my cell phone but I don’t think it’s up to measuring rooms. At least, that’s not an app I’ve discovered yet.’ She walked across the room, the tape playing out behind her. Millie immediately decided this was a game and pounced. It took a minute to convince her the tape wasn’t a toy. Mary looked at the dog, eyes expectant, ears forward, ready to attack the yellow enemy again, sighed and raised the tape waist high.
They finished, in spite of Millie, and headed into what used to be Miss Eloise’s room. Mary looked around at the mismatched furniture, the worn-out bedspread, the lack of any personal interesting touches and asked, ‘Was it like this when you were here last year?’
Cassandra read the measurement off the tape, recorded it then nodded. ‘Lorraine told me Gloria used to spend the night sometimes, and so did she. I guess Aunt Eloise couldn’t be left without someone close by. They went up in the attic and brought down whatever they could find.’ She looked around and shrugged. ‘That’s what it looks like – something thrown together – but it’s a nice room. It could be really pretty. So could Aunt Emilie’s.’ She moved over to the window, pushed aside the curtain and looked out. ‘The grounds here are beautiful, and I think the house could be as well. It needs someone who has some imagination and is willing to do the work.’
‘A lot of money would help.’ Mary looked at the single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, covered by an amber etched-glass shade. She thought of the electric system in the house, the amount it would cost to heat and air condition it, the need for new and double-pane windows and shuddered. It wasn’t a project she would want to tackle.
‘Yes.’ Cassandra looked around thoughtfully, ran a finger over the windowsill then held up the old lace curtain, made a face and dropped it. ‘It would take a lot to get this place back in shape, but it could be beautiful.’ She turned to Mary with a briskness Mary hadn’t seen in her before. ‘Ellen said she’s going to find out about zoning. I do think this could be a wonderful bed and breakfast, and as the wine industry has brought in so many tourists …’
A jolt of surprise ran through Mary. Wine industry? Tourists? Cassandra was right. Their little town had grown a lot in the last few years, and the demand for accommodation more interesting than the Bide-A-Wee motel had boomed right along with it. However, Mary hadn’t expected either Cassandra or Richard to know anything about that. They lived on the other side of the country, far removed from what was happening on California’s central coast. Or had Cassandra been doing her homework? After all, she was going to inherit, right along with Richard. It made sense she’d want to know something about the town where she was soon to own property. Didn’t it?
‘She said something about that, yes. Shall we get this finished?’ Mary handed Cassandra the end of the tape, holding her end high above Millie’s reach, read off the latest measurement and recorded it on the legal pad. But she tucked Cassandra’s interest in bed and breakfast possibilities away for future consideration. Cassandra had something in mind, and Mary wondered what it was.
Ellen was in Richard’s room, examining paint. She scraped the windowsill with her fingernail and made another note. ‘Lead,’ she murmured. ‘I’m almost sure of it.’ She turned toward Cassandra and Mary as they walked in and held up one paint-flaked finger. ‘A complication we could have lived without.’
Santa Louisa was an old town and had a fair amount of old houses, many of which had lead-based paint. Ellen had told her horror tales about getting rid of it. Another problem she, luckily, didn’t have to deal with.
‘I’m going to have to get Larry, the paint-scraper guy, out,’ she said, disgust in her voice, ‘and then we’ll have to send samples to the lab. I’ll bet it’s in a lot of rooms.’
Mary turned to hand Cassandra her end of the tape, but she was sitting on the bed, staring at the few personal items Richard had left on the bureau, all neatly arranged. His bed was made as well. Mary wondered who’d made it. Lorraine? Or did Richard prefer privacy to maid service? The handmade quilt was spread neatly, the pillows set evenly against the iron headboard. The white-and-gold Hurricane lamp sat precisely in the middle of a heavily embroidered doily in the middle of a freshly dusted bedside table. Richard was a tidy man. They’d have to make sure the quilt was smoothed again when they left, but it didn’t seem that was going to be anytime soon.
‘I need to apologize to both of you for Richard’s behavior.’ Cassandra looked at her hands, which were tightly clasped in her lap. She took a deep breath and glanced up just once before she went on. ‘Richard isn’t an easy man at the best of times, but he’s been impossible on this trip. I think I owe you both an explanation.’
‘Oh, no. You don’t, and you don’t need to apologize,’ Ellen said.
Cassandra didn’t look as if she’d heard Ellen or had taken in her diatribe about lead paint. Mary had expected her to at least ask what it meant, wanting to know what removing it entailed, but staring at Richard’s rigidly neat room seemed to have once again triggered the worry and fear.
‘What do you mean?’ Ellen’s frown was full of doubt and not a little suspicion. She pulled a tissue from her tote, wiped her finger, looked around for a trash can and finally dropped it back in her tote. ‘He’s been a … bit difficult, it’s true, but it’s not up to you to apologize. You haven’t been.’
Cassandra looked from one of them to the other and sighed, evidently trying to decide where to begin. Millie jumped up on the bed and lay beside her, putting her head in Cassandra’s lap. Certain Richard wouldn’t appreciate a dog on his bed, Mary started for her but stopped. Cassandra’s hand dropped on Millie’s head and she started to stroke the dog. She relaxed, her breathing settled down and the tension in her face eased. Mary let the dog stay where she was. She’d pick every dog hair off by hand before they left, if necessary. In the meantime …
‘We were brought up to resent our aunts. It never bothered me much, but Richard’s felt they cheated him all his life.’
‘Why?’ Ellen had apparently forgotten all about the paint. The shocked look on her face was testimony Cassandra had her full attention.
Mary wasn’t quite as shocked. Saddened, but not shocked. After all, she’d known Cassandra’s father well and heard tales of Richard Plym Sr’s attitude toward his children, about the disparity between what he expected from his only son and what he didn’t expect from his twin daughters. She was about to hear more.
‘My grandfather put my father through college and that was all. He expected him to go out and make something of himself. That was the phrase my father always used when he told the story, which he did frequently. He did, too. He established the furniture store chain my brother now owns. My grandfather assumed his daughters would need to be taken care of all their lives. If not by a husband, then by him, and he was right. Why they never married, I don’t know, but when he died they got the house as part of the trust and all the money. My father was instructed to care for them if need be, but other than his college education, that was it. He never forgave my grandfather or his aunts, and he made sure his son, my brother, felt the same way.’ She took a deep breath and lifted her hand off Millie’s head.
Millie looked up, surprised.
‘He also made sure I didn’t expect to be treated like my aunts. I wasn’t. I went to college, worked after I graduated and married a man who was as far removed from the way my father and brother think as possible. Richard feels he … we … are finally getting what’s owed us, and he came out here to make sure to collect it. Whatever that may be.’ She gave Millie one last pat and stood.
Millie, visibly disappointed, jumped down.
‘I want you both to know I don’t share Richard’s feelings.’ She blinked hard a few times, as if trying to hold back tears, and forced a smile. ‘OK. Let’s get this measuring finished.’ She turned to Ellen. ‘Are you going to need to measure the attic?’
Ellen looked at her cell, then at Mary. ‘It’s getting late. What’s up there?’
Cassandra shrugged. ‘I’ve only been up there once. There’s what used to be a playroom in the tower, then two small rooms that could be bedrooms but are empty. The rest is just … attic. Finished off, sort of, walls and carpet, lots of old furniture and some old trunks.’
‘I’ll eventually have to get up there, but for now I can estimate square footage. The rest won’t lend value to my market analysis.’
A feeling of relief swept over Mary. She didn’t want to go up there but she was torn. Could Miss Emilie have? She must have played up there as a child. Did she feel comfortable going up those stairs? Mary wasn’t going to find out today.
The only conversation for the next half hour was about paint, worn carpeting, old-fashioned plumbing and other assorted house details. Neither Richard nor the Misses Emilie and Eloise were mentioned. They ended once more in the kitchen, Ellen seemingly all business, Mary upset but thoughtful.
Richard hadn’t returned. Neither had Lorraine.
‘All we have left is the carriage house and the grounds. I’ll need to know where the property lines are …’
The look on Cassandra’s face left Mary in no doubt Ellen would have to consult someone else on that subject.
A ghost of a smile passed over Ellen’s face. ‘After taking a look at the grounds and going through the carriage house, both the apartment and the garage, I’ll be ready to go back to the office and see what I can put together. I’ve already got some ideas but I want to be sure before we decide how to proceed. I also have to talk to Glen about when we can get this on the market. We’ll need to have some repairs made, and I want to talk to the planning department about zoning. Advertising this as a potential bed and breakfast is a good idea, but I have to be sure it can be done.’
‘Do you think it’s possible? To get the zoning, I mean. What will the city require?’ Cassandra watched Ellen with a worried look on her face.
Mary was beginning to think it was a permanent fixture.
‘Parking, for one thing, and that you have. This is probably three city lots. Then the other people who live on the street would have to agree. I think the city would like to see this whole street commercial in some way. It’s quaint, it’s historic and it’s right around the corner from the park. However, some of the homeowners might not feel that way. I’ll talk to the city manager tomorrow and see where we stand.’
‘I don’t think Richard is going to want to stay around much longer. But I can. I don’t have any ties at home. My boys are away at college and my husband …’ She turned to Mary. ‘Maybe I could help you with one of your projects while I’m here.’
It wasn’t actually a question and it wasn’t quite an offer, but Mary made a practice of taking help wherever she could find it. Well, almost everywhere. There were some people … like Gloria Sutherland. She’d lose more volunteers than she’d get if Gloria showed up on one of her committees. But Gloria didn’t volunteer unless it got her something she wanted. Briefly, she wondered why Gloria hadn’t shown back up at the Plyms’ with an offer to do something. Maybe Richard was too much for her. If so, it would be a first.
‘I think I can put you to work,’ she told Cassandra. ‘Right now, however, I think Millie would like to go outside, and I’d like to go home. So, if we can get the rest of the measuring and pictures done …’ She looked at Ellen with a ‘let’s get this show on the road’ look.
Ellen nodded, put her cell phone, tape measure and the legal pad with all the measurements written beside the name of each room in her tote and headed for the door. ‘This shouldn’t take long.’
Cassandra followed, her face starting to look tired and drawn. Mary paused. Millie was pulling on the leash, but she had one more thing to check. Sure enough, there was a little white box right beside the kitchen door. There was probably one guarding the front door as well. Hopefully she could check before they left, but she doubted there were any others. There were two other outside doors – the French doors in the dining room, which were locked with a sliding bolt across the top, and the sliding glass door that opened out from the morning room onto the same lovely veranda the dining room did. It had a broom handle in the trough the door slid in. The two patios were separated by a low privet hedge. There would be no need to put a motion detector on either door. How the lock on the front door worked, Mary didn’t know, nor did she know if it had a motion detector, but it shouldn’t be hard to find out. Millie strained at the leash and gave one sharp bark. Maybe she’d take Millie through the front door to find her tree.
‘You two go on to Lorraine and Caleb’s. Millie and I will be there in a minute.’
Ellen laughed and walked out the kitchen door, Cassandra following slowly behind.