Scrapped

Even though it wasn’t Saturday when the croppers received Annie’s call, they all decided to meet in Sheila’s basement. Even though it was last minute, Sheila laid out a bit of a spread of snacks.

“I’ve been looking at Cookie’s scrapbook of shadows,” Annie began as the others gathered around, glasses of wine in their hands. Plates of cheese and crackers were sitting on the table.

“And did you get something in your eyes?” Vera asked.

“No,” Annie said. “It made me wonder if any of you know anything about Cookie’s scrapbook of shadows. I mean, what has she told you about it?”

DeeAnn shrugged. “The only thing she said about it to me is that it was like a witch’s journal. They keep notes and such in them.”

“I think that’s all I know, too,” Sheila said.

Paige nodded in agreement.

“That’s pretty much what she told me, too,” Annie said. “And that all makes sense . . . except for this. I found this tucked in it.”

“What is it?” Paige asked,

“It’s an envelope full of clippings.”

“About what?” Sheila asked.

“About this town. About Jenkins Mountain and the hollow,” Annie revealed.

“And look at this,” Paige said, reaching into the envelope. “A brochure about the caves.”

“Oh, that’s just the public ones,” DeeAnn said. “Not the good ones. They’re too distant.”

“And here are some clippings about Luther,” Annie said. “She either knew him before she came here or researched him after. It’s all pulled from the Internet. Turns out he was a brilliant medical student in Pittsburgh, then lost his family in a car accident and never went back to school. Get this. His mom was a linguist, and his father was a physicist.”

“Well, well, well,” DeeAnn said. “Isn’t that something?”

“Here’s a census report,” Sheila said. “About the town, what the median income is, what the agricultural crops are. There’s a lot of information here.”

“Cookie researched this area before moving here,” Annie said.

“That’s not unusual,” Paige said, then bit into a hunk of yellow cheese.

“No,” Annie said. “But with all the stuff in her scrapbook and now this, I’m beginning to think that Cookie came here for a reason.”

“What do you mean?” Paige said.

“I have no idea what I mean,” Annie said and smiled.

“Like a spy?” Sheila said, her eyebrows lifted.

“What would she possibly be spying on us for?” Vera asked and waved them off.

“Not us,” Annie said. “Someone else. But who? Luther?”

“Oh!” Sheila said as DeeAnn tipped over a glass of wine onto Cookie’s scrapbook.

They scrambled around to save the open page with the painted photo of the beautiful auburn-haired Victorian woman.

“Shoot,” DeeAnn said when the page came off in her hand.

“Let’s put it up on the window. Maybe if the sun gets to it . . . ,” Sheila said, but as she placed the page on the windowsill, she noticed something odd about it. “Well, I’ll be. There’s something hidden beneath the picture.”

Sheila carefully pulled out two folded slips of paper and unfolded one.

“A map,” Annie said.

“A gorgeous hand-drawn map,” DeeAnn said.

“It’s Jenkins Hollow,” Paige said. “There it is.... I don’t know what all this is.”

“That’s beyond the hollow. I’ve never visited that way. Who knows what’s beyond the ridge?” Sheila said.

Annie reached for the other slip of paper and unfolded it. “Lady Jenkins, four generations.”

“What?” Paige said. “Could she be a Jenkins, as in—”

“This looks very Victorian,” Sheila interjected. “I guess if she were four generations from the original Mary Jenkins, it might make sense.”

“But why would Cookie have her picture?” Annie said.