Two weeks before Christmas, Vicky found herself in Brooklyn, New York with Gabby and Faith. The three women stood across the street from a three-story brownstone and huddled against the cold, discussing their next step.
Gabby said, "I think we should just knock on the door and bluntly explain why we're here." She added with a chuckle, "And if we're told to get lost, run back to our hotel where it's warm. Thank goodness it's only a couple of blocks away."
"Well, if you ask me, that's our only option," said Faith.
"I agree," said Vicky. "If we don't do something soon, we'll become popsicles."
The women gazed at each other momentarily and then Vicky led the way. On the doorstep, she rang the bell and waited with her heart in her throat. It seemed like an eternity before the door was opened by a pretty woman, probably in her late twenties, with large, thick-lashed hazel eyes, who glanced questioningly at them. "Can I help you?"
"I hope so," said Vicky. She cleared her throat. "Ah, we're from a small town in Oregon called Somewhere and we have reason to believe that Rose Ayers, whose name was once Rose Hope and then Rose Hillstead may have been kidnapped from our town when she was a child."
The woman's eyes widened.
Gabby said quickly, "I know it sounds crazy, but if you will allow us to explain, you'll see why we believe this."
There was a silent standoff for long moments as the woman assessed them and glanced past them into the street.
"We came alone," said Faith.
Finally, the lady stepped aside. "Please, come in."
Vicky released a long sigh of relief. Their spur-of-the-moment decision to come to New York had been instigated by Faith. At first, Vicky had refused Faith's generous offer to cover all the expenses of the trip, but then Gabby had insisted it was a necessary step in solving the mystery that a dead woman had brought them into, and offered to pay half of the expenses. With the two women ganging up on her, Vicky hadn't stood a chance of refusing, and insisted she pay a portion of the expenses. And although she had little money because of the cost of keeping her mother in an institution, Gabby and Faith graciously acquiesced and allowed her to keep from feeling like a mooch.
The young woman led them to a sitting room off the entry. "Please have a seat."
Shivering with cold, Vicky sat on a lovely blue velvet loveseat and Faith sat beside her. Gabby chose a matching armchair, and the hostess sat in a chair identical to Gabby's that was across from the couch.
The warmth of the home was beginning to seep into Vicky and she inhaled, long and deep. "I suppose I should start by telling you our names and giving some history of our town. My name is Vicky Patterson and I'm the museum curator of a home built by our town's founder Oliver Hope for his son, Randall. These ladies are my friends." She motioned toward Gabby. "Gabby Hope owns Hope Bed & Breakfast and is the widow of a descendant of Sebastian Hope, twin brother to Randall." She motioned toward Faith. "And Faith Bennison is one of the locals."
After introductions she spent several minutes telling the story of the founding of Somewhere by Oliver Hope, and then she delved into the lives of his twin sons, Sebastian and Randall. She talked about Randall meeting Belinda in Portland, their marriage, his driving ambition to build a resort in Somewhere, the dividing of the cove into three sections, the affair between Belinda and Sebastian, the birth of Rose, and finally, the disappearance of Rose at the age of three and her mother sixteen years later.
Vicky opened her purse to retrieve the diary resting in its protective case and handed it to the woman. "This diary, written by Belinda Hope, was recently discovered and reveals everything I just told you. Of course, the fact that Belinda's disappearance was a hoax that allowed her to rejoin her daughter wasn't known until this diary surfaced." She glanced at Gabby and Faith. "And only a few people know about its existence and the truth it contains." She became silent and waited for a response.
The woman blew a breath and pushed a stray lock of curly, shoulder-length brunette hair behind her ear. "My name is also Rose Ayers and I was named after my great-grandmother. How did you know to come here?"
Since Vicky had been acting as spokesperson, she said, "After reading the diary, we only knew that Belinda had gone to New York, so a private investigator was hired. He discovered that a woman named Kathryn Beaufort, which was Belinda's middle and maiden names, took up residence not far from this home, and that she volunteered at the local library until her death. He also searched adoption records for this area and discovered that your ancestors adopted a child shortly after Rose's disappearance, and that the child's name was Rose. She married at the age of twenty-four and after her parents died years later, returned with her husband to this home to live, and he died fourteen years after that."
The young woman seemed to ponder something before changing the conversation by saying, "Would you like some coffee or tea? I also have hot chocolate. I'm sorry for not offering it sooner, but I'm understandably wary of strangers."
Gabby replied, "Honey, believe me, I understand. I occasionally get strange people checking in at my bed and breakfast."
Rose stood. "Come with me to the kitchen. You can sit at the island while I prepare something hot." She hesitated before adding, "And after we've talked a little more, I'll go upstairs and ask Rose, my great-grandmother, if she wants to talk with you."