Molly stumbled into the laundry room in a daze. She grabbed the edge of the utility sink to steady herself. Taking a deep breath, she slowly exhaled, her nostrils filled with the aroma of detergent and cleaning supplies.
Oh, my goodness! Tony was going to kiss me.
She didn’t know whether to be disappointed or grateful for Elise’s timing.
Shaking her head to expunge those thoughts, she uttered an exasperated whisper: “I don’t have time for this right now.”
She pulled out the lemon-scented furniture polish and a microfiber cloth to clean the downstairs public rooms. Having so much mahogany and oak throughout the house meant dusting was a constant duty. She would have assigned Sarah the task if the girl had ever shown up for work. Then, she admonished herself, because she didn’t want to be insensitive to Sarah’s problems with her mother. Molly didn’t mind the chores—she had more time to think. She hoped Lauren would snap out of her funk, or whatever it was, soon.
Starting with the library, she dusted the bookshelves, coffee table, and end tables, leaving the desk for last. She picked up the framed photograph of Elnora Harrington. After finding the slightly damaged sepia photo in her mother’s things, Molly had paid to restore it. The ornate frame she’d found at an antique store showed off her beautiful great-aunt, whom everyone said she resembled.
She gave the frame a quick swipe of the cloth. “Well, Auntie. Do you know where your father hid those plans?”
A sudden wave of cold air sent a shiver up her spine. Her eyes swept across the ceiling, remembering the conversation with her grandmother. Her eyes widened. “Are you here?” She shook those thoughts away.
Seriously, Harrington? Talking to a ghost! You are losing it!
Realizing she still held Elnora’s photograph, she gave it another swipe and returned it to the desk. As she set the frame down, a memory of her mother flashed through her mind. Molly was sure her mother had said there were five secret compartments, but over the years, Molly had only found four. A square door in the middle had four cubby holes atop four drawers on either side. The drawer pulls were made of hewn wooden knobs stained to match. The compartments on the far right and far left were about half an inch taller than the drawers next to them. One of the small compartments contained paper clips, another held postage stamps, and the remaining drawers were empty.
She removed all eight small drawers and saw nothing unusual. Under the writing surface, two drawers with brass pulls contained souvenir pens, pencils, and Harrington House stationery and postcards. She hurriedly cleared everything from the front desk drawers and placed the desk miscellany on the coffee table. She removed the drawers from their slots one at a time, meticulously examining the inside and undersurfaces. Satisfied, she set the drawers on the sofa. When the desk surfaces were cleared and the drawers emptied, she stood back and surveyed the solid mahogany desk.
She sat and directed her attention to the small door in the center of the desktop between the now empty drawer slots. She’d always admired the inlaid circular piece of darker wood in the little door, which reminded her of the entry to a hobbit’s house. It sat above a carved, inlaid pedestal on which she pressed. The compartment sprang open to reveal an empty space the size of a small stack of 3x5 index cards.
“Secret compartment number one.”
On either side of the hobbit door were finials, or end pieces, that reminded Molly of lamps. Like intricately carved lampshades, the top parts of each draped over their potbellied middles and were squared off at the base. She pressed the corner of the left base, and it popped out, revealing an area large enough to store letters. The right side duplicated the left.
“That’s two and three.”
Molly opened the hobbit door and reached inside. Her fingers brushed across a button. She pushed it, and the false door to the rear of the compartment swung open.
“Four.”
“What are you doing to that desk?”
Molly startled and scraped her nose on the hobbit door as she jerked upward. Elise leaned against the doorjamb.
Molly shook her hand and rubbed her index finger. “Ouch. What does it look like? I’m searching for those blueprints that probably never existed, anyway.”
“Find anything?”
“Empty spaces. But there’s one more secret compartment that I’ve never been able to find. My mother never found it either.”
“Maybe there were only four.”
“Perhaps.” She noticed Elise was dressed to go out. “Where are you off to?”
“To the market. I have bread dough rising. Don’t touch it. I’ll bake it when I get back.”
“Pick up some fresh flowers, please.”
“Okay. Any special requests?”
“No, but get something colorful.” Molly knocked on the top of the desk and sides but heard nothing. She stooped down and looked underneath the desk and knocked on the undersurface.
“Hey, I just thought of something,” Elise said from the library doorway.
Molly startled again and bumped her head.
“Sorry.” Elise stifled a laugh.
Molly sat cross-legged on the floor and rubbed her head. “What now?”
“You know, in those historical romance novels, there’s always some kind of hidden spring or button that reveals the secret hiding place.”
Molly stood. “Yeah, a button opens the false back inside here.” Molly tapped the middle compartment behind the hobbit door.
Elise leaned down and looked inside. “Well, maybe there’s another. See you later. I’ll lock the back door on my way out.”
“Good idea. Thanks.” That made her feel better, even though she had been relieved when she’d seen no lights on the hill the night before.
Elise disappeared down the hall, and Molly heard the kitchen door close. “Finally.”
Thinking that Elise might have a point, she sat on the floor and meticulously ran her fingers along the underside edges but felt nothing other than what she would expect—the seam where the desk’s surfaces came together. Exasperated, she leaned against the desk chair. She rested her head on the seat cushion and stared at the ceiling for a minute.
It’s no use. Elise is probably right. Maybe there were never five compartments in the first place.
Realizing the time, she returned the finials and small drawers to their compartments. She slid the left front drawer into the space, but it didn’t fit. It was too big. She knelt on the floor to examine the space and realized the drawers were slightly different sizes. Sliding the same drawer into the right compartment, it fit perfectly.
She pulled it in and out twice. “Huh. I hadn’t noticed that before.”
As she turned around, something caught her eye. She eased the drawer out again and ran her fingers along the front of the desk.
Her heart rate increased. A seam, maybe? Could it be? She ran her fingers across the space under the drawers again and felt what could possibly be a drawer underneath.
She pulled the drawer that only fit on the right out and laid it on the floor. She knocked on the inside of the drawer boxes and underneath the desk. Not discerning much difference in the sound, she sat back and looked again. Removing her phone from a pocket, she took pictures of the desk’s front, examined the images, and enlarged them.
Almost invisible to the naked eye, there appeared to be another very slim drawer underneath the front drawer compartments.
She turned on the phone’s flashlight and directed it to the inside of the drawer box. She saw nothing unusual, so she started in the far corner and worked her way around, slowly crawling her fingers over every inch. Finally, in the front right corner of the box on the right, she felt a small defect in the wood—so small she almost missed it. Her fingers retreated, and she pressed the tiny button, but it wouldn’t give. She stood and used her thumb, forcing her weight into it, but it still wouldn’t budge. She ran into the kitchen, rummaged through the utensil drawer, and grabbed a rubber mallet.
Being right-handed, she found using the mallet to press the button awkward. There wasn’t much space to give it a good whack, so she used her hand on the mallet to press as hard as she could. There was a gentle bump on her hip. She stepped back, mallet still in hand. Her eyes widened at the slender slot about an inch in depth and the width of the two drawers combined.
She twirled the mallet like a baton. “Hello, number five.”