Elnora followed Molly into the kitchen, wondering why Molly had left the library with the desk and its newly found contents scattered about. What if someone else came to the house? She stood in the doorway where the hall met the kitchen, her arms crossed, and tapped her foot like her mother used to do when she was annoyed, usually with Elnora.
Still wearing the funny gloves, Molly opened one of the ceiling-to-floor cabinets across from the worktable they called an island. Elnora knew that upper cabinet. It was where they kept the liquor. Molly’s hand shook as she moved the larger bottles around and pulled out a small bottle. Elnora had never seen such a small container of liquor, smaller than a perfume bottle. She watched Molly unscrew the lid and drink straight from the bottle, wrinkling her face in disgust.
These people have no manners. She didn’t even pour it into a glass!
Molly sank to the floor and leaned against the island between the stools. Elnora stomped into the kitchen and stood in front of her.
Get up, you ninny. Let’s go find the secret room.
Molly drained whatever was left in the bottle. She banged her head against the cabinet and then screwed on the lid.
What are you waiting for? Your cook and your guest will be back soon. You can’t sit here and drink. Elnora threw up her arms. It’s not even noon!
Molly stood, shut the cabinet door, and tossed the empty liquor bottle into the trash can.
Elnora lingered in the doorway to the hall. Come on. Please. She waved her arms in a come-along gesture.
Molly pushed off the cabinet and walked into the hall, passing through her.
Elnora startled.
***
Molly shivered and then froze. Remembering what her grandmother had said about cold spots and how they could indicate spirits were present, she walked in a circle and closely surveyed the kitchen and hall.
“Elnora?”
Molly put her hand on her chest. “Molly Ann Harrington, you are losing it.”
Well-fortified with that shot of vodka, Molly returned to the desk chair, took a deep breath, and closely examined her discovery. The roughly drawn sketch was smaller in dimension than the official plans, which were drawn with a draftsman’s precision. This document did not have the name of the architect who drew it, just the signature of P. C. Harrington and the date.
She glanced at the desk and the library one final time after putting the two front drawers back in their slots. She picked up the documents and went through the kitchen to the basement door. She paused with her hand on the doorknob, took a deep breath, opened the door, and felt for the light switch. She flipped on the light and slowly descended the stairs. When she stepped onto the concrete floor, she realized that this was the third time in two days that she’d been downstairs—more than in the last six months. She shook off the uneasiness and pulled the string to light that basement section.
She stood in the middle of the room, holding the documents. Their modern-day basement looked nothing like the sketch. There was no longer a furnace room or a coal bin on that side of the house. Old or unusable furniture needing repair was stacked in that corner. Kevin had set up a workbench on the wall, dividing the space down the middle. He had installed wire shelving between the workbench and the high window midway between the workbench and the far corner. The sun shone through the small window, providing a view of the gravel driveway.
In great detail, the sketch showed that the summer porch would connect to the house above the original location of the outside wall of the coal bin.
But that doesn’t make sense. Why would you have a door opening into a pile of dirty, sooty coal?
She answered her own question—because you’d never suspect a room concealed behind a pile of coal. The sketch showed that the coal room was boxed in, with its only access through the furnace room. Molly didn’t know exactly when the wall separating the furnace area from the rest of the basement had been demolished, but she thought it was when her parents had installed central air conditioning. The wall where Kevin had built the workbench was a weight-bearing wall reinforced during their renovations.
If she read it correctly, the plan was to build an area under the summer porch during construction, making just enough space to store their moonshine. The door could have been hidden behind a storage unit, hiding Patrick’s secrets safely away from the prying eyes of the wife, children, household help, and, most importantly, the police and federal agents. But now, it was merely a concrete wall.
Molly pulled an old kitchen table away from the corner and stacked the wobbly matching chairs on top of the table. She pushed the remaining odds and ends away from the wall, allowing her access to that section. She ran her hands along the wall from the edge of the wire shelves by Kevin’s workbench under the window all the way to the corner. It all felt the same to her. Perhaps her great-grandfather had these plans drawn up but never carried them out.
***
Elnora stood next to Molly, mimicking her moves as she looked from the sketch to the corner that had once been the furnace room and coal bin. Elnora remembered the summer of 1921. Her father had surprised the family with a riverboat trip down the Mississippi to visit relatives in Baton Rouge and New Orleans. He would stay home and work while Elnora, her mother, younger sister, and brother would spend a week on the boat, then three weeks visiting family, and another two days on the train to return home. Elnora had enjoyed a wonderful time on the riverboat. Her dance card had been full every night.
By the time they had returned, the construction was finished. Her mother had always wanted a summer porch like she’d seen once on a Newport, Rhode Island trip. Elnora’s father had never been that generous before or after.
So, this is what he was up to!
Elnora paced in front of the wall. She hadn’t liked the basement when she was alive, and she liked it even less since she’d passed to the other side. She felt an unnerving vibration emanating from where they’d assumed the secret room existed. Elnora had no problems passing through walls and ceilings. But this room frightened her. She put her hand through the wall to it, and her fingers tingled. She jerked her hand away. She wouldn’t go into that room. She was afraid she wouldn’t be able to get out.
***
The crunching sound of tires on gravel brought Molly’s attention to the small window. She saw the wheels of a car roll by and assumed it was Elise returning from the market. In a few minutes, she heard the kitchen door quietly open and close, but not the normal rustle of grocery bags. Footfalls crossed the kitchen and disappeared into the foyer—then nothing.
Molly decided it must be Sarah finally coming to work. That would make sense. Sarah would automatically check the room log where Molly identified which rooms would be occupied that night and needed to be freshened. But Molly didn’t hear anything, not the squeak of the cabinet door or the floorboard creak in the hallway. Deciding she should leave the secret room calculations to Kevin, she turned off the light and hurried up the stairs. She peeked into the kitchen and saw it hadn’t been disturbed. Sarah usually hung her jacket on the pegs by the door, but no extra jacket had been added. Elise’s bread dough sat on the island covered with a towel just where she’d left it.
She pushed aside the café curtains. “That’s strange.” The only car parked by the kitchen door was hers. Whoever it was had parked in the guest lot behind the porch, where Molly couldn’t see.
Perhaps it was Tommy? But she pushed that thought aside. His footfalls were heavier; besides, he only had a key to the front door.
Her thoughts returned to Sarah, who had a key to the back door. It had to be her, but she wondered why Sarah didn’t park in her usual spot by Molly’s car near the kitchen. Still holding the sketches, she looked around the butler’s pantry for a place to hide them. Her eyes settled on the built-in cupboard. She opened the top drawer, lifted a tablecloth, and carefully laid the documents underneath. She removed the gloves, added them to the contents, and replaced the lace table cover on top of the blueprints. Smoothing down the lace cover, she closed the drawer and went looking for whoever had just come through her kitchen door.