“In addition to feeding your malamute, and your cat, checking your mail, watering your garden and . . . oh, yeah, making sure your malamute doesn’t eat your cat?” I asked. “There’s something else?”
“Yes,” he said. “There’s one more thing. And I’m afraid it can’t wait. I’ll gladly pay you for your time, since it’s going to be pretty time-consuming, but I just don’t know who else to ask. It really can’t wait until I get back.”
“What’s that?” I asked, suddenly interested.
“I got the bid on an estate,” he said. He had bought an antique store in town. It had been called Norah’s Antiques, and so far, he hadn’t changed the name of it. “I’ve been trying to get some nice big estates to build up equity. When I retire, I’ll have plenty of stuff in storage to haul out and sell.”
Just the thought that I would be helping him retire made me much more agreeable. “Okay. . .”
“Well, I put a bid in on this one estate. It was a doozy. Do you know who Catherine Finch was?” he asked. He was holding a clear plastic cup filled with beer in his left hand and fixing his boutonniere with his right.
“You got that estate?” I asked, impressed.
“What a coincidence,” Colette added.
“Coincidence?” the sheriff asked. “What do you mean by that?”
“My next project for the Historical Society is writing a biography of her,” I said.
He looked a little uneasy but went ahead with what he was going to say. “Yes. Well, evidently she was a famous singer back in the twenties,” he said and smiled. “She’s been dead for five years, but her estate has been held up in court this whole time. Just the fact that some of the objects were hers should bring in huge money when I resell them.”
See, that’s the problem with the antique business. How could he resell them? I couldn’t bring myself to do it. When I buy something, it gets incorporated into my family heirlooms. How can people sell antiques? Everything old should be kept. “What do you need me to do?” I asked.
“I need you to go in and start throwing out the junk and cataloging the good stuff. You know. . . you can throw out her toaster and her toothbrush, for crying out loud.”
“Why can’t this wait for you to get back?” I asked. It sounded to me as if he just wanted somebody else to do the dirty work for him. I did realize that getting into her house and having access to her personal belongings would give me an immense edge in writing her biography. But if I didn’t put up some sort of fight, Colin would worry about me.
“Because I didn’t buy the house. Only the stuff inside. The house and the land is to be sold and split between her heirs, and they had to fight five years just to get that. No personal item of hers is to go to her heirs. Anyway, I think the house already has a buyer. Somebody here in town. They want it as soon as possible. How was I to know this was going to happen just as I was going to Alaska?”
“Yeah, right. You planned this,” I said with a smile.
“Torie,” he said plainly.
“Of course, I’ll do it,” I said and held my hands up.
“Great. If you could just throw out the junk and try to put everything in one room. Have Rudy move the furniture for you. And catalog it as you go,” he said.
“Yes, I can do that,” I said. “I can take the kids with me.”
A grave look crossed his face. “Don’t let Mary climb on anything.”
“I won’t.” As if that were the most preposterous notion in the world.
“I’ll give the key and directions to Rudy, since he has pockets. And thanks,” he said. “I appreciate this.”
Hey, what are stepdaughters for, right? “I don’t need directions. I know exactly where it is.”
“This biography. . .” he started.
I could tell by the look on his face that somehow he thought my writing a biography of Catherine Finch would interfere with his estate. Nothing could be farther from the truth. In fact, I thought the two tasks would aid each other. I was itching to get started.
“Yes?”
“Nothing,” he said. He walked away to find my mother, and then the music started up.
Colette placed her hand on my shoulder and started walking me toward the dance floor. “You know, you’ve got what, ten or fifteen years before Rachel gets married? This may be the last time you get to dance at a family member’s wedding for a long time.”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Maybe they’ll play some Village People,” she said, smiling.
“I’m more in the mood for Rage Against the Machine.”
But there would be no Rage Against the Machine. The DJ started up with “Devil in a Blue Dress.” Colette smiled from ear to ear, showing all of her pearly whites, and said, “It’s not Rage Against the Machine.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, like that’s a surprise.”
“So,” she said as she grabbed my hands and yanked me hard. “Let’s boogie!”
Table of Contents
Cover
Title
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgment
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Authornote
A MistY MourninG Page 24
