“I hope there are a lot of people coming,” Dot said, dubiously eyeing the bounty spread across the table.
“Actually, we’re going to have quite a few guests,” Kate said. “They should be here any moment.”
As if on cue, she heard the familiar sound of Paul’s truck approaching. Kate walked over to the top of the porch steps and saw two cars following Paul. The first she recognized as Lawton Briddle’s Buick. The second was a plain white sedan with the state emblem emblazoned on the side.
“Who’s that?” Ellen came to stand beside Kate.
“Our party guests,” Kate answered cryptically. She descended the steps and walked to Paul’s truck. Peering into the bed, she saw the paintings, wrapped in protective coverings, stowed in the back.
“We’re here.” Paul announced the obvious as he came around the back of the truck to greet her. “Where do you want these?”
“Up on the porch, please. We’ll line them up under the windows.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Paul winked at her and set about unloading the paintings.
Kate left him to his task and went to greet the mayor, who had brought Fred Cowan and John Sharpe with him. Clifton was taking care of Ida Mae and hadn’t been able to make it. All three men looked dubious as they took in their surroundings.
“Good day, Mrs. Hanlon,” Lawton said, tipping his hat to her. “I’m not sure what your husband meant by dragging us up here, but—”
“He did it at my request, Mayor. I had something I wanted y’all to see.”
Another man, whom Kate had never met, joined the group.
“I’m Luke Danvers,” he said, offering his hand to Kate. “Your husband has told me a lot about you.”
“Thank you for coming, Mr. Danvers. We have lunch ready up there on the porch.”
At the mention of food, all the men looked up with interest.
“Follow me, and we’ll get you fed,” Kate said. “The ladies will be happy to serve you.”
Paul had displayed the paintings, and Kate asked him to say a blessing over the meal. Moments later, the men were huddled around the makeshift buffet, plates in hand, while the women poured tea and punch and generally played hostess.
“What’s going on?” Ellen whispered to Kate as she slid deviled eggs onto Lawton Briddle’s plate. “Why are these men here?”
“You’ll see.” Kate shot her a mysterious smile.
By the time the ladies had filled their plates and found a place to eat, the men were happily munching away. Paul was encouraging Luke Danvers to tell the group about the new rural development fund the governor had initiated, and for once, Lawton and his cronies were listening instead of talking. Kate couldn’t help but wonder whether Paul’s frustrated departure from the chamber had been just what the men needed to wake up.
Her plan was going splendidly, Kate thought. She had just taken a bite of her sandwich when she heard the sound of another car coming up the ridge.
“Who’s that?” Martha asked.
A large black Lincoln Continental appeared through the trees. It growled ominously as it pulled to a stop behind Paul’s pickup truck.
Ellen stepped to the porch rail, a horrified expression on her face.
“It’s Oliver,” she said, a tremor in her voice.
Kate had planned some surprises for the day, but Oliver’s sudden appearance wasn’t one of them.
“How did he know we were up here?” she asked Ellen.
The other woman shook her head. “I have no idea. Maybe he followed us.”
Oliver was out of his car now, striding across the ground toward the big house. Kate’s stomach knotted as he mounted the porch steps with barely concealed hostility.
“You are all trespassing,” he said, his cheeks red and his eyes blazing. “I’m ordering you to leave right now.”
Lawton Briddle set his plate down, rose from his seat, and walked over to Oliver. Paul followed him.
“What’s going on here, Oliver?” The mayor frowned. “What’s got you so riled?”
“You are trespassing on private property.”
Paul shrugged his shoulders. “Just having a little picnic and talking with Mr. Danvers here about how the state might be able to help us with some business development.” He shot a pointed look at Oliver. “Since you’re here, I’d think you’d be interested in being a part of that conversation.”
Oliver opened his mouth to protest, but Paul continued. “Besides, I can’t see why you’d begrudge your wife’s cousin Ellen a little time up here. It’s their family’s home place, isn’t it?”
Kate stepped forward. “I was just about to show everyone something very interesting I found, Oliver. Perhaps you’d care to join us?”
She felt a small measure of satisfaction when his eyebrows shot up in alarm. After his actions toward Ellen, Kate had little sympathy for the man. She did, however, feel some compassion. Desperate men took desperate measures. But she hoped to show him that he didn’t have to feel—or be—desperate anymore.
“I can’t imagine you have anything that important to show anyone,” he growled, “but I’m not leaving until you do.”
“Fine.” Kate turned to the others who were scattered around the porch, some perched against the railing, others standing near the table with their plates in hand.
“If everyone is about finished, I have a bit of an art show to share with you.”
Kate looked at Ellen, who was glowing with anticipation. This was the moment she’d been waiting for all these weeks.
“Ellen Carruthers and I have managed to collect several of her grandmother Lela Harrington’s paintings. As you can see”—Kate waved a hand toward the canvases lined up along the front of the house—“they all depict scenes from this place. But what you may not know,” she said, nodding toward Luke Danvers and the men from the chamber of commerce, “is that these paintings are also clues to a hidden will.”
“This is all bunk—” Oliver protested, then fell silent.
Kate turned just in time to see the threatening look the mayor was giving Oliver.
“Please let my wife continue,” Paul said politely but firmly.
Kate stepped toward the paintings, which Paul had placed in random order. One by one, with her husband’s assistance, she began to move the paintings around until they were in their proper order. First came the landscape of High Hoot Ridge. Then the photograph of the ironworks. That was followed by the depiction of the company store and the post office. Fourth was the combination church and school building. And last came the painting of the big house where they were all standing.
“Lela Harrington told her granddaughter in a private letter that these paintings would lead to the missing will. But what Ellen didn’t know was how to decode them. With the help of a wonderful source in Copper Mill, Joshua Parsons, we have learned that the clue lies in the chronological order of the landmarks the paintings portray.”
Kate saw Ellen’s eyes darken with understanding. They shared a knowing smile. “Do you want to take it from here?” Kate asked Ellen.
“Oh yes.” She moved to stand beside Kate. “Of course. It makes complete sense now. It was there all along, wasn’t it?”
Paul chuckled. “Well, I wish you ladies would explain it to me, because I still don’t understand.”
“My grandmother always used to tell me that I would find something that was lost in the last place I looked,” Ellen said.
“Didn’t everyone’s grandmother say that?” Martha asked, confusion lining her face.
“I’m sure they did. But my grandmother meant it specifically. About my grandfather’s second will—”
“There’s no such thing,” Oliver said, interrupting. “I don’t know why you won’t accept that.” But he didn’t sound very convinced.
“Yes, there is a will. And thanks to Kate here, I know where it is.” She gestured toward the final painting of the big house. “This home was the last building to be completed in Harrington. My grandmother’s paintings are supposed to r
emind me of the development of the ironworks and the town, all leading to this place, her home.”
“That doesn’t narrow it down quite as much as you might hope,” Paul said.
“Actually,” Kate replied, “it does. Once Mr. Parsons showed me where to look, I had no trouble finding this.” She pointed toward the canvas. “If you come closer, you can see a small glass bowl—most likely a Fostoria bowl—of apples right here on the porch. I expect the will is right underneath the floorboards there. That’s the only thing all the paintings have in common, you see. Somewhere in each of them, you can find apples.”
Oliver bristled. “That’s the most foolish thing I’ve ever heard. You’re not ripping up this porch on such flimsy evidence.”
“Oh, we don’t have to rip it up,” Kate said. She crossed to where her boxes of supplies were stacked against the far railing. “Paul and I came up here late yesterday afternoon with a crowbar and realized the boards didn’t even need to be pried up. They were already loose.” She pointed toward a spot just beneath Oliver’s feet. “In fact, it was right there, where you’re standing, Mr. Coats.”
Kate reached into one of the cardboard boxes and withdrew a rusted lockbox. She took the box over to Ellen and placed it in her hands. “For you,” she said.
“Wait. If you found that here, it’s my property,” Oliver said, moving forward. But Fred and John quickly stepped into his path, blocking his way.
“Let her open it,” Lawton Briddle said. He drew a penknife from his pocket and offered it to Ellen. “You might need this.”
Ellen set the box on the table and, with trembling hands, used the knife to pry open the lid. After several moments of struggle, it popped free. Kate stepped forward, hoping against hope that her plan wasn’t going to go awry now that they’d reached the critical moment. She hadn’t thought it right to open the box herself. Whatever was in it would be just as much a surprise to her as it would be to everyone else.
Ellen reached into the lockbox and drew out a plastic bag. It had been sealed with a twist tie. Inside was a yellowed piece of paper that had been folded in half.
“My hands are shaking too badly,” Ellen said and thrust the bag into Kate’s hands. “You open it.”
Kate wasn’t sure her own nerves were much better, but she did as instructed. Carefully, she drew out the sheet of paper and unfolded it.
Kate recognized the handwriting instantly. It was the same writing she’d seen when Oliver had thrust the first will at her that day in his study. Ellen looked over Kate’s shoulder at the paper, and tears started pouring down her cheeks.
“Read it,” Paul said, and Kate cleared her throat.
“All right. It says,
I, Alexander Harrington, being of sound mind and body, do bequeath all of my worldly possessions, including my interest in the land on High Hoot Ridge, to my granddaughter, Ellen Harrington. This is my last will and testament and should take the place of any others so attested to by me.
“It’s signed in his hand,” Kate said. “Oliver Coats showed me a copy of Alexander Harrington’s first will, and the handwriting is exactly the same. It’s dated after the first one.”
“That can’t be real.” Oliver thrust an accusing finger at Kate. “You forged it. Pretended to find it here. It’s all lies.”
Paul stepped forward. “I was with my wife yesterday when she found the box.”
“I’m just saying—” Oliver began, then stopped. His face fell and his shoulders slumped, as if all the air had been knocked out of him. He sank against the porch rail and put his head in his hands. “This can’t be happening. This sale has to go through or I’m ruined.”
“Perhaps there are some other options,” Kate said to him with as much kindness as she could muster. “Ellen has some ideas about how to use the land. And now she has a share in those decisions.”
Oliver looked up, his bleak gaze pinned on Ellen. “Why did you have to come back?”
Ellen returned his look, long and hard. “Because family matters, Oliver. History matters. I needed to learn that. Maybe you do too.”
“Money is what matters,” he snapped back, his animosity returning. “You’re naive to think otherwise.”
Ellen was clearly out of patience with the man. “You can have some money, Oliver, or none at all,” she said, holding her ground. “I won’t agree to any sale unless it’s to the state for a wildlife preserve. And the family retains the town site and the ironworks.”
“For what possible reason would you want to hold on to these run-down old buildings?”
Kate nodded at Ellen. “Why don’t you tell him and these other fine gentlemen as well?” She grinned. “In fact, why don’t you give them the same tour that you gave Martha and Dot? Might help them see the possibilities.”
Ellen’s eyes shone with joy, the first time Kate could recall seeing her that way.
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Ellen said. “If everyone would come with me, I’d like to show you my heritage and explain why I think it would be suitable for some serious investment as a profitable tourist destination.”
Luke Danvers looked very interested, and even Lawton Briddle was nodding as Ellen spoke.
“Please, go on,” Kate said. “The ladies and I will clean up.”
With nods and murmurs of assent, all the men except Paul followed Ellen down the steps. Kate wanted to jump in the air and let out a hoot in victory. Instead, she settled for energetically humming a favorite hymn while she gathered paper plates and began to pack away the luncheon leftovers.
Thank you, Lord, she prayed, her heart overflowing with gratitude. You never cease to amaze me. Your fingerprints are all over this, and I know you can even bring Oliver Coats around.
AS IT TURNED OUT, Oliver went on the town tour with the others, then lingered after Luke Danvers said good-bye, promising to be in touch with the chamber about government funding. Oliver was still there when Lawton, Fred, and John drove off down the ridge. And even when Martha and Dot went to supervise Paul as he loaded the boxes into Kate’s car, Oliver stayed put on the porch. He looked like a sullen schoolboy, but at least his anger seemed spent.
“I don’t have to agree to this, you know,” he said to Kate and Ellen once Paul was out of earshot. “I may not get my way, but you won’t get yours either.”
“I’m not sure you’re in much of a position to object,” Kate pointed out. “Not after what you’ve done. Threatening Ellen and me. Trying to come between her and her cousins. Lying. You told me that the last painting was destroyed in the fire, but it clearly wasn’t.”
Oliver’s face sank as if he’d finally been drained of his last ounce of energy. “I’ll go under because of your interference.”
“No, if your company fails, it will be because of your decisions, not mine,” Ellen said.
Kate was proud of Ellen for standing her ground so well against Oliver.
“If the state’s willing to provide some money to rebuild Harrington,” Ellen went on, “there will be a lot of business opportunities. Maybe your company could put in a bid to work on the railroad line that will be needed. Other companies would bid on the project as well, but you’d have a fair chance, just like everyone else. Plus, you’d have a unique knowledge of the area that other companies might not have.”
Oliver looked interested but dubious. “Perhaps.”
“In any case,” Ellen said, “we’re going to have to work together. As a family. And I want Carol included in the process. As well as Anne.” She paused. “Now that I have family ties again, I’m not going to relinquish them quite so easily.”
If nothing else, Oliver Coats was a man who knew when he’d been bested.
“All right. You win.” He pulled himself up to his full height. “I’ll be in touch.”
“As will I.”
The two women watched him pound down the porch steps and stride toward his car.
“I’m so proud of you,” Kate said, giving Ellen a hug. “You’ve come a long way in a s
hort time.”
“Thanks to you.” Ellen returned her hug, then looked at Kate. “Do you think we can really pull this off? Turn Harrington into a winning proposition?”
Kate smiled. “With hard work and a lot of prayer, I think it will be splendid.”
“I do too.”
Kate’s gaze followed Ellen’s out over the ridge and along the treetops. Kate had found during her time in Copper Mill that solving mysteries were about so much more than finding the answers. Her efforts had more to do with rebuilding relationships than ferreting out hidden truths. And maybe that was fitting, given that the human heart was often the biggest mystery of all.
Epilogue
Six weeks later
You can see from this slide,” Kate said, pausing to click her laptop mouse so that the next picture showed on the screen, “that the artist knew her subject intimately.”
Lela Harrington’s painting of the big house drew some murmurs of appreciation from Kate’s young classmates. She let them study the work for several long moments before she continued.
“As I said at the beginning, her work in this series of paintings details the development of the ironworks and the company town owned by her husband’s family.”
Kate’s presentation was going far better than she’d dared hope. Despite the distraction of searching for the missing will, she’d learned an enormous amount in Ellen’s class.
“As with other painters like van Gogh or Monet, you can see the artist’s love for her setting in the telling details, such as the use of color or the placement of the figures in the painting. In this work”—she clicked again to zoom in on a smaller portion of the painting—“you can peek into one of the windows in the artist’s home.”
Through a second-story window, Lela had shown softly billowing curtains and a glimpse of a young girl sound asleep in her bed. Kate had no doubt that the girl was meant to be a young Ellen.
“And here is an example of the artist’s influence on my own work.”
Kate hadn’t been sure whether to include the picture of her latest piece of stained glass, but Ellen had insisted. After much experimentation, Kate had found a way to incorporate the influence of the American Primitive style into her own work. The framed piece, a foot and a half across and two feet high, might not have the childlike detail of a painting, but Kate had chosen the same bold colors Ellen’s grandmother had used. The glass depicted the little town of Harrington with a glimpse of the ironworks in the distance.
Where There’s a Will Page 19
