Traces

by Betty Bolte

  The ringing of the phone drew him back into the apartment. He stared at the caller ID for two rings before answering.

  “Hi, Rhonda. What’s up?”

  “Hey, handsome. I was sitting here, all alone, thinking about you. How about I come over for a nightcap?”

  Her feline purr slid through the phone, curling into a lump in his stomach. Rhonda Sommers had been a mistake from their blind date, arranged by Sue, three months before. He should never have trusted his secretary to set him up, but he’d been feeling low and in need of some female company. When they’d met for drinks at the Hideaway, with her white-blonde hair, red-painted talons, and low-cut blouse leaving little to his imagination, he could tell she was not his type. What had Sue been thinking, fixing him up with the likes of her?

  “Sorry, but I’m working tonight.” Or at least trying to. He swirled the dark amber liquid in his glass, watching the play of light as it shone through the scotch.

  “It’s so late. I’d have thought you’d be relaxing by now.” Her voice hardened a degree.

  She obviously suspected his disinterest. Maybe at one point in his life he’d have found her offers intriguing, even welcome. But not now. Not after Meredith had entered his life. “Listen, I appreciate your call. But I have to go.”

  “A rain check?” A wisp of hope laced her question.

  “Rhonda…” He hesitated. How did he let her down easy?

  “I get it. Fine. Have a nice life.” The line went dead.

  He stared at the silent phone for a long moment and then hung it up. Any other man would adore the buxom blonde he’d so easily brushed off. He envisioned Meredith’s entrancing eyes laughing at him. He could envision her swinging a sledgehammer to knock down the walls of the old plantation, or worse, lighting the fuse to blow it up. He cringed at the image. Twin Oaks had been his favorite place, and he’d find any excuse to visit Mrs. O’Connell so he could soak up the historical atmosphere. He swigged a mouthful of scotch and let it burn down his throat, eating away the bad taste the images in his head evoked.

  Figures. He finally found the woman of his dreams, and she’d turned out to be his worst nightmare.

  Chapter 9

  Roseville’s streets thronged with cars and pedestrians. Meredith shut the car door and then waited for Paulette to emerge from the passenger side. The cozy town surrounded her like a warm blanket.

  They crossed the square, heading for Golden Owl Books and Brews. The bookstore had occupied the 1870-era brick building as long as Meredith could remember. The three sisters who ran the thriving business had diversified over the years, adding in a variety of attractions and merchandise to keep the townsfolk flocking through the doors. Flyers on the windows announced open mic nights featuring local artists to share their talents. A yellow kiosk in one corner enabled people to buy and download eBooks from a variety of publishers.

  “What are you looking for again?” Meredith asked. “I thought we had enough books at home.”

  “A book on the county history, one published fairly recently, might provide some new clues.” Paulette tucked her clutch purse under her arm. “Grandma’s are so old they’re practically worthless.”

  “I’m sure they have some useful history in them,” Meredith said, pushing open the door. A bell jangled above her head. “But a newer one may be worth the investment. New facts may have come to light, with any luck.”

  “Hmmm, it always smells so wonderful in here.” Paulette paused inside the door and scanned the crowded bookshop.

  “It’s the bakery. All the cinnamon and cloves and apples.” Meredith drew in a deep breath, savoring the aromas of fresh bread and spices. “What a brilliant idea these ladies had to include fresh cinnamon rolls.”

  “I’ll be in the local history section.” Paulette pointed to the sign indicating the area and strode toward the back of the store.

  Meredith considered her next move as she surveyed the bookstore. She wanted to discover what kinds of books existed that could shed light on the census and how to interpret them. But first, she needed to stand there and merely experience the atmosphere. She inhaled, cataloging the mingling scents, detecting paper and ink as backdrop to hot coffee and cinnamon. In one corner, a small stage waited for the next open mic participant. The sisters opened the Golden Owl two nights a week to let people read from their writing or perform a musical number. Those evenings only, they also featured a wine-and-cheese party as extra incentive for the locals to attend. The bell over the front door rang every few moments, announcing customers coming and going.

  Tables sat scattered throughout the shop, laden with books or calendars and other related products. Handmade jewelry crafted by local artisans hung on tall stands dotting the floor space. An open balcony featuring tables and comfortable chairs ran around the upstairs walls, leaving an open air feel in the center. A rack of greeting cards, advertised as designed by locals, hugged the wall under the stairs, a postage stamp kiosk beside it. Beyond, a small table and chair waited for the correspondent to fill out the card, put a stamp on it, and then slip it into the mailbox outside the front door of the shop.

  The bell jangled, and Meredith ducked her head when Sue sauntered in. She didn’t need to run into Max’s legal secretary, knowing whatever Meredith did and said would be shared with the man himself before she’d even pulled into her own driveway. In fact, the fewer people she ran into, the better. Meredith made her way to the stairs and quickly climbed to the second story where the other nonfiction reference books resided.

  Wandering past the array of books, Meredith searched for titles that sparked her interest. So many interesting topics, she should have gone to the library instead. Only, she’d have to sign up for a library card, and no way was she settling in long enough to make such an act worthwhile. She’d rather plunk down money than establish a permanent residence in Roseville. Finally locating a book claiming to be able to analyze census records, she turned to seek out Paulette.

  “Find anything?” Meredith stopped beside where she stood with her nose inches from an open book.

  “What? Oh, um, yes.” A red blush infused Paulette’s neck, spreading upward to blaze on her cheeks.

  “Such as?” Meredith leaned closer, trying to read the title of the hardback.

  “It’s nothing.” She slapped the book closed and hugged it close to her chest, hiding the title completely from anyone passing by, including Meredith.

  Meredith smirked. “What are you up to? It’s not porn, is it?”

  Paulette’s blush deepened. “No, of course not.” She glanced around and then angled the book so Meredith could read the title.

  “Making the Right Choice? What’s it about?”

  “Hush. It’s about what we talked about last night.” Paulette’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t say it out loud, or I’ll have to exact revenge on you.”

  Meredith laughed. “Don’t worry. You’re secret’s safe. But what about the local history?”

  Paulette flapped a hand and grinned. “Oh, that.” She pointed to a thick volume laying on the table beside her. “This seems like it will be interesting to read and helpful to boot.”

  Meredith was about to reply when a hand landed on her shoulder. She spun and beheld Sue, her arms laden with several romance novels and cozy mysteries.

  “Hey, Meredith, how are you?” Sue shifted the books to clasp them more firmly in her hands. “Is this your sister I’ve heard about?”

  Meredith performed the introductions, all the while wondering why Sue had made such an effort to seek her out. “Looks like you’ve found some good stories.”

  “Yeah, I hope so.” Sue glanced at the spines of the books and then peered at Meredith. “I want to tell you again how happy I am you’ve inherited Twin Oaks. Your grandmother was loved in these parts, and while she wasn’t able to manage the upkeep, now you can. She had such high hopes for what you will do to help the place shine again.”

  Stunned, Meredith shrugged, unsure how to respond. Had Max told her
of Meredith’s plans to transform the plantation into a memorial garden? What did she know?

  “Grandma always spoke highly of the people of Roseville,” Paulette interjected. “I’m sure she’d agree this is a lovely little town. All the wonderful historic properties, so lovely and cherished.”

  Paulette’s wide-eyed innocent look weighed upon Meredith. Another dig. Why wasn’t she surprised?

  “Yes, she loved it as much as any of us.” Sue smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I don’t have long, but I did want to share that I’ve been touting your talents to the other townspeople. Everyone is anxious to see what renovations you’ll bring to the plantation, what with your architectural background and all. It’s so very exciting.”

  “Don’t get your hopes too high,” Meredith said but then regretted her words at the look of puzzlement on Sue’s face. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to disappoint if my efforts don’t hit the mark.”

  Sue guffawed and swooped a hand through the air. “You’re so funny, Meredith. We all know from the papers and mags how famous you are for your architectural genius. I can’t wait to see your plans.”

  “She’s still working on them.” Paulette stepped closer to Sue and smiled, though her mouth appeared tight as though holding back a terrible secret. “We’ve got to finish our shopping as we have a few other stops to make on our way home. Will you excuse us?”

  “Oh, sure.” Sue glanced at her watch. “Goodness, Max will be wondering where I’ve gone. See you both later.” She waved as she hurried away.

  “Thanks. I never know what to say.” Meredith ran a hand down her arm, trying to calm the agitation inside caused by the reminder of how the townspeople would react when Meredith carried out her plan. The earlier guilt blossomed into blatant existence.

  “I’m not about to let anyone know your scheme.” Paulette grabbed up her books and herded Meredith toward the checkout. “And definitely not while standing in the Golden Owl. A riot may erupt.”

  Meredith allowed Paulette to shoo her to the register, where she paid for their books. Once back outside on the sidewalk, Meredith drew in a deep breath as her eyes adjusted to midday sunlight. “I’m glad to be out here where nobody will accost me about my inheritance.”

  “Well, except for Max.” Paulette nodded in the direction of the courthouse and moved toward Meredith’s car. “You coming before he gets here?”

  “Damn.” Meredith scooted to the driver-side door, unlocking the vehicle with a press of a button on the fob in her hand. “Let’s go.”

  “Meredith, wait!” Max strode down the sidewalk, looking vital and handsome with the sun glinting on his hair and reflecting in his dark glasses. Beside him an elderly woman hurried to keep up, her gray hair in soft waves about her face, her figure trim and petite.

  “Too late.” Paulette opened her door but didn’t step inside.

  “Hi, Max.” Meredith pulled her door wide, indicating she didn’t intend to stay long.

  “I wanted you to meet my aunt, Genevieve Wilson. Aunt Jenny, this is the fabulous architect Mrs. O’Connell told you about years ago.”

  “You’re Meredith?” Jenny reached out a hand. “Nice to meet you at last.”

  “Thank you. Did you know my grandmother well?”

  Jenny smiled softly. “Not really, though we did enjoy a good glass of wine together now and again. She told me about how you’ll improve Twin Oaks, make it better than it has ever been before. She found the original plans drawn up by the man who built the house. Have you seen them?”

  “No. No, I haven’t.” Her stomach had become home to a million agitated butterflies.

  “Such vision you must have for what the gorgeous place will look like.” Jenny sidled closer to Meredith and grinned up at her. “I’m sure you’ll do wonders.”

  “Yes, she has grand plans for Twin Oaks. Hi, I’m Paulette, Meredith’s sister.”

  “Pleased to meet you, my dear.” Jenny nodded at Paulette across the roof of the car. “Will you be helping Meredith with her plans?”

  “Indeed, I will.” Paulette crossed her arms, the open door a barrier between her and the small party standing on the sidewalk. “She’ll need my help to finish the interior.”

  Meredith squinted at Paulette, wondering what she meant. Paulette knew there’d be no interior decorating happening at Twin Oaks.

  “That’s lovely, dear. I’m sure she’s glad to have the help. It’s such a big place, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Paulette grasped the door and started to pull it toward her.

  “We’ve got to go,” Meredith said, preparing to ease into the car.

  “I’ll see you around,” Max said, catching Meredith’s eye. “We have some unfinished business, you and I.”

  “Call me, and we’ll figure out a time to meet.” Meredith slipped into the car and closed the door. Max motioned for her to open the window. Paulette followed Meredith’s lead, practically slamming her door closed.

  Max moved to the driver’s window and leaned down to peer into the car. “I’ll be in touch.”

  Meredith nodded, not trusting her voice. Shifting into gear, she eased out of the parking spot and headed back to the plantation.

  * * * *

  Meredith’s car merged into traffic and quickly out of sight. She seemed rather evasive when Max had mentioned their unfinished business. He intended to make sure she never carried through with her horrifying scheme. But how? She had all the skills and knowledge to do exactly what she planned. Somehow he had to convince her to change her mind.

  He strolled back to his office, exchanging casual greetings with the people he passed. Aunt Jenny had left him to meet her book club inside the Golden Owl. He enjoyed small-town life much more than the city life where he’d attended Harvard. Here he knew many of the people he passed on the street. In Cambridge he’d walked anonymously through the town, ignored and alone. The sense of belonging he experienced in Roseville made him want to burst into song, an urge best left to his piano playing rather than inflicting his voice on his neighbors. He lifted a hand in greeting to the postman and opened the door to his office.

  “The council chairman wants you to call him as soon as possible,” Sue said in way of greeting. “Did you see Meredith?”

  “Okay, and yes.” Max grinned and closed the door.

  “I’m thrilled for her, aren’t you?” Sue handed him a yellow note. “Here’s the chairman’s number.”

  She didn’t know the half of it, how lucky Meredith was. Her plan galled him all the more as a result of her immense fortune. “I’ll be in my office.”

  He dropped into his leather executive chair, leaned his elbows on the mahogany surface, and scoured his face with his hands. Think, damn it. There has to be a way. Raising his head, the yellow slip of paper snared his attention. Of course. He snatched up the receiver and dialed the number.

  Ten minutes later he had put his own plans into play. He’d arranged to move up the vote on the legislation so she would be prevented by county ordinance from destroying the historic building. He sat back in his chair, content he’d done all he could for now to save the plantation. His only worry was if his best was good enough.

  Chapter 10

  The stack of Grandpa Joe’s journals caught Meredith’s eye as she strode into the parlor. She’d taken a quick break to refill her lemonade. Who knew reading was such dusty work? She’d removed each journal and placed it carefully on the TV table she’d set up for the purpose. She wanted to know exactly what she was dealing with in the trunk. The journals now sat in chronological order, spanning forty years, from 1863 to 1903. Then there were all the letters to go through, which was more difficult as not all the writing was as easy to read as Joe’s. She wished she’d spent more time training her eyes to decipher handwriting, and would have if she’d ever thought she’d need such knowledge.

  She put her glass on the end table and turned her attention to the trunk, its lid sitting open and inviting. She peered inside and lifted a
handful of letters, neatly grouped by a length of ribbon. A tug and the lace slipped off. She shuffled through the stack, sorting them by date as she went. In her hands resided living history, the words and emotions of those who had gone before. She placed the stack on the table beside the journals and reached back to the trunk for another set. Once she had all the letters out of the box and sorted by postmark date, she sat down in her grandmother’s favorite chair to catch her breath.

  Paulette sauntered into the room, tall and lanky, no sign of her pregnancy yet showing. She looked pale, as though in pain. Meredith remembered the inner joy she felt when carrying Willy’s child. Did Paulette rejoice at carrying Johnny’s? What did she want?

  “Yes?” Meredith reached for the top journal, resting it in her lap as she waited for her to say something.

  “I’ve been digging into our ancestors’ past on that genealogy site.” Paulette sank into the other rocking chair and rested her head on the doily. She closed her eyes with a sigh. “So much to sift through, I’ve got a migraine.”

  “Did you learn anything helpful?” Meredith turned her attention to her sister even as the stacks called to her. But perhaps what Paulette had discovered would enhance understanding a detail she’d otherwise consider insignificant. She tried to be patient, but the urge to reach for a journal, to open the book and delve into Grandpa Joe’s words again, pressed on her nerves.