by Zoey Kane
The east wing was darker and more ominous than the west wing. It took them a moment to comprehend the fact. At the end of the west wing was a circular window, letting the sunlight shine forth, whereas the east wing had a stained-glass window of dark red, blue, and green. The hallway on the east wing was also very narrow; if two adults walked side by side, their shoulders would graze along opposite walls.
Zo whispered, “I feel like the beast from Beauty and the Beast is lurking somewhere in those shadows.”
Claire didn’t know what lured her to go to the east wing first, but Zo followed behind in anticipation. They walked carefully down this hall. Claire saw a black spider lower itself by a thread of web down to the wood floor and creep away under a wall.
Claire opened the first door to her right. In the darkness, they perceived that it was a small room, meagerly furnished. It had a single twin size bed in a corner, neatly made with dark sheets and one pillow. In the opposite corner of the room sat a lamp on a small dresser. They exited. After opening a few more doors, they realized the ten bedrooms lining the left of the hall matched each of the ten rooms lining the right side.
“These must have been servants’ quarters,” Claire mentioned.
“I am assuming so…”
This time, Zo led the way to the west wing and opened the first door to their right. They could hardly see a thing, but it felt very spacious and very cold. Zo felt her way around the room. “Look for a window with me,” she said.
Claire felt around also, accidentally knocking something over; it shattered on the ground. “Oops. I wonder what that could have been.”
Zo found a window, but it wasn’t one that she was used to—the kind that you just push up to open. She felt along and found that she had to unlatch a lock and push it outward on hinges. That bit of an opening cast enough light into the room to tell what it was. “A bathroom.”
“A very nice vanity and bathroom,” Claire added.
Zo realized she was a couple steps away from a brass bathtub that sat on four legs. Claire looked into the large oval mirror, which hung above a marble sink and counter top. Around it wound intricate black iron designs and carved wood. A little velvet, mauve stool sat in front of it. Perfumes of different sizes, with and without atomizer pumps, decorated the vanity. Claire carefully picked up a powder puff—the powder was still intact—and sniffed at the gentle gardenia scent.
Zo walked to the counter, gently lifting bottles and smelling each fragrance. Zo noted they weren’t like any of the baby powder or musk scents that were so popular today; these perfumes captured the scents of different blooming flowers. She snuck one of her favorite perfumes into her pants pocket. Claire noticed this.
“Mother, what are you doing? If this is truly your place, why do you feel like sneaking that perfume like you just did?”
“I couldn’t resist. I could wear it around town. Besides, getting an estimation by an antique dealer couldn’t hurt.”
“Well, just don’t look like a burglar while you’re doing it. Wipe that guilt off of your face.” She added, “You know, there should be a certain reverence for all the items in this estate. Every inch of this mansion has antique value. I don’t know how much of this stuff we should even touch. Let’s be very careful.”
“You’re right, Claire. Reverence is bliss.”
“I thought it was ‘ignorance’ that was bliss.”
“Why would ‘ignorance’ be bliss?” Zo said, truly mistaken, yet right. “Come on, let’s continue our hunt.”
There were just three more rooms on the west wing, but it was just as long a hall as the east wing. This fact told Claire and Zo that they were in for a real treat—much larger, grandiose rooms.
They proceeded in order, opening a large room next to the bathroom. The smell of tobacco caught their attention upon entering. It wasn’t overpowering, but distinct. Claire opened some curtains, letting in light. Their assumption was correct—it was a man’s room. It had a large armoire made of oak, an oversized bed in the middle, a large map of the States that looked as if it was a scroll opened and nailed up at the corners on the opposite wall, and pictures of antique automobiles. A looking glass on a gold chain sat at his bedside.
A black barber chair sat in a corner. They could see the weight of it sunk an imprint into the floral-patterned linoleum. It also sat in front of a sink, chest of drawers, and mirror. Everything was dusty—just as the rest of the mansion—but in good condition, nonetheless.
Zo opened a door, which she thought belonged to a closet. Surprisingly, it was heavy and it had suction, like opening a refrigerator. “Here’s where the tobacco scent is coming from. Ever seen a walk-in humidor before, Claire?”
“Oh, my goodness! Look at that! Mom, you cannot really own this house!” Claire walked inside.
“I told you I do. Lock, stock and cigar barrel!”
“Cuban! Care for a cigar?”
“Maybe… later. Come on out now, or this door might close and we could find you a hundred years later, well preserved with moist skin. Come to think of it, maybe I should spend a few hours in here a week.”
Another door was opened.
“Closet! The era of hats! Men dressed so much more elegantly. I would like to see more of that,” said Zo. “I am sick of sweatshirts! See the bone white and brown Oxfords, Claire?”
Claire was busy with her own discoveries. “Oh, oh! I found the weapons room!” It showcased rifles and pistols under glass. “He must have been a collector! Hey, there is a Kentucky rifle in here.”
“What does that mean?” Zo asked, having entered.
“I don’t know. That is what it is labeled. And there is a 1911 .45 automatic Colt pistol. And a Colt made in 1903. There are a lot of rifles that seem to belong to some guy, John Moses Browning.”
“Think they are worth anything? Or should we take up target practice?” Zo smiled.
“I’d rather take up golf, Mother.”
“That’s good, because there are a whole lot of golf clubs and equipment across the room over there.”
“You know what we need to do is take inventory of everything in this house; keep what is right to keep and see about finding a way to protect all of what we are finding. One thing is for sure; we must keep all of this a secret for now. If anyone sees us coming or going, we will emphasize the old cemetery and jungle overgrowth of this impossible property—a property that it is mostly uphill.”
“Yes, yes.” Zo’s eyes were wide in agreement.
“What was that?!” Claire’s eyes darted past her mom to the doorway.
“What? What was what?” Zo turned to look.
“It was a flicker. A motion, I thought,” said Claire as she hastened to the door and hallway. “Nothing. I see nothing.”
“Now, you stop that! Or I’m going to have to load up one of those pocket guns and start carrying.”
That was enough of cigars and guns for them at the moment. They decided to hurry and go on to the next room. It was right across from the mystery man’s room. It had double doors, which swung easily inward. A large picturesque window had open, silk drapes that flowed around and down and touched the wood floor. A magnificent bed, with bedposts reaching to the ceiling, sat in the center of the room. Just by pure habit, Claire looked for a TV opposite of it, but realized quickly, when seeing the magnificent fireplace, what a fool she was for expecting that. She went over to the fireplace and looked at the old black smoke stains on the stone.
Zo’s attention was taken with the oil painting that hung above the bed—so large, so magnificent, so real. It was a portrait of a woman with a white bouffant hairdo, wearing a gray dress with a robe lined in what she supposed was rabbit fur—very common for royalty back then. The woman’s gaze was haunting. “These people were filthy rich.”
“This feels like a dream, Mother.”
They spent a lot of time going through every inch and corner, nook and cranny, closet and dresser. Then, Zo and Claire lay on the bed, taking turns reading p
assages from multiple diaries, which they discovered in a chest that sat at the foot of the bed. The name of the woman in the painting was Loretta Fillmore. She came from a wealthy line of Europeans. Her husband—who loved his guns, cars, and Cuban cigars—was Thomas Fillmore. Thomas was a self-made success, having worked his way up from dirt farmer to bank owner. They had only one child, Lilly.
“I wonder what happened to them,” Claire said. “Why did they abandon this place? Was there something so pressing that caused them to suddenly up and leave some of their most precious belongings behind?”
“If they were that rich, then they could afford to pack a suitcase of money and just go.”
They sat there in thought, in awe, tired from all their time spent discovering so many amazing things, including the mystery of the Fillmores.
“I can’t believe it’s already night time,” Claire said.
“There is no way I am walking back to our car, dear.”
“What should we do?”
“I suppose we can sleep in this bed.”
“With all the dust?”
“Just help remove the bedspread and I’m sure not one molecule of dust has touched this bed in a century.”
As they lay in bed, Claire and Zo couldn’t stop their rampant thoughts. If this really was true, it was the best kept secret in Riverside and it was all theirs. As they began to simmer into a slumber, something woke Zo.
“Claire, are you awake?”
“Hm, yeah,” she said groggily.
“Do you hear that?”
“No. What?”
“Allegany Moon ta da ta da,” Zo sang quietly.
“I hear the melody, too, now.”
“What do you suppose it is? It’s giving me a fright.”
“It sounds like it’s maybe a clock. I’m sure the time is on the hour right now and a clock is chiming.”
“Okay.” Zo just accepted it, but a chill went down her spine, and it took her another hour to fall asleep.
FIVE
They decided that the secret could only last so long. They had to get the mansion ready for visitors. Zo and Claire spent the next couple of months taking care of business.
Cleaning and clearing valuables out that they felt belonged in a safety deposit box was a top priority. While they worked inside, especially washing the many windows, Zo had a hired crew from out of town to professionally install a black asphalt drive. The wide drive started from the gate and extended all the way to the side of the house. Next to the house they added a large lot for parking. The two were excited to not have to make the dreaded walk any more. It was expensive, but Zo had sold her two rentals to another realtor, cheap, just to get the money to get the job done.
The finishing touches to their new residence would be manicuring the front and back yard. Just enough acreage would be tamed and beautified around the home’s perimeter to properly accentuate the beauty of the estate. Curb appeal was especially important to the mother and daughter, so they decided to get lots of pretty plants. This venture took almost all the rest of her rental sale money. Once again she hired out-of-towners to do the clearing, cleaning and manicuring. A sprinkler system topped off the job.
*
“Hello, Jim.” Zo parked her shopping cart to the side of her aisle, spotting one of her old neighbors.
“Hey, Zoey. How are you?”
“Great. Hey, this is my daughter, Claire. She’s staying with me for a while.”
Jim was in his thirties and handsome. Claire was in her mid-twenties and equally as pretty.
“Hi, Claire. Nice to meet you.” He shook her hand and smiled.
“You, too.” Claire felt the flush of pink come to her cheeks.
Jim then looked at their shopping cart, filled with flowers and a couple of small potted trees. “I see you two visited the garden department.” He smiled again.
“Yes,” Zo said. “It’s something that my daughter and I love to do whenever we’re together. A hobby sort of thing. You know. Claire is such a talented daughter. She has a green thumb. Oh, and she is also good at baking…”
Claire nudged Zo and said, “C’mon, we need to head back.”
“Yes, well, it looks like you’ve got some project on your hands.” He noticed that the bottom part of the basket was equally as full with bushes and ivy sprouting and tumbling their leaves out. “Ivy will take over your house. Be careful.”
“Thanks. These are going in some rather beautiful and interesting pots on a cement patio.”
They parted ways. Claire paid with her credit card and they soon left. “Mother, don’t try to set me up. I just broke up with Jack.”
“Oh, please. I was just being friendly with a neighbor. Besides if he finds you attractive, what’s the harm in that?”
Claire rolled her eyes.
In Claire’s dented up car, they fit many things to fix up the house.
*
As Claire dug a hole for her mother to place a potted flower, she was thinking about business opportunities. “You know, we both lost our jobs, and yet we are both creative. We need to strategize how we could be financially free.”
“Well, we are now. Aren’t we? Coming upon this find here?”
“No, Mom. Money like this, or inherited money, doesn’t last long. It gets spent and then it’s gone forever. Like movie stars that are out of the loop for a while, you suddenly hear on the news that they’ve gone broke. You see what I am saying? We can’t survive off of the antiques and equity of this house forever…”
“You’re right.”
“You don’t want to have to sell this place to anyone else or sell your antiques anyway, right?”
“Of course not. So, what do you suggest we do?”
“Let’s have people pay to stay here…”
“What? Rent these rooms? I couldn’t. Out of all of my investments in rentals, I could never rent this place.”
“No, Mother. Think bigger and better. We’ll make it into a hotel.”
“A hotel?”
“Sure. It has enough rooms, doesn’t it?”
“Well, yes. And it has the whole third floor, too, with the billiards room and the library, a parlor, and a ballroom.”
“Yes. We could even hire a gourmet chef, live singers, maids…”
“I don’t know. This makes me a bit apprehensive.”
“Why?”
“Everything is so valuable. I don’t want anything to break or become stained or soiled.”
“We’ll pack valuables like that into storage.”
The more they talked, the more comfortable Zo felt about the idea. “What shall we call this hotel?”
“Hotel Mansion?”
“No, no, no. Not whimsical enough.” Zo stood and brushed dirt off of her hands. The little pansy flowerbed was coming along, looking so delightful. “We’re behind a hill, locked in by a gate…”
“Hillgate Manor!” Claire burst. “It won’t take long, Mom, because we already have most everything in place—including the new roadway. All we have to do is set up a counter for a register and registry. Oh, and we need to get the locks changed on all the bedrooms.”
“Yes! Yes!” They slapped each other five.
That night, lying in the silk sheets of the mistress who lived there long ago, Zo expected to hear the melody that she had heard every night since their first night’s stay a month ago; the melody of the song “Allegany Moon.” Her expectations were correct.
“Claire, wake up.”
“What is it?”
“That song again. You know, I had accepted for a while that that tune was probably coming from a clock, but I only hear it at night after we get into bed and I’m half asleep.”
“This house is so big, anyway, Mother. How could you hear it if you’re in other parts of the house? It’s probably a clock that’s in a room next to us. We only hear it when we are half asleep. It makes perfect sense.”
“Okay, well, I’m curious. I’m more than curious. I have to find out if it�
�s a clock or isn’t it.”
“Okay, Mom. Now you’re giving me the creeps.”
Zo pushed the silk sheets off of them. “Let’s go.”
“Okay, fine.”
They both threw on a robe and exited the master bedroom. Zo grabbed a flashlight she had stashed under the bed. The sound was so close by, but was it coming from the left? From the right? Just above them? Below them? Where was it?
“This is like trying to find my cell phone,” Claire joked.
Zo concentrated. “I’m sure it’s coming from this next bedroom over.”
They had entered that room before. They knew it was a young woman’s room, because of the lace curtains, white bed and porcelain trinkets. Zo’s light from her flashlight zipped around the room. They glanced at the oil painting of the young woman who must have stayed there. Gentle brush strokes produced a portrait of a girl of maybe seventeen or eighteen years of age. Her blonde tendrils delicately fell to the top of her high-necked dress. Her blue eyes were aquamarine. The pearl buttons on her neckline just about popped off the picture. And they couldn’t miss the large gold locket around her neck.
“It has to be something in here,” Claire said, frustrated. But no clocks were on the walls. “Oh, there’s something moving over there. Look!”
SIX
On the dresser by the bed, by the little lamp, a porcelain carousel turned round and round, slowly giving off the song.
“You think it’s possessed?” Zo asked.
“Get real, Mother. It’s okay. It must run on a timer of some sort.” Claire went over to it and right when she picked it up the song stopped playing. “It’s like a music box. It looks like there’s a compartment under here you just open by…” She turned a knob and the bottom suddenly released and fell to the ground.
“Ah!” Zo gasped. “Thank goodness it didn’t break.”
“I don’t see anything that winds.” Claire held it upside down. “Aim the flashlight on it, Mother. I can’t see too well.”
Zo’s hand shook as she aimed it right on the bottom and witnessed for herself there were no mechanics to the box. “It’s empty.”
