All Good Intentions

by Trudi Johnson

  “Yes. I’m trying to pay her, but you know Grandma.”

  “Indeed. Just to let you know, I found out who made the second offer. I had lunch with him today. It was Jonathan Hamlyn.”

  “Jonathan! Why? He has a house, quite a nice place, as I recall.”

  “Hmm . . . he says he saw it as an investment.”

  “I don’t believe that for one minute.”

  “Frankly, neither do I. He might have thought he was doing me a favour. At least he didn’t deny it when I suggested it.”

  Joe needed no further explanation. “Of course. We should have thought of that. Although to be honest, it’s a rather expensive outlay simply to win someone’s favour.”

  “Let’s forget it. You got the house you wanted. I can handle Jonathan.” Jeanne turned in the armchair and looked around the room. “On a different note, thanks to Hannah, I found out some more on what happened with Edgar Gillis.”

  “Thanks to Hannah?”

  “Yes. Jonathan confirmed what Hannah learned from Alva Green, that Clarence, not my father, was responsible for what happened to Edgar Gillis.”

  “Have you told Kevin? I’d assume he would be surprised since his father and mother both believed it was Grandfather.”

  Jeanne was surprised that Joe referred to Charles as his grandfather. It was the first time in a very long time. Perhaps, she thought, the wall he had built between himself and his grandfather was beginning to crumble. “I told him,” she said quietly, “but it didn’t seem to make much difference. Kevin says he doesn’t know what to believe.”

  Joe was curious. There was more to that conversation than she was willing to relate.

  “As for my conversation with Jonathan, I asked, or, I should say, insisted that he explain to me why Clarence did such a terrible thing to Edgar Gillis and his family.”

  “Does it have anything to do with Virginia? That was our guess.”

  “Our guess?”

  “Lindsay’s. She recalled that Alva told Hannah that Clarence never approved of money being spent to renovate the house. From that, she wondered if he was angry when Edgar was hired to replace the staircase.”

  Jeanne wanted to say that he should advise his future mother-in-law to keep out of family issues, but she knew she would need Joe’s support. “When Edgar was finishing up the staircase that summer in 1952, he inadvertently made a comment to Clarence about how it would be a perfect addition to the Sinclair house. Clarence, who likely had a few drinks in at the time, took offence and told Edgar that it was the Boland house. He went so far to say that Charles Sinclair was lucky to have a roof over his head, given how he betrayed his wife.”

  “Ah. So when he sobered up and realized what he did, he decided to make sure that Edgar Gillis didn’t work in the city again.”

  “It seems that way.”

  “Unbelievable. Talk about control. Well, that completes part of the puzzle, at least. But the question remains: why did your father go along with Clarence’s plan?”

  “I guess he was trying to protect the family, Joe. Clarence likely threatened to tell everyone about Charles and Hannah.”

  “And Grandfather bought the Gillis property and later sold it back to a family member at a much lower price than it was worth.”

  “Yes, about a month after Virginia passed away in 1992.”

  Joe considered the new revelation. “So he felt guilty because he let it happen.”

  Jeanne stared at her son. “He may not have had much choice, Joe, or perhaps that’s how he saw it at the time. So don’t judge him harshly.”

  Joe ignored her admonition. “Any particular reason why Jonathan waited so long to tell you all this?”

  “He said he had two reasons.”

  “Which are?”

  “Client confidentiality for one, and his desire to protect me the other.”

  “Yeah, well, neither really fits, does it?”

  Jeanne shook her head. “Clarence had little regard for Edgar Gillis. He always felt that he was paid too much for his work. But, more importantly, according to Jonathan, when Edgar was working on the stairs in the house, he spent many days and weeks there. No doubt he heard things that weren’t intended for his ears.”

  “How did Jonathan find out about the conversation between Edgar and Clarence?”

  “Father told him. He was standing at the end of the hall at the time of the incident. When Clarence sobered up the next day and talked to my father, he told him to pay Gillis his final payment and never to hire him again.”

  “And, as I said, he went along with it.”

  “To a degree. According to Kevin, Edgar was not paid the full amount due him initially. Father sent him the remainder in Halifax a few months later. I suspect that Clarence was not privy to that action. Given what was at stake, a family secret, I’m sure Father felt he had no choice but to abide by Clarence’s wishes. According to Jonathan, he always regretted it.”

  “And the property in Planter’s Bight?”

  “He knew Kevin worked for Winterberry, so he put the land on the market and let it be known to them that it was available. Kevin came forward with an offer, which he took, without negotiation.”

  Joe put his elbows on his desk, leaned forward, and rubbed his face with his hands. “Quite an interesting story. You said you had something to ask me?”

  “I need to find Kevin. I thought you might know where he is? I checked the hotel. He’s still registered but wasn’t in his room this morning.”

  “I talked to him last evening. He’s staying in the province this week. He’s checking out land for Winterberry on the northeast coast. He’s also finishing up research at the university archives. It’s called the Centre for Newfoundland Studies, and it’s on the second floor of the university library. You might find him there during the day.”

  “Okay. Well, thank you for that.” She stood to leave.

  “No problem.” He followed her to the door.

  She turned back at the door as she slipped on her coat. “One other thing. You should know that I’ve already hired a manager for The Sinclair Inn.”

  “That was fast.”

  “Yes, I really want to get going on this, and I thought the manager should be in on the plans from the beginning. I have a meeting tomorrow with a financial advisor. I have also requested the remainder of Father’s papers from Jonathan. He’s going to retrieve them from storage and deliver them to your office as soon as possible.”

  “Moving along quickly. And this manager you’ve hired. Anyone I know?”

  Jeanne smiled broadly. “Absolutely. I’ve hired Brittany Kavanagh. I’m sure you’ll get along quite well.”

  * * * * *

  As Jeanne walked into the university library in search of Kevin the next morning, she heard a salutation behind her. “Good morning, Jeanne!”

  She turned to see Alan, her son-in-law. “Good morning! Are we heading to the same place?”

  “Apparently. I’m here to do research. I assume you’re looking for Kevin Gillis.”

  “How did you know?”

  “Lauren filled me in after her conversation with you last evening. I’ll bring you to the Reading Room. That’s where Kevin spends his days.”

  “Thank you.”

  As it was between semesters, the Reading Room on the second floor was quiet. Only two students sat at the microfilm readers. In the corner, Jeanne saw Kevin diligently reading through papers and making notes on his laptop. She noted his casual attire, a navy polo shirt and taupe cotton pants. It brought back memories of their day in Planter’s Bight.

  She thanked Alan and approached Kevin slowly. “Excuse me, Kevin.”

  He looked up and could not fight a smile on seeing her. “Jeanne, what are you doing here?” he whispered.

  So as
not to draw attention, she pulled along a wooden chair and sat close to him. “Looking for you, actually. I wonder if we could talk.”

  Kevin sighed. “I don’t think we have any more to say. Since you have decided not to sell the house, there’s nothing left to talk about.” He looked away, dismayed at his words.

  She sat next to him and leaned close. “I’ve had an interesting week.”

  “Those are the best kind,” he said wistfully. “And it’s only Thursday.”

  “I have found out some more information about my father and his father-in-law, Clarence.”

  “So far it’s been an interesting story, but nothing more than a story, that’s all.”

  “Not so. I met with Jonathan yesterday. Apparently, he’s not been upfront with me. I was finally able to hear the reason for Clarence’s behaviour.” Jeanne looked around. “Please, I’d like to tell you the whole story, but not here. Would you be free to drop by this afternoon, after three? I have appointments until then, but I’ll be home.”

  “I have a dinner meeting with some of my colleagues from Winterberry at seven. I can come by around four?”

  “Thank you. That would be fine.” Almost without realizing it, she added, “I’ll look forward to it.” She stood to leave, but when she turned to go, he reached out and held her hand and squeezed it gently. She looked down at his deep brown eyes and smiled. “See you soon.”

  * * * * *

  Sandi, Joe, and Quentin sat around a circular table in Joe’s office, files stacked in front of them. Sandi opened an archival storage box and pulled out more documents. “I’m afraid, Joe, that I’m not being the quickest researcher here. Some of this stuff is fascinating. It’s impossible to skim.”

  “No problem, my love, your reading speed will more than compensate,” he said. “What have you got that’s so interesting? All I have here is a bunch of orders and invoices.” He slapped a stack of files back into an archives box and closed the lid.

  “Me too,” Quentin added, as he shifted two piles of files on either side of him. A bowl of his favourite Cheezies was stationed between the two piles. “What’d you find, Sandi?”

  “Letters from customers. This one’s from a customer who ordered a set of chairs. Apparently, the order he received was not as he had specified.” Sandi laughed. “To his dismay, they didn’t arrive in time for a wedding. Such a tragedy, everyone had to stand through the nuptials.”

  Joe and Quentin laughed and took the opportunity to joke about the implications. But Sandi interrupted.

  “This is interesting, guys. I found a will. It was in this envelope and in a separate file.”

  Quentin’s interest piqued. “A will? Whose?”

  “Let me see. ‘I, Royston Boland, being of sound mind and Christian character, and having made confession for my sins to my Maker, do hereby bequeath . . .’ So it’s Royston Boland’s. Who’s he?” She looked up at Joe.

  “He happens to be Clarence’s father. I wonder why Charles had his will.”

  “Good question,” she responded. “It’s not lengthy, but he left ‘all monies’ to his son, Clarence Thomas, and, get this . . . ‘to my beloved daughter, Lucinda Rachel, spinster, the house known as the Boland home on Forest Road, to be hers and hers alone, as long as she remains a Boland and a good Christian woman.’”

  Sandi passed the will along to Quentin.

  “It appears to be a legitimate will, Joe, unless of course it’s an old will and was replaced by one that left the house to Clarence. This is a surprise, don’t you think?”

  “It is.”

  “I’ll check it out.”

  “Okay,” Joe said as he stood and stretched, “we’ve got more digging to do. Dad suggested that I look into the Boland family. I had planned to, but I certainly didn’t anticipate finding this. I know someone who might be able to help us.” He reached for the phone to contact his brother-in-law, Alan. Their conversation lasted only a few minutes. “Alan said he’d check to see if there is a Boland Family collection at the archives. It’s possible, since most of the immediate family is gone and there may have been some papers left, a hundred years of history.”

  Quentin grabbed a handful of Cheezies and sat back. “Interesting, isn’t it, that Charles would have the will belonging to ol’ man Boland? Where would he have gotten it?”

  Joe reached for his favourite snack, chocolate-covered macadamia nuts, popping them in his mouth one by one. “Well, Clarence and his wife lived in the house for a few years before Charles and Virginia moved in. Perhaps it was left in the house . . . somewhere.” He stood. “Where are those photos of the original staircase?” He shuffled through the file folders and pulled one out. He sat down and flipped it open. “Remember I told you that the original staircase had locked cupboards underneath it? See, there’s a wooden bar that holds the handles shut, and you can hardly notice that it is anything but a panel.” The photo was blurry, but what Joe was describing appeared to be the case.

  “You think Charles found the will in the cupboard?” Sandi asked.

  “It’s a possibility.”

  Quentin had gotten up to refill his coffee mug. “Or maybe,” he said, with a glint in his eyes, letting his imagination wander, “Edgar Gillis found it when he tore down the original staircase and passed the papers along to Charles. If that were the case, Clarence Boland had more than one reason to keep Edgar quiet.”

  * * * * *

  Kevin pulled his car into her driveway. It being such a beautiful afternoon, he took the chance that Jeanne would be in the sunroom. Instead of heading to the front door, he opened the gate and walked down the narrow path toward the back of her house.

  He saw her sitting in the sunroom, with the windows opened to welcome the fresh air. She had just poured a glass of wine.

  “Enjoying the sunshine?” he asked, as he approached.

  “Hello, Kevin. I’m treating myself to a glass of wine this afternoon. Given the week I’ve had, I think I deserve it. Would you like some?”

  “That would be great. Thanks.” He sat opposite to her in the wicker armchair. The screen windows were open, and a westerly breeze moved the white sheer curtains.

  “Did you finish your research?”

  He answered as he took the first sip of wine. “Pretty much. I can put together an article that I want. Kurt’s interview helped. You mentioned in the library this morning that it’s been an interesting week. I assume you’re moving ahead with your plan to renovate the house.”

  “I’m sure you don’t want to hear about that.”

  Kevin shook his head. “You’re wrong. I apologize for my initial response. You have every right to do with that house as you wish. I’m not successful in every business venture. It’s the price one pays. Besides, I’m looking forward to making a reservation there.”

  “You and I both know that getting the Sinclair house was more than a business venture.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t expect so much would come to light as a result.”

  Jeanne sipped her wine slowly and replaced the glass to the small table next to her. “I had lunch with Jonathan Hamlyn.”

  “I’m sure that was the highlight of his week.”

  “Pardon?”

  Kevin waved his hand. “Never mind. Go on.”

  “He told me quite the story, which I would like to relate to you because it confirms my earlier suspicions. I have no reason to doubt that what he told me is the truth. By the end of the summer of 1952, your father was just finishing the staircase at our house. Clarence Boland showed up, upset about the cost of the stairs. Edgar’s response was something like ‘the Sinclair house would have a fine set of stairs.’ Clarence told your father that it was not the Sinclair house; it belonged to the Boland family, and it always would. He went on to say that my father should be grateful to have a home, especially since he had
been unfaithful to Virginia.”

  “Forgive me for asking, Jeanne, but it seems unlikely he would disclose such information to a worker, at least in a sober condition.”

  “I think you have assumed correctly. In any event, he did eventually come to his senses and realized what he had said. He didn’t want to risk the family secret getting out.”

  “How does Jonathan Hamlyn know this?”

  “My father told him many years later. He was nearby and heard what Clarence said. Jonathan says that the ensuing treatment of Edgar was what caused my father to buy the Gillis property in Planter’s Bight in the hopes that someday it would return to the family.”

  Kevin leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “And Charles never told you this story.”

  “No, he did not.” Jeanne took a huge sigh.

  “That’s what surprises me, Jeanne.”

  “Perhaps he didn’t think it was necessary for me to know. Perhaps he was ashamed. Perhaps it made him look like a coward. I really don’t know.”

  Kevin knew it was difficult for her to utter those words about her father. He sat back and took in her words, surprised that she had said them without as much as a quiver in her voice. Clearly, the events of the summer had changed her in many ways. “I’m surprised that Clarence allowed him to buy the property, but perhaps his authority extended only so far.”

  Jeanne looked at him. “I’ve thought about that. We all have. It may be that Father threatened to tell Virginia that her marriage to him had been bought by her father. I really don’t know. I will probably never know. But I wanted to do for you what my father never did for your father.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Tell you the truth, at least as much as I know.”

  Kevin reached for the wineglass and savoured the warm liquid in the back of his throat. “I very much appreciate that. I just wish that all of this had been told years ago, when I could explain it to my father. That’s what hurts the most.”

  Jeanne studied his face and saw a solemn stare. Her heart sank. She had hoped that the information would bring resolution, but instead it appeared to have only brought more heartbreak.