by J. D. Shaw
“This can’t be real.” Vivienne gasped out loud. A lost journal from the Salem witch trials? This had to be some sort of novel that was made to look like such a thing. She flipped to the back of the book to find some sort of barcode or publishing information but there was none. There were pages of handwritten journal notes, strange drawings of symbols and letters she didn’t recognize, and the unmistakable smell that very old books had.
With the opening of her store delayed, she had unexpected free time to investigate this little mystery. Her first stop tomorrow morning would be at the Carriage House Antiques on Main Street. The proprietors, Tristan and Nathaniel, were experts at decoding the past.
Chapter 10
Vivienne had never really shopped at Carriage House Antiques before. She had browsed the charming nooks and crannies of the large Victorian home that was filled with antiques from bygone years many times. But whenever she turned over one of those little price tags, her purse cried uncle and her knees went weak.
As she sat in a newly upholstered wingback chair holding the journal, Nathaniel finished ringing out a customer who had purchased a most unusual looking desk lamp shaped like an owl. “This will go perfect in your study.” He smiled and handed the receipt and change. “I’ll let you know if I get that Tiffany lamp at the auction next week.”
“Oh, please do.” The customer, one of the blue-rinse ladies that most likely frequented Pearl’s Beauty Shop over on Cayuga Circle, nodded eagerly. “You know my number.”
As she left, Nathaniel closed the door and sighed. “I wish there were more Mrs. Rathbun’s in town.”
“She must really have a keen sense of style.” Vivienne reasoned.
At that moment, the heavy crimson drapes that hid the backroom area from customer view parted and Tristan emerged. He was dressed in a dark blue two-piece suit that was tailored to fit every inch of his trim body. “Actually, she has a loaded bank account and the good sense to avoid those glittery widow traps otherwise known as casinos.”
Nathaniel laughed and joined them both in the small consultation room where clients could peruse auction catalogs. He was dressed more casually than his husband. Wearing a hunter green polo shirt, khaki dress pants, and well-worn loafers, his easy-going style fit his friendly personality perfectly. “She’s single-handedly paid our mortgage for the past six months with her purchases.
“I sure hope she likes baked goods.” Vivienne chimed in. “I could use a customer like that.”
Tristan adjusted his necktie and collar. “If you bake things in the shape of owls, I’m sure she’ll buy them.”
“So what brings you here today?” Nathaniel asked.
Vivienne lifted the journal from her lap and set it atop the cherry wood table that had one of those checker boards built into the top. “I was wondering if you could help me with this.”
“What is it?” Tristan asked.
“It looks like a personal journal, but I’m thinking it may be an old novel that was supposed to read like one.” Vivienne explained. “It was found in a box of old cookbooks that my Nana Mary wanted me to have.”
“May I?” Nathaniel asked as his hand hovered over the worn leather cover.
“Yes, but take care not to lock it. I had a devil of a time getting it to open last night.”
He turned the cover and began sifting through the pages. “So what makes you think this might be a rare book?”
“Well, the first entry is dated in 1692.” Vivienne explained. “I know it looks old, but I’m having a hard time believing it’s really that old if you know what I mean.”
Nathaniel leaned over to Tristan and showed him the contents. His red hair glimmered from the Tiffany-styled lamps suspended above. “It’s a journal for sure.”
Tristan’s brow furrowed. He turned a few more pages. “What entry are you referring to?”
“The first page has an entry mentioning the Salem colony.” Vivienne leaned forward in her chair. “I didn’t find any publishing information though.”
Tristan set the book down in front of her. “Show me.”
She flipped the pages back to the beginning and pointed to the entry she had read last night. “This is what I’m talking about.”
Nathaniel shrugged at Tristan. “I don’t see anything but blank pages.”
Tristan nodded. “Me either.”
Vivienne shook her head. “Are you two pulling my leg? Is this some sort of early Halloween prank?”
Nathaniel’s face betrayed no sign of humor. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”
Vivienne tapped her finger on the entry that was crystal clear even in the soft lighting of the store. “Neither of you can see the words on this page?”
Tristan shrugged. “I’m sorry, Vivienne. All I see is one blank page after the next.”
Nathaniel glanced at his watch, having lost interest in the prank he was certain she was pulling. “Based on the condition of the cover and the yellowing of the pages, it’s probably over a hundred years old. As for any value, well...”
Not wanting to be seen as a lunatic, she decided to play along with the Halloween prank idea. “Okay, I give up. You got me. Kathy pulled this one on me the other day and I thought I’d give it a try.”
Tristan scratched at his dark brown goatee and smiled. “Good one, Vivienne.”
Nathaniel let out a little chuckle. “You almost had me there for a minute too.” He folded his arms across his chest and let out a sigh. “It’s nice to know another Halloween fanatic will be moving onto Main Street.”
“If you go all out with decorating this year we won’t stand out so much.” Tristan added. “Maybe we can even work on some cross promotions?”
“That’s a great idea.” Vivienne retrieved the journal and closed it with a snap. “I did actually have another reason for coming in today.” She tried to think quickly of what it was. “I was thinking of adding a few vintage baking supplies to my store for some decoration.” The lie rolled off her tongue with surprising ease.
“I just saw some copper gelatin molds at an auction in New York about two weeks ago.” Tristan recalled. “They’d look stunning mounted on a wall display.”
“I was thinking about those different sized whisks and measuring cups from last week?” Nathaniel added. “I think it was a set of six. You could put some in your front window and really draw some attention.”
Vivienne could only imagine what this little jaunt to their store was going to cost her. She put on her best smile and tried to act interested. “I’m afraid my budget is quite small for that kind of thing now. Maybe a few months down the road I’d like to add some of those?”
“Sure.” Tristan was quick to reply. “Next time I’m at auction I’ll try to pick up a few things.”
“Oh, you don’t need to go to any trouble just yet.” Vivienne could almost feel the dollar bills disappearing from her purse. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair.
“Don’t feel pressured to buy them.” Nathaniel sensed her discomfort. “How about you place them in your store and if someone wants to buy them you direct them to us?”
“That’s so kind of you.” She rose from the chair. “It’s a deal.” She glanced at a gorgeous grandfather clock that nearly touched the ceiling with its impressive height. “Well, I’ve taken up enough of your time as it is.”
“I’m sure we’ll see you at the service for Mona Clarke.” Tristan added.
Nathaniel poked his partner in the ribs in annoyance. “If you’re going, that is.”
“Have they set the date?” Vivienne asked the pair.
“Not yet.” Nathaniel answered. “I’m sure the investigation is holding things up.”
“It’s such a tragedy.” Vivien offered. “Not to mention the fact I don’t know when I’m going to have my grand opening.”
“I’m sure that the turnout will be impressive, regardless.” Tristan spoke up. “Despite how people felt after that meeting the other night, I’m sure they will still attend out of
respect.”
“Were you at the meeting too?” Vivienne wondered.
“I was.” Nathaniel nodded. “But I hate speaking in front of crowds so I just watched the fireworks.”
Tristan sighed. “I was out of town picking up that owl lamp for Mrs. Rathbun. But I really wish I had been there to see it all in person.”
“I told you all about it.” Nathaniel protested.
Tristan wrapped his arm around him. “Honey, I love you dearly but you are not a good gossip.”
Nathaniel shrugged. “I report the facts.”
“Yes, you do. But it’s like reading an article in a newspaper about Elizabeth Taylor versus watching a trashy television movie about her.” Tristan smiled. “It’s just more exciting when you have Lindsay Lohan’s poor acting powering the train wreck.”
“See what I have to put up with?” Nathaniel smiled at Vivienne.
“How do you two feel about the proposed changes to Main Street?” She asked.
“I’m all for it.” Tristan eagerly chimed in. “The buildings are looking rather tired and worn down lately.”
“But we don’t think forcing the issue with the business owners is the right approach.” Nathaniel countered.
“We can’t rely on Mrs. Rathbun to keep us afloat every month, honey.” Tristan’s voice was firm. “Mona was right about making the changes sooner rather than later. Besides, she said our business needed only minimal changes. A few hundred dollars tops. We already have a wooden sign and she told us that she was using that as the base model for all the other stores.”
“Well, that’s convenient.” Vivienne added.
Nathaniel nodded in agreement. “It’s a divisive issue to say the least. But we’re flattered that Mona chose to use our store as a springboard for change.”
“Well, I really have taken too much of your time today.” Vivienne pulled herself up from the comfortable chair.
“So how’s that handsome deputy of yours doing?” Tristan took her by the arm and escorted her toward the door. “He certainly is easy on the eyes.”
Nathaniel took her other arm. “We heard it was a blind date your Mother set up. You sure are lucky.”
Vivienne swallowed hard. “Boy, news sure travels fast in this town. Did you hear about our first date too?”
“We heard it was a cozy dinner for two at Shanghai Sunset.” Tristan added with a laugh. “Nora stopped in here yesterday to see if we had any good finds at the auction.”
“News travels fast, but my Mother moves at the speed of light.” Vivienne joked. “Well, it was a wonderful date and I’ll leave it at that.”
“Tell him he’s welcome to stop by our store and visit anytime.” Nathaniel interrupted. “Business is sure to pick up with a handsome guy like that standing in the showroom.”
Vivienne broke out into a hearty laugh. “You two are crazy but I love you anyway.” She gave them each a little kiss on the cheeks. “Thank you so much for your help and keep me posted if you hear about when the service is going to be.”
“We’ll save you a seat next to us.” Tristan waved as she left the store. “We’ll save one for the handsome deputy too.”
As she walked down Main Street, she flipped open the journal and made sure the entries were still there. As she suspected, they were quite clear under the gauzy sunlight of the overcast day. Why couldn’t they see it? Was she going mad from all the stress of opening her business and Mona’s murder?
No, she decided as she climbed into her car and turned the engine over. She wasn’t crazy. She was going to go to the source of the book and get answers. She pulled out into the light traffic and set course for the Whispering Oaks assisted living facility. She’d have the answer.
Chapter 11
Despite the overcast day that almost made the scenery around the lake resemble an old black and white film, the drive along Cayuga Circle was quite pleasant. Here, most of the grand Victorian homes from the old days stood proudly on their manicured lawns that overlooked the lake. The homeowners were a mix of established old family money and new wealth that had sought refuge from the concrete jungles of New York and New Jersey. The driveways were paved and smooth, with luxury cars tucked inside gingerbread decorated garages that matched the colors of the homes. Front porches were decorated with corn stalks and pumpkins and ribbons of orange and black. There were no tacky crashed witches against the old oaks, nor were there white sheets twisted to make little ghosts holding hands. The mood was refined and elegant and also a reminder that this area was monitored by a strict homeowners association.
She pulled into the parking lot of the two-story building that housed the Whispering Oaks assisted living facility and found a spot near the picnic tables were staff members often enjoyed meal breaks on nice days.
With the journal tucked safely under her right arm, she entered the facility and was greeted by the cheerful face of Sandy Cumberland at the reception desk. “Hello Vivienne. Mary didn’t tell me you were coming to visit today.”
“It’s a surprise.” Vivienne replied. “Is she upstairs?”
Sandy checked the schedule on her computer. “She’s probably at the bingo game in the recreation hall.”
“When did it start?” Vivienne hated to interrupt the game, especially if Nana Mary was on a hot streak. She’s never hear the end of it.
“It’s almost over.” Sandy looked at the clock near her desk. “I’d guess another ten or fifteen minutes.”
“I better wait here.” She smiled back.
“You should go down to the ice cream shop and try the new pumpkin pie ice cream. It’s heaven.” Sandy offered.
Vivienne was always impressed with the facility. In fact, it looked very much like a nice hotel in a larger city. The walls were wood-paneled in rich honey oak, the plush carpeting a pleasing green shade that brought to mind a summer lawn. There were no clinical white walls, nor the trace of urine smell that one associated with nursing homes. No corkboards with paper decorations stapled up amongst activities flyers. The residents who called this building home needed only minimal care. Once that situation changed, they were required to leave. It was the perfect fit for Cayuga Circle, Vivienne thought to herself. Rules and regulations were followed, protocols observed.
She had taken Sandy’s advice and wandered down to the small ice cream parlor that the residents often enjoyed when their families came to visit. The young man working behind the counter was well groomed and wore an old-fashioned red and white striped shirt that was tucked into a pair of black pants. “I hear you have pumpkin pie ice cream?” She asked.
He nodded. “Sure do. Would you like a cone or dish?” He asked politely.
“A dish please.” Vivienne found cones too messy.
The young man, whose metal nametag read Jonathan, pulled out a little cardboard dish with pink polka dots on it and plopped a fairly large scoop of orange-tinted ice cream inside. “Would you like whipped cream and a cherry?”
“No, thank you.” Vivienne wanted nothing to disrupt the taste of the ice cream.
Jonathan placed the dish on the counter along with a plastic spoon and some napkins. “Would you like anything else today? We have rock candy on special, buy one get one free?”
“I’ll just take the ice cream today.” Vivienne repeated. “How much do I owe you?”
“Two dollars even.” He replied.
She opened her purse and gave him a five. “Keep the change.” She smiled warmly.
“Thank you so much.” His eyes sparkled.
As she left with her treat, she had a feeling the residents rarely tipped. It was a different generation, she reminded herself. These were people who lived through the depression and believed one had to work hard for their money. She put a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth, and her tongue was treated to a mixture of pumpkin, graham cracker, and caramel. It tasted amazingly just like a slice of pie.
“Bingo.” Nana Mary’s voice startled Vivienne from behind. She whirled around to find her holding a li
ttle stuffed bear dressed in a witch’s outfit. “I was on a hell of a hot streak today, let me tell you.” She was dressed in a cream-colored sweater and a pair of lavender linen pants. Vivienne guessed it was an outfit Nora had purchased from one of her excursions to the retail outlets near Waterloo. Her short white hair was cut and styled in a pleasing look with a slight body wave, as the facility employed a rather talented beauty and barbering staff.
“Nana Mary”, Vivienne held out her arms for a hug, “I didn’t want to disturb you.”
Nana Mary hugged her warmly. “You never disturb me.” She pulled away with an impish grin on her face. “Your mother on the other hand…”
“She means well.” Vivienne held out the ice cream. “Have you tried this pumpkin ice cream yet?”
“So much I’m sick of pumpkin already and it’s not even Halloween yet.” She gestured toward the elevators. “It’s so nice you took time out of your busy schedule to visit me.”
They walked into the elevator and rode it to the third floor where Nana Mary’s apartment was located. “So what’s up with the witch bear?” Vivienne asked.
“It was a door prize during intermission.” Nana Mary smiled. “I won fifty dollars on a full card game today.”
“You always have good luck.” Vivienne knew that Whispering Oaks had a special agreement with Our Lady of the Lake church over on Lakeshore Drive. The nuns set up a bi-monthly bingo game to raise money for their Christmas toy fund and the residents appreciated getting to play a bingo game for real money without having to leave their comfortable home. Although it lacked the big jackpots of the regular games in the church hall, it was still well attended and something the residents always looked forward to.
