“Well, not quite the end,” Janet said.
“No?”
“I’m still here.”
A slight chuckle crossed the wire. “Frankly, Janet, I don’t see you in the role of a matriarch.”
Janet had to agree, but couldn’t help but feel she had been insulted.
“No matter,” the woman went on. “You take whatever time you need. We’ll manage.”
“I shouldn’t be more than a few days,” Janet hurried to explain, wanting to terminate the conversation as quickly as possible. “Monday at the latest, I think.”
“Monday will be fine.”
“Thank you, Miss Aust—” She heard a click as the line cut off their connection. It was plain that Amanda Austin had little sympathy for any Lancaster misfortune. Understandable, Janet thought, for a witch.
She still felt the need to talk, to make personal contact with someone who mattered to her, someone she mattered to and who cared about what happened in her life. She dialed Chelsea’s number.
“Hello.”
At the sound of the familiar voice, Janet’s resolve broke like an earthen dam after a downpour. “She’s gone, Chels,” she sobbed into the receiver. “Grandmother’s dead.”
“I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do? Can I come up and be with you?”
“Huh-uh. Stay there. You’ll be needed at the library. Miss Austin has already tried the guilt trip on me for being off these extra days.”
“She would,” Chelsea hissed. “I hope you didn’t pay any attention to her.”
In the way of an answer, Janet snuffled and swiped her nose with the heel of her hand.
“Are you going to be okay?” asked Chelsea.
“Eventually. I guess I just needed to let go.”
“She was all the family you had. Don’t apologize.”
“But she wasn’t, Chelsea.”
“Wasn’t what?”
“All the family I had,” Janet said. “Just wait ’til you hear the story.”
“Tell me.”
“Not now. I’ll call you soon as I get home.”
“In the meantime Janet, if you need to talk you know my number.”
“Lord girlfriend, what a lifesaver you are. I’ve got to go for now. See you soon.”
Janet hung up and reached for a tissue.
The day of the funeral was most disagreeable. It reminded Janet of the day her parents were buried, and she wondered if any Lancaster had ever been laid to rest beneath a sunny sky. Certainly not today, as the cold rain was whipped by a violent wind coming in off the ocean. The small company, numbering little more than a dozen, stood on the perimeter of the grave. Ethan Chandler, the chairman of the library board, stood tall and regal. Janet thought about her grandmother’s offer to call him to ask for an increase in her salary. She wondered what he would’ve said. Being a man of unquestioned integrity—in spite of his high-priced attorney status—he was a stickler for precedent and the precise order of things. He would’ve found a way to refuse the wishes of the determined Elizabeth Lancaster and even have her end up agreeing with him.
Household servants, faithful to the end, withstood the onslaught of the weather with their usual dignity. Mentally, Janet rushed the minister forward in his eulogy. Cold began to seep through her leather gloves and sting her fingers. She shifted her feet on the hard ground and felt only numbness. To take her mind off the cold, Janet turned her attention to Lettie, standing stiff and proper beside her husband. Janet wondered what the woman might be thinking. Over the years her attendance to her charge had been nothing short of total devotion.
Elizabeth Lancaster had not been an easy woman to live with. For Janet, growing up at Heather Down often proved difficult. Much was expected of her, and many times, she feared, she had fallen way short of the mark. Her grandparents had planned for her to attend Harvard School of Law and follow in the footsteps of her father. But the prospect of years of diligent study and dedication failed to attract Janet in the least, and she was forced to oppose the two of them—a formidable task, to say the least—for the first time in her young life. Dropping out of college after only two short years of working toward a liberal arts degree, Janet informed them that she was as much a liberal as she cared to be and could see no reason to continue wasting her time and their money. She mulled over the possibility of going away to Baltimore to study art, but decided they would only want to change her style and tinker around with her technique, so that idea was deep-sixed almost immediately. When she ended up going to work at the library, her grandparents accepted her decision and were appeased to a certain degree.
The minister’s voice brought Janet back to the present.
“…and may God gather you in his loving arms and keep you safe always. Amen.”
The service was over and the small procession hurried to their cars to drive the short distance back to the house. Duffy held open the door of the Rolls and Janet crawled in. The rain drummed on the roof of the car and the continuing slap-slap-slap of the wipers and the warm air humming from the heater had a hypnotic effect on her. She would have liked to curl up in the corner of the back seat and go to sleep, but procedure took precedence over preference.
Back inside the house, Cook began shedding her outer garments before she cleared the front door. “Tea will be served in ten minutes,” she announced.
Janet climbed the stairs to her room and peeled away the wet clothes and towel-dried her hair. Moments later, they all gathered around the dining table as Cook scurried about seeing that everyone’s needs were attended to.
A short time later the small group of visitors started to disperse. Janet stood at the front door shaking hands and nodding with a sad smile at offered condolences. Once they were all gone, only the Lancaster intimates remained. Ian Newkirk, properly clad in formal funeral attire, stepped to the doorway of the kitchen. The elderly gentleman, reared in the old guard of gallant chivalry, waited for a break in the conversation before he spoke.
“Janet, I’m sure you already know the contents of your grandmother’s Last Will and Testament. She informed me just last week that she intended to tell you exactly how it was set forth.” Looking around the table, he pushed back the sides of his broadcloth cutaway and hooked his thumbs into the slit pockets of the gray-striped vest. “While I understand that this is neither the time nor place to be bringing up the matter, I just want all of you to know that you have been more than adequately provisioned.” He nodded. “Janet, when do you plan on returning to Middlebrook?”
“I thought Saturday, Mr. Newkirk. I promised to be back to work on Monday. So yes, Saturday afternoon, I think.”
“Very good. Why then do we not schedule the reading of the will for Saturday morning? We can do it here, in your grandmother’s study. With few exceptions, all parties named in the will are present in this room, so I can see no reason for a delay.”
“Thank you, Mr. Newkirk,” Janet said.
On Saturday morning, the reading of the will held no surprises. The four servants were to continue receiving their full salary for the remainder of their lives. The generous deed was apparently more than expected of the late Madam. Lettie and Cook fought back tears, and Trent and Duffy seemed to have developed the sniffles. Janet thought it little enough for the many years of service rendered. The conditions for the bulk of the estate were set forth in precise detail. It was just as her grandmother had related to Janet the evening before she died.
Mr. Newkirk refolded the stiff, blue-bound paper.
“This document will go into probate and be filed at the courthouse for public inspection. Once that is done, we can only hope that either Isabella or Etienne hear about the death and chooses to come forward.” He removed his glasses and placed them on the desk. “In the meantime, the entire estate will remain as it exists today until the year has ended.” He returned his glasses, settled them on his face, and began stacking papers back into his briefcase. “Do you have any questions, Janet?”
“Has there
been no news about Etienne—nothing at all?”
“I’m afraid not. I’ll let you know when I hear something.”
Janet nodded.
He snapped the lock on the case and picked it up. “Fine. I’ll leave you then.” He gathered his hat and walking stick and strode to the entrance of the study. At the door, he placed the hat on his head, patted it lightly and turned back toward the group. “Good day to all of you.”
The five remained seated, each entertaining their own personal woolgathering. Finally Lettie spoke.
“I had no idea Madam would be so generous.”
The others looked up and nodded at what must have been a shared opinion.
“Miss Janet,” Trent spoke. “Do you intend to keep the house open?”
“I think not, Trent. Not for a while anyway.” She smiled. “That is unless you all want to continue living here. That would be fine with me.”
Lettie laced her fingers together. “It wouldn’t be the same with Madam.” She glanced around the table. “We’ve all decided to leave Heather Down. It will be a sad going, but that’s what we decided.”
Janet nodded. “All of you have earned a much-needed rest. So do things you want to do, for a change. Travel, visit friends and families—whatever you want.”
Lettie smiled. “Duffy and I have always longed to see Ireland.” She reached over and patted his hand. “Now we can afford it—and we’ll certainly have plenty of time.”
“Trent,” Janet asked. “Any plans?”
The old face brightened and Janet realized that he wasn’t nearly the frail fossil that she always thought him to be.
“Going south—someplace warm the year around,” he said and winked at Cook. “The Keys, most likely. I have a brother there. Me and Daisy are going together.” He laughed. “Might even get married.”
Janet frowned. “Daisy? This is the first time I’ve heard your name. Isn’t it strange that I never thought to ask.”
Cook trilled a sort of off-key melody, self-conscience at being the center of attention.
“It’s all settled then,” Janet declared. “But I would appreciate it if you’d keep in touch. If I should decide to reopen the house I’d be more than honored to have you return.” She smiled. “That is, if retirement ever gets to be too much of a burden, and you need something to do. Besides, I’d hate to have to break in a whole new staff when you all know the place better than I do.” She looked at Duffy. “And I’d never trust the Rolls to anybody but you.”
Duffy blushed and lowered his head.
Lettie laid a hand upon Janet’s arm. “I never could stand slovenliness,” she said. “You can always depend on me. You must remember that.”
Later that afternoon, Janet packed her clothes for the return trip to Middlebrook. After she put her room to rights, she walked down the flight of stairs and stopped outside the closed door of her grandmother’s room. Reaching for the knob, she touched it lightly before changing her mind. She withdrew her hand and turned away to continue down the stairs. The staff moved on silent footfalls, draping furniture with white dustsheets and closing off rooms. The house was stirring with veils of shadows that whispered murmurings of death. In the black and white tiled salon, the late evening sun cast a pale shimmer though the windows and played an eerie light against the hulking ghost-like shapes that sat poised as if upon a giant chessboard. The game was over; the queen was dead.
Lettie approached.
“We’ll be gone in the next few days,” she said to Janet. “I’ll leave the key with Mr. Newkirk.”
“Thanks Lettie. You’ve been indispensable these last few days.”
“Didn’t do more than I wanted to, Miss Janet. Now you take care of yourself.”
Tears brimmed in her eyes. She stepped forward and gave Janet a hug. The rest of the staff came from other rooms. Cook moved on tiny feet to Janet’s side and took her hand.
“God bless you, Miss. I always did like for you to come up so I could cook for you.” She smiled. “I love to see a hearty appetite.”
Janet laughed. “I have that, all right.”
Duffy joined the farewell gathering. He put out his hand and Janet smiled.
“Thank you Duffy, for all the trips you made to the Point—and always with a shopping list.”
“Didn’t mind, Miss. Didn’t mind at all.”
“I’ll carry your bag out to the car,” Trent volunteered.
“That would be nice.” Janet smiled as she allowed the faithful butler one last chance to serve.
They went through the door and across the porch. Janet turned and looked back at the remaining three standing framed in the doorway.
“Goodbye,” she called. “And remember that you promised to keep in touch.”
She waved to the group then turned and followed Trent, who seemed to have a new spring in his step. They went down the steps and across the lawn that was even now becoming overgrown and neglected.
SIX
A jagged curtain of water whooshed from beneath the wheels of a UPS truck and splattered a mess across Janet’s windshield when she merged with Middlebrook traffic. It was all so familiar, yet now it seemed disconnected to her life. After being away for a week, she ticked off in her mind the contents of her refrigerator: stale bread, outdated milk, withered fruit. Speeding up to get into the turn lane, she whipped into Kroger’s and found an empty spot near the door. Janet had never been one to shop by the squeeze, sniff, or thump method, so she was in and out in less than twenty minutes.
The rain had not slackened when she pulled into her parking slot at Middlebrook Arms. She set the brake, looked through the fogged windshield, and thought how she hated to venture from the warm car into the icy downpour.
Middlebrook Arms wasn’t the ritziest place to live but it was a better part of town, home to older and more established residences. But the years were telling and the condos were beginning to show signs of ageing. The units followed along the lines of a horseshoe: single-level buildings on either side were filled mostly with singles, like herself, or young couples with no children. The long multi-level building spanning the back catered to the retired and tenants with special needs. It had a handicap ramp leading up to the common front porch, and inside was an elevator to reach the second level. Janet once had a paraplegic friend who lived there, but the friend had died and she hadn’t been back inside the building since.
A courtyard graced the center of the complex and was tended by meticulous landscaping. Wood-slatted benches and flower boxes circled a fountain that was presently covered with a canvas sheet, but would come alive with columns of water during the summer months. Clumps of white birch completed the arrangement. All the units were gray brick, with a slightly darker shade of wood trim. The doors and windows, overlaid with decorative black wrought-iron barriers, offered a measure of security without making the whole thing look like a fortress.
The parking area was the opening of the horseshoe. Black filigreed streetlamps that followed the curve of the sidewalk were already glowing.
After tugging on the hood of her jacket and tightening the cords, Janet looped the tote strap across her body. She gathered the sack of groceries, sandwiched the photo album against her chest, took a deep breath and stepped from the car into the violent weather. A slashing wind drove the rain into her eyes and she ducked her head to keep from being blinded. She barreled up the sidewalk with no thought of being careful.
“Oomph.”
The breath was nearly knocked out of her as she smacked into a solid wall of hurrying humanity. The grocery bag exploded from the compression of the two bodies and little Cheerios missiles shot in all directions. The bag hit the soggy ground and oranges bounced on the wet grass and rolled away. A geyser of milk erupted from the red carton and spewed white foam on her rain-soaked jeans.
Janet almost laughed as she swiped water from her face and looked at the stranger in the raincoat. Without speaking, he knelt and began to retrieve the remnants of her purchase. A khaki rai
n hat, pulled low over his brow, hid his face. In silence, he handed up the oranges one at a time and Janet tucked them into the little vee-shaped shelf made by her body and the album.
“I’m sorry.” He spoke without looking up. “It was all my fault. I guess I thought nobody else would be out in this miserable weather.”
“Don’t apologize,” she said. “It was my fault too. I should’ve been more careful. I’m afraid my mind was more scattered than these groceries.”
He stood and wiped his hands on the sides of his raincoat.
“Can I help you inside?”
Still holding the picture album and clutching a single orange, Janet shook her head and hurried away. She would clean up the mess later. She stuck her key into the lock of unit seven and thumbed down the latch. As she stepped though the doorway, she glanced back over her shoulder. The stranger was still standing on the sidewalk watching her. With a jerk of his body, he turned and walked away.
Janet flipped the light switch, let her shoulders go slack, and sagged against the closed door. The warm apartment closed in around her like a lover’s embrace and fulfilled her desperate need for a great deal of comfort. But this time the comfort was mixed with a bittersweet homecoming. There would be no more calls to Heather Down—her haven from the world. The one constant in Janet’s life was gone.
Streams of water trickled from her jacket and puddled around her feet, darkening the carpet. Tiptoeing around the edge of the living room, she stepped to the shiny tile of the kitchen and dumped the contents of her arms on the table. Her clothes felt heavy and clung hard to her body. She peeled them away and let them fall to the floor.
Moments later Janet slid into a steaming tub and set her mind adrift; it drifted to gardens and tall grass and towers. And gravesites. And she felt more alone than ever before in her life. Soon the water cooled and goose bumps puckered her arms and she was forced to crawl out and reach for her favorite robe.
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