By four o’clock, she had finished sorting and stacking the boxes closest to the window. She’d found tax returns and household ledgers from the 1920s and 1930s. They would be interesting to go through when she wasn’t imprisoned in a cold, dark, creepy attic. The set of ancient golf clubs and the decrepit croquet set would be discarded.
The light began to fade as an early dusk descended on the cloudy day, and Maggie reluctantly abandoned her efforts to restore order to her attic. She set her sights on an overstuffed leather armchair in the middle of the room and shoved aside a stack of banker’s boxes, knocking the lid off the top box and sending file folders tumbling to the floor. She moaned and glanced in their direction. Based upon their cleanliness, they looked to be of recent origin. She’d have to go through them some other time. She tidied them into a stack, not noticing the thin file folder labeled F.H./Rosemont that had slipped to the floor.
Maggie wrestled the overstuffed leather chair to the window. If she sat just right, she could avoid the springs poking through the seat cushion. She focused her attention on the driveway and tried to summon up something productive to think about. Maybe she’d benefit from some quiet time to consider the myriad of problems she faced as the mayor of Westbury. The only thing she could think about, however, was how miserable and afraid she was. The tears she had been fighting broke free.
She quickly stood and stamped her feet for warmth. This is ridiculous, she chided herself. I’m safer and more comfortable in this attic than ninety percent of the world’s population is in their homes. Why am I feeling sorry for myself? The niggling worry at the back of her mind surfaced—what if no one came for her? Then she wasn’t so safe, was she?
She drew a calming breath and told herself to focus. Someone would come looking for her on Sunday. At this point in the afternoon, she had to accept that Frank Haynes hadn’t been alarmed by her absence. He was probably annoyed that she stood him up for their meeting, but he wasn’t worried about her. If he had been, someone would have been here before now. She would have heard them, wouldn’t she? No one was looking for her, but someone would be tomorrow. The most sensible thing was to stay put and wait. Still, she’d better come up with a plan B—just in case no one came on Sunday afternoon.
Maggie pressed her forehead to the windowpane. She was on the third floor and the first two floors had high ceilings. She calculated that she was at least thirty feet from the grassy area below. Thank God, this window is over grass and not the driveway, she observed. Dropping this far would be fatal, she knew. She’d have to tie sheets or clothing together to make a ladder to climb down. There must be old linens and clothing up here, she thought as she glanced at the shadowy attic. Maybe even a rope. She’d have to use the skills she had taught her daughter’s Girl Scout troop when she was their leader. Still, they’d never really used them, had they? Never really tried them out. It would be scary and dangerous to climb down a makeshift ladder from this height.
She might have to. Tomorrow, she decided. She didn’t have any water with her, so she wouldn’t be able to hold out for a second night. If no one came for her by two o’clock, that would mean that Sam and Joan weren’t concerned and no one would arrive to save her. She’d have to save herself. As soon as it was light in the morning, she’d search for materials and make her ladder.
She was turning away from the window to settle into the chair when a flash through the trees below caught her attention. She stood; her eyes riveted on the driveway as a late-model Mercedes sedan emerged from the trees and slowly approached Rosemont. Maggie tore off her shirt and threw open the window in a single movement. She screamed and waved her shirt through the small opening as Frank Haynes emerged from his car, a large envelop in hand.
Haynes looked right and left, unsure where the commotion was coming from. Maggie drew a deep breath and yelled, “Up here, Frank! Frank, up here!”
Haynes tilted his head back and quickly brought his hand up to acknowledge that he’d seen her. He stepped forward and cupped his mouth with his hands.
“Maggie, is that you?”
She withdrew her hand from the window and pressed her face to the opening. Fighting to control tears of relief, she struggled to make herself heard over the wind.
“Yes. I’m locked in the attic. Can you get in and let me out?”
“Are any of the doors or windows unlocked?” he yelled in reply.
“I don’t think so. Maybe the kitchen door. Windows are all locked,” she shouted.
Haynes turned to walk to the back of the house.
“Wait. There’s a key hidden in the flower pot to the right of the garage door.”
He nodded vigorously to signal that he understood and disappeared around the side of the house.
Maggie shoved herself into her shirt and slammed the window shut. She grabbed the flashlight and flew down the stairs at breakneck pace. Eve suddenly started barking wildly, and just as quickly quieted. He must be petting her, she realized with a surge of tenderness. Within moments, she heard his rapid steps on the stairs.
***
John Allen decided it was time to wrap it up for the week. He’d had a busy Saturday, as usual. Clinic hours had been over more than ninety minutes ago and his last technician had just left. He had his favorite college football game recorded on his DVR. He’d pick up a bucket of chicken on the way home and eat in front of the TV.
Now that Eve was back home, they had no dogs overnighting at the clinic. He sighed. Eve had been touch and go that first night. Thankfully, she’d pulled through. As usual, he made his rounds to check that all of the doors were locked. On his way through the waiting room, his foot connected with a prescription bottle and it skidded across the floor, pills rattling inside. He switched on the lights and found the culprit. Someone dropped their pet’s medications on their way out, he mused. If it were something important, he’d have to call the pet owner.
He checked the label; it was an antibiotic for Eve. She couldn’t go the weekend without it. He still knew Maggie’s number by heart and reached for his cell phone. In spite of himself, a smile crept across his face as he waited for her to pick up. When his call went to her voicemail, he intended to leave a message directing her to a box around back where he would leave the prescription for her to pick up. Instead he heard himself telling her that he would stop by Rosemont and bring it to her. He picked up the prescription bottle and headed out the back door.
John’s pulse quickened as he made the familiar drive to Rosemont. He had to admit he missed Maggie terribly. He was trying to distance himself from her, but she continued to dominate his thoughts. Maybe this lost prescription was a sign. Maybe fate was throwing them together. Maybe he should give it another try. He stepped on the accelerator.
He rounded the corner and emerged from the trees to find Rosemont silhouetted against the late afternoon sky. A lone car was parked in front and all of the lights were out except for one on the upstairs landing. As John pulled up to the front door, he recognized the familiar Mercedes sedan. He sat in stunned silence as his imagination took him places he didn’t want to go. The house was silent; it was obvious that Maggie and Haynes were alone. On the second floor. His stomach lurched and his mouth went dry.
He wanted nothing more than to get away from there. His dedication as a doctor forced him to quietly get out of his car and leave the bottle by the front door. He’d send Maggie a text message that the medication had been delivered, he thought as he hastily retraced his steps and drove away.
***
“Over here, Frank,” Maggie yelled hoarsely from inside the attic.
“I’ve got it,” he replied. “You’ll be out in a jiffy.” Turning the knob, he shoved the door open in one firm movement.
Maggie tumbled out, almost knocking him over. She bent over, hands on her knees, and breathed deeply to steady herself.
“Sorry about that, Frank,” she gasped and tried to stand.
Haynes recovered his balance, and put his arm around her shoulder to s
teady her. She leaned into him.
“How long were you up there?” he asked.
“Since early this morning.”
“I almost didn’t come out here. I figured you forgot about our meeting. Frankly, I was angry. I was bringing you a bunch of paperwork to review—on your own.”
Maggie nodded and straightened. “I was certain I’d spend the night up there,” she said with a shudder. “I didn’t have any water and figured I’d have to make a ladder out of whatever I could find if no one came for me by early afternoon. And I’ve been so worried about Eve because she just got out of the hospital and needs antibiotics.”
Haynes gave her a quizzical glance.
“She had a spider bite that became infected and was really sick. But Dr. Allen fixed her up,” she replied.
Haynes nodded. In all his days, he’d never been in a situation like this. Saving a damsel in distress was a task he was totally unprepared for.
“Well, you’re okay now,” he stated the obvious. “How did you get locked in?”
“That damn door is missing a knob on the inside. I left it open when I went up to the attic, but it’s drafty and a big wind gust slammed it shut. And there I was.”
Maggie switched on the chandelier on the landing, throwing light onto the stairway and the driveway from the window.
“What’s up there?” he asked, his interest in this house, which he had coveted for so long, once again piqued.
“Just a bunch of old junk, really,” Maggie stated dismissively. “I found some old ledgers and records from the twenties and thirties. Those might be fun to look though.” She turned to him. “Frank, I can’t thank you enough. You’re my white knight. You saved me from the most terrifying night of my life, for sure, and maybe from much worse. I don’t know if I could have climbed all the way down a makeshift ladder. And I don’t know if Eve would have survived. I’m so very grateful to you.”
Haynes smiled, his earlier annoyance with her evaporated.
“Let me run up and lock the window,” Maggie said, starting toward the stairs.
“No, I’ll get it,” Haynes replied firmly. “You’ve had enough of that attic for one day.” Maggie nodded. Taking the flashlight from her, he quickly ascended the stairs and made his way to the window that Maggie had hailed him from. He secured the lock then turned to head back toward the stairs when the flashlight’s beam caught a file folder lying on the floor. He stopped short to avoid stepping on it and stooped to pick it up. He was about to toss it on top of a stack of banker’s boxes when he noted the title. Shock waves coursed through his body. He hesitated, wondering if he could stash the file inside his coat, when he heard Maggie’s tread on the stairs.
“Frank,” she called. “Did you get it?”
Haynes quickly shoved the file into the closest box, vowing to somehow, someway retrieve it.
“Got it,” he called as he intercepted her at the top of the stairs. “You propped that door open, right? So we don’t get locked in?”
Reassured by Maggie’s assertion that the door couldn’t slam shut again, he turned and slowly led them both down the stairs with the flashlight.
Neither of them noticed the car in the driveway as they walked to the front door. The taillights disappeared into the trees as Haynes stepped through the front door and Maggie stooped to pick up the prescription bottle propped on the doormat.
Chapter 24
Maggie opened a can of soup for dinner and tried to force herself to review the documents Frank Haynes had brought her. After plowing through one section for the fourth time—still with no understanding—she replaced the cap firmly on her highlighter and tidied up the stack of papers.
“Eve, I’m exhausted, aren’t you?” Eve thumped her tail in reply. “I guess being locked in a drafty old attic all afternoon really took it out of me. I think it’s time to get ready for bed.”
Maggie reached for her phone and lazily checked her messages. Her heart leapt when she saw John’s name in the list. She read and reread his curt text. He must have been the one who had dropped off Eve’s medicine. She’d send a warm, appreciative response and see if she couldn’t get things going again between them. He still felt something for her, she was sure of it. The spark was there that day at his clinic when she brought Eve to him.
Maggie settled onto her stool at the kitchen island, and Eve curled up at her feet. She sat, fingers poised over her keypad, deep in thought.
Looks like Eve & I have been recipients of your kindness again. Thanks so much for delivering her medicine. Sorry I didn’t answer the door—was occupied. Would like to tell you about it. And thank you properly. May I take you to dinner this week?
Maggie contemplated what she had written. Was dinner too much, too soon? Would it turn him off? Should she start with something smaller? Yes, that would definitely be safer. She erased the last line and typed: Can I buy you coffee this week? J
There—that sounded friendly and not pushy. Satisfied, she pressed send. “Okay, Eve,” she yawned. “Now we really need to get to bed.”
***
Maggie kept a close eye on her phone all day Sunday as she waded through the Fairview Terraces paperwork, hoping for a response from John. She pushed aside her disappointment, rationalizing that he might be out on an emergency call and unable to respond to a social text, but by dinnertime, she was thoroughly discouraged.
Maggie spent the evening watching episodes of Upstairs Downstairs on DVD—her son, Mike, had given her the entire series for Christmas the prior year—and doing her nails. She was just about to turn out the light on her nightstand when his reply came in: Not necessary. Call office if you need anything.
Maggie felt her heart plummet. That’s it, she realized. He’s done. I was mistaken. She nestled into her pillow that was soon wet with her silent tears. Sensing the change in her master, Eve abandoned her familiar spot at Maggie’s feet. She sniffed and wagged, and licked Maggie’s face until Maggie was compelled to smile.
“It’s okay, girl,” she whispered as she moved Eve to a spot next to her. She turned on her side and snuggled her furry companion. “I’ve always got you.”
She forced her mind back to the financial data she had spent the afternoon analyzing and was soon asleep.
***
A cold front settled on the Midwest, bringing with it freezing rain and gusty winds. Both Maggie and John were in a funk by quitting time on Wednesday. Comfort food, Maggie decided as she turned out of the Town Hall parking lot. I’m sick and tired of salads; I need something that will stick to my ribs. One night won’t ruin my diet. She spun her car around and headed to Pete’s.
Meanwhile, John Allen had parked his car in the No Parking zone outside the back door of Pete’s and run in to pick up the nightly special to go. He had been doing this for so long that he didn’t need to call in his order anymore or stop to pay; he called if he wasn’t coming, and they had his credit card on file. The arrangement suited him perfectly.
Maggie parked at the far end of the lot, positioned the hood of her coat as far over her face as she could and held it firmly in place while she dashed to the back door. She pulled the door open and collided with the veterinarian, sending his take-out boxes to the floor.
“John,” she exclaimed, laughing with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to get in here out of the rain. Here, let me help you.” As she bent to retrieve one of the Styrofoam boxes, her heart felt happier than it had in days.
“Not necessary,” he said, snatching the box before she could reach it.
“How are you?” she continued, eyeing him carefully and willing the conversation to continue.
“Fine, thanks. Goodnight,” he said brusquely as he opened the door without meeting her gaze.
Maggie watched silently as the door shut behind him.
***
It was irretrievably over, Maggie thought morosely as she picked through the fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and corn she brought home from Pete’s. She’d almost finished
the humongous piece of chocolate cake that came with the special—what on earth was she thinking, eating all of this?—when Susan called.
“Hi, honey,” Maggie answered without enthusiasm. “What’s up?”
“Well, aren’t we chipper? What’s got you down? Are those crooks at Town Hall still up to no good?”
Maggie smiled in spite of herself. “I’m sure they are. Who knows? That’s not what’s bothering me.”
“Okay,” Susan replied. “Then what? Come on, Mom, no secrets. Spill the beans. You and John are fine, aren’t you?”
Maggie sighed. “That’s just it. We’re not. I think it’s definitely over.”
“What? When did this happen? Why didn’t you call me?”
“I was hoping it was all a tiny misunderstanding and it would blow over. Until last week, I knew he still liked me. But that’s not why you called. What’s up with you?”
“Not so fast, Mom,” Susan replied.
Maggie could picture her lying back on her sofa, phone to her ear, just as she had done as a teenager. Susan was in the mood to talk and there would be no denying her.
“Give it all to me, Mom.”
“Not much to tell, really. I was late picking him up from his physical therapy several times and missed a session or two—he had to take a cab.”
Maggie heard Susan wince.
“That’s pretty bad, Mom.”
“I know, I know. He’s absolutely right to be angry. I was trying to make it up to him, but he said that he couldn’t do it anymore; he’d been second fiddle to his wife, and he wasn’t going to be second fiddle in a relationship again. That was pretty much it.”
“Have you seen him since? How has he acted?”
“That’s the thing. I have. Eve got very sick from a spider bite, and I rushed her to his clinic. He was so kind and concerned, I thought we could start talking and then begin again.”
“So why hasn’t that happened?”
“I have no idea. The last time he dropped by Rosemont was the day I got locked in the attic.”
Weaving the Strands Page 11
