by J A Whiting
“Go ahead. Open it.” Jenna shifted to the side so she’d have a better look inside once the box was open.
“Why me?” Ellie had her deer-in-the-headlights look on her face.
“Mom gave it to you for safe-keeping.” Angie nudged her sister’s elbow. “So you should be the one.”
Courtney seemed like she wanted to say something, but she bit her tongue.
Ellie’s hands shook as she reached for the cover and undid the latches that held the lid tight. Euclid and Circe stood on their back legs, put their paws on the side of the box, and craned their necks to look. Euclid trilled. Circe poked at the box with her paw and purred.
Ellie sucked in a loud breath and pushed the cover off the box. Six heads leaned over to see inside.
Jenna reached in. “Look at this.” She removed a large glass jar filled with different pieces of colored sea glass. She held the jar up to the light. “They’re beautiful. Look how they catch the light and sparkle.”
Angie said, “You could make some beautiful jewelry with those pieces.” Reaching into the container, she lifted out a card file box and smiled. “It’s Nana’s recipe box.” She pushed the lid back. The box was full of index cards and each one had a handwritten recipe for a baked good on it.
Courtney took out a small wooden container and lifted the lid. “Look at these.” She held up a small piece of metal in the shape of a seashell. “They’re old-fashioned candy molds.” She turned it over in her hand. “How did Nana know I’d end up working in a candy store?”
Ellie stood with her arms held tight around herself. A tear glistened in the corner of her eye.
Angie slipped her arm around Ellie’s waist. She noticed something wrapped in tissue paper in the corner of the box and lifted it out. Angie pushed the tissue aside to reveal a soft, leather business card holder with the initials ERF embossed in one corner. “It’s Poppa’s.” She pulled an engraved card from inside of the holder. “Look. It’s Poppa’s old business card. Elliot Robert Fairfield, Certified Public Accountant. It gives his business address and telephone number.” She smiled and handed the leather card holder to Ellie. “This was meant for you. You were named after Poppa and you’re running a business. You’re following in his footsteps.”
Ellie held the card holder in her palm and rubbed her index finger over the fine brown leather.
Courtney leaned close to her sister’s shoulder to get a better look at the business card holder. She read the initials pressed into the leather. “ERF, huh? Now that it’s yours, the letters will stand for Ellie Roseland … and something with an ‘F’.” She laughed. “Now you’ll just have to marry someone whose last name begins with an ‘F.’”
Jenna said, “Hey, there’s a paper in the bottom of the box.” She took it out, unfolded it, and placed it on the table. “Look. It’s a family tree.”
The four girls squeezed together on the sofa and gazed at the names and dates written in Nana’s hand. Jenna pointed. “Here we are. And here’s Mom.” She traced the lines leading to other names. “Here’s Nana, Virginia Whitney Fairfield. And our great-grandmother, Forsythia Turner Whitney. Look. This is our great-great-grandmother, Alexandra Robin Turner. How cool.”
Courtney nearly shrieked. “Robin? Like in Robin’s Point?”
Everyone’s eyes went wide.
“Are we related to people who owned the point?” Jenna asked.
Angie peered closer. “Really? No one ever mentioned that to us. Wow.”
“Angie.” Ellie’s voice quavered. “Look on this side of the family tree.” Her index finger pointed to an entry.
Angie peered down at the old paper. Her jaw went slack. Her face turned white.
“What is it?” Courtney looked to where Ellie was pointing. She sat up straight, her mouth hanging open. “Holy smokes. Marion Turner Linden? Professor Linden was related to us?”
“And her father, John Turner. He’s the son of our great-great-grandmother,” Ellie told them.
Jenna gasped. “Professor Linden. She was our great-aunt.”
Angie slumped against Jenna’s shoulder. “I feel dizzy.”
Jenna eased her sister’s head onto her knees so she wouldn’t pass out.
***
The girls gently rested Angie back on the sofa. The cats climbed over her stomach and settled there.
“I’m not sure that will help,” Courtney told the cats.
Ellie rushed back into the room with a glass of water and a wet facecloth. She placed the cloth over Angie’s forehead.
Angie’s eyelids fluttered. “Ugh.” She pushed herself up. “I almost fainted. I’ve never felt like that before.” She rubbed her face with the cloth.
“Should you get up right away?” When Ellie saw that her sister was planning on staying upright, she handed her the glass of water.
Angie sipped and shook her head. “Professor Linden was our great-aunt?”
“Guess that answers the pressing question of why she left you the Victorian.” Courtney was studying the family tree. “She was related to us. She had no living heirs. She liked you. You’re the oldest one in our family. Puzzle solved.”
Angie rubbed her temples. “But why?”
Courtney lifted her blue eyes from the family tree. “Why what?”
“Why leave the house to me? Why not leave it to charity? Why didn’t she tell me I was in the will? Why didn’t she tell us we were related? Why didn’t Nana tell us about her?”
“Well, Professor Linden didn’t move permanently to town until after Nana died.” Jenna was thinking out loud. “But no one ever said that we had a relative. Why wouldn’t Nana or Mom tell us?”
“Nana and Professor Linden were in that old photograph together, so we know they knew each other when they were kids. They must have had a falling out, something that kept them apart for all those years.” Courtney’s eyebrows knitted together. “Over what, I wonder.”
Jenna looked at the things that Nana had placed in the box that were specific to each of the sisters. At the time Nana had placed the items in the container, there was no indication what paths the girls would follow. Jenna ran her fingers over the paper with the family tree handwritten on it. She sighed and looked up. “Guilt and sadness.”
The sisters shifted their questioning faces to Jenna.
“Those are the two reasons Professor Linden left the Victorian to Angie.”
Chapter 11
Courtney said, “That makes sense. Nana and Professor Linden must have had a terrible falling out. It was so severe that no one ever told us that the professor was our great-aunt. Professor Linden must have known that Nana died. She must have known that Mom passed away. I bet the professor wanted to make amends so she left the Victorian to Angie.”
“So,” Ellie said, “your theory assumes that Professor Linden was probably the cause of the breakdown in relations. It assumes she was so guilty about whatever happened that she left her house to Angie.”
Jenna pondered. “I guess so.”
Ellie drummed her fingers on her thigh. “That must have been a boatload of guilt.”
Angie listened to her sisters’ speculation. The new information about their family members was a surprise. The professor was their great-aunt and they were also related to someone who had the last name of Robin. Nana must have known that their ancestors had owned the land on Robin’s Point since the family tree was written in her own hand. Why didn’t Nana ever tell them these facts? There were so many puzzle pieces floating in the air.
Courtney twirled the seashell candy mold between her fingers. “What if.…?” The girls waited for their sister to complete her thought.
Courtney stared at the candy mold in her hand and tilted her head. “What if the professor was making amends for something someone else did?”
“Like who?” Angie asked.
“Betty Hayes told Angie that the professor went to Attorney Ford to ask something about her father.” Courtney closed her fingers over the mold. “What would an attorney
know about the professor’s father? Why would the professor suddenly need to ask something about her father?”
The girls sat in silence.
Courtney said, “Because just before Professor Linden died, she must have discovered that her father did something bad, that’s why.”
A current of electricity skittered through Angie’s body leaving behind a sensation of menace gnawing at her stomach. She pushed the hair back from her face with both of her hands. “I think you must be right. The falling out between the family members could have been because of something John Turner did.”
“What do we know about the professor’s father?” Ellie looked around the side tables for the book. “Where’s the historical society’s book? What does it say about John Turner?”
“It says some basic facts.” Courtney went to the desk near the window to retrieve the book. She handed it to Ellie. “The woman at the town hall told us some things too.” Courtney had to nudge Euclid to the side of the chair since he took over her spot when she stood up. He moved a few inches giving Courtney a bit of room to sit.
Ellie paraphrased from the book. “John Turner was born in Sweet Cove. He moved to Boston. He was a lawyer and a businessman. Turner was instrumental in the development of Coveside, turning it from a bunch of fishermen’s shacks into a tourist area of stores and restaurants.” She harrumphed. “I bet he made a pretty penny from developing the cove.”
Angie noted, “The woman at the town hall said Turner had influence with politicians, too.”
“I wonder what he did that caused the estrangement in the family.” Jenna stared at the jar of colored sea glass. The lamplight in the family room reflected off the pieces and caused them to sparkle. A wave of lightheadedness made Jenna place her hand on the sofa cushion to steady herself. Circe gave the young woman’s hand a lick with her pink tongue. As the dizziness faded, a thought popped into Jenna’s head that made her shudder. “Did John Turner do something to hurt Nana?”
The idea settled like a black cloud over the girls.
Angie’s lips pressed together as she considered the question. “Did Professor Linden find out that her father had hurt Nana somehow?”
Ellie’s eyes flashed. When she spoke, her voice was low and quiet. “How can we figure this out? Because if he hurt Nana….”
Euclid was awake sitting on the arm of Courtney’s chair, listening to the conversation. His thick, fluffy tail flicked back and forth and his green eyes focused like lasers on Courtney’s face.
Courtney piped up. “I have an idea. The cottage that was near Nana’s on the point. Mr. Gagne owned it. Remember how he’d always let us borrow his bikes?”
“Yeah, he was nice.” Ellie asked, “What’s borrowing his bikes got to do with your idea?”
“The bike lending doesn’t have anything to do with it. I just thought of that when I remembered Mr. Gagne. Is he still alive? Let’s talk to him. Let’s ask him if Nana ever confided in him about her concerns that the town didn’t really own the land on Robin’s Point. We can ask him if he knew John Turner and if he or Nana ever had dealings with the man.”
Jenna moved to the desk to use the laptop. “The town kicked them off the land fifteen years ago. Mr. Gagne was an old man back then. How old would he be now? A hundred?” She sat down in the desk chair. “I’ll look him up. What was his first name?”
“It was Fred,” Angie recalled.
Jenna’s fingers flew over the laptop keys. She leaned closer to the screen. “No obituary comes up.” More tapping produced some information. “Here. It gives an address for a Frederick Gagne. It’s the nursing home over in the next town.”
“I wonder if he’d remember us,” Ellie asked. She absent-mindedly braided and unbraided a section of her long hair.
“The more important question….” Angie patted Circe’s ebony fur. “Would he remember Nana and any serious conversations they might have had?”
Courtney raised an eyebrow and looked over at Angie. “I bet I know where we’re going tomorrow morning.”
Chapter 12
Early the next morning, Angie and Courtney drove to the nursing home located in the next town to see if they could talk with Mr. Gagne. They didn’t have a lot of time because Courtney had to be back in Sweet Cove in two hours to meet Mr. Finch at the candy store. Angie had been up before sunrise to get a good deal of baking done for her clients in town and for the B and B’s guest breakfasts. Angie lifted one hand from the steering wheel to her mouth to try and stifle a yawn.
They drove along the coast road before turning left away from the ocean to head a few miles inland. The scenic trip only took about thirty minutes, first traveling past the seacoast and then over gently rolling hills, past historic homes, farms, and fields. Seeing the sign for the assisted living-nursing home complex, Angie turned her car into a long winding driveway and followed it until reaching the parking area. The girls left the vehicle and walked along a sidewalk past manicured lawns to the front door.
Angie and Courtney greeted the receptionist and asked if they might be able to visit with Mr. Fred Gagne. The woman gave the girls directions to the community room where the elderly man would be taking an exercise class.
Courtney and Angie entered a huge carpeted space with high ceilings and big glass windows. The room had a number of round tables and chairs set up in one section. In another part of the room, about fifteen older men and women were sitting on chairs lifting small weights to the encouragement of a young woman instructor. Recorded music with a strong beat played in the background.
When the girls walked in, one of the gentlemen glanced over before returning his attention to the exercise leader. A second later, the man turned to Courtney and Angie, recognition spreading over his face. He raised a hand to wave to them. Mr. Gagne caught the eye of an aide who came over to speak to him. She helped the man to his feet and pushed his walker close so he could grip it. He nearly strode across the room to meet the girls, a wide grin on face.
“Why, it’s Courtney and Angie.” The man’s eyes sparkled. “What brings you to Woodland Heights?”
“You remember us?” Courtney couldn’t believe it.
“Hello, Mr. Gagne. It’s nice to see you.” Angie shook with him.
“I’d know the Roseland sisters anywhere.”
“We wondered if we might talk with you about Nana,” Angie asked. “We can wait until your class is over.”
Mr. Gagne waved his hand in the air. “No need. We can chat out in the sitting area.” He started to lead the way. “Would you like anything to drink?”
The girls thanked him, but declined the offer as they followed him to a nicely decorated room with two sofas and two arm chairs surrounding an oriental carpet. The three sat and exchanged pleasantries and the girls told them what they had been doing for the past fifteen years.
“None of you are married yet?” Mr. Gagne looked incredulous. “What’s wrong with young men today?”
Courtney and Angie chuckled.
Angie’s voice took on a more serious tone. “We’ve been thinking about Nana. We’ve heard some talk that Nana didn’t think the town really owned the land your cottages were on.”
Mr. Gagne’s face clouded over. He kept his tone low. “Your Nana didn’t think the town owned the land. She thought that something fishy had gone on with the land records.”
Angie thought back to the missing folders in the land records files at the town hall.
“Sweet Cove is one of the oldest towns on the North Shore.” Mr. Gagne went on. “Robin’s Point was the first part of the town to be settled. It was high on the bluff, had easy access to the cove.” He made eye contact with the girls. “Your grandmother and I were both descended from the Robin family who first settled the point. We’re from different sides of the family, but I suppose if you traced it back far enough, we’d discover a common ancestor.” He went on. “Anyway, your grandmother didn’t believe we were bound by the town to lease the land. She was sure we owned it outright. She put up
a stink when the town wanted us to either buy the property or sell the cottages to the town.” Gagne got a faraway look in his eyes. “She was probably right, but you know what the outcome was.” He shrugged. “After I sold my cottage to the town, I decided to move here for the assisted living. I had no idea I’d live here for what… fifteen years already. Never thought I’d live so long. This is a good place, plenty of activities. I have lots of friends.” He shook his head and winked. “And the ladies, well, they’re always after me.”
“Do you know why Nana thought you two still owned the land?” Courtney asked.
Gagne’s face hardened. “You heard of John Turner? He was your Nana’s great-uncle. A greedy, rotten-to-the-core piece of work. He worshipped the dollar bill, that’s what he did. He put on a show that he was a pious man, but that’s not how he behaved. Your grandmother was sure he convinced someone to doctor the land records. She believed it was done when her mother owned the land. Your Nana was sure that Turner stole the land right out from under us.”
A breath caught in Angie’s throat and she had to cough to clear it. “If Turner tampered with the records when Nana’s mother owned the land…well, that would have been our great-grandmother Forsythia. But Forsythia was John Turner’s sister. He wouldn’t do that to his own sister.”
“Yup, he would have. Turner would have sold off his own mother if he was able to get away with it. That’s the kind of man we’re talking about.”
“He cheated his sister out of the land? Did Nana ever confront him about this?”
Gagne gripped the arms of his chair. “She did. A long, long time ago. She told me Turner laughed in her face, told her to prove it. Your Nana never said so, but I think Turner threatened her to keep quiet about the land.” Gagne let a sigh escape from his lungs. “So, fifteen years ago, the deadline to buy our properties came and we sold the cottages to the town. Your Nana had gone to a lawyer about the mess. She talked to people on the town Select Board. She caused quite a stir.” Gagne shook his head. “But she passed away while it was going on, and then, that was the end of it.” He looked the girls in the eyes. “I should have been more help to her.”
