The woman’s energy was light and positive and teased a smile. “Would you like to come inside?”
“I was certain I’d have to bribe you with pie to get inside.”
“Not necessary. I’m happy to show you around. Though I still don’t know much about the place myself. If Buchanan is your name, you must know something about Winter Cottage.”
“Mrs. B passed before I was born, but my father, James Buchanan, spent a good bit of his summers here as a boy. Mrs. B was my great-grandmother.”
“Hank said there were two lines in the family. One from Robert and the other Victoria, right?”
“Dad and I are descended from Robert Buchanan. Hank is descended from his sister, Victoria.”
“Which leaves me descended from nowhere.”
“The million-dollar question that has vexed the families and town since the late 1980s. Maybe you can solve the mystery.”
As Lucy opened the door, Dolly dashed past, her wet paws leaving prints on the clean floor. “Mrs. B must be rolling over in her grave.”
“I don’t think so. From what Dad said, she never minded when he tracked through her house. She always loved having him.”
Megan paused to wipe her feet and then looked around the foyer, marveling. “Mr. Jessup always guarded the place well.”
“But he didn’t live here?”
“Only for the first thirty days. Then he left. He said the place was too fancy for him.”
“You’ve got to be a little hurt she didn’t leave this to you,” Lucy said.
Megan sidestepped the question. “It’s a grand old place and deserves love and attention.”
“And Mrs. B assumed some random woman from Nashville was going to take this place on?”
“Apparently so.” Her brows wrinkled as if she had more to say. Instead, she held up her dish. “But I do have pie.”
Lucy laughed. “It’s your job to bring intel back to the folks in town.”
“Reconnaissance.”
“And your weapon is the pie?”
Her eyes narrowed, and she dropped her voice as if sharing a trade secret. “My apple will make the most hardened person talk.”
A bit of the tension eased in Lucy’s shoulders. “How old is your dad?”
“He’s almost fifty.”
About Beth’s age. He could be her daddy, which would explain her inheritance, but not Samuel Jessup’s.
In the kitchen, Lucy grabbed a wad of paper towels and dried the dog off before she let her move about the house. “I’ve got a feeling I’ll be going through a lot of paper towels.”
Megan set the pie plate on the butcher-block island. “She’s a sweet dog.”
“She was my mom’s. We’re still getting to know each other.”
“She looks right at home.” Megan shrugged off her jacket, and Lucy saw Megan’s baby bump hidden under the folds of the sweater.
Lucy tried not to stare. “I just arrived this morning, and I haven’t scrounged a coffeepot yet, but I’m hoping there’s one here.”
Megan walked to the stove, skimming her fingers over the vintage appliance. “I’ve seen these in pictures before but never in person. Have you tried it out yet?”
“Yes. It works well.”
“Hank doesn’t miss a detail.”
Lucy opened a pantry and clicked on a light. The closet, like the rest of the house, was clean of clutter. There was a mixer, a blender, a toaster oven, and a drip coffeemaker. Beside it was a box of coffee filters and an unopened tin of coffee.
“Mrs. B wasn’t much for clutter,” Lucy said.
“According to my mother, she hired a crew every spring to clean the place from top to bottom. In the last few years of her life, she’d started giving away bits of this and that. She gave quite a bit of furniture to my dad. She only kept what was original to the house.”
Lucy plugged in the coffeemaker and dug out the filters and coffee. “Who stocked the pantry with new appliances?”
“Your grandfather shortly before he died.”
“Almost as if he expected his daughter to come home.”
“I guess he hoped the house would lure her back, but she never came.”
Lucy smoothed her hand over the brand-new pot. “Beth never spoke of her family. She was an easygoing person, but whatever happened between her and her father was too deep a wound to heal. She only told me about this place right before she died.”
“But she told you. So she had some hope.”
Megan searched the cabinets until she found a stack of white plates covered in roses, and then she fished a knife and a couple of forks out of a drawer.
“Megan, what do you know about the Jessups?”
“A proud history of serving in the merchant marines, and many are still in the US Navy.” Megan sliced into the pie. “I know Rick Markham was the one who found old man Jessup. Rick paid regular visits to check up on him, and he found him passed away in his chair.”
“That was September?”
“It was. He’d only been on the job a month.” She was silent for a moment. “I hear you’re going to bury your mother’s ashes here.”
The machine gurgled and spit out coffee. “I am.”
“Let me know when. I’ll come.” She dished out two healthy pieces of pie.
Lucy cleared an unexpected tightness from her throat as she poured two cups of coffee. She fished a bag of sugar from a cabinet. “No milk, but I do have sugar.”
“Excellent. That’s my favorite food group.”
Lucy grinned. “How many scoops?”
“Two. No, make that three. Eating for two and all.”
Lucy ladled in the sugar. “When is your baby due?”
“Late spring.”
“You and your husband must be excited.”
“No husband. Just me. Funny, your mother flees Cape Hudson to have her baby, and I’ve fled back home to have mine.”
“I’m sure you’ll have a lot of help here.”
“And some meddling. But that’s small-town life, as I’m sure you’re learning.”
Lucy sipped her coffee, still trying to figure out what had been so terrible about this place. Why had Beth never come back? “I don’t really mind.”
Megan grinned over her cup. “Give it a week.”
“So, your parents would have known Beth in high school.”
“Mom did. Dad went to boarding school in Alexandria. He didn’t come home that often,” she said.
“Where are your parents now? Maybe I could talk to them?”
“I’m sure they’d be glad to visit with you. They live in Richmond most of the year. They’re expected back here in the spring. My brother, Deacon, is also moving back to town, but I doubt he knows anything.”
Lucy’s relationship with Beth had been complicated. To say they’d grown up together wasn’t exactly true. She’d grown up, but Beth hadn’t. Her mother’s carefree lifestyle could be fun and intoxicating, but it could also be frustrating when Lucy needed help with a homework assignment or assurance that rent had been paid, or when she wanted information about her family. Still, some of Lucy’s best memories were because Beth hadn’t been afraid to dress up as Martha Washington for a surprise visit to her classroom, to donate money to a homeless man who’d not eaten in days, or to pull her out of school for a day to pick blueberries or apples during the harvest season. “Beth wasn’t perfect, but she did all right by me. I’m going to miss her.”
Megan was quiet for a moment. This was more personal than a slice of pie warranted. Lucy liked Megan but reminded herself she didn’t know her.
“You didn’t mind growing up without a father?”
“I minded. That’s part of the reason I’m here.”
Frowning, Megan dropped her gaze to the dish. “Have you been to the lighthouse yet?”
Lucy grabbed a couple of paper towels. “I’ve seen it but haven’t made my way there.”
“When we were in high school, I went with a group of friends, and we broke
the lock and climbed to the top. Two hundred and seven steps. We drank beer at the top and watched the sun come up. It was a sight to behold. Mr. Jessup realized what had happened when he saw the broken lock and double padlocked it after that. I don’t think anyone’s been up since.”
“What kind of shape was it in?”
“It needs work, like the cottage. I think both are reaching a tipping point, just like the town. It all either gets saved or is lost.” She pushed around the pie crust with the tip of her fork. “I have a confession to make.”
“Okay.”
“I have a master’s degree in historical restoration. I wrote my thesis on this house, and if you decide to stay and fix it up, I’d like to help. Hank had said if the house came to him, I could have the job. It’s a big part of the reason I’m back.”
“I don’t even know what restoration entails.”
“A lot. Several years’ worth of work for me and the crews.” Absently, Megan rubbed her belly. “Working on this house, especially with the baby coming, would be a dream come true.”
Lucy took a bite of the pie.
“I just figured putting the truth out there was best. And since I seem to be on an awkward conversation roll, if you ever want to see my restoration plans, I have them.” Megan seemed to realize she was getting ahead of herself. “I often talk before I think. I kind of barrel ahead. The plan was to soften you up with pie. I wasn’t even going to bring up the cottage, but I did. Right out of the gate.”
“It’s okay. I appreciate your love of this place. I think Mrs. Buchanan would have welcomed it.” Lucy then shifted the conversation, just like she did when a bar customer started to talk about things she knew they’d later regret. “So you grew up in Cape Hudson, like your parents?”
“Oh yes.” Megan looked relieved at the change in topic. “But I couldn’t wait to get out of town. Wanted to see the big, wide world. But it truly is a great place to raise a family.”
“Makes me wonder why my mother didn’t see it that way.”
Megan tapped the tip of her fork on the plate. “We’ve all made decisions we’d like to take back. Maybe Beth did want to return but didn’t know how.”
“She had every opportunity to return with me and never took any of them.”
“But you’re here now. Maybe that was her plan all along.”
An alarm on Megan’s phone buzzed. She fished it out of her pocket and turned it off. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to get going. Promised Arlene I’d have her pies to the restaurant by four.”
“You sell your pies?”
“It’s a way to earn a little money. I have a pretty good list of clients in Norfolk. If you’re going to major in history, you’ve got to have a backup plan.”
Lucy picked up Megan’s coat and walked her through the door and along the driveway to her car. “Thank you for coming.”
“And thank you for letting me prattle on.”
“No problem.” Dolly ran out the front door as the wind blew in from the south.
Lucy watched as Megan slid behind the wheel of the red pickup and, after a final wave, drove off. Lucy retrieved her coat and stepped outside. The wind had picked up, and the clouds on the horizon were turning a dark gray.
Dolly barked and wagged her tail as she nosed her snout into a thicket of bushes at the entrance to the lighthouse path. Lucy followed along the sandy, overgrown path. In the distance, thunder rumbled. The path opened up to the tall redbrick lighthouse. It was far more impressive as she stood at the base and stared up.
She climbed the front steps that led to a large wooden door, double padlocked with heavy iron locks. She tugged on it, wondering if any of the keys on her ring opened it. As tempted as she was to retrieve the keys, she questioned the logic of exploring a hundred-year-old lighthouse with an impending storm on the horizon.
Beth would have thrown caution to the wind and explored. Lucy could almost hear her mother’s laughter ringing in her ears. “Don’t be such a fuddy-duddy, Lucy!”
Dolly scampered up the stairs and nudged Lucy’s hand. The breeze suddenly cooled, and she felt energy radiate up her arm as she held the locks. In the distance, thunder rumbled again as if to remind her a storm was coming.
“Let’s get back, girl. We have a cottage the size of the Grand Canyon to explore.”
When they returned, the phone was ringing. She ran toward the kitchen, where it was mounted to the wall with a rotary dial on its face. “Hello.”
“This is Hank. I’m checking in to see how you’re doing.”
“Alive and well and admiring the phone that I’m talking to you with.”
“You may have noticed that cell-phone service isn’t good at the cottage.”
She dug her phone from her back pocket. No bars. “Hadn’t even noticed yet. This wall phone is beginning to grow on me.”
“There’s a storm coming. The worst of it won’t be here for an hour or so. You’ll likely lose electricity. Don’t panic. There are candles and matches in the pantry. The electricity will be out for maybe a day, but that’s considered fast around here. A backup generator will keep your refrigerator going.”
“You’ve thought of everything.”
A chair squeaked in the background, and she imagined him leaning forward. “So you’ve stocked up?”
“About a week’s worth. Megan came by. I guess she’s your cousin?”
“Second cousin. She mentioned she might make a visit when I saw her in town. Tell me she’s on her way home.”
“Stopping by Arlene’s to drop off pies and then home. She’s nice. And looking forward to renovating the house.”
“If the cottage comes to me, I’m going to hire her.”
Hank had the good sense to use if. Lucy sidestepped the remark. “Dolly and I checked out the lighthouse.”
“What did you think of it?”
“We didn’t go inside. I pictured us trapped inside during the storm, and Dolly is not Lassie. We would be totally screwed.”
“If you run into trouble, you have my number.”
“Why are you being so nice? You should be trying to run me off. Megan and you both have a lot to gain by me leaving.”
“Mrs. B wanted you to have the house. I’m honoring her wishes.”
“My staying is costing you a potential fortune.”
“I’m still not convinced you’re staying, Lucy. The longer you remain in the house, the more you’ll realize it’s one hell of a commitment.”
She wasn’t sure if he was testing her or helping her. He was impossible to read. “I’m stubborn.”
Silence crackled through the line. “I’ll call in after the storm.”
Lucy decided that while she had electricity, she’d explore the house. She started in the main room that she supposed would have been the parlor. With Dolly on her heels, Lucy ran her fingers over the white cloth covering a settee. To her left was a covered table with several chairs around it, and on her right twin chairs nosed toward each other in front of the wide window.
She glanced again toward the space above the hearth and studied the faint outline of where a portrait had hung. Beside the hearth was another door that fitted almost seamlessly into the wall.
She pressed on the door, and it depressed slightly before opening with a small click. She felt around for a light switch, and finding one, clicked it on. It was a closet, maybe five by five feet, but what caught her attention were two large draped frames. She removed the first sheet and discovered a gilded mirror that tossed back a reflection of her blue-streaked hair, faded sweater, jeans, and cowboy boots.
She tugged off the second sheet and found herself staring at the portrait of a young woman. She was dressed in a white silk dress that nipped at a narrow waist and skimmed her legs down to her ankles. A beaded headdress and veil covered red hair that framed a heart-shaped face. The artist had captured the beadwork on the bodice with exquisite detail. The woman’s smile was demure, but there was something in her blue eyes that whispered of mischief, as
if she were sharing a private joke.
Lucy glanced from her reflection to the portrait. The woman in the portrait looked as if she belonged here, whereas Lucy didn’t.
“Mrs. B, is this you?” She studied the woman’s face, seeing nothing of herself or Beth. “Mind telling me what the heck I’m doing here? Everyone in town, including me, thinks you’ve made one heck of a mistake.”
Smiling blue eyes stared back at her, silent.
She shifted her focus to the dozens of boxes meticulously stacked on the shelves and marked with black marker. “Christmas,” “Games,” “Slipcovers,” “Videos.”
Videos. The store clerk had mentioned that Beth had made videos for Mrs. B. She reached for the box and pulled it off the top shelf. Dust floated in the air, and she coughed as she wrestled with the unwieldy box.
She carried it back into the parlor. Dolly sniffed and nosed Lucy’s arm.
Lucy peeled the tape off the top and opened the lid. Inside were a dozen tapes, each marked in a youthful handwriting that reminded her of Beth. The first tape read “Interview with Mrs. B. May 2, 1988.”
She ran her hand over the tape and then returned to the closet and found a television/VCR in one of the boxes. She hefted the box and carried it back to the parlor, where she set it on the table and plugged it in. She thumbed through the tapes, arranged them in order of the dates on the labels. Only then did Lucy push the first tape into the machine and turn it on.
Static appeared on the screen as she studied the buttons at the bottom of the TV. She didn’t own a TV and watched whatever news she needed from her phone. Finally, she found the “Play” button, pressed it, and lowered to her knees in front of the screen.
White snow swirled over the monitor long enough for her to worry that the tape was compromised. And then the image of an older woman sitting in a chair by a window in this very room appeared.
White hair swirled into a chignon, accentuating small diamond teardrop earrings that dangled and caught the light. The woman wore a green knit dress, and a bright splash of lipstick added the pop that brought just the right amount of color to her face. If Lucy looked past the wrinkles and pale skin, she saw hints of the woman in the portrait.
A young girl’s voice said in the background, “I’m Beth Jessup, and I’m a senior at Cape Hudson High School.”
Winter Cottage Page 9
