by Verna Clay
A sudden clatter interrupted the buzz of conversation and Faith turned to see a young woman, probably not more than twenty, bending over a tray of drinks and ice scattered across the floor. The poor girl with a brunette ponytail and wispy bangs looked like she was about to cry and Mama called out. "Now Suzy, honey, don't you worry about that. If I had a dollar for every tray I dropped, I'd be a rich woman."
Faith watched the first waitress and another one rush to help the young one. Even some of the customers jumped from their seats to assist as a busboy hurried to the scene with a broom, dustpan, and mop. Quickly, the disaster was cleared and everything returned to normal.
Mama Pink, who had stepped from behind the counter to speak with the mortified waitress, gave her a quick hug and returned to Faith. She pointed to a vacant table. "We got an open table now if you want it."
Faith shook her head. "I think I'll stay here."
Mama said, "And what can I get for you? Today's special is our most popular."
"Maybe next time. Right now, I'd like to try that marionberry pie with a cup of coffee."
"You got it."
For thirty minutes Faith enjoyed her pie, chatted occasionally with Mama, and found out the woman's last name was really Pink.
Mama refilled Faith's coffee cup and said, "I think the stars must have been aligned just right when I was born. My favorite color has always been pink and this diner was a success from the first day it opened back in the '60s. And I let every man I married know that I was keeping my maiden name. Some of 'em squawked about it, but I stood my ground and refused to marry 'em until they agreed."
Faith wondered how many times Mama had been married, but refused to ask something so personal.
Mama continued, "My first husband even had the nickname of Pinkie. My second husband, Roberto, showed up for our first date in a pink Cadillac. And just to let you know, everything they say about Latin lovers…" she winked, "…is true. And I could go on and on about my five husbands, but I'll save that for another time."
During the course of their intermittent conversations Faith learned that Harriet was the bleached blond waitress, and Julie, the second waitress—a younger version of Harriet—was her daughter. And, of course, Suzy was the sweet girl who had spilled the drinks. Faith mentioned that she was staying at Hope B & B for the summer and Mama said, "Gabby and me go way back. We get together at the B & B sometimes and gossip." She grinned. "Join us and you'll learn some of Somewhere's secrets."
Faith laughed. "I may just do that." She ate the last of her pie, finished her coffee, and decided that Mama had an endless supply of talking points, and if she didn't break away, she'd be there the rest of the day. Mama bid her a cheerful goodbye and made her promise to return.
Faith jaywalked again to the other side of the street and spent an hour exploring. She came to a sign with the word MUSEUM and an arrow pointing down a side street and walked in that direction.
9: Hope Museum
The museum was on Second Street and Faith was feeling excited about learning more of the history of Somewhere. She'd heard tidbits at the B & B and Mama Pink's Diner that piqued her curiosity, and she wanted to fit the pieces together, especially if this was where she chose to relocate. Hope Museum was two blocks off Main Street in a Victorian mansion that, except for paint color, was identical to the B & B with three stories, balconies on both sides of the second floor, and a veranda spanning the front of the house. A white wicker settee and four matching chairs blended beautifully with the pristine white veranda and balconies. The body of the house was painted pale blue with beige shutters, no doubt chosen to mimic sea and sand. Faith loved the affect and hastened up the porch steps. Next to the door in a white wicker basket were multiple brochures advertising local attractions, restaurants, and guided tours. An OPEN sign hung next to the door and below the sign was another one indicating the museum's hours and entrance fee of five dollars.
As soon as Faith stepped inside the home she recognized the same layout as the B & B. A woman dressed in a green period costume dating to the Victorian era stepped into the foyer and enthusiastically greeted her.
"Welcome to Hope Museum! My name is Vicky Patterson. Please take your time and enjoy your visit, and just so you know, this house is one of three built by the Hope family in 1910. Oliver Hope, the founder of our town, and his twin sons Sebastian and Randall, each had a home."
Faith immediately liked Vicky and commented on her attire.
Vicky smoothed a hand down her skirt. "This is one of my favorite dresses and I actually sewed it myself. I created a pattern after I saw the dress in a 1910 Sears and Roebuck catalog."
"Wow! I can't imagine sewing something so intricate. How long did it take?"
"It took about a month, but it was a labor of love because I love the Victorian era."
Faith confided, "I'm actually staying at Hope Bed & Breakfast and I find the history of Somewhere fascinating. I understand the three houses are identical."
Vicky looked delighted when she responded, "Yes. However, Marcus and Gabby Hope remodeled the second floor of Sebastian's home years ago to add two bedrooms and extra bathrooms to their B & B. They also remodeled the third floor for their living quarters." She made a waving motion. "This home belonged to Randall Hope and Oliver's home was built atop Hope Hill. Sadly, the house burned down decades ago and now there's a lookout where it used to be." She paused for breath and smiled.
"What can you tell me about Sebastian and Randall?"
"Now that's an interesting story. It's said that the brothers were very close until they had a falling out over the fate of Somewhere back in the 1920s. Randall wanted to build a hotel and turn the area into a tourist destination and Sebastian wanted it to remain pristine and natural. Eventually, their father was so angry at his sons' public feud that he took action. He divided the cove into three sections. The southern end he gave to Randall and the northern to Sebastian. The central portion he placed in a trust to be governed by the town's elected council members. Needless to say, Sebastian wasn't happy about that and feared that one day a greedy council would cave to the interests of outsiders. To some townspeople that happened when a portion of the land was rezoned and sold for housing along Ocean Boulevard during a financial crisis in the 1980s, but so far, big business hasn't made any inroads into Somewhere. Our town remains a peaceful haven for tourists and residents."
Faith said, "Ocean Boulevard must have brought in a substantial amount of money. The homes are very expensive."
Leaning close, Vicky said, "Let's just put it this way. The last house sold for over four million." She grinned. "The locals call it Millionaires' Row. However, you have to remember the original plots were sold over thirty years ago and home prices have skyrocketed since then. Are you looking to buy?"
Faith chuckled. "If I was, I couldn't afford anything there, but I think I'd rather live on Hope Hill for its view. Do you live in town?"
"Actually I live on the third floor of the museum. Leo Constanzo, the owner of this home, is a wonderful man, and because I'm supporting my mother, he offered me this job and living quarters several years ago." Explaining further, she said, "Mr. Constanzo is the widower of Loretta Hope, the granddaughter of Randall."
"So he's related to Gabby Hope by marriage?"
"Yes. She owns the northern cove and he owns the southern. Both sides of the cove passed into their hands after their spouses' deaths."
"What an interesting family. Maybe I'll meet him at the B & B."
Vicky's expression became serious. "Actually, remember that split between the families? Well, Gabby and Leo don't much get along. I guess the grudge between the twins is still alive and well among them."
That revelation surprised Faith because Gabby didn't seem the type to carry a grudge, much less one as old as that. But rather than ask additional questions because it would appear nosey and rude, she turned her attention to her surroundings. "Where do you suggest I start my tour?"
"Many guests, especially
the women, begin in the kitchen. I'd take you on a tour myself, but my helper is out with a cold so I need to stay in the foyer."
"Not a problem, and beginning in the kitchen is a good idea."
Vicky walked to the desk beside the door and picked up a brochure. "This brochure gives excellent descriptions of the rooms and some of the history of the home and town. And if you have questions, I'll do my best to answer them."
"Thank you." Faith accepted the brochure, paid her five dollars, and followed the main hallway to the dining room. Passing through that room she entered the kitchen through the connecting door. The kitchen wasn't modern in any sense of the word and she felt like she'd just stepped back into the early 1900s. A large and sturdy table dominated the center of the room, with freestanding storage shelves against the walls. Faith was amused by the kitchen gadgets displayed on the table and shelves: jelly molds, apple corer, orange squeezer, egg coddlers, flat iron, pie crimper, rolling pin, odd shaped culinary utensils, and multiple other curiosities. A massive cook stove dominated one wall and displayed a copper tea kettle, iron skillet, and waffle iron. Another storage shelf was packed with plates, bowls, and serving dishes.
After viewing the kitchen, Faith returned to the dining room with its faded floral wallpaper of red climbing roses amidst swirling green vines. In the center of the room was a round oak dining table with a sturdy central support having claw feet that matched the claw feet of the six chairs. The table was covered with a faded lace tablecloth and set with beautiful, raspberry red chintz floral china. Along one wall was a matching oak cabinet displaying additional china from the same set and on the opposite wall was the buffet.
Next she entered the library that was equally as dated and charming, and finally the parlor, which had been turned into a souvenir shop. After that she headed upstairs. The first bedroom she explored was formal and bland, just the opposite of her comfortable and homey one at the B & B. The room had two wooden chairs with tall backs, one of which was placed before an open rolltop desk with an ink well and quill pen next to faded paper. The bed was a simple four poster with no engravings and no canopy, and the bedspread was a quilt sewn of monotone shades of brown squares. Heavy brown velvet draperies had been pulled aside to allow a shaft of light in, but still the room was dim. The only color came from a lavender pitcher and matching basin on a tall table near the window. The freestanding wardrobe, open to reveal period clothing, was engraved with a couple of flourishes, but just as bland as everything else in the room. Faith stepped closer to inspect the clothing items. Two faded dresses, a beige one and a brown one, looked cumbersome and uncomfortable. A drawer in the wardrobe had been pulled out to reveal a faded corset and other undergarments. Faith shook her head, thankful that she hadn't been born in that time period.
The other bedrooms in the house proved to be more cheerful and colorful and the baby's room, next to the bland one, was particularly delightful with a canopied bassinet, baby buggy that had obviously been restored, rag dolls, and sepia pictures of a chubby little girl from birth to around age three. In one of the photos the grinning child appeared to be about two years old and was wearing the same outfit that was preserved under glass and hanging on the wall. Her pretty ringlets showcased an adorable smile. Below the photo was a metal placard that read, ROSE MERIDITH HOPE. Faith decided to read the brochure Vicky had given her for more information about this intriguing family and gasped at what she discovered. She would ask Vicky to expound on it.
For over an hour she wandered the house and mused over its furniture and innumerable interesting objects. When she returned to the foyer Vicky was sitting behind the small greeting desk reading a book. Throughout Faith's investigation of the home a few tourists had arrived and she'd passed them in the hallways or entered rooms they were already in, but for now, the entrance remained empty. Vicky glanced up, laid her book aside, and said, "What do you think? Is this an era you would have wanted to live in?"
Faith shook her head. "Not at all. At least not after I saw those cumbersome dresses and corset. How about you?"
Vicky's smile was sadly sweet. "Actually, my name is Victoria and maybe there's something to that, because I would have loved living in the Victorian age." Her countenance brightened. "The room with the corset belonged to Belinda Hope, wife of Randall. Their daughter, Rose, mysteriously disappeared at the age of three and Belinda never recovered. By all accounts, the once cheerful, gregarious woman remained in perpetual mourning and gave away all her beautiful clothing. It's said that she wore the dullest of dresses until at the age of forty-one, she also mysteriously disappeared."
Faith said, "I was shocked when I read about their disappearances and that they were never found."
"Yes. It's quite the mystery. After the courts declared Belinda dead, Randall remarried in his late fifties and had two children, a son and daughter. His daughter was the mother of Loretta Hope who married Leo Constanzo, the man I told you about who owns this home and the southern cove, also the marina. As for the mystery, everyone in town, past and present, has their own version of what happened to the first wife and child. Most folks speculate there was foul play—murder or kidnapping—although a motive has never been explained. The family was rich, yes, but as far as is known, ransom notes were never received. As for murder, it hasn't been established why anyone would want to murder a beautiful child or her mother years later, or even if the disappearances are related." She blew a breath. "Makes no sense. Of course, since the husband is always a suspect, Randall was investigated, but never charged with anything."
The sound of footsteps on the porch interrupted the history lesson and Faith said, "Wow! What a strange family history."
Vicky nodded, "I know."
The front door opened and several tourists entered. Faith said quickly, "Thank you for your hospitality. And now that I'm fascinated by this home and its history, I'll be back."
Vicky grinned. "Please tell Gabby I said hello."
After leaving the museum Faith was feeling both physically and emotionally exhausted. The thought of someone's child simply disappearing was unthinkable. At least in Faith's situation, she knew what had happened. She couldn't imagine living year after year not knowing, and her heart went out to the parents, Randall and Belinda Hope.
Baxter stood at the window in the sitting room of the third floor and watched Faith Bennison turn into the walkway of the B & B. From that height he had a sweeping view of Ocean Boulevard, the public beach, the southern cove with its marina, and the vast blue ocean. He returned his attention to Faith as she approached the porch steps. She intrigued him, which his mother had obviously surmised since she'd made sure to let him know Faith was a widow. He wondered if their guest's sadness had anything to do with the loss of her husband, and suspected it did.
He moved away from the window when he lost sight of her at the porch steps and returned to his desk to continue the task of making sense of his mother's crazy accounting. For being such a savvy businesswoman, her bookkeeping skills drove him crazy, and when he'd asked for an explanation as to why a thousand dollars was given to the "Let's Revive Woodstock Foundation," she'd merely looked at him like she couldn't believe he was asking such a dumb question and said, "I can't believe you're asking such a dumb question. Woodstock's message was love and peace, something this country desperately needs."
Baxter shook his head and grinned. He wouldn't trade his mother for the best soccer mom in the history of motherhood, and he wondered if Faith had children.
10: Stone House
Over the next week Faith explored much of Somewhere, and the more she saw, the more she fell in love with the town and its residents. They were quirky, kind, funny, and intriguing. She returned to Mama Pink's Diner for the meatloaf special and enjoyed every bite. She even felt like she'd gained a few pounds since arriving, which was a good thing.
A few days after her visit to the museum, she returned and continued discussions with Vicky about the early settlers of town, and when her new friend invit
ed her to coffee on Saturday, she readily accepted.
Now, sitting in a small room that had once belonged to a servant, but was furnished as a tiny sitting room and fitted with a sink, hotplate, and microwave, Vicky poured jasmine tea from an ornate teapot into dainty teacups painted with Monarch butterflies and said, "As you can see, I love everything Victorian." She handed the lovely teacup and saucer to Faith and then invited her to enjoy the bonbons, nuts, cookies, and sweet breads set before them. The women faced a small window with only the sky visible to them and Vicky continued, "I've remodeled this top floor in my mind many times, replacing the window with a large one, but, of course, that will never happen. I would refuse such a change because it would damage the originality of the house. The only concession I made when I moved in was for Leo to create this tiny kitchen and a bathroom.
Faith said, "With this being a museum, I can understand your reasoning, but if it weren't, would you remodel it like Gabby has? I haven't seen the third floor, but I imagine it's quite nice."
Vicky sipped her tea and smiled. "Yes, her remodel is lovely. They knocked out walls to create a large sitting room, added a bathroom, and updated the two remaining servants' bedrooms for themselves. But to answer your question, I guess I'm a throwback to another age. Even if this weren't a museum, I wouldn't remodel." She looked sheepish. "Sometimes I even pretend I'm living in the era of this home. And when things go bump in the night, they don't scare me. I figure it's just a previous occupant experiencing a moment of nostalgia."
