Secret Society

by Robin Roseau

  West Hollow was defined not by the lake, as one might have expected, but by the parkway that formed the only road through the community. One could enter the community from either the south or the north, each gated with an around-the-clock guard. The guards were friendly and knew all the residents.

  Inside the gate, one drove past a large property on either side of the road and then arrived at the parkway, which formed a meandering loop. The outer ring of the loop held homes, all similar in size and stature to Grandmother Cadence's. The inner ring of the loop contained West Hollow Park. The parkway was wide and divided besides, a strip of tree-filled green between the two strips of road. The speed limit along the parkway was 20 miles per hour, and once when I'd driven 23, I'd received a firm tongue-lashing from Grandmother Cadence.

  All the properties were the same size, or approximately so given the way the parkway meandered. Each property was a quarter mile wide and an eighth of a mile deep, resulting in twenty acres of land. Twenty acres in farm country would be tiny, but twenty acres inside a major metropolis was huge.

  There was variety between the properties. No two homes were alike. Some of the properties, including my new home, were fully fenced complete with a computer-controlled gate near the parkway. Others were only partially fenced, and some were not fenced at all, except along the back that divided West Hollow from the remainder of Broadwater. Each of the houses was set well away from the parkway and included a drive of some sort from the parkway to the house.

  Some of the residents of West Hollow kept horses. Imagine, horses within the city limits. Growing up, that hadn't seemed remarkable, but as an adult, I realized it was quite unusual. There was a horse trail ringing the park, although horses were not actually allowed in the park except for certain special events.

  Grandmother Cadence's home began by passing through the gate. The fence surrounding the property was in the same style as that surrounding the entire community: tall wrought iron with brick pillars for support. As with all the other homes, the house sat well back from the road. The drive was lined with trees and curved in a gentle S. It was a beautiful entrance onto the property.

  The house was asymmetrical. If one followed the drive, one came to a Y. The left branch passed under a portico on the end of the house, and that portico led to the kitchen. One could drive past the house to park into a large garage. The right branch of the Y came to a small circle. One could turn around the circle counter-clockwise and come to a stop in front of the main entrance of the house, also protected by a portico, this one larger than the one protecting the kitchen entrance.

  After entering via the main entrance, one stood in the foyer. The dining room, kitchen, and business ends of the house were to the left. To the left side of the foyer was a wide, curving staircase leading to the second floor of the house. To the right were the entertaining portions of the house: parlor, music room, and ballroom. The parlor was the most intimate of the three, and the music room also served as a place for guests to sit during gatherings.

  Upstairs were the bedrooms and Grandmother Cadence's office.

  There was a back staircase from the kitchen to the second and third floor. The third floor contained rooms that would once have belonged to servants, and that was the reason for the back staircase.

  The exterior of the house seemed quite like a home at least a hundred, perhaps a hundred and fifty years old. And the flavor inside the house matched. But unlike some old homes, modern conveniences were the norm. Every outlet was a proper three-prong outlet, and they were arranged generously throughout the rooms. Lighting and heating were equally modern.

  And the kitchen could have come from any modern design magazine; Grandmother Cadence had redone the kitchen twice in the years I'd known her. The appliances were shiny aluminum, Wolf and Subzero.

  As a child, the large house had intimidated me as much as Grandmother Cadence had. But standing in it now, seeing my grandmother's mark everywhere I looked, I missed her terribly. But I realized something.

  "This is now my home."

  * * * *

  I'd been in the house only two days when I received my first visitor, and then it was a deliveryman. The main entrance featured a camera, speaker, and buzzer. Well, inside, it wasn't a buzzer. It sounded more like a gong, and while it wasn't loud, it could be heard throughout the house. One could access the gate controls from three places in the house: Grandmother Cadence's office, the kitchen, and the foyer all had controls. Alternatively, one could also reach the system from any computer or tablet connected to the household's private network.

  Grandmother Cadence could be quite old fashioned in many ways, but she fully embraced the modern world in unexpected ways, including her computers.

  The gong startled me. It was early afternoon, and I was working, sitting in the parlor with my laptop on my lap. I was deep in thought on a project for a client, and the gong startled me half out of my seat.

  I had already tied into the household systems, so it only took me a few seconds to tie into the gate security program -- less time than I spent clutching my chest from the surprise.

  My screen was half filled with a close up of a man wearing a dark uniform, include a cap, sitting in a black car. The second half of the screen was a wider view, showing the entire entrance. It was an expensive car, but I couldn't have told you the make or model.

  "Yes?"

  "Delivery for Ms. Todd."

  "You can leave it there," I said. "There's a box."

  "I'm sorry, ma'am, but the delivery won't survive the weather, and there is a note. I am to await a response."

  I clicked the button that would open the gate then verified on the screen the gate was, indeed, opening.

  "All right. If you take the right fork, you can park at the main entrance."

  "Yes, ma'am," said the man.

  I watched the screen as he drove through. There were sensors, and the gate began to close once his car was clear. I was waiting at the front door by the time the car came to a stop.

  The man who got out was perhaps fifty years old, grey at the temples. He collected a purple box from the back of the car and then approached the door. I stepped aside for him and then indicated a table to the right of the door. "You can set that there."

  He did what I asked then stepped to the side, watching me. When I didn't move, he repeated his directions. "You are Ms. Todd?"

  "I am." I wasn't at all accustomed to the name. "I am Blythe Todd. I hope that wasn't for my grandmother."

  "No, ma'am. It is for you. There is a note, and I am to return with a response."

  I nodded, closed the front door, and moved to the box. I recognized the shop, and so I wasn't surprised to find a large bouquet in a lovely vase. It was heavy, and so I turned to the deliveryman. "Would you mind?"

  "Of course not, ma'am." He stepped to my side and then carefully lifted the vase from the box. "Where would you like it?"

  "You don't mind?"

  "Of course not," he repeated.

  "Come with me." I led him back to the parlor and gestured to a table near the window. "There, if you please."

  "Yes, ma'am." He set it down then pulled the note from its home near the flowers and passed it to me.

  "Thank you."

  On the outside it said simply, "Ms. Todd." No one should even know me by that name yet. I wondered if someone was sending me some sort of message. And it was sealed with wax.

  The deliveryman produced a knife for me, and so I borrowed the knife, slit open the envelope, and returned it to him.

  Inside was a single sheet with a handwritten note.

  Ms. Todd,

  I am so sorry for your loss. Your grandmother was a very dear friend.

  I and a few more of your grandmother's friends would like to call on you tomorrow at 3:45. If this time does not meet with your convenience, please suggest an alternative.

  Again, I am so sorry for your loss. Your grandmother was an amazing woman.

  Yours,

  Mrs.
Grafton

  I read the note twice then bowed my head for a moment. Then I turned to the deliveryman. "Do you work directly for Mrs. Grafton?"

  "I do, ma'am. I am Henry, her driver."

  "Will you tell Mrs. Grafton that 3:45 tomorrow would be lovely?" He frowned, and I realized I'd done something wrong. "Hmm. I suppose a note would be better." His face relaxed. "Do you have time to wait for a reply?"

  "Of course, ma'am."

  "I'll only be a moment." There was a small desk along one wall, not far from the windows. I moved to it, sat, and opened the drawer containing a variety of stationery. I withdrew a piece I thought was appropriate along with an envelope. From another drawer, I found a pen.

  Mrs. Grafton,

  Thank you so much for the arrangement. The flowers are lovely, and they bring joy to the house.

  Okay, maybe that was a little flowery, but I didn't really know how else to thank her.

  Tomorrow at 3:45 will be perfect. I look forward to thanking you in person.

  Blythe S. M. Todd

  I then wondered about sealing the envelope. I decided I didn't need to use wax the way Mrs. Grafton had, and so I folded the note, slipped it into the envelope, wrote her name across the front, and then sealed it with a lick. Then I stood and crossed the room to Henry.

  "Thank you, ma'am," he said as I gave him the envelope. It was a simple route back to the front door. I opened the door, and Henry stepped through, but then he turned to me.

  "Ms. Todd, I knew your grandmother. She was a great lady. We are all in mourning for her."

  I nodded. "Thank you, Henry."

  I watched as he drove down the drive, and then I used the monitor to ensure he was able to exit the property.

  * * * *

  Grandmother Cadence had taught me a great many things about a diverse range of life's experiences. Amongst that range, of course, were the social niceties as she expected them observed. And so I leaned on that training.

  The invitation to call on me had not been delivered casually. And thus I could not accept my guests casually. That meant a few things. First, I must be properly dressed. As I was in mourning for my grandmother, that meant demure and black. If I were putting on airs, it would also be new and fashionable. But Grandmother Cadence had never put great focus on wearing the latest styles, and so I would wear what I owned.

  And because they were arriving in the later half of the afternoon, that meant tea. Oh, I wasn't going to serve a formal tea, but I would have tea, coffee, and something to eat. Something homemade. I decided scones would be perfect. And that meant clotted cream and strawberry jam.

  A trip to the store saw to supplies. I didn't remotely have time to make fresh jam, and strawberries weren't in season, anyway.

  The next day was Thursday. I made the clotted cream Wednesday evening. It wasn't the first time I'd made it, and it wasn't at all difficult. The scones I started Thursday afternoon, and they went into the oven at 3:15. This meant they were done before my guests could arrive, but they would still be warm. I made both coffee and tea, and then I made a pot of hot water for anyone who didn't care for jasmine tea.

  My guests were prompt. The gong sounded at precisely 3:45. I was prepared, pacing nervously, actually, and so the sound did not alarm me. I used the pad near the front door to admit two vehicles onto the property, and then I nervously smoothed my dress.

  The first of the cars came to a stop directly in front of my door. The driver emerged, and I recognized Henry. He proceeded to help the four occupants, including Mrs. Grafton, from the car, and they turned to the entrance. I had the door open before they arrived on the step. Behind them, Henry stepped back into his car and pulled forward, allowing the second car to evict three more women.

  "Mrs. Grafton," I said, holding the door wide. "It is a pleasure."

  She stepped inside and offered her cheek for a kiss, holding my hands. "Thank you for having us, Ms. Todd." Then she used her grip on my hands to turn me to the next woman. "I believe you know Mrs. Shaffer."

  "Of course." I greeted her, complete with another kiss delivered to an aged cheek. After her was Ms. Morgan, who looked somewhat familiar, but I couldn't quite place her.

  "And I believe you know my granddaughter, Claudine Grafton," Mrs. Grafton said.

  "I'm sorry for your loss," Claudine said. "I admired your grandmother." She took my hands, but this time rather than offering a cheek, she kissed mine with a little brush of hers as she withdrew.

  By this time, the second car was divested of its occupants, and so the remaining three women stepped into the house. I met Mrs. Franklin, Ms. Hart, and in the rear, Ms. Hunt, my grandmother's lawyer.

  Claudine and I were the only women of my generation. Mrs. Franklin and Mrs. Shaffer were by far the oldest, and the remaining women were perhaps mid-forties to mid-sixties.

  I collected wraps, hanging them one by one in the front closet, and then I gestured. "I thought perhaps the parlor."

  "Perfect," declared Mrs. Grafton. She took my arm, and together we led the way through the house. I got them seated, thanked them for coming, and then said I had refreshments waiting.

  "Claudine, perhaps you could help her," Mrs. Grafton suggested immediately. And so Claudine and I together traveled to the kitchen.

  "How have you been, Claudine?" I asked as I collected a few last minute things from the refrigerator.

  "I'm good. You should know, my grandmother will want us to remain formal. You should call me Ms. Grafton."

  I turned to her. "We've known each other our entire lives, perhaps not well, but we've played in the park together."

  "I know, but this is not a casual affair."

  "Should I be nervous?"

  "No, of course not." But she glanced at the trays. "But you correctly perceived her tone today."

  "Of course. Thank you for explaining, Ms. Grafton."

  She made a face and whispered conspiratorially, "I don't like it and don't profess to really understand, but I do things the way she prefers."

  "I know what you mean," I said.

  We each collected a tray and returned to the parlor. The women were chatting but grew quiet as we appeared. Claudine and I then served everyone before taking our seats.

  "We're very sorry for your loss," Mrs. Shaffer said. "Cadence was a good friend to all of us and an important member of our community."

  I inclined my head. "Thank you," I said softly.

  "You should know: Cadence was exceedingly proud of you."

  A lump formed in my throat, and swallowing my bite of scone was difficult. I set the remainder on my plate and returned everything to the coffee table in front of me. "Thank you," I managed to say, working around the lump. Then I sat quietly, my head bowed.

  For a while they talked around me, extolling my grandmother's many virtues. I sat quietly. Nothing they said required a response from me, but when the first tear rolled down my cheek, they immediately grew silent. I guessed they'd been watching me more carefully than I realized.

  "Oh dear," said Ms. Hart. She was the most matronly appearing of the women, and she left her own seat to join me on the loveseat. She set an arm around my shoulder and pulled me to her.

  "I'll cry on your dress," I managed to say.

  "Then you'll cry on my dress," she replied, and so when she pulled me more fully into her, I let her, setting my head on her shoulder and crying quietly.

  I didn't cry long, and it wasn't all out sobbing. Other than a few soothing sounds, none of the women said anything, and finally I managed to push myself away from Ms. Hart.

  "I'm sorry," I muttered.

  "Quite all right," she said, patting my cheek then pointing. Someone had moved the box of tissues within reach. I collected several, rose from the seat, and moved to the windows to clean myself up.

  "Maybe we shouldn't have come so soon," Mrs. Grafton said. "To be honest, we weren't sure how you felt about her."

  I turned around. "Of course you should have come," I said. "But I don't know wha
t you mean."

  "I'm not sure this one," she explained, indicating her own granddaughter, "would cry when I'm gone."

  "Grandmother!" said Claudine. "Of course I would, but I will thank you not to mention such an event."

  "Grandmother Cadence was stern, but she was a bedrock in my life," I said.

  "Cadence wasn't much for emotion," Mrs. Shaffer indicated. "She wasn't always so stern. It is good for you to remember her. Do we need to go, Ms. Todd?"

  "I wish you wouldn't," I said. I moved back to my seat, now free of Ms. Hart, and drank some of my tea. "I'll try to control my emotions."

  "Do not worry about your emotions," Mrs. Shaffer said. "To be quite blunt, I for one am relieved to see them. It is good to know I am not the only one who cries over her."

  And so I nodded. I wasn't sure if she meant that literally, but I appreciated the sentiment.

  We sat quietly for a minute, and I nibbled at my scone and drank more of my tea. I wondered if I was being a poor host, but if I were, no one said anything.

  "Well," Mrs. Shaffer said immediately. "You perhaps are wondering why we are here today. Our visit carries several purposes. The first, of course, was to express in person our own grief and condolences."

  "You did that at the funeral."

  "Yes, but this is more personal, I believe." At that, I nodded. "Next, we wish to formally welcome you to the neighborhood."

  "Thank you," I said. "It's all quite overwhelming."

  "I imagine so," she agreed. "We have a packet for you."

  It was Ms. Hunt who set a thick folder on the coffee table, but it was Mrs. Shaffer who described the contents. "You already have much of this information, but we wanted to be sure. The community has strict rules. I am sure you will follow them."

  "Ms. Hunt explained."

  "I will address the highlights. Except basic repairs, no exterior construction is authorized to any of the homes without review of the housing committee. Details are in your packet." I nodded. "You are expected to maintain the property to our high standards. I believe your grandmother left you sufficient funds to do so."

  "She did," verified the lawyer.

  "There's a trust," I added.

  "Of course," said Mrs. Shaffer. "This property houses a stable, but there have been no horses here since your grandmother was young."