Red Clover Inn--A Romance Novel

by Carla Neggers

He’d just tied up a trash bag when he received a text from Eric Sloan.

  Have you seen my grandmother?

  Greg frowned and showed the text to Charlotte, who was wiping off the guesthouse counter. She shook her head. “I haven’t seen her. You?”

  He shook his head, typing his response.

  Not today. What’s up?

  Can’t find her. Car’s in her driveway. She didn’t show up for her library book club.

  Unusual behavior for her?

  Yes.

  Charlotte set her sponge in the sink and turned to him. “Tell Eric to look for her at the inn.”

  Greg did so.

  Check the inn. On our way.

  “I need to get there,” Charlotte said. “I can ask Vic to drive me to town.”

  “No. We’ll go together.”

  He went outside and whistled for Andrew and Megan. They hadn’t seen Evelyn Sloan on their bike rides that morning. “You guys can stay here,” Greg said. “I need to go back to the inn with Charlotte.”

  But once he explained why, they insisted on going, too.

  Vic got to his feet, his face lined with concern. “There’s no reason for Evelyn to be out here, but I’ll check with Elly. She always knows what’s going on in town. Evelyn’s told her family for years that when the time comes, she’s going off into the woods to die like an old dog. I don’t know if dogs do that, but it’s what she says.” He waved a hand. “Nothing you need to repeat to her grandsons. They know.”

  “Agreed,” Greg said. “Thanks, Vic.”

  When they arrived back at the inn, Eric Sloan met them on the front porch. “I’ve checked the downstairs rooms. Nothing so far. Christopher’s checking Gran’s other haunts in the village. He’ll text me if he finds her. It’s not like Gran to forget or blow off her book club. Wherever she is, she took her cane with her. It’s not at the house.”

  Charlotte inhaled deeply. “She asked me to do a favor and look for something for her that she thinks is at the inn. It’s obviously important to her.”

  “What, she told you not to tell us?”

  “That’s right. She’s very eager to find it.”

  “And you’re not moving fast enough for her,” Eric said with a sigh, his worry evident. “She could be anywhere in the inn?”

  Charlotte nodded. “Anywhere.”

  * * *

  Charlotte wasn’t surprised when no one asked her for details on what Evelyn had dispatched her to find. It was clearly time to zero in on finding her. Christopher, Evelyn’s firefighter grandson, arrived to help. He and Eric conferred briefly but decided they’d clear the inn, her house and both yards before launching a formal search for their grandmother.

  A dozen scenarios flashed into Charlotte’s mind at once as she headed into the cellar to search. Megan and Andrew decided to join her. It was the last place anyone would expect an elderly woman who loved gardening to wander, but an elderly woman searching for a missing time capsule? Charlotte ignored the tightness in her throat. The cellar, the attic, closets—anywhere in the sprawling inn became possible. But her grandsons and Greg would check every corner of the adjoining properties, regardless of Evelyn’s reasoning. They couldn’t get tunnel vision. Her whereabouts could have nothing to do with the time capsule.

  As Charlotte stood on the painted concrete floor by two commercial washers and dryers, Greg came down the steep stairs and joined them in the cellar. “I took a quick look down here while you guys were at the reservoir,” she said. “I haven’t had a chance to do a thorough search.”

  “Does Evelyn know where you’ve searched?” Greg asked.

  Charlotte shook her head. “The cellar’s big. It’s divided into a laundry room, furnace room, storage rooms, closets. There’s a bulkhead by the oil tank. When I was down here, it looked as if it hadn’t been accessed in decades. It’s encased in cobwebs.”

  “So Evelyn wouldn’t have come in that way,” Greg said, glancing into the adjoining furnace room. He looked above him, touching a rope clothesline strung loosely between two beams. “Have you called for her?”

  “Yeah,” Andrew said. “No answer.”

  “All right. Let’s take a look.”

  Megan started for a door but walked into a cobweb. “Gross,” she said.

  “Nothing like a face full of cobweb,” her father said. “You can wait in the kitchen if you want.”

  “No. I’m fine. Come on, Andrew. Let’s see what’s in here.” She turned the doorknob and looked back at her brother. “It’s unlocked. You first or me first?”

  “You first.”

  “Me first,” Greg said. He glanced back at Charlotte. “I’ll stay with Andrew and Megan.”

  He wasn’t concerned about foul play, she realized. He simply didn’t want his kids to walk into an emergency situation. Evelyn Sloan could be injured, ill or worse—especially if she’d ended up down here. Greg pushed open the door, and Charlotte saw that it opened into a storage room lined with shelves filled with old coolers, canning jars, lamps, boxes of stray cords and other stuff that amounted to junk.

  No Evelyn.

  Charlotte edged toward the south side of the cellar that abutted the field. She pulled on a string dangling from a naked lightbulb in a socket above her. It didn’t offer much light compared to the fluorescents by the stairs, but at least it was no longer as dark as a dungeon.

  The Rawlings clan eased in behind her. “Different from one of your sunken shipwrecks,” Greg said. “Or not that different?”

  “Different wildlife for sure,” she said, realizing he was trying to keep a light tone with his kids there. She smiled at them. “The mysteries of the deep either way.” But she stopped, nodding to a shut door in a dark corner. “This door was padlocked when I got the lay of the land down here the other day. It’s not now.”

  Greg stood next to her. “I’m going to take a look, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “Dad,” Andrew whispered, “I hear something.”

  “Me, too,” Megan said, also in a whisper. “It’s not mice.”

  Charlotte heard it, too—a moan, she thought. “Evelyn? It’s Charlotte Bennett. Are you in there?”

  There was no response.

  Greg pushed open the door. “She’s here,” he said.

  Charlotte could see Evelyn crumpled on the floor just inside the door. She was on her side, lying among old magazines and a cardboard box she’d obviously turned over on herself. Another naked lightbulb gave off dim light. There were more boxes on shelves in what appeared to be a large closet.

  “I’ll get her grandsons,” Andrew said, not waiting for an answer as he withdrew.

  Megan squeezed in next to her father. “I have first-aid training.”

  But he was already checking Evelyn’s vitals, speaking softly to her. Charlotte got Megan’s help pulling magazines out of the way so that they could open the door wider.

  “No, no,” Greg said when Evelyn tried to move. “Just be still for now. Let’s wait for the pros.”

  She sank her head onto a Life magazine from the 1970s. “Eric and Christopher?”

  “On their way.”

  She shut her eyes. “Damn,” she said, sighing.

  Her cop and firefighter grandsons arrived. Charlotte, Megan and Greg got out of the way as the two Sloans checked Evelyn to make sure nothing was broken and she wasn’t in any other physical distress. She rallied, complaining, arguing, unhurt and obviously grateful, just in need of water.

  Megan had run upstairs and returned, out of breath, with a jug of water. She handed it to Christopher.

  Evelyn took a few sips. “I accidentally knocked over a box of magazines while I was looking for a pressure cooker.”

  “A pressure cooker, Gran?” Eric snorted. “You haven’t canned in years.�
�

  “I remember Betsy had a pressure cooker. I was inspired. I’m going to have a bumper crop of tomatoes. You boys love my homemade tomato sauce.”

  Greg glanced at Charlotte, his expression telling her he knew the tale about the pressure cooker was not the truth. Evelyn didn’t seem to care it was an blatant fib. Who was going to contradict an eighty-three-year-old woman who’d just been trapped in an old cellar?

  Christopher handed the water jug back to Megan. He was a good-looking guy, and she went red. Charlotte wasn’t sure Greg noticed. If he did, he gave no sign of it. Christopher shifted back to his grandmother. “You went to a lot of trouble breaking into this place for a pressure cooker,” he said.

  She sniffed, sitting up straighter. “I did not break in.”

  “There’s a broken padlock,” Eric said, pointing to the evidence just inside the door.

  “Not my doing.”

  Eric and Christopher clearly knew better, but they helped her to her feet and got her up to the kitchen. Charlotte followed them and Greg, Andrew and Megan upstairs. She figured Evelyn trusted her with her secret given that she’d lied in front of her.

  Evelyn didn’t want to sit at the kitchen table and drink more water but her grandsons insisted. “Just for a minute,” Christopher said. “Catch your breath. Make sure you’re all right.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “No bruises?” Eric asked.

  “None that I don’t deserve. Good thing I’m not afraid of spiders,” she said with a shudder. “I could do without small, dark spaces, though. Don’t tell Olivia Frost about what happened—Olivia McCaffrey, I mean. She’s claustrophobic. She’ll hyperventilate.”

  “We’re just glad you’re okay, Gran,” Christopher said.

  “I’m glad your father and the rest of your brothers are in England. I wouldn’t get grief from Heather.” She made a face. “The whole town will know by nightfall, won’t they?”

  “Sooner than that,” Eric said. “Your book club sounded the alarm about you.”

  “Oh, no.” She moaned. “Those busybodies—I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  Christopher grinned. “Are you kidding? You made their day.”

  “Think of how much fun they’d have had if I’d needed an ambulance,” she muttered.

  “You love the attention,” Eric said, grinning at her.

  “You never were my favorite, you know.” But she had his hand clutched in hers as she spoke. “I thought I could slip in and slip out again with no one being the wiser. I remember when Grace Webster took off to her old hideout in Quabbin and got us all in a state looking for her. Now here I am.”

  “You adventurous old ladies,” Christopher said.

  Eric kissed her on the cheek. “Leave a note next time.”

  “I knew someone would find me,” she said. “I didn’t want to waste energy doing too much yelling and screaming. I usually keep a bottle of water with me. My doctor says you don’t always feel thirsty when you’re older and to keep track of what I drink.”

  “Smart,” Christopher said.

  Eric turned to Charlotte, Greg and the kids. “Thanks for your help.”

  “Glad it worked out,” Greg said.

  No one brought up the pressure-cooker story. Charlotte’s gaze connected with Evelyn, who sighed heavily and looked up at the three men. “I was searching for a time capsule,” she blurted. “Betsy and I put one together for our eighteenth birthdays. We were born within two weeks of each other. I remembered last night that she had a closet in the cellar she always kept locked and thought it might be there.” Evelyn paused, glancing around the kitchen. “I left my cane in the cellar...”

  Andrew and Megan volunteered to look for it and headed downstairs.

  Evelyn rubbed a finger on the wood table. “I wasn’t looking for a pressure cooker. I’m the one who hacked the padlock. I used a crowbar. You’ll find it under the magazines. I remembered how Samantha tackled the padlock when she ducked in the cider mill to get out of that thunderstorm. I figured I could do the same.”

  Eric grinned at her. “So that’s it, Gran. You were waiting for a good-looking guy to come rescue you.”

  “Agent Rawlings is good-looking.”

  Christopher laughed, shaking his head. “Samantha says she didn’t need Justin to rescue her.”

  “Seems to be a typical Bennett attitude,” Greg added.

  “Damn, Gran,” Eric said. “What’s in this time capsule? Anything juicy?”

  She took her hand from his and waved it, dismissive. “I don’t remember what’s in it. I just want to find it before anyone else does. I’m allowed.”

  “You went to a lot of trouble for something innocent,” Eric said. “Sure you didn’t put nudie shots of yourself in there? Sparing Pop a stroke?”

  Evelyn rolled her eyes. Andrew and Megan returned with her cane. She thanked them and set it firmly on the floor in front of her. “I’m going home. If something really does happen to me, at least I know I won’t rot before you come looking for me.”

  Greg looked at the two brothers. “Did I miss anything or didn’t something just really happen to her?”

  “Not by Sloan standards,” Eric muttered.

  But the teasing obviously helped Evelyn return to normal after her mishap in the cellar. She could have easily broken a hip or bashed her head, but Charlotte wasn’t fooled, either, as she watched the Sloans head out through the back door. Evelyn Sloan was also using the teasing as a tactic to get everyone off her case.

  She wasn’t finished with her hunt for her time capsule.

  After the Sloans left, Greg turned to Charlotte. “She’ll sneak back in here if we don’t find that time capsule first.”

  * * *

  They fanned out through the inn to search for the time capsule, covering ground that Charlotte hadn’t gotten to and rechecking spots where she’d had only a cursory look. Andrew and Megan took the main floors, Greg headed up to the attic and Charlotte went back down to the cellar—with the spiders, she noted. Then again, there were spiders everywhere in the old inn.

  After ninety minutes, they had nothing. They gathered in the library for iced tea and the cookies they hadn’t eaten on their picnic at Echo Lake.

  Andrew sprawled on the floor in front of the unlit fireplace. “What would you do if we find the time capsule?” he asked, wiping a smear of dust off his cheek.

  “Give it to Mrs. Sloan,” Charlotte said.

  Greg sat on the love seat. “She’s entitled to a few secrets.”

  Megan tugged a Monopoly game off a shelf. “Would you tell Chris and Eric you found it?”

  “I’d leave that up to their grandmother.” Charlotte sank onto a chair upholstered in a soft deep tan fabric, only mildly worn for its obvious age. “I have no idea what’s in the time capsule that has her so obsessed. Maybe it’s just the idea of it and wanting control.”

  “Will you open it if you find it?” Megan asked.

  “I promised I wouldn’t.” Charlotte could feel the day’s warmth and humidity but someone had opened a window, letting in a light breeze. The inn didn’t have central air-conditioning and the window air conditioners and fans she’d spotted in the cellar looked as if they needed cleaning, if they worked at all. But her mind was on Evelyn, and the Rawlings family. This turn in their last day together in Knights Bridge didn’t seem to bother them. She smiled, trying to stay focused on the matter at hand. “Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be tempted to open it.”

  Megan set the Monopoly game on the coffee table. “What about you, Dad? Would you open it?”

  Greg leaned forward and lifted the lid off the game box and placed it on the floor. “I doubt Mrs. Sloan is hiding state secrets or evidence of a crime, don’t you?”

  “Yeah,” Andrew said. “More likely it’s something
personal she doesn’t want her family to see. I mean, if she and her friend were eighteen when they put the time capsule together—even back then, people could do dumb things at eighteen.”

  “You can do dumb things at any age,” Megan added knowledgeably.

  Greg laughed. “That’s for sure.” He pulled the game board out of the box. “Last time I played Monopoly was with Brody and Heather at Vic’s guesthouse. Heather trounced us. She’s even more vicious at Risk.”

  Andrew scooted over to the coffee table. “I want to meet her.”

  “Me, too,” Megan said.

  “She says the same about you two,” Greg said. “You both did great today with Mrs. Sloan. You focused on the facts and let them drive what you could do, and you listened to Charlotte, Eric, Christopher and me. You didn’t get ahead of yourselves or jump to conclusions. You stayed calm and focused.”

  “Do you think I could be a DS agent?” Andrew asked.

  If the question caught Greg by surprise, he showed no indication. Charlotte stayed quiet, watching him unfold the Monopoly board and set out the Community Chest and Chance cards.

  “It’s not for me to say,” he said. “It’s for you to decide what you want and commit yourself to it, set goals and work hard toward reaching them. Everything you’re doing now will help if you decide you want to go into diplomatic security. Finish high school strong and go to college, participate in extracurricular activities and service, learn about yourself and the world—you’ll figure out what makes sense for you. I believe in you. If you work now toward becoming a DS agent, you’ll land somewhere worthwhile even if you change your mind.”

  Megan neatened a stack of pink five-dollar Monopoly bills. “What about me? Girls can become DS agents.”

  “Of course,” Greg said. “Ditto what I just said to your brother.”

  “Mom would have a fit if we both went into the Foreign Service,” Andrew said.

  Greg winked at his son. “Maybe I would, too. More so, because I know what you’d be getting into. But I’d support your decision, and so would your mom.”

  “Well, relax,” Megan said. “I’m going to be a botanist. Being here in Knights Bridge convinces me even more. I love the gardens at the inn, and Mrs. Sloan said I could come see her garden and pick as many ripe vegetables as I want.”