Hidden History

by Melody Carlson

  “Okay, it could be a number of things,” said Susan. “Daisy may have ingested something toxic, like a plant or cleaning solvent. Do you think that’s possible, Clara?”

  “I don’t see how. I don’t have any poison plants that I know of, and I haven’t been doing any cleaning.” The old woman put her hand over her mouth. “Oh, my goodness, do you think that someone may have intentionally tried to poison her? I know that some people don’t think much of my little Daisy Waisy.”

  Susan and Alice exchanged glances. Then Alice said, “I honestly don’t think anyone in Acorn Hill would try to poison an animal. No matter how much they might complain about Daisy, people aren’t really that mean.”

  “Another possibility is that Daisy may have accidentally eaten an object like a coin or a marble,” Susan suggested. “It could be upsetting her tummy, but unless it’s a large object, it should pass through her with no problem.”

  “I suppose that’s a possibility. I do sometimes drop things on the floor and it’s hard for me to bend down to pick them up. And, of course, my eyesight’s not what it used to be.” She brightened now. “Maybe that’s it. Perhaps Daisy has simply swallowed a penny.”

  Susan nodded. “Yes, that’s probably it.”

  “I just love Daisy so much,” said Clara. “I can’t bear the idea of losing her. You know I lost my Oscar last year, and I’ve been so alone since then. Having Daisy for company has been a real godsend for me.”

  Alice patted the older woman’s hand. She remembered the time that Florence Simpson and Clara Horn had assumed mean things about her father, but that had been last Christmas, and Alice had long since forgiven both women. Besides, after Clara’s husband had died, everyone had noticed that she seemed to change dramatically. Many of her friends assumed she was becoming senile, but listening to the old woman today, Alice suspected that Clara was mentally sound but just lonely.

  “Would you like a ride home?” offered Alice.

  “Oh, that would be lovely, dear. I am a bit worn out.” She smiled. “You’re such a dear girl, Alice. I’ve always felt that you were such a fine Christian. I used to tell your father as much.”

  Alice laughed. “Well, thank you, Clara.”

  When Alice got to Clara’s house, she took the folded carriage out of the trunk and carried it into the house, while Clara carried little Daisy.

  “Would you mind taking a look around, dear?” said Clara. “To see if I’ve dropped anything on the floor that Daisy might accidentally eat?”

  “Sure.” Alice found the small, tidy house to be in order. “I don’t see a thing, Clara. It’s all neat and clean.”

  Clara smiled proudly. “You know, Oscar always said I was the best housekeeper. Come into the kitchen, dear. I’d like to send something home with you. Do you like homemade pickles?”

  Alice told her she did, and Clara filled a small box with several jars of bread-and-butter pickles. “I always put up far too many,” she explained. “But I hate letting those cucumbers go to waste. Oh, how about some plums. The tree in my backyard was just loaded this year. May I send a bag of plums with you too?”

  “Oh, Jane will be thrilled with pickles and plums,” Alice assured her. “And if there’s anything we can do to help with Daisy, just feel free to call.”

  “Thank you, dear. I appreciate that.”

  Alice decided to go ahead and stop by Sylvia’s Buttons on her way home. She hoped that Susan had proceeded with her own plans despite their interruption. Perhaps she would even run into her.

  “Alice,” called Sylvia as the bell tinkled on the door, “what brings you in here?”

  “I told Vera that she should try making a braided rug to get her mind off her troubles.”

  “She’s still sick?”

  Alice nodded. “They did more tests yesterday, but she won’t hear anything about them for a while.”

  “Well, I’ve got a lot of nice scraps in that big basket there. What colors do you think she’d like?”

  “She really likes red, white and blue,” said Alice. “She’s got a lot of Americana accents.”

  “Oh, that would make a nice braided rug. Let’s see what we can find.”

  It took about an hour, but the two women finally managed to fill a plastic bag with an interesting mix of red, white and blue fabrics. Not only that, but Alice found an apron pattern that looked fairly simple.

  “How long do you think it would take to whip up one of these aprons?” she asked Sylvia. “I thought maybe I could make a few to sell at the Fall Festival.”

  “Oh, that’s such an easy pattern, Alice, I’ll bet you could easily finish one within an hour, maybe less.”

  “Okay, then, I guess I’ll get enough fabric to make several. I think these fall patterns might be fun.”

  “What a great idea. How about this one with pumpkins and squash?” asked Sylvia. “And there’s the one with the squirrels and nuts.”

  Soon Alice had chosen fabric for six different aprons. “This is going to be fun,” she said as she stacked the bolts on the cutting table.

  “I’m giving you a fifty-percent discount on Vera’s rug pieces,” said Sylvia as she rang it up on the cash register.

  “Oh, you don’t have to—”

  “Just tell Vera that’s my get-well wish for her.”

  Alice smiled. “I know she’ll appreciate that.”

  Alice decided to drop off her treasure. She knew it was too early for Fred to be home from the hardware store, especially on a Saturday. Vera was in the kitchen when Alice went in.

  “You’re up,” said Alice happily.

  “Yes. I’m feeling much better. I thought I’d get an early start on dinner and surprise Fred.”

  Alice hugged her friend. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re feeling better.” She held out the bag. “Maybe you won’t be needing this after all.”

  “The rug scraps?” Vera peeked into the bag. “Oh, those are beautiful. Of course, I’d still love to make a rug. Let me pay you—”

  “No. It’s a get-well gift from Sylvia and me.”

  “Well, you’ll still have to give me lessons and get me started.”

  “You bet. Let’s start it next week.” Alice patted Vera on the back. “Just remember not to overdo it. Take it easy and give yourself time to feel better.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Alice.”

  Alice said good-bye and hurried home to see if she could give Jane a hand with dinner. Carrying her box of pickles through the back door, Alice found Jane creating a pretty flower arrangement.

  “That’s gorgeous,” said Alice.

  “Thanks, I’m trying.”

  “Clara Horn sent us some nice juicy plums as well as some homemade bread-and-butter pickles.”

  “That was nice of her. By the way, we filled one of our vacant rooms for tonight. The Fisks, from New York City, were driving through town and saw the inn.”

  “That’s good news.” Alice paused to admire Jane’s creation. Her ability to make flowers look like a work of art was really amazing. “You certainly are making the most of the last of the summer blooms.”

  “Yes.” Jane had a twinkle in her eye. “I thought we could use a special bouquet for dinner tonight.”

  “Are you making a special dinner?”

  “Maybe,” said Jane mysteriously.

  “Who’s coming?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Alice was confused, but if Jane wanted to play games she might have to play alone. “Well, do you need any help?”

  Jane turned and faced Alice, looking at her as if she was assessing her before she firmly said, “No, I don’t need any help.”

  Alice just shrugged. “Fine.”

  “But there is something you can do for me.”

  Alice brightened. “Sure. What?”

  “Go up and take a shower and put on a nice outfit and really try to look sharp. Okay?”

  Alice frowned. “What for?”

  “Well …” Jane seemed to be thinking. “What if I had s
omeone from the city coming, from the art world, you know, here to see my work—”

  “Your paintings?” asked Alice. “Someone is coming to—”

  “I’m just saying, ‘what if,’” continued Jane. “Would you try to look a bit more, well, cosmopolitan?”

  Alice laughed. “I’m sure I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

  “Okay, how about this. You go get your shower and then I’ll come up and help you. Would that be okay?”

  “Well, I guess so, if it’s that important to—”

  “Oh, it is. Thank you so much. Take your time. I’ll be up in about half an hour, okay?”

  “You’re sure you want to waste your time on me—”

  “Oh, I do, Alice. I really do.”

  “Okay then …” Alice just shook her head as she walked through the kitchen. Jane was definitely acting crazy tonight. Alice paused by the mirror in the dining room to look at herself. Maybe she did not look fashionable, but her hair was neatly cut and her chambray shirt was clean and pressed. But apparently this would not impress Jane’s big city friends. Well, if this was going to help Jane get a toehold into the art world, Alice would do whatever it took to help.

  Apparently it would take a lot, thought Alice a short time later, as she patiently stood waiting while Jane applied a bit of blush and lipstick and even a little eye shadow. Alice had not worn eye shadow for decades.

  “Is this really necessa—”

  “Yes,” snapped Jane. “Just trust me, okay?”

  Alice took in a deep breath and waited. Already Jane had used a combination of clothing that Alice would never in a million years have picked out—especially if she was trying to impress someone. Jane had selected a denim skirt that Alice had bought on sale a few years before and had meant to hem but never got to it. It hung nearly to her ankles, but Jane seemed to think that was perfect. Then she had made Alice try on a loose orange silk sweater of Jane’s that was a little wider at the neckline than Alice was used to.

  “I don’t know,” said Alice.

  “You have beautiful shoulders, Alice,” said Jane. “And besides we’re going to use a scarf and some jewelry. Just wait until I’m finished. You’re still a work in progress.”

  Jane did something with Alice’s hair, liberally squirted her with perfume and then spun her around to look at the full-length mirror attached to her closet door.

  “Oh my!” Alice’s hand went up to her mouth.

  “What do you think?” asked Jane proudly.

  “I don’t know. I don’t look like me.”

  “Yes, you do. Only better.”

  Alice was not so sure. “I feel sort of silly.”

  “Just hold your head up and remember that you are beautiful.” Jane smiled. “You really are, Alice. I mean everyone knows you’re beautiful in spirit, but you’re so pretty, too. You just don’t do anything to show it off.”

  Alice frowned. “No, I’ve never been into showing off.”

  “Sorry,” said Jane. “Bad choice of words. You’ve just never optimized the good looks God has given you.”

  “Hmm…”

  “Okay, now this is the deal. I want you and Louise to stay up here until dinnertime.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “Oh, I just thought it would seem more elegant for my two sisters to come down the stairs at dinnertime. Don’t you think?”

  Alice shrugged. “I think my baby sister is losing it.”

  “Promise you won’t come down until it’s time.”

  “How will I know—”

  “I’ll ring a bell.”

  “A bell?” Alice’s brows lifted. This was just getting more and more bizarre, but she decided to humor Jane. It was her party and her guests.

  “Okay, maybe I’ll use this time to cut out some of these aprons.”

  “That’s perfect,” said Jane. “Now I better get busy.”

  Four aprons later, and what seemed like only a few minutes, Alice heard a bell ringing downstairs. Jane had not been kidding. Pausing to glance in the mirror once more, Alice tried to do what Jane had said, holding her head high and shoulders back, as she exited her room.

  “Alice,” said Louise, “you look lovely.”

  “Thanks, but don’t you think Jane is taking this a little too far? Did she dress you too?” Alice studied Louise’s outfit of pale blue sweater set, beige skirt and pearls, but could find nothing out of the ordinary.

  “I am perfectly capable of dressing myself,” said Louise. “You, on the other hand, could sometimes use a hand.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  Candles were lit downstairs and jazz music played softly. Alice could hear happy conversation coming from the living room. “Did they start the party without us?” she whispered to Louise.

  Louise just smiled.

  “Here are Alice and Louise now,” said Jane as she greeted her sisters with both hands outstretched. “We have a surprise visitor tonight, ladies. Susan invited her brother Mark to come down for a little visit.”

  Alice felt her eyes widen and her throat went tight. Mark Graves was here? In Acorn Hill? In her own home? Why had she not been warned?

  “Well, I actually invited him to come out here to check on that sick little pig,” explained Susan. “I felt sorry for that poor old woman, and as it turned out Mark wasn’t busy this weekend….”

  Alice felt as if everything were in a blur. She could see the tall man in the tweed jacket, a dignified stranger with charcoal-colored hair that was light gray at the temples, and a salt-and-pepper beard. He reminded her of a character in a movie, a sea captain perhaps.

  “Louise,” he said as he shook her sister’s hand. Then he stepped toward her and took her hand in his. “Alice, it’s so good to see you again.”

  “Mark,” she somehow managed to say. “It’s been years.”

  He nodded and she felt as if she were sinking as she looked into his eyes.

  He smiled broadly, as if he was truly glad to see her, and said, “You’re looking well.”

  She tried to form an answer but felt tongue-tied and stupid, as if she were sixteen again. Goodness, she hoped she was not about to do something really ridiculous, like faint. Dear God, she prayed silently, please help me to hold myself together tonight.

  Chapter Eleven

  Her prayer was answered. Somehow, and she felt it nothing short of miraculous, she was able to converse and laugh and ask appropriate questions as they all gathered around the large mahogany table in the dining room.

  “Jane, you’ve really outdone yourself tonight,” said Alice as Jane finally presented her special dessert with dramatic flare.

  “I haven’t had baked Alaska in ages,” Mark commented.

  “Speaking of the cold part of the world,” said Louise, “I heard that you were treating penguins down in Antarctica not long ago.”

  That was all it took for Mark to launch into another interesting story, complete with a humorous account of how he had to go around wearing a fisherman’s smelly jacket after his expensive Gortex parka mysteriously disappeared one night. “The truth is that I grew to truly appreciate that greasy oilskin coat. I think it kept me warmer than the one I’d brought. So much for today’s new technology in outerwear.”

  “You should write these stories down,” said Jane. “They’d make an interesting book.”

  “Actually, it’s already been done,” he told her. “Ever heard of the book called Zoo Doctor?”

  “And then, of course, there is the old James Herriott series,” said Alice. “I so enjoyed reading those books years ago. In fact, all this talk of animals makes me want to read them over again.”

  “Yes, Eliot and I used to watch the stories on public television,” said Louise. “One of the few times we ever turned on the TV. But, oh my, we would just laugh and laugh over it.”

  Finally, dinner came to an end, and Jane suggested that Mark might enjoy a tour of the house.

  “Yes,” he said, “I do remember being here long ago, b
ut it seems different to me now.”

  “We have done a lot of renovations,” Louise explained.

  “Jane is our decorator,” said Alice.

  “Alice helped me quite a bit with the painting,” said Jane. “Why don’t you show Mark around, Alice?”

  “I’ll help you clean up, Jane,” said Louise.

  “So will I,” offered Susan. “Anything to get another look at that kitchen. You’ve got to see her kitchen, Mark. It is just darling.”

  “Not until it’s cleaned up a bit,” warned Jane. “We normally don’t allow the guests in there, but Susan is becoming more like family since she’s been with us all week.”

  Susan grinned. “Hey, maybe you could adopt me.”

  Alice knew this was a setup, but what could she do other than cooperate? “Well, you’ve obviously seen the living room and the dining room, and I assume the foyer.”

  “That’s about it. And I must say the rooms look splendid. Jane really has a touch.”

  “Yes, she’s an artist, you know.” She led him back into the hall.

  “I recall your saying how artistic she was, but she must have been quite young … back then.”

  Alice smiled. “Yes, Jane would’ve still been in grade school …” she followed his choice in words, “back then.”

  “This was my father’s den. But, as you can see from the plaque, we call it the library now, although I usually forget.”

  “This is a handsome room,” said Mark as he perused the bookshelves. “Your father was quite a reader.”

  “Yes.” Then she chuckled. “Although we have a guest right now who doesn’t think much of this library.”

  “Why?”

  “No westerns,” she said with a smile.

  Mark nodded. “No, your father didn’t strike me as the western type.”

  Alice turned and studied Mark. He had only met her father a couple of times. “What type did he strike you as?”