The Crimson Brand (9 page)

More silence, then Penny thought she could actually hear Miss Riggs shouting from her end of the line.

Susan forgot about keeping her voice down.  “You narrow-minded ….”

She called her sister a word Penny had never heard her use before, then hung up.

Penny stayed put on the landing between the second and third floor as Susan stomped from the living room into the hallway, where Penny could see her shaking with barely contained anger, then onto the front porch.  She closed the door quietly behind her.

Penny waited a few moments to make sure she wasn’t coming right back inside
—
she didn’t want Susan to know she’d heard the argument
—
then crept down the steps to the hallway and hurried to the back door.

The night beyond was silent, moonlit, cool, and Penny let herself enjoy the peace of it for a few seconds before dropping to her belly in the grass and reaching into the darkness under the steps in search of some unknown, and likely exotic, item.

She found it quickly and was relieved when her hand was back in sight.

Ronan had left her a stone, mottled gray and strangely textured, shaped like a large egg. 

Marveling that just when she didn’t think Ronan could get any weirder he always somehow managed it, Penny crept back inside, and, after checking that the hallway was still empty, hurried up to her bedroom.

In bed, she examined the strange egg by the light of her lamp.  It was heavy, felt solid, and when she shook it nothing rattled inside.  It was too rough to be soapstone and too bland to be valuable.

Trying unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn, Penny put the egg in the drawer of her bedside table and nestled under her sheets. 

She’d be able to ask Ronan about the weird egg the next day, and maybe he’d even give her a straight answer or two, though with Ronan you could never count on straight answers, only hope for them. 

She’d also have to talk to Zoe about the argument she’d overheard through the kitchen window before Miss Riggs had stormed out of the party and, if she had time, start trying to confirm her suspicions about her mom and Susan.

It seemed unlikely in some ways.  If Susan and her mom had been Phoenix Girls when they were younger
—
probably her aunt and Katie’s aunt, too
—
then Susan would know what she was up to when she left the house for hours at a time to visit Aurora Hollow.  She would have said something, let Penny know she was a part of the secret, wouldn’t she?

With that question in her mind, Penny finally drifted to sleep.

Penny awoke with the rising sun the next morning, a plan of action swirling around in her sleepy head.  She was looking for her past, her family’s past—and where do people store all the old stuff that no longer fits in their day-to-day lives?

In an attic, which was not an option in this case because that’s where Susan stored Penny and her things.  

Or the basement. 

This house had one; she knew that because of the furnace grate in the living room floor, but she had never explored it. 

She checked her clock.  It was just after six, so Susan would be sleeping.  Sunday was the one day she could sleep in, so she usually took advantage of it. 

Penny dressed quickly and put her mirror in her pocket.  Bright sunlight outside or not, the second floor hall was always dark; the fixture on the landing between floors only ever succeeded in throwing long, creepy shadows.  Penny descended quickly and quietly, peeking first into the kitchen, then into the living room for signs of life from Susan. 

Both were empty, but something in the living room caught her eye.  Sitting on the end table next to Susan’s chair lay the package her sister had dropped off during the party the day before.  It was open, the flaps sticking up at jaunty, inviting angles.

Come here, Penny
. 
See what’s inside
. 
You know you’re curious
. 
You know you want to
.

Penny was curious but turned her back on the package and walked to the mostly unused utility room.  It was one thing to search the basement of her own home, her mother’s childhood home, even if she wasn’t sure that Susan would approve; but she had no right to see what was in that box.  That was Susan’s business, not hers.

The utility room was narrow, running almost the entire length of the house.  At one end sat an old washer and dryer, with an odd assortment of soaps and arcane laundry-related products on a shelf above them.  A door opposite the hallway led to the back steps.  At the other end stood a second door, one that she had never opened.  If it turned out to be a closet, then she’d have to search the rest of the house for clues to her past.

It wasn’t a closet. 

There was a small, square landing with a light switch and a set of steep, narrow steps that led downward.  Penny tried the light and, almost to her surprise, found that it worked.  A weak, dusty glow filled the narrow staircase.

Penny closed the door behind her and descended.

The basement felt like a dungeon. Air ducts ran overhead like thick metal snakes, and the hot-water heater huddled in a far corner, next to an ancient, unused wood-burning furnace.

The walls weren’t concrete or brick but stone and crumbling plaster.  The floor was ancient, with creaking planks, some sagging slightly under Penny’s light frame.  A heavy man might fall right through.  Who knew what might wait beneath the old boards. 

Rows of sturdy wooden shelves covered one wall, and perhaps a hundred old boxes—some cardboard, some wood—filled every inch.  The top two rows were too high to reach, but a quick search revealed an aluminum ladder leaning against the wall next to a small army of rusty garden tools. 

Penny walked along the shelves, inspecting the lower rows.  The thick dust covering most of the basement was disturbed in places, a sign, she thought, that some of the boxes had been moved fairly recently.  Susan, maybe digging up a few old photos of Penny’s mom.

No way to know until she looked for herself; and there was time probably to check a few of the lower boxes before Susan woke.

She scanned the row before her.  None of the boxes seemed likelier to yield answers than any of the others, so she chose one at random and slid it from the shelf.  It was big and heavy.  She was able to lower it to the floor without dropping it, but there was no way she’d be able to lift it back up to the shelf.

It contained old paperback books and mason jars full of rocks, from exotic to ordinary: crystals of different colors, agates, chunks of common brown and green opal, fools’ gold, and more.  Penny remembered the old guy at the rock and jewelry shop telling her that her mother used to buy rocks from him. 

Must have had quite a collection of pretty rocks, all the time she spent here
.

And it was quite a collection.

Penny screwed the lid off one of the jars and tipped a handful of stones into her open palm.

She could name a few of them—a brown opal, one that was either jade or jasper, a piece of white quartz—but most were alien to her.

“Zoe would know them,” she said aloud and smiled.  She dumped them back into the open jar, then hesitated before screwing the lid back on and plucked out a white quartz.  It was tear-shaped, translucent, smooth but not polished.

She held it up, letting the glow from the unshaded bulb shine through it.  It seemed to capture the light, the milky interior shining like clouds in a bright sky.

Was this yours, Mom
?

She expected no answer and got none.

She pocketed the stone and returned the jar to its box.

The next box was considerably lighter.  She slid it out and set it on top of the first.

More books and some old magazines.  She fingered through them, found a few she might have considered interesting under other circumstances, and with some effort lifted the box back into place. 

The third box was more of the same, plus an old photo album.  She opened it and found pictures of her mom, her aunt, and a lot of people she’d never seen.  She dropped the photo album into its box and shoved it into place with a growing sense of frustration, realizing that she had no idea what she was really looking for and would probably not find it even if she did.  There were no amazing revelations to be found here.  Only a lot of dust and junk.

After a moment’s consideration, she slid the third box out again and took the photo album.  She doubted she’d find any answers, but she could find something of her mother’s mysterious past inside.  Still images of memories she’d never shared with Penny.  It was better than nothing.

She thought about pulling out a fourth box but realized that she had no idea how long she’d been there.  It could wait for another time.  With the piece of quartz in her pocket and the photo album under one arm, Penny hurried back to her room. 

She tucked the album under her pillow and checked the time—a little past seven—thought about calling Zoe or Katie up on her two-way mirror, and decided it was a little early.

So, what now?

That was the problem with going to bed early.  She always woke way too early the next morning.

She put the mirror back in her pocket and walked to her wardrobe, a new addition to her room.  A Christmas present from Susan, she and Penny had to carry it up the ladder a piece at a time and assemble it in her room.  It was small, the left side containing half a dozen narrow drawers with a shelf above them, the right a space to hang clothes.  It stood beside her old dresser, which no one had wanted to take apart and carry down a piece at a time. 

Penny selected a change of clothes.

A nice, long shower and a cup of coffee were in order if she was going to be useful for anything at all.

*   *   *

A half-hour later, showered and fully awake, Penny sipped her coffee and cooked breakfast for Susan.  As the eggs fried and the bacon sizzled, Susan walked in and greeted Penny with a wide, languid yawn. 

“Morning, Susan.”  Penny was feeling uncharacteristically cheerful.  Probably the second cup of coffee; she’d gulped her first while Susan slept.

Susan yawned again to signal exactly what she thought of mornings in general. 

“You’re up and at ‘em awfully early.”  With both hands, as if it were a lifeline, she took the cup Penny offered. 

Penny shrugged and flipped bacon.  “Went to bed early.”

Susan looked at her, eyes still half-closed.  “I thought you’d be up half the night playing on the internet.”

“Nope.  Didn’t feel like playing after the party.”  Penny had forgotten all about the new internet connection but decided not to tell Susan.  She didn’t want her to think the money had been wasted.  “Just wanted to go to bed.”

“I could have strangled that man,” Susan said.  She sipped her coffee, lingering over the cup for a moment to enjoy the aroma.  “I’m going to have a talk with Katie’s mother.  Maybe she can reason with him.”

Penny somehow doubted it but nodded.  Couldn’t hurt to try.

It wasn’t the argument with Mr. West she was interested in at the moment, though; she knew why he hated her.  The argument Penny wanted to hear about was the one she’d had with her sister.  She didn’t think she was brave enough to ask about it straight out though.

“So, what did Miss Riggs bring you yesterday?”

Susan stiffened at the mention of her sister but recovered quickly.  She even managed a small smile. 

“Let me finish this …,” she said as she sipped her coffee, “and I’ll show you.”

And perhaps her smile had been genuine, because it stayed in place while Penny finished cooking and Susan sipped her coffee.

At last Susan’s cup was empty and she went to the living room, returning with the box just as Penny set the table and pushed a fresh cup of coffee toward her.

“Thanks!”  She accepted the fresh cup and half-drained it in one swallow.

Penny sipped at hers, savoring it for as long as she could.  With Susan awake she wouldn’t be able to sneak another cup. 

Susan pushed down the top flaps of the little box and reached inside with both hands.  They emerged holding a silver tree, about ten inches tall, with five small, clear spheres hanging from its branches.  She brushed the box aside and set the tree down between them.

“That’s pretty,” Penny said, and she meant it.  The little glass balls turned and swung, throwing light in dizzying patterns across the table.  She pushed her plate aside, breakfast forgotten, and leaned closer.  There were shapes in the spheres, shapes that she couldn’t quite make out.

Susan pushed it closer to her.  Her smile was gone, her face somber but serene.  “Look closer.”

Penny did, and gasped.  Inside one of the spheres, the small face of a much younger Susan smiled at her.  Penny shifted her gaze to another.  The second face was unfamiliar, as was the third, but the fourth and fifth….

They were identical but with slightly differing expressions.  They were faces she knew and missed.

“Which one is my mom?”

Susan pointed without taking her eyes from Penny.  She knew them well, it seemed.  “You know who the other one is, right?”

Penny nodded.  Her mom’s twin, the aunt she’d never met. 

“Those are Austrian crystal, laser engraved.”  Her hand stretched out and set one of the little spheres rocking again.  “Katie’s aunt Tracy had this made a few months before you were born.  It belonged to all of us, but … well.”

Susan left it at that.

Penny didn’t really need her to finish.  There had been the crash, her father’s abandonment, and soon after that all of Susan’s friends had left Dogwood forever.

“After a while I just couldn’t stand to look at it anymore,” she said.  “I was nineteen, the youngest of our little circle of friends.”