The Key in the Attic (7 page)

7

“
Sold
it?”

Annie and Alice spoke at the same time, and Mary Beth could only nod, misery etched in every line of her face.

“Bob gave me a good price for it, and it was either that or have my lights and water cut off. Here and at the shop.”

“Call him,” Alice said, thrusting the telephone at her. “He can at least let you see if there’s anything in the table.”

Mary Beth looked at her for a moment and then grabbed her purse. “I kept his card,” she said with a knowing grin, “in case I had something else I needed to sell.”

They all waited, listening to the whirring of the phone ringing on the other end of the line. Finally there was a click. All three of them groaned to hear the recorded message: “You’ve reached Bob Kelsey at Kelsey’s Odds and Ends. I’d love to talk antiques with you. Leave a message, and I’ll get right back to you.”

There was a beep.

“Bob, this is Mary Beth Brock. I need to talk to you right away about the writing desk I sold you last month. Please give me a call as soon as you can.” She gave him her phone number and then repeated her name and number again. “Call me.”

She exhaled loudly as she hung up. “I hope it’s not too late. I mean, he may have already sold it to someone.”

“It’s OK, Mary Beth.” Annie reached over and squeezed her hand. “If he did, he’ll know who it was, and we can call them.”

Mary Beth didn’t seem convinced. “Sure.”

“Do you think he’ll call right back?” Alice looked at Mary Beth and then at Annie. “Maybe we could wait a few minutes and see if he does.”

“Sure,” said Annie. “If you don’t mind, Mary Beth. In the meantime, I can tell you what I found out in my research.”

Mary Beth nodded.

“I did verify that your great-great-grandmother Angeline Morrow was married to James Parish in 1866. It was pretty easy to trace down from them to you. Geoffrey was a little bit harder to find, but I finally did. He was born in Fairfax County, Virginia, in 1839. His family was fairly prominent at the time, very well off and well connected. But everything I found indicates that, by the end of the Civil War, the money was gone and so was the last of the family. His mother, Georgianna Flippin Whyte, was evidently a very strong woman. She ran the family plantation and the other businesses they owned. Her husband died several years before the war, and she put all her hopes into her only son, Geoffrey. He was killed in the first battle of Bull Run in 1861.”

“Oh, how sad!” Mary Beth exclaimed.

“For his mother and for your great-great-grandmother, evidently,” Alice added. “What happened to Georgianna?”

Annie shook her head. “I saw a copy of an obituary from November of 1865. It reported she had passed away ‘after several months of decline.’ Probably starved. Those were hard times in the South.”

“Poor woman, and poor Angeline,” Alice said. “You don’t have anything else of hers that could have been from him, do you, Mary Beth?”

“I don’t think so. There’s a white rose in the back of her Bible pressed inside a folded sheet of paper. All it says is ‘Easter Sunday 1861.’ I’ve always wondered who it was from, and why she always kept it. I don’t suppose we’ll ever know for certain.”

“How romantic,” Alice breathed. “It must have been from the last time she ever saw him.”

“
If
it was from him,” Annie reminded her. “Maybe it was from another beau or from her father. Or maybe she picked it herself.”

Alice scowled. “You’re no fun.”

“Anyway,” Mary Beth said firmly, “whether the rose was from him or not, she must have gotten over his death. From all accounts, she and my great-great-grandfather were very happy together.”

“You’re no fun either,” Alice grumbled. “How are we going to uncover a tragic romance if you both keep spoiling things?”

Just then Mary Beth’s phone rang.

“Hello?”

Annie could hear the indistinct tones of a man’s voice from where she sat. Mary Beth was nodding excitedly.

“Yes, Bob. Thanks for calling me back. I was wondering if I could come take a look at that writing desk I sold you. Just for a minute.” Mary Beth paused, listening, and then her face fell. “I see. No, of course.”

Annie and Alice exchanged glances. This couldn’t be good.

“No,” Mary Beth said after another pause. “I was just afraid I had left something important in it.”

As the man replied, Mary Beth grabbed the pencil and pad of paper that was next to her phone. She jotted down a name and a phone number, and then smiled again.

“Thank you. I’ll give them a call.”

“Well?” Alice asked once she hung up. “What happened to the desk?”

Mary Beth sighed. “He sold it to another dealer in Portland with a lot of other pieces. They picked it up on Monday.”

Annie frowned. “Can you call them?”

“Not until Monday now.” Mary Beth folded the piece of paper with the phone number on it and slipped it into her purse. “Bob says they close at four o’clock weekdays and don’t have any business hours on the weekends. It’s probably one of those posh, by-appointment places.”

Annie frowned, thinking. “OK, so we can’t look at it tonight. What do you remember about the desk, Mary Beth. Did it have any hidden drawers or cubbyholes? Any secret places?”

“What did it look like anyway?” Alice asked.

There was a sudden wistfulness in Mary Beth’s eyes. “It was really pretty, solid cherry with a little inlaid pattern of teak and ash around the edge. It had three drawers in the front, and on top it had another stack of drawers and slots, and little cabinets with doors on them. Wait a second.”

She scurried out of the room and came back a few minutes later with a framed photograph in her hands.

“You can see some of it in this picture.”

Alice took it from her. “Ooh, isn’t that pretty?”

Annie looked over Alice’s shoulder at the large black-and-white photograph. It showed a little more than half of the writing desk that looked just as Mary Beth had described it. In front of it, an old woman sat in a rocking chair holding a wide-eyed baby in a lace christening gown. The woman wore a high-necked black dress with a pearl brooch at the collar, and her snow-white hair was twisted into a bun at the back of her neck. Her expression was solemn, but there was something vivid about her eyes, which were dark and expressive, and something still lovely in the curve of her cheek. She must have been a beauty in her day.

“Is that her, Mary Beth?” Annie asked. “Is that Angeline?”

“As a matter of fact, it is. She was holding my mother a few weeks after she was born.”

Annie smiled. “My goodness, how long ago was that?”

“It was 1922,” Mary Beth said. “Angeline had just celebrated her eightieth birthday. Mom was her first great-grandchild.”

“Amazing.” Annie took the picture from Alice so she could take a closer look at the writing desk. “It looks like there are a lot of potential secret places in the desk.”

“I gave it a pretty good going over before Bob picked it up. There is a little cubbyhole with a door on it behind that panel there.” Mary Beth pointed to a place on the right side of the desk. “It has a keyhole, but I never saw a key for it. It wasn’t locked anyway, and there wasn’t anything in it.”

Annie exhaled impatiently. “And we’re back to the possibility that whatever Geoffrey left for Angeline might not be there anymore.”

“If that’s the place he meant,” Mary Beth said, “then you’re right. It’s been empty at least since I was a little girl.”

“I guess we could go ahead and see if the key we found with the clue fits it. If it does, we’ll know that’s where it was supposed to be.”

“If Park Cambridge Antique Shoppe still has the desk on Monday.” Mary Beth’s shoulders sagged. “I could have used a little good news today. Now the best we can hope for is just knowing it’s a dead end.”

Annie glanced at Alice and then smiled at Mary Beth. “I know. Why don’t we make a girls’ day out of it? We can drive to Portland and look at the desk. We can have lunch somewhere fun and then do some shopping.”

“Thanks, Annie, but I really can’t—”

“Sure you can. You’re closed on Mondays.”

A little color came into Mary Beth’s cheeks. “I don’t want to spoil the fun, but I really can’t afford a shopping spree right now.”

“Come on,” Annie coaxed. “We can just window-shop. That’s still free. I’ll drive, and lunch will be on me. You won’t be out anything but a little time. What do you think?”

There was a little twitch at the corner of Mary Beth’s mouth. “OK.”

Annie clapped her hands together. “Great. Are you in, Alice?”

“Sorry, not for Monday. I have a Divine Décor party at eleven and then a Princessa jewelry party at three. Some of us have to work, you know.”

Annie wrinkled her nose. “Now who’s no fun?”

****

Monday turned out to be a beautiful day. It was a little bit cold for May, but the sky was a delicious clear blue, and spring was in its full riotous glory. Mary Beth was sitting on her front porch when Annie pulled up in her driveway, and she immediately scurried out to the car.

“Right on time,” she said as she buckled herself in.

Annie smiled. “Of course. And don’t you look nice. Did you make that?”

“Just finished it yesterday.” Mary Beth fingered the lightweight ecru pullover she had crocheted. “It’s one of Kate’s patterns. She always lets me test them before she prints them up for sale.”

“It’s great. And just right for you.”

Mary Beth chuckled. “I had been griping about how all the patterns are designed for girls in their twenties who look like fashion models. Kate’s so sweet, I think she designed it especially to flatter someone with—ahem—a fuller figure.”

Annie laughed with Mary Beth, happy to see she was in a more cheerful mood than she had been lately. Obviously Mary Beth was feeling better with Kate being back at the shop with her.

The drive to Portland was pleasantly uneventful, and Annie didn’t want to spoil the atmosphere by bringing up Mary Beth’s financial troubles. Instead, she asked about something she knew always made Mary Beth happy.

“How’s Amy doing?”

As she expected, Mary Beth beamed at the mention of her niece.

“Great, as always. She’s still spending a lot of time with Everett Graber, who works in the same office.”

“Oh, and he has the cutest little boy.”

“Peter. Yes, he’s precious. I’d sure love to see them get a little closer one day. I guess Amy’s still not ready for that.”

“I know you miss having her around. Is she going to come visit this summer?”

Mary Beth pressed her lips together. “I hope she will. Every time Amy makes plans to come, Melanie figures out something for her to do instead. It’s so frustrating.”

Annie glanced briefly at her. “You know she’s jealous of you, don’t you? Melanie, I mean.”

“Of me?” Mary Beth laughed. “You’ve seen her—tall and thin and still gorgeous. She is always fashionable, and always in the middle of some important national or international event. Not to mention being pretty well off. Why should she be jealous of me?”

“Because she knows Amy is closer to you than to her.”

“Amy’s her daughter, not mine.”

“That’s the point.” Annie glanced up to make sure she hadn’t missed her exit. “Amy is her daughter, but Amy loves you best.”

Mary Beth smiled, but shook her head. “I don’t know about that.”

“I think I do. You’re the one who’s always been there for her. You’re the one who wants her to be happy as she is without trying to make her into something she’s not.”

“Annie—”

“I’m not saying she doesn’t love her mother. I’m sure she does. And I’m sure Melanie loves her. But you and Amy have a special relationship, and I think that’s why Melanie gets jealous.”

Mary Beth didn’t say anything for a moment.

“I guess I’ve pretty much thought the same thing.” She leaned her elbow on the armrest, propped her chin on her hand and looked out the window. “There wasn’t much friction between us when we were growing up. I didn’t even try to get into her spotlight, so we were OK. Mother groomed her for the high life, and I never really fit in there. That was OK, too, until Amy came along. She’s just never been the society type either, so we always clicked. I haven’t tried to take Melanie’s place with her. It just sort of … happened.”

“You know, instead of resenting you, Melanie could always try to work on her relationship with Amy.”

Mary Beth snorted. “That would involve cutting down on the cocktail parties and Broadway premieres and trips to Cannes.”

“So what does she expect you to do? Pull away from Amy? And where would that leave Amy? She would be left without either of you.”

“I know. But it’s hard sometimes. I don’t like conflict, especially in the family.” She exhaled heavily. “Melanie called me the other day. I told Amy that I might have to sell out, and evidently she suggested that her mother could buy the building and rent it to me at what I’m paying now.”

“That sounds reasonable. Can’t she afford it?”

“I’m sure she could, but she told me in no uncertain terms that she wouldn’t even consider it. I told
her
in no uncertain terms that I wouldn’t ever expect her to. And then she hung up on me.”

“Oh dear.”

Annie didn’t know what else to say. Mary Beth asked so little of anyone. Would it have killed her sister to at least be nice to her?

“I just always thought I was an embarrassment to her, you know? Not stylish enough. Too middle class.” There was a little catch in Mary Beth’s voice. “I guess I’ve always known it was about Amy too.”

“You know, it’s not your fault if Melanie doesn’t make time for her own child.”

Mary Beth sniffed. “I suppose not.”

She was quiet for a long time, and then she looked over at Annie.

“But if you want to know the ugly truth, I guess I’ve always liked knowing there’s something special between Amy and me. I didn’t plan on spending my life alone.”

If she hadn’t been driving, Annie would have reached over and hugged her. “You know you’re not alone, Mary Beth. What would Stony Point be without you? I thought Peggy was going to start crying right there at the club meeting when you told us you might lose the shop. You don’t think she was that upset just because she was afraid she wouldn’t have someplace close to shop for quilting supplies, do you?”