The Schuyler House

by Cade Haddock Strong

  Mark Freemont was a guy Ellen had dated all through high school, and his family has a cabin on Saranac Lake. Ellen probably spent half her summers up at the place. Gosh, I’d even spent a few weekends at their cabin myself when we were in high school. It was fairly isolated, but we always had so much fun waterskiing, sailing, hiking, and building big bonfires at night. “Yeah, I remember that place.”

  “Well, as far as I could remember, the Freemonts’ place was never winterized so I felt pretty certain no one would be there in December, especially not over Christmas. They really only ever used the place in the summer and occasionally during hunting season. Given the snow on the roads, it took me forever to get there, and even with my navigation system, I was pretty amazed that I even found it.

  “The door was locked but they still hide the key in the same place so I let myself in. I stayed at the cabin for almost two weeks, and at first I was sure that someone would see the smoke coming from the chimney and call the police or something, but I finally realized that I was just being overly paranoid. There were a few cans of soup and Hormel chili in the kitchen so I lived off that for a few days before I got up the nerve to drive into town and buy groceries.”

  She goes on to explain that the cabin has satellite TV so she was able to follow the little news there was about Schuyler House. “I remember being so confused when the newscasters first reported that two bodies were found. I was so certain that all three of you had died, and it wasn’t until they identified Sarah and Kat that I began to wonder if maybe you’d gotten away somehow. The cabin doesn’t have a phone and I didn’t have a computer, so I started to go stir-crazy. Plus, I was anxious to figure out what had happened to you. I finally made up my mind to try to get to New York.

  “I drove the Tahoe to Albany and parked it at a Dunkin’ Donuts about a mile away from the Albany train station. I didn’t have much in the way of belongings and I wanted to conserve the limited amount of cash I had on me, so I just walked the mile to the train station. I bought a ticket on the next Amtrak train to Penn Station, and once I got to New York, I literally just showed up on Andy and Sandy’s doorstep. They were a little surprised to see me, to put it mildly!”

  We both laugh before she continues. “After I was in New York for a week or so, I decided to visit the bank safe deposit box. That’s when I saw my note and called you.”

  “God, I’m so glad you found it! I don’t know how we would have found each other otherwise.”

  “It was so smart of you to leave it there for me sweetie!” She reaches over and squeezes my hand affectionately.

  After a few minutes of silence, I turn to Ellen. “What about your house in Stowe?”

  “My brother Ethan has been keeping an eye on the place, and he gets up there most weekends when he has the kids. Plus I told Andy and Sandy they could use it anytime they wanted,” she replies as she stands up to stretch.

  Stowe is an absolutely adorable town in Vermont that is home to one of the state’s largest ski and golf resorts. Ellen had been living in her brother’s ski house in Stowe ever since she moved back to Vermont after her divorce. Ethan got some crazy interest-only, no-money-down mortgage and bought the ski house just before the housing market imploded in 2008. In reality, he couldn’t really afford the house and unsurprisingly was on the verge of losing it when Ellen moved back to Vermont. She needed a place to live and was flush with cash so she paid off the mortgage. In exchange, her brother let her live there although he technically still owned the house.

  * * *

  It’s late by the time we finish sharing our stories, and we’re both starting to yawn with some frequency. Ellen helps me make up the pull-out couch in her living room and wishes me a good night. I change into sweats and a T-shirt, brush my teeth and fall into bed. I’m out cold three seconds after my head hits the pillow and I sleep hard until almost nine o’clock the next morning.

  I feel extremely groggy, but I climb out of bed and wander into Ellen’s small galley kitchen in search of some strong coffee. She has one of those fancy Nespresso coffee machines, and it takes me awhile to figure out how to turn it on. I smile triumphantly when it finally starts to gurgle and secrete rich-looking coffee.

  Ellen emerges from her room just as I am taking my first sip of coffee. Her normally perfectly coifed black hair looks like a hornets’ nest.

  “Morning! Looks like you combed your hair with an egg beater,” I say with a laugh. She gives me a blank look. “My mom used to always say that about my hair when I emerged for breakfast before I got ready for school.”

  She gives me a crooked grin. “Believe it or not, I slept like a rock!”

  “Yeah, I did too! It was seriously therapeutic to talk through all the Schuyler House stuff with you last night.”

  “Yeah, God, I couldn’t agree more. I’m so damn glad that you are here.” She gives me a quick hug and then reaches for a coffee mug. After Ellen makes her coffee, she walks over and opens her front door and grabs something off the door handle. “Ta-da! The New York Times,” she says as she holds up the paper.

  We both sit at the kitchen counter and slowly sip our coffee while we scan the paper until my growling stomach rudely interrupts us.

  Ellen looks up. “Guess we should go grab something to eat, huh?”

  I nod in agreement, and we each throw on some clothes and go in search of food.

  “There’s an old-school diner down the street,” Ellen suggests.

  “I think that’s just what the doctor ordered!”

  We totally gorge ourselves on eggs, sausage, and hash browns and then wander over toward Central Park. We stroll around the reservoir before heading back to Ellen’s apartment to take a little nap.

  That evening, we go out to dinner, and I catch the train back to DC the next morning.

  Chapter Twenty

  The morning after my return to DC is gray and rainy, but Alex and I made plans to run, so I drag myself out of bed. I slip a rain jacket on over my running clothes and head out the door. Alex is waiting for me when I reach our usual meeting spot.

  “So, how was your trip to New York?” she asks as soon as I’m within earshot.

  I pause. “Extremely therapeutic!” I say finally, which is true; the trip was incredibly therapeutic in its own way.

  Alex finishes her stretching and stands up. “Ready?”

  I can’t help but notice that she looks exhausted. Once we get underway, I ask her if everything is all right. She lets out an audible sigh and reluctantly admits that she’s totally overwhelmed trying to keep on top of the finances for Hemlock, her landscaping company.

  “I hate to admit it, but Robert mostly dealt with the financial side of things at Hemlock. I always vowed to get more involved with them, but we just never found the time…”

  Without really thinking, I blurt, “I could help.” Honestly, I would love to help her out, and it would give me something productive to do. I miss working with numbers.

  She looks over at me with surprise. “Really? I mean, if you’re serious, then that would be really awesome. Of course we have an accountant, but he mostly just deals with our taxes and the bigger stuff. Robert got us using this company called PayChex and they handle our basic payroll, so I’m good there. It’s the day-to-day invoices and budgeting that has me overwhelmed…Are you sure you have the time?”

  “Sure, I have some time, and yes, I’m serious. I’d be happy to help.”

  When we had beers at Kramer’s, I’d mentioned that I was an accountant but that I was taking a sabbatical to write. I mumble something about having a bad case of writer’s block and needing a diversion. I hope this sort of explains why I have some free time on my hands.

  We’re both eager to get out of the miserable weather when we finish our run; we quickly say our good-byes and agree to meet at her office the following Monday so I can peek at the Hemlock financials.

  * * *

  When Monday rolls around, I grab a late lunch and wander over to meet Alex at her office
. Hemlock is located in the second story of an old stone building on Seventeenth Street in the DuPont Circle neighborhood. I skip the elevator and take the steps to the second floor, enter through a frosted-glass door that has Hemlock Landscaping stenciled on the front and smile at the woman sitting at the reception desk.

  She looks up from her computer when I walk in. “Hello. May I help you?” she asks with a smile.

  “Hi, yeah. I’m here to meet Alex Holland. My name is Mattie,” I say as I look around the small but open office that’s buzzing with activity. The place has an industrial feel with exposed brick, exposed ductwork, and big warehouse-like windows. Everyone is very casually dressed. A few people are working at standing drafting tables, but most are sitting in front of large iMac computer screens.

  “Sure, let me give her a call.”

  Moments later, Alex pops her head out of a nearby doorway, smiles broadly in my direction and motions for me to come on back to her office. As always, just the sight of her is enough to send my stomach flip-flopping. She gives me a quick hug hello when I reach her office and leads me over to a small table near the window that is piled high with papers. “These piles are my current accounting system! I hope you know what you are getting yourself into.” She laughs.

  There’s a wooden chair in front of the table, and Alex gestures for me to sit while she drags her desk chair over so that she can sit next to me. She tries to explain the method by which the piles on the table are “organized.” Then she grabs a laptop off a nearby bookshelf, pops it open and shows me some of the reports that Robert created to keep track of invoices and expenses. Some of the reports are simple spreadsheets in Excel and others are in QuickBooks.

  After she’s done going over the current state of things, I look up at her with what I hope is an encouraging smile. “All right, I think I got it. Let me take a little time to weed through some of this and see what I can do to help.”

  She gives me a look of relief. “Have at it! I will be in the other room looking over some plans that a designer’s putting together for a house in Woodley Park, but feel free to interrupt if you have any questions or need anything, okay?”

  I nod and turn back toward the desk to get to work. First, I scan the various reports that Robert created and then try to weed through and organize the pile of papers on the desk. My initial assessment is that Robert did seem to have a decent, albeit very basic, system in place to track income and expenses. However, very few of the reports have been updated since he died. As a result, Alex probably doesn’t have a very good handle on where the business stands financially. I figure that I should start back around the time he died and try to get everything updated in QuickBooks and Excel. Then I can start to try and analyze the figures.

  I spend a few hours at it and I am deep into one of Robert’s Excel spreadsheets when Alex comes back into the office to check on me. “So, it’s a mess, huh?”

  “I wouldn’t say it’s a mess. Things just need to be updated and analyzed so that we can get a good picture of your financial health,” I respond.

  “So you think you can do all that? I’ll pay you whatever you want!” Alex almost begs.

  I give her a crooked smile. “Sure, I can do all that. Like I said yesterday, I’ve got writer’s block so I would welcome some part-time accounting work. I don’t think it’ll be too hard to get everything cleaned up and organized. What do you say I spend some time getting everything in order and then we can decide where to go from there?”

  “Sounds like a plan! Thank you so much, Mattie. I’ll have Renee, the receptionist, set up a desk and computer for you. That way you can have your own space to work.”

  “Okay, thanks, Alex.”

  “You’re more than welcome to transfer Robert’s files from the laptop to the desktop. I’m sure it will be much easier to work with all those numbers on a big desktop screen.”

  “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

  I stand up and collect my coat and bag. Alex walks me back up to the front of the office and gives me a hug good-bye. As I walk home from Hemlock, I admit I’m actually excited to conquer the Hemlock finances. Of course, it also means that I get to spend more time with Alex, which is a major bonus, but I’m starting to get a little lonely. It will be nice to have something more to keep me occupied.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I’m able to get a handle on the Hemlock finances fairly quickly. Luckily, the numbers tell a decent story: The company is on very strong footing financially. Business has been very good, and on top of that, Alex told me they’re usually able to get away with charging a bit of a premium because they’ve built such a strong reputation. I stretch back in my chair and hear Alex finish up a phone call in her office. I check the clock on my computer and it’s almost six o’clock, so I get up and poke my head into her office.

  “Knock, knock. Feel like grabbing dinner somewhere?”

  She looks up at me with a weary smile. “Sure! I’m definitely ready to call it a day, and I could seriously use a beer.”

  We end up at a cozy restaurant called Coppi’s on U Street that has great wood-fired pizza and a couple decent beers on tap. We nibble on pizza and talk a little about our families. Alex tells me that she grew up in Denver, has three younger sisters and everyone in her family is an avid skier. She reluctantly admits that her real name is Alaska.

  “Apparently, that’s where I was conceived and my parents thought the name was cute,” she says with a laugh. “But growing up, most kids thought it was weird, and I’ve gone by Alex for as long as I can remember.”

  “Well, at least your parents didn’t give you an old lady name like Matilda,” I reply.

  “Is that your real name?” Alex tries to suppress a giggle.

  “Unfortunately! But don’t even think about calling me that. I may never speak to you again,” I say kiddingly.

  “Ditto with Alaska!”

  “Is most of your family still in the Denver area?” I ask as I grab the last piece of pizza.

  “Yeah, everyone is still there, except me, of course. But I see them all as much as I can. My sister Walker is the youngest, but even though we’re the furthest apart in age, she and I are especially close. I talk to her a few times a week. She’s a nurse in Denver, and she spends every free moment skiing and hiking with her boyfriend and their three dogs.” She pauses and looks up at me. “So what is your story? Where did you grow up?”

  I pause before answering. I want to tell her as much of the truth as I can. “I grew up in Vermont, but I don’t have any immediate family there anymore, both my parents are dead. They were a lot older when I was born. Anyway, my dad had his own accounting business, which—not surprisingly—is how I got interested in the profession, but he was practically retired by the time I got to high school. My mom was an artist. She dabbled in sculpture and painting, but her true passion was pottery. She made some really beautiful things.”

  “Do you have any siblings?”

  “Ah, yes…” I let out a big sigh and tell her about my not-so-beloved sister Abby while I play with the leftover pizza crusts on my plate.

  “That’s really a shame,” Alex says when I tell her that Abby has basically cut off all ties with me. “Some people can be so small-minded, it just kills me. In my opinion, life is just too short to simply cut people out of your life without truly trying to understand them.”

  I nod. “Yeah, I agree. It makes me really sad sometimes. I guess maybe I should try harder to reach out to her, and who knows? Maybe she’ll come around someday. I’m jealous that you have such a close relationship with your sisters.”

  After dinner, we walk down Sixteenth Street, a beautiful, tree-lined thoroughfare that runs straight from the White House to the Maryland border, until we reach Q Street. Given the location of our respective homes, it makes sense for us to part ways at Sixteenth and Q.

  Alex stops walking and turns to me. “Well, I guess this is where we go our separate ways. Goodnight, Mattie, I had a really nice evening.” She
reaches over to give me a friendly hug good-bye.

  My body trembles slightly at being in such close proximity to her. “Goodnight, Alex. Yeah, me too, I really enjoyed hearing about your family.”

  As I walk home, I smile as I think back to our evening together. Alex’s so easy to be with, and she’s incredibly beautiful. I readily acknowledge that I am most definitely developing a serious crush on her. God, I just feel so drawn to Alex whenever I’m near her. But I know there are countless reasons why a relationship with Alex is so not happening. I need to accept that. The sooner I do, the better. Under no circumstances can I let her know how I feel. Easier said than done, I think to myself.

  * * *

  By the end of the week, I’m ready to walk Alex through all the Hemlock finances. Everything is updated, and I developed some good spreadsheets to make it easier to track accounts, invoices, and expenses. Alex and I set up a block of time to meet on Friday afternoon. We sit down in her office, and I start to show her what I’ve done so far. She seems impressed and can’t believe what I have accomplished in such a short time.

  “You are a complete and utter Excel wizard!” she declares.

  “Well, thanks. The spreadsheets should make things easier, but honestly, I think Hemlock needs to invest in some sort of accounting software. It would make it much easier to really dig into the numbers and identify areas of opportunity and strength, and also to pinpoint areas of weakness. I know you do what you do because you love it, but I can help you maximize your profit.”