“Not at all. This is about me, not you.”
They walked to her studio together. “You been busy this weekend,” Maddie said when she saw Ellie’s paintings on easels at the far end of the room.
“I haven’t painted in a while. It feels good to get back to work.” Ellie motioned at the pine table in the corner. “Shall we?”
They sat down opposite each other. Maddie set her eyes on Ashton’s journals in the center of the table. “Are those your mama’s diaries?”
Ellie’s eyebrows shot up. “You’ve seen these before?”
“Yes’m. Your mama was always writing in her diaries.” Maddie ran her hand over the smooth worn leather. “Where’d you find them?”
“I found one on the top shelf over there.” Ellie inclined her head at the bookcase. “And the other in her room.”
Maddie’s cloudy eyes peered at Ellie from beneath her brow. “Where in her room? I cleaned all her things out of there myself.”
“Beneath a loose floorboard on the far side of the bed. My mother referred to the hiding place in her first journal, which is how I knew to look there. I thought maybe she was leading me on some kind of scavenger hunt, but there weren’t any clues in her second journal. At least none that jumped out at me.”
Maddie read the last page in each journal before sliding them back to the center of the table.
“I thought maybe you might know if any more journals exist,” Ellie said.
Maddie drummed her fingers on the table as she thought about it. “No’m. I don’t believe so if they ain’t on the shelves. I know where most everything is in this house.”
Ellie inhaled a deep breath. “I don’t remember much from the time I spent here as a child. I have vague recollections of Sally Bell and Abraham and my mother. My memories of you are clearer. You were kind to me, and I want you to know I appreciate all the little things you did for me to make my life more tolerable. My memories of my grandmother are not exactly warm and fuzzy.”
Her housekeeper nodded. “The Gullah call a mean old woman like Missus Pringle a ‘debble ooman’—a devil woman.” She cast a quick glance at the doorway as though she expected to find her old mistress standing there. “I don’t mean no disrespect to the dead.”
Maddie rarely said a negative word about her grandmother. She was loyal to the bone. “I’m sure my grandmother knew how devoted you were to her. Nonetheless, we’ll both be relieved when her spirit vacates the premises.” Ellie shook her head to clear her mind of ghosts and Gullah voodoo. “Anyway, as I was saying, I remember very little about my mother. How long was she sick?”
“Off and on from the time you were born,” Maddie said as she took a sip of her tea.
“One of the few things my father told me about her is that she had an underlying heart condition that presented itself during her pregnancy. Do you know the details of that heart condition?”
Ellie remembered her father saying that when her grandmother notified him of Ashton’s death, he had been too overwhelmed at the sudden appearance of his six-year-old daughter to ask Eleanor too many questions. Several months later, when he realized Ellie could be at risk for a genetic heart condition, he’d insisted she undergo an extensive battery of tests to rule out the possibility.
“No’m, your gramma never said.” Maddie’s eyes shifted about the room, bouncing off the walls and the ceiling but landing nowhere.
“What are you not saying, Maddie? Was there more to my mother’s illness than her heart condition?”
Maddie sighed. “Her heart was weak, so weak it finally killed her, but she also suffered from bad depression. Your mama gave up a lot to keep you.”
“I wondered about that.” Ellie tapped the journals in front of her. “I got the impression from her diary that she’d originally planned to put me up for adoption so she could return to her modeling career.”
“That’s right, but she loved you too much to let you go.” Maddie stared down into her tea, unable to meet her gaze.
Ellie reached for Maddie’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I know this is difficult for you to talk about with me. If it makes it any easier, pretend you’re talking about someone else, that the baby wasn’t me.”
Maddie nodded, but she didn’t look up.
“If my mother was so miserable, why didn’t she leave?”
“She had nowhere to go. She couldn’t very well go back to New York, to that modeling career of hers, with a bum ticker and a baby on her breast.” Maddie sniffled, and Ellie realized she was crying. “Your gramma didn’t approve of Miss Ashton keeping the baby. I still remember the hollering that went on in this house. Your gramma refused to let y’all leave. She kept you locked up here like prisoners. It was the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Ellie’s green eyes widened as alarm bells once again began ringing in her head. “That sounds like some kind of sick and twisted horror movie. What did her friends think and those of you who worked here?”
Maddie blew her nose into the tissue with a snort. “Her friends didn’t know. Missus Pringle stopped having visitors to the house ’bout the time Miss Ashton come home from New York. As for the rest of us, we thought it was sinful the way she treated you. But we couldn’t do nuthin about it. We were just the staff. Abraham died, and Sally Bell left when you were a wee little girl. I’m surprised you remember them at all.”
Ellie got up and crossed the room to her easels. “This explains why I don’t have any memories of skipping rope on the sidewalk in front of the house or playing in the park across the street.” She ran her fingertips across her watercolor. “I remember spending a lot of time hidden at the base of this tree, in my own imaginary world.”
“You camped out under that tree from the time you woke up in the morning till the time you went to bed at night. Most days, you and I ate picnic lunches under that tree.” She chuckled. “That was back in my younger days, when my bones weren’t too stiff to climb under them big branches. I felt so sorry for you. You was such a lonely little thing.”
Ellie returned to the table and sat back down. “The day I arrived here, I had a flashback of a little girl with dark curly hair and dark eyes.”
Maddie froze, a tissue pressed to her nose.
“I thought maybe she was one of my playmates, but it doesn’t sound like my grandmother allowed me to have any friends.”
More tears pooled in her eyes and slid down her cheeks. “No’m, you didn’t have any real friends, only imaginary ones. And Bella, that raggedy doll baby of yours.”
“I remember Bella,” she said with a smile. “I’m surprised my grandmother allowed me to play outside. Wasn’t she afraid the neighbors would see me?”
“Your gramma let the bushes grow so no one could see inside the backyard. You were better off out there anyway. You were underfoot in the house, with your mama on her sickbed.”
“Did my mother ever talk about my father to you, Maddie?”
She glanced at her watch and squirmed in her chair. “I need to get to work, Miss Ellie, so I can get home before the storm. All you need to know is that your mama never regretted her decision to keep you. She loved you with her whole heart, no matter how weak it was.”
“Just one last question.” Ellie propped her elbows on the table and laced her fingers together. “I’ve spent a lot of time and money in an effort to remember my past. My therapist is convinced a traumatic event happened to me here that made me block out those memories. Do you have any idea what that might have been?”
A flash of anger crossed Maddie’s face. “What good’s gonna come from drudging up the past?”
Ellie forced her voice to remain calm. “A lot of good, actually. How can I face my future until I’ve dealt with my past?”
Bracing herself against the table, Maddie slowly rose to her feet. “You need to somehow find a way. Trust me when I tell you, you’re better off not remembering those years.”
Ellie jumped up, nearly knocking her chair over. “So you admit something ba
d happened to me here?”
“I ain’t saying nothing more. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get on with my day.” The speed with which the old housekeeper exited her studio left little doubt in Ellie’s mind that Maddie knew more than she was willing to say.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ellie
The loud clanging of the door knocker startled Ellie a few minutes past five. Maddie had long since left, and she’d been in her studio for most of the afternoon organizing her art supplies. Who could that be? she wondered. Surely everyone crazy enough to ride out the storm in Charleston is hunkered down in their homes.
The tiny blonde at her door reminded Ellie of the captain of their cheerleading squad in high school. She was attractive and fit. Ellie guessed her to be in her late forties or early fifties.
“I come bearing gifts.” The woman held up two paper shopping bags bearing a logo Ellie didn’t recognize. “I’m Midge Calhoun, Bennett’s wife and daughter-in-law.” The woman wrinkled her pert nose. “Wait, that didn’t sound right. I’m Bennett Senior’s daughter-in-law and Bennett Junior’s wife. My life would’ve been so much easier if Lucille and Bennett Senior had chosen a different name for their third born. Or at least called him Ben. His middle name is Sebastian, so I could see why they wouldn’t call him that. I’m rambling. I do that when I’m nervous.”
“That’s funny. I have the opposite problem. I clam up when I meet someone new.” Ellie stepped out of her way. “Please come in.”
Midge hesitated at the sight of the little dog sniffing at her pink-painted toenails on display in a pair of high-heeled sandals. “I’m not much on dogs.”
“Don’t worry. She won’t bite.”
“If you say so.” Midge stepped over the sandbags Bennett’s oldest son had dropped off earlier and teetered right on down the hall in her three-inch heels like she’d visited the house dozens of times before. She paused at the end of the hallway, looking left and right, unsure of which way to go.
“To the right, through the dining room,” Ellie called and followed Midge to the kitchen.
“My friend Georgia works at Tasty Provisions, this incredible gourmet market several blocks up on East Bay that opened last spring. The owner, Heidi Butler, is Charleston’s caterer du jour. When I stopped by there earlier to pick up a few things for Lucille, they were clearing out their coolers in preparation of the storm. I told her I was going to drop a casserole by your house to welcome you to town. I know it’s odd timing with the storm and all, but I thought since I was already there and you were staying alone in this house . . . Anyway, she sent over some goodies. Georgia, not Heidi, although Heidi would’ve wanted you to have them, too, if she’d been there. I’m not sure where Heidi was, come to think of it. Getting her house ready for the storm, I guess. I’m sorry, I’m babbling again.”
Ellie watched while Midge unloaded the disposable containers of food into the refrigerator.
“Georgia sent some of my favorites,” Midge said, inspecting the labels on the containers. “Her shrimp and grits are to die for. Her pâté’s not bad, either, if you like pâté. It’s an acquired taste if you ask me.” She closed the refrigerator door and leaned back against it. Her sparkling blue eyes grew huge as they traveled the length of Ellie’s body. “Wow. You’re really tall.”
Ellie laughed out loud. She’d never met anyone quite like this woman. So this is what they mean by a flibbertigibbet, she thought.
Midge’s hand shot up, palm facing out. “I know. Don’t say it. I’m really short. And no, my name has nothing to do with my height. My parents meant for me to be called Madge, short for Mary Margaret, but my baby brother had trouble pronouncing Madge, so he called me Midge.”
Ellie smiled, unsure of how to respond. She never would have made the correlation between her name and her height if Midge hadn’t mentioned it.
Midge glanced at the clock on the ancient wall oven. “Good Lord! It’s almost five thirty. I told Bennett I’d meet him at his parents’ house two hours ago. Won’t you come with me? Bennett Senior said he invited you to stay at their house. Trust me, they have plenty of room. And I’d love to have an ally. Calhoun family gatherings get old really quick. I already know how the evening will play out. The men will retreat to Senior’s study to smoke cigars, drink beer, and watch sports on TV. Tonight is Monday, so they’ll be watching football, at least until the power goes out. My sisters-in-law are only capable of being nice for one glass of wine. After that, they’ll start picking on me and then on each other. As for their children . . . well, them apples didn’t fall far from them trees, if you know what I mean. By the end of the night, the whole family will be squabbling, except the men, who will still be watching sports, and Lucille, who will be sequestered in her bedroom. Oh well.” She raised her arms and let them fall, her hands slapping her thighs. “There’s always plenty to eat and drink, at least. Are you sure you won’t come with me?”
Ellie had to work hard to keep a straight face. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m fine here, Midge. Really I am.”
Midge produced a business card from the small shoulder bag she wore across her body. “Call me if you change your mind. I’ll send my Bennett over to pick you up.”
Ellie skimmed the card. “I see you’re a realtor.”
“Yep. Bennett and I own a small boutique firm. We handle both commercial and residential properties, if you ever find yourself in need of either.”
“That’s good to know,” Ellie said, pocketing the card. “I’m actually thinking of selling this house. It’s too much for me.”
“We would certainly be interested in talking to you.” Midge looked around as she wandered back through the dining room to the center hallway. “I’ll be honest with you, though. You’ll have to spruce it up before you can put it on the market. Houses on the Battery typically sell like hot potatoes, but no one will make an offer on this one in its current condition. This place is seriously gloomy.”
“Well, yeah! Because the storm shutters are closed,” Ellie said, surprised at her defensive tone. Was she growing attached to this creepy old mansion?
“Honey, no amount of daylight will make these furnishings look any better.” She dragged her fingers across the top of the ornate oak sideboard. “I bet this piece was used as an altar in the first Church of England.”
Once again, Ellie burst out laughing. She appreciated this woman’s honesty and unique sense of humor. “You could very well be right about that. I agree that none of my grandmother’s things are very attractive, but surely some of these pieces are valuable.”
“How much value does an object have when it doesn’t bring you pleasure?” Midge said over her shoulder as she moved down the hall toward the door.
“You make a valid point.”
When she reached the door, Midge turned to face Ellie. “Let’s get through the hurricane first, and then I’d be happy to help you either as a realtor or as a friend.”
“I’d like that.” This tiny woman with her spunky personality brought a smile to Ellie’s face. She held the door open for Midge. “And thank you for bringing over the food. Stay safe.”
She stood in the doorway watching Midge make her way down the sidewalk. She stumbled when a big gust of wind nearly blew her off her high heels, but she quickly righted herself.
Ellie shook her head. She thought her new friend seemed nice, but maybe she should consider drinking a little less caffeine.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ellie
The sky was heavy with moisture-laden clouds, but it had not yet begun to rain. Ellie looked down at her dog. “What say we stretch our legs before the storm sets in?” Pixie wagged her tail in response. “Let me get my raincoat, and we’ll go to the park.”
Ellie dashed up the stairs. She smoothed her hair back into a ponytail, pulled a Nike baseball cap over her strawberry-blonde head, and slipped her raincoat on over her cotton sweater and jeans. She grabbed Pixie’s leash from her studio, and they ran across the street to the park.
With her head tucked against the wind, they race-walked the length of the park twice. When Pixie begged for more, they made a third trip up and down the dirt path. They were starting back toward home when Ellie spotted a golden retriever bounding toward them and its owner jogging along beside him. As they drew near, she recognized the dog’s owner as Julian Hagood, the man she’d met at the gallery opening three nights ago.
“This place is deserted,” Ellie shouted over the wind as they approached. “I was beginning to think I was the only one left in town.”
He stopped jogging and bent over, hands on knees, to catch his breath. “There are plenty of people still in town—smart people hunkered down in their homes awaiting the storm. You and I are the only ones crazy enough to be out in this weather.”
The dogs performed a waltz as they greeted each other. When Julian gave her cheek a peck, she caught a whiff of his manly scent—an expensive cologne she couldn’t identify mixed with a hint of sweat—that made her want to bury her face in his neck.
Whoa, Ellie! Remember, you’ve sworn off men, warned her voice of reason.
No harm in an innocent flirtation! responded the voice that controlled the nether regions of her body.
“I was just thinking about you.” He pointed across the street at her house. “I saw the tarp on your roof and was wondering if you decided to stay.”
“For better or worse, here I am,” she said, her arms akimbo. “I’m all set for Armageddon. I have sandbags at my doors and the hurricane shutters are closed tight. I must say, though, not being able to see out of the windows is unsettling.”
“I know what you mean,” he said with a nod. “But they serve a purpose. You’ll be glad you have them when the wind reaches a hundred miles an hour and trees begin to fall.”
His intense gaze made her squirm, and she looked away.
He leaned over and rubbed Pixie’s ears. “What’s your dog’s name?”
“Pixie,” Ellie answered. “And yours? I’ve never seen a golden retriever with such a white coat.”
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