by Karen White
Jayne emerged from the children’s bathroom with JJ swaddled in a baby towel and his head covered by a hood with panda bear ears. It was cute and made of organic and self-sustaining cotton—a gift from Sophie—but it didn’t match the one I’d used for Sarah. I closed my eyes again and took a big sniff of Sarah’s damp, dark hair.
I didn’t need to be in the office until one o’clock, so I’d offered to help Jayne with the twins’ bath time. I had it on the children’s spreadsheet to be done at night before bedtime, but JJ had upended his bowl of oatmeal over his head at breakfast. It was just easier to keep them both on the same schedule whether Sarah also needed a bath or not.
I’d wanted an opportunity to speak with Jayne about going back to the Pinckney house. I was meeting Jack’s mother, Amelia, there at ten o’clock to look at some of the decorative items and furnishings to determine value. Whether Jayne sold the house or not, she’d have to make a choice about what to do with everything inside it. Neither Sophie nor I was willing to make those decisions for her.
“Jayne,” I started at the same time she said, “Melanie . . .”
“You first,” I said, happy to wait a little longer.
She sat down on the other glider with JJ on her lap and began drying him gently with the towel. His eyes closed halfway as she rubbed his scalp and dried behind his ears, JJ looking remarkably like Jack when I massaged his shoulders after a long day of writing.
“It’s not like I’m going to go or anything, but I just wanted to let you know so that if she asks why I’m not there, you’ll know what to say.”
I stared at her, blinking, trying to unravel her words to make sense of them, but couldn’t. “Excuse me?”
She moved down to JJ’s toes, making him arch his back and squeal with delight. Sarah frowned at him. “Sorry. When I’m nervous or uncomfortable, I tend to babble and not make sense.”
“Yeah, I noticed.”
She glanced up at me with a small flush in her cheeks. “You’re talking about Detective Riley, aren’t you? We’re supposed to have dinner on Friday night, but I’m thinking about canceling. I mean, I’d probably choke on my own tongue.”
“He’s a police detective,” I pointed out. “I bet he knows the Heimlich maneuver.”
She grimaced. “Point taken. We were supposed to go to dinner after reviewing the inventory of the house after what we thought was the break-in, but I couldn’t stand the thought of going back inside, so I gave it to Sophie to check and then canceled dinner. But then he called and asked again, so I’m stuck.”
“And you wanted me to tell you what I think?”
“Oh, no,” she said, standing to take JJ to his changing table and expertly fastening a disposable diaper onto him. “I mean, I’d love your opinion if you’d like to give it, but that’s not what I was trying to say. It’s about that party.” She wrinkled her nose. “I got an invitation, too.”
I opened my eyes wide, her words suddenly sinking in. “The book launch? They invited you?”
“I know—weird, right? But don’t worry—I won’t go. You need me to stay here with the children anyway.”
I carried Sarah over to her changing table and pulled out a clean diaper, weighing my words. I had a good idea of why Rebecca had invited Jayne, but I would never say it out loud. “I do agree it’s odd, but please don’t decline unless you really don’t want to go. I’m sure I could get Jack’s parents or my parents or even Nola to babysit.”
“The invitation was addressed to me and a guest. I could ask Detective Riley. Assuming I went.”
I snapped the white onesie with more concentration than it required. “Really, Jayne, if you want to go, then go. And I’m sure Thomas would love to be your guest.” I bit my lower lip hard enough to make it bleed. My cousin was a meddler, loving to create drama and to irritate me. Or maybe that was just her personality and she couldn’t help it.
“Well, if you’re sure. I don’t have many chances to dress up, so it could be fun. But only if you can find a sitter. If you can’t, just tell me and I’ll stay home with the twins.” She hoisted a fully dressed JJ on her hip and he smiled at her. She looked at me while I was fumbling on my third attempt to snap the one hundred or so buttons on the front of Sarah’s one-piece outfit, just realizing now that I was nearing the end that I’d missed the third button and would need to start all over. Or leave it as it was and let people think she’d dressed herself.
“Why don’t we trade?” Jayne suggested.
I nodded with resignation and reached out for JJ, then switched places with Jayne. “We’d better let the expert handle this, I guess.”
“No,” said Jayne. “I’m not the expert. I’m the nanny and you’re the mother. I wouldn’t call either one of us an expert, but that’s not what we’re going for, is it?”
“I guess not,” I said with an unforced smile.
Jayne focused on refastening Sarah’s outfit while I watched her. I knew from Thomas’s background check that she was about ten years younger than I was, yet she seemed so much older. Or more mature, I thought. She was a great nanny, terrific with the children and dogs, Nola, and just about anybody we put in her path. Except maybe Thomas, but he didn’t count. She was kind, and funny, and—remembering her set-down of Rebecca at the lingerie shop—very astute and not the kind of person to be walked over. I liked her, I supposed. Really liked her, although it was hard to admit even to myself. I wondered if my own insecurities would ever stop interfering with my relationships.
“It’s your turn,” she said, lifting a fully dressed Sarah. I glanced over at the little hairbrush and untouched bows on the dresser, torn between putting them in myself and waiting for Jayne to do it. Sarah hated them, but I kept telling Jack that it was just a matter of Sarah getting used to them. He’d said that the more I pushed, the more she’d resist, having inherited a certain amount of stubbornness from her mother. I hadn’t spoken to him for the rest of the day, not because I thought he was completely off base, but because I was afraid he was right.
I sat down again, bouncing JJ on my knee and enjoying listening to him chortle. “I’m meeting Jack’s mother, Amelia, at the Pinckney house later this morning. She owns an antiques store on King Street and knows quite a bit about old furniture and decorative accessories. I suggested she come look and see what’s there, to give you a general idea of value. To maybe even help you decide what you might want to keep, or even auction separately. You’ll get more that way than if you sell the contents with the house.”
“You don’t need me for that, do you?” Her eyes were round and wary and oddly familiar to me.
“No, I suppose not. Although it would make things go faster if you could tell her right off the bat what you don’t want to keep. Like that hideous rose china set in the butler’s pantry.”
“How did you know I hated that?”
“Didn’t you say so?” I shrugged. “Maybe it’s just because I thought it was ugly that I couldn’t imagine you not agreeing.” I looked at her for a moment. “And there’s another thing, too. Sophie thinks you should come look at the attic. Apparently, it was the bedroom for the little girl who died—Button’s niece. According to Sophie, it’s rather . . . extraordinary. She doesn’t think she should be the one to determine what to do with it.”
“Have you seen it?”
I shook my head, remembering the screaming doll and the slamming door. “I was in a rush last time I was there and didn’t have the chance. But I thought today would be a good time for us to head over there. Jack’s home and said he’d be happy to watch the children. I think he’s procrastinating—I think that’s what writers do with most of their time anyway, so it’s not like we’ll be taking him away from his work.”
She smoothed Sarah’s hair behind her ears, the bows apparently forgotten. I closed my eyes and sniffed JJ’s head until the irritation passed.
“How long do you thi
nk it would take?” she asked.
“I wouldn’t think more than an hour. I’ll treat you to a pastry from Ruth’s Bakery afterward as a reward.”
She worried her lower lip between her teeth. “I do love her bacon and chocolate cupcakes.”
I swallowed at the thought, embarrassed to find myself salivating. It had been too long since I’d had anything that resembled sugar. “I haven’t tried those yet. I’ll split one with you.”
She frowned.
“Or we could each get our own,” I added hastily.
An almost imperceptible shudder went through her. “Okay—you win. I can stand anything for an hour, right?”
I pretended to be busy nibbling on JJ’s neck so I wouldn’t have to answer, remembering my last visit to the house with Sophie when fifteen minutes had seemed more like an eternity.
Amelia’s Jaguar was parked in the driveway when we arrived. Standing at the bottom of the outside steps, I’d thought for a minute that I’d have to hold Jayne’s hand and drag her with me. I hadn’t seen the cat, nor did I feel any presence, sinister or otherwise. So far so good. Maybe whatever it had been was still too exhausted from terrifying us the last time. Jayne took a deep breath and followed me inside.
Scaffolding had been constructed in the downstairs rooms, where most of the water damage and crumbling moldings had been, and a few of Sophie’s students and hired conservation experts were busy with the laborious job of removing most of the damaged cornices and medallions bit by bit. As Sophie had explained it, they had been removed so they could be restored and the missing pieces reconstructed while the roof and ceilings were being repaired. I refrained from mentioning to Sophie that a huge sander would do the job in a fraction of the time and that there wasn’t really anything wrong with a smooth ceiling. I suppose I treasured our friendship too much.
“Melanie, is that you?” Amelia called from the dining room.
Jayne and I found her next to the large breakfront between the windows. There was even more of the hideous rose china in there, along with more crystal than I’d seen in one place outside Vieuxtemps on King Street. There were also, I was disappointed to see, even more of those salt-and-pepper sets, giving the intricately carved antique breakfront an almost clownish appearance. If it could express itself, I was sure it would have cried at the injustice.
“Hello, Amelia,” I said, kissing each cheek as was her custom. Perfectly turned out in a Chanel suit and pearls, her blond hair in a tight French twist, she appeared tiny and reserved, but I knew her to be a lovely, warm person who adored her grandchildren and was known to crawl on her hands and knees just to make the babies laugh, or to lie on the floor to create a barrier for the children to clamber over.
“And this is Jayne Smith, our nanny.”
They shook hands and I saw the look I’d grown accustomed to when introducing Jayne. “She has one of those faces,” I explained. “So that you think you’ve met but you haven’t.”
But Amelia didn’t laugh or step back. Instead she continued to hold on to Jayne’s hand and stare into her face. “It’s just the oddest thing. . . .” She stopped and then smiled, finally dropping Jayne’s hand. “I’m sorry. I know we haven’t met. But for a moment there, I could have sworn you were someone else. Wrong age entirely, which brought me to my senses. They say we all have a doppelgänger—perhaps not in the same generation.” She laughed, but the sound seemed forced.
“So you’re the marvelous nanny Jack has told us so much about. I thought that you might have a halo and wings the way he carries on.”
Jayne blushed and I laughed, although I didn’t find it funny at all. Not the image of Jayne as an angel, but the fact that Jack talked about her to other people. But she was our nanny. Of course he talked about her. Other people with nannies talked about them, too, didn’t they? I didn’t know anyone with a nanny, so I’d have to take that as a probably.
“We have no idea how we’d get on without her,” I said.
Amelia smiled at Jayne, but there was something behind the look I couldn’t translate. “I got here a little early and one of the nice workmen let me in. I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of walking around and jotting down some notes. You have some very valuable and sought-after furniture here. Several pieces by famed cabinetmaker Thomas Elf as well as a few from Chippendale. And you have quite a collection of Royal Albert bone china—I believe I counted place settings for at least seventy, with plenty of serving pieces.”
“Are those the rose-patterned dishes?” Jayne asked.
“Yes. Is that something you would like to keep?” Amelia asked.
“No,” Jayne and I answered in unison.
Amelia laughed and then wrote something on the notepad she carried with her. “Got it. It’s not my taste, either, but there are a lot of people who love that pattern. I think I could get a very good price for the entire lot.” She led us from the dining room, through the kitchen, and into the butler’s pantry. “As you can see, there’s even more china here. But there’s also a very large collection of salt and pepper shakers.” She arched her elegant eyebrows. “I happen to know that Button collected these, but only after she visited each state. There are fifty sets, all in pristine condition.”
“Are they worth anything?” I asked.
Amelia gave me a rueful smile. “Only sentimental value, I’m afraid. Although there is this one set.” She put down her notepad and pen, then gently pulled open one of the glass-paned doors. Reaching over a yellow triangular set meant to look like cheese with eyeballs and with the words “Wis” and “Consin” written on each one, she carefully lifted a pair from behind them.
They were shaped like fluffy white cotton balls, the words “Lake Jasper, Alabama” painted in black on each one. She held them in the flat of her hand. “It’s been a while, but I’m pretty sure that this is where Button’s family had their lake house back in the day.”
“They’re cute,” Jayne said generously. “Is there something special about them?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t usually carry this sort of thing in my shop, so I really have no idea. But I noticed on the bottom of these that someone had painted something.” Flipping them over, she showed us where someone had added on each shaker May 30, 1984. “I’ll ask Jack to research it, find out if the date has any significance. Perhaps they were souvenirs for a Woodstock type of event. That might up the value a little but not a lot, I wouldn’t think.”
“That would be great,” Jayne said. “Thanks. And no, I really don’t have any plans to hang on to this collection, as lovely as it is.”
“You’re very diplomatic,” Amelia said, carefully closing the cabinet doors. “It’s probably one of the reasons why you’re such a good nanny.” She led us back into the foyer. “I’ll give you a complete list of what I find and approximate values. You don’t have to do anything with it right now—take your time. But you really should get an alarm system. There are a lot of priceless things in this house.”
I frowned at Jayne. “I thought you were working with Thomas to get one installed.”
“Yes, I was. I mean, I am. He’s very tall.”
Amelia raised her eyebrows.
Jayne shook her head. “I mean, yes, he’s tall, but that doesn’t have anything to do with the alarm system.” She swallowed and took a moment to regain her composure. “What I meant to say is that we’re working on it. We just need to set up an appointment.”
“We work with a wonderful company at the shop,” Amelia said. “If you’d like, I could ask him to come look around here and give you an estimate. Would that work?”
Jayne nodded vigorously. “Yes, that would. Thank you. And I’ll tell Detective Riley that he doesn’t need to worry.” She seemed almost relieved.
“Have you seen the attic?” I asked Amelia.
“Yes, although I had been up there before, with Button. When sweet Hasell wa
s still alive.”
“So you met her?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yes. A few times when I was visiting Button, she asked me to come say hello. That poor little girl was so lonely, and so desperate to see people. Her mother was afraid of germs, you see, and kept Hasell pretty isolated. I was only allowed up when Anna wasn’t home.”
“What about my mother?” I asked. “Did she ever come visit Hasell?” I found myself holding my breath, not wanting her to say yes. Because then I’d have to wonder why my mother hadn’t mentioned it to me.
Amelia tilted her head. “No, I’m afraid not. She wanted to, but she and Anna were not friends. Anna probably knew about me and a few others being sneaked into the sickroom, but if she’d found out that Button had let Ginette up to see her daughter, there would have been hell to pay.”
“Really? Is it because my mother was in love with Anna’s husband, Sumter?”
“She told you that?” Amelia asked with a raised eyebrow.
“No. She just said that she had a schoolgirl crush on him when she was in high school. And that she and Sumter were in New York at the same time and that he was kind to her. But that would have been after Hasell’s death and his divorce. My cousin Rebecca intimated that there was more, but I should know better than to believe her.”
Amelia was thoughtful for a moment. “Yes, well, Anna was very possessive. I’m not even sure why she tolerated me. She seemed to believe that every woman was competition for the affection of her daughter and husband and therefore couldn’t be trusted. I think she only tolerated her sister-in-law because Button was so kind and gentle, and a good friend to all who knew her.”
Amelia began leading us up the stairs. As I put my foot on the bottom step, I felt a quiver in the air around me, the way I imagined a bear opening its eyes after a long hibernation. I shivered, not sure if it was because the temperature had dropped or because we were heading upstairs toward the attic.