Where There’s a Will

by Beth Pattillo

  “What a lovely room,” Kate said.

  “Thank you.” Anne motioned for her to take a seat. “Would you like some coffee? Tea?” The woman’s stiffness reminded her of Carol Coats. Kate was tempted to conclude that it ran in the family, except that Ellen didn’t fit the mold.

  “No, thank you,” Kate answered. “I don’t want to take up too much of your time.”

  “So, you’re interested in my great-aunt’s work?” Anne crossed her legs at the ankles and folded her hands in her lap.

  “Yes, I am.” If the other woman’s cold reserve was her customary manner, Kate understood why Ellen hadn’t kept in touch with her. “I was wondering if you might have any of her paintings in your possession. I’m trying to catalog as many as I can for my art-history project.”

  Ann nodded. “I do have one, but I’m afraid that’s all.”

  “Would you mind if I see it?”

  “Not at all. It’s in the dining room.”

  “Collecting beautiful art must run in the family,” Kate said as she trailed Anne, who retraced her steps through the foyer and entered an adjoining room. The walls were lined, like a museum, with works of art from the chair rail to the ceiling. Kate could hardly take it all in.

  “Yes, it is a family proclivity.” Anne shifted from one expensive high heel to the other, as if the display made her uncomfortable.

  Kate wondered what would make the woman so uncomfortable, and the thought made her wary. It was almost as if Anne was hiding something.

  “None of us are artists,” Anne continued, “at least not since my great-aunt. But we were all raised with a tremendous appreciation for it.”

  “These are breathtaking,” Kate said, almost in a whisper. She didn’t recognize all of the artists by their work, but she suspected that the painting above the sideboard might be a Renoir. And she thought she spotted some Degas sketches on either side of the china cabinet.

  “My husband and I have picked up most of the collection on our travels.”

  Anne was quiet for a long moment while Kate worked her way around the room, pausing to admire almost every work. How wonderful to be surrounded by such beauty at every meal. She stepped past the sideboard, and her gaze moved to the next painting. She froze.

  Despite the Primitive style, the children depicted in the painting were recognizable even after so many years. Kate could easily identify Ellen Carruthers, Carol Coats, and her hostess. The fourth girl must surely have been Anne’s sister, Betsy.

  “It’s charming,” Kate said.

  Although she admired the scene, with the bright flowers and tall grasses that surrounded the figures, her mind was whirling as she tried to connect this painting with the other two in the series. She mentally ticked off the paintings on the list Ellen had given her, and this one didn’t fit. What did High Hoot Ridge and the ironworks have to do with the Harrington cousins?

  “She painted it from a photograph, I believe,” Anne said. “It was done many years after we all grew up. I was lucky enough to have been the beneficiary in her will.”

  “Her will?”

  Kate hadn’t even thought about Ellen’s grandmother having a will of her own. Wouldn’t she have inherited her husband’s interest in the ironworks? Had she and Ellen gotten the wrong end of the stick? But surely Ellen would have considered that.

  “I think she felt bad that her husband, my great-uncle, left my cousin Carol all of his interest in the Harrington land. So she left some of her work to my sister and me.”

  “How strange that your great-uncle’s will would be so weighted toward Carol,” Kate said, hoping to elicit more information from Anne. “Was that unusual?”

  “None of us could understand it, especially when he made no mention of my cousin Ellen, his own granddaughter.”

  Kate wondered whether she should tell Anne that the professor of her art-history class was none other than Ellen Harrington Carruthers.

  “It’s a shame we lost touch simply over money,” Anne continued. “But Oliver was so horsey about the whole thing, and Carol wouldn’t speak up for herself...”

  “Actually—” Kate began, but before she could confess, Anne interrupted her. The woman’s cool reserve had melted away, leaving a haunted look in her eyes.

  “Now that I think about it, I actually have another of my great-aunt’s paintings.”

  “You do?”

  Anne’s expression warmed. “It’s in the guest powder room. I’m afraid it’s not very good, though. Certainly not up to the standard of this one.”

  Kate couldn’t contain her curiosity. “Would you mind if I took a look at that painting too? The more of your great-aunt’s work I can find, the better my project will be.”

  “Of course.” Anne led her guest through more art-lined halls until they reached a beautiful powder room with a separate lavatory attached. Kate couldn’t help but be impressed. The painting hung above a beautifully upholstered bench.

  “You can see the difference immediately, I’m sure,” she said. “The subject matter is rather uninspiring, but Aunt Lela was always rather fond of the place.”

  Kate took one look at the painting and had to keep herself from clapping her hands with glee. After her trip to the abandoned town of Harrington, she had no trouble identifying the company store and the post office. Kate wondered if this was the painting entitled Progress Comes to Harrington.

  The painting filled in some of the details that had disappeared from the real setting with the passage of time. The sign above the company store was lettered in cherry red, and the windows boasted blue-and-white-checked gingham curtains. Barrels and bushel baskets dotted the wood porch. The painting also depicted residents of Harrington hurrying to and fro. One woman emerged from the store with a basket brimming with bread, eggs, and apples, while a man who was clearly a postal rider placed his foot in the stirrup of his saddle, ready to mount his horse.

  “It really gives a sense of the place, don’t you think?” Kate asked.

  Anne nodded. “Certainly takes me back. I never saw the town when it was still thriving, but in my childhood, most of the buildings were still intact. The sign here,” she pointed toward the store, “was only hanging by a few nails by then, but you could still read it.”

  “What else do you remember?”

  Anne appeared lost in thought for a long moment. “We had some wonderful times playing there when we were young.” Her eyes held a far-off look, as if she was straining to see memories that were almost too distant to discern. “My great-aunt still lived in the big house during the summer. We called it that because it was the biggest house in town. She’d pack knapsacks for each of us in the morning and send us out to explore.” She sighed with remembered contentment. “We rarely made it home before dark.”

  “What did you do?” Kate wanted to see if Anne’s memories matched Ellen’s.

  “Everything,” she said with a laugh. “We knew every nook and cranny of those old buildings, although we avoided the hotel. We decided early on that it was haunted.”

  “Was it?”

  “No. Well, not by anything other than our childish imaginings.”

  “Did you play anywhere else?”

  “We snuck up to the ironworks, even though my great-aunt told us not to. Still, looking back, I think she must have known what we were up to. Maybe she understood how children need to do something forbidden every once in a while.”

  “It sounds like she loved the place.”

  “Yes. It pained her to see it fall into disrepair. I think she always secretly hoped that the town might be revived someday. But by then, the iron industry had changed too much. Plus, without a rail line...well, there was just no way to make it work.”

  “It sounds as if you were close to all of your cousins.”

  “Yes, it’s a shame things didn’t work out.” A shadow crossed her face. “And then Ellen moved away, and we lost touch. And I’d never dare ask Carol if she knew how to get in touch with her. I assumed Oliver cut off all c
ontact with Ellen the way he did with me.”

  “What about your sister Elizabeth?”

  Anne’s face paled. “Betsy? I’m afraid we lost her last year. To cancer. Carol came to the funeral, but I never heard anything from Ellen. I don’t even know if she’s aware of it.”

  Kate was sure she wasn’t. “Anne, I need to tell you something.”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m afraid I came here under a bit of a false pretense.”

  Anne stiffened, and she looked more like the woman who had first answered the door. Suspicion creased her brow. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m sorry. Please don’t be alarmed. It’s nothing very dramatic, but there’s a personal connection between my class project and your great-aunt.”

  “A personal connection?”

  “My art-history professor is Ellen Harrington Carruthers. I learned about your great-aunt from her, and then I chose her work for my project.”

  “Ellen’s teaching in Pine Ridge? Really?”

  Kate expected the other woman to be angry at her subterfuge, but instead, a wave of joy washed across Anne’s face.

  “I’m sorry,” Kate began. “I should have told you sooner, but it was awkward—”

  “No, don’t be sorry. I’m delighted to know that she’s back in Tennessee.” Anne stopped for a moment, a frown replacing her smile. “I know it’s been a bad business with Oliver, but I’d love to see Ellen again. Especially since my sis—” She broke off suddenly, then continued. “Do you think that...well, no...I shouldn’t ask.”

  “Ask what?”

  “Whether you might be willing to be an intermediary between me and my cousin. Bear the olive branch, so to speak.”

  Kate sighed with relief. “I’d be delighted to help you reconcile.”

  Anne’s fingers traced the painting’s frame. “It’s a shame I’ve kept it here all these years.” She looked at Kate. “I’d like to give it to Ellen. Would you be willing to take it to her for me?”

  “Wouldn’t you rather deliver it yourself?” Kate had no doubt that Ellen would be as pleased to see her cousin as Anne had been when she heard about Ellen’s return.

  “I think a go-between might not be a bad idea. The last time we saw each other...well, let’s just say I’d like to forget that conversation.”

  Kate decided not to press her further. The memory was obviously painful. “I’d be happy to give her the painting. Do you want me to tell her about—”

  “My sister?”

  Kate nodded.

  “Yes, if you’d tell her, I’d appreciate it. I feel so bad. We had Betsy’s estate sale several months ago, and there might have been a thing or two that Ellen would have liked to have had as a memento.”

  Kate knew that Ellen would be far more grieved about her cousin’s death than about the loss of any family heirloom.

  “I know she’s particularly interested in your great-aunt’s paintings,” Kate said. How in the world could she ask her next question delicately without seeming insensitive? But if Anne’s sister had owned any of the missing paintings...“Did your sister happen to have any of your great-aunt’s work?”

  “She had one piece, but I’m so sorry, we let it go in the estate sale. Oliver said Carol didn’t want it. Or at least he wasn’t willing to pay fair value so that Carol could have it. My sister’s estate went to charity, so we didn’t want to just give it away. Now I wish I’d saved it for Ellen.”

  “There was no way to know.” Kate wanted to soothe Anne’s distress. “I’m sure your sister would have been happy to know it went for a good cause.”

  “Still, if you talk to Ellen and she’s interested, we sold it to an antique dealer in Chattanooga. I can try to find his card if she wants to look for the painting.”

  “I’ll talk to her and see.” But Kate already knew the answer to that question. “And I’m sure Ellen will want to be in touch with you.”

  Together, Anne and Kate carried the painting downstairs and carefully stowed it in the backseat of Kate’s Accord. Ellen would be delighted when Kate surprised her with it.

  “You’ll be hearing from me soon,” Kate assured her as they said their good-byes. “And thank you again for your help.”

  “It was my pleasure.” She paused, tears filling her eyes. “Since my sister’s death, I’ve been aware of how quickly life can change. Please tell Ellen I’d love to see her.”

  “Of course.”

  As Kate pulled out of the driveway, Anne lifted a hand in farewell. Kate returned the gesture and then said a quick but heartfelt prayer. If only families could remember how important their bonds were, how fragile and yet how strong. And if only they could understand that what bound them together was far more important than anything that drove them apart.

  Chapter Twelve

  On her way back, Kate decided to stop off in Pine Ridge to see Ellen and deliver the painting. She didn’t want to wait until after class the next day to share the news about her cousin’s death. She hoped that Ellen would be at home rather than in her office or teaching.

  When Ellen opened the door, she was pale, and she looked as if she’d been crying.

  “Ellen, what’s wrong?” Kate rushed over to put an arm around the other woman’s shoulders. She was inside the apartment before she realized there was another occupant in the room. Kate looked up, and her gaze locked with Oliver Coats’. He looked as taken aback as Kate felt.

  “You!” she gasped. “What are you doing here?” Kate could see the moment he put two and two together.

  “Never mind,” he snapped, rising from the couch. “Whoever you really are, I’m sure my cousin has suckered you into believing this wild tale about another will and Lela Harrington’s paintings. Are you even one of Ellen’s students?”

  “Of course I am.” Kate had known that Oliver was a bully, but he was more badly behaved than she’d first thought. Clearly he’d been giving Ellen a dressing down before Kate arrived.

  “I don’t know what the two of you are up to,” he said, his fists clenched, “but you’d better mind your own business.” He turned his fierce gaze back to Ellen. “You have no claim on that property. Your grandfather left it to Carol. If you try to interfere, you’ll regret it.”

  “Are you threatening her?” Kate demanded.

  She couldn’t understand why the man would get so worked up over a piece of property whose value was a fraction of his net worth. She had no doubt that control, not money, was the issue. Kate had witnessed enough in the man’s own home to confirm that belief.

  “I don’t need to threaten her. She has no claim to anything that bears the Harrington name.” His eyes narrowed. “Don’t make trouble, Ellen. I’m warning you.”

  Kate wondered whether she should call Sheriff Roberts, but Oliver hadn’t done anything illegal. “I think you’d better leave, Mr. Coats,” Kate said, since Ellen had gone mute. “Immediately.”

  Oliver looked as if he would have liked to deliver a parting shot but then thought better of it. He brushed past them and slammed the door behind him. Kate put her arms around Ellen, and the distraught woman slumped against Kate.

  “Let’s get you to the couch,” Kate said, helping Ellen across the room.

  The woman slumped onto the cushions and put her face in her hands. Kate sank down beside her.

  Ellen looked up, bleary-eyed, then reached out to grasp Kate’s hand. “Thank you. I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “I was feeling bad about not calling before I came, but now I’m glad I didn’t. What in the world happened?”

  “He dropped by unannounced. I think he ran into one of the administrators at the college who said Oliver must be delighted to have his cousin back in town. That must have set him off.”

  “I suspect he was far more pleasant to the person he got the information from than he was to you.”

  The color was slowly coming back into Ellen’s cheeks. “Yes, he can be quite charming when he wants to be.”

  Kate nibbled her lip,
her mind awhirl. “How did he know about the possibility of another will? Did you really tell him like he said?”

  Ellen nodded. “But he didn’t seem surprised. I think I just confirmed what he already suspected.”

  “What did he say before I got here?”

  Ellen straightened in her seat and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “He was spreading his usual poison. How I shouldn’t be here, how I had no claim to the land. You heard him.”

  “Was he that angry when he arrived?”

  “No. He was pleasant at first. Until I mentioned my concern about the sale of the land to the paper company. I mentioned the possibility of the wildlife preserve. That’s when he blew his top.”

  Kate frowned. “Why should this matter so much to him? My understanding was that he has a great deal of personal wealth. I would think any proceeds from the land would be a drop in a bucket for him.”

  “You would think. So why would it be necessary to come here and try to intimidate me?”

  “Maybe it’s more important to him than we think. How much do you know about his business interests?”

  “Nothing, really. He’s always boasted about his successes, how much money he’s made in the construction industry.”

  Kate nodded. “There’s more to Oliver Coats than meets the eye. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be so desperate to intimidate you.” She paused. “Do you think he knows something you don’t about the second will?”

  “I don’t think so, but anything is possible.”

  “I’ll get to the bottom of it,” Kate assured her.

  Ellen sighed. “I never meant for this to become a full-time job for you.”

  Kate patted her arm. “Once I get involved in a mystery, I’m like a dog with a bone. You might as well let me keep going. I won’t be able to rest until we get it all figured out.”

  “You know, I haven’t even asked you why you’re here. I wasn’t expecting to see you until class tomorrow.”

  Kate stopped to take a breath. In the scuffle with Oliver, she’d forgotten the purpose of her visit.

  “I have some good news, but I also have some sad news.”

  “I think you’d better tell me the good news first. I need to hear something positive right now.”