Casey emptied the contents from the bag and laid them out on the kitchen table. Mary had gone off hours ago, quiet and subdued and still hadn't returned. After yesterday's discovery on top of their basement adventures she had an overload of energy that wouldn't allow for her to simply sit and wait for her cousin's return. An idea had been bubbling and while she hadn't quite put it all together to her liking, she knew one way or another for a variety of reasons they needed to keep some sort of list of everything they found and were yet to uncover especially up in the attic. She had no doubt that a lot of it would be family related that they’d want to keep. She also suspected there would just as likely be some that was nothing more than something someone tossed in to pack away and could easily end up being meaningless to them. And it was those very items she needed to talk to Mary about.
When the front door opened then closed a bit too quietly she quickly moved over to the counter to make a pot of coffee. She'd meant to when she walked in but had gotten caught up in her thoughts and plans. And there was that something else she wanted to share with her cousin before anything else.
"I found the Hungarian link," she said right as Mary walked into the kitchen...trying to sound humble in the process.
"That was quick." Mary turned to study her cousin. She hadn't missed the gleam in her eyes when she announced her find.
"I plugged into Grace's internet and signed up with one of those genealogy sites. It's actually pretty cool." Casey tried hard and unsuccessfully to contain her excitement. "I'm going to see how far back I can go on all sides of the family now that I've got the hang of it but today I pretty much just focused on seeing where Hungary came into the picture." She slid the cookie jar towards Mary as she sat down at the table. "And you were right about it being on Great-Grandma's side."
"Hmm," Mary mumbled around her own cookie.
"Some distant cousin has already done a lot of the work and posted it online linked to their family tree. They had copies of marriage licenses, family bible pages, church records...you name it. It was all there." She smiled at the memory of how she'd felt seeing all those old records that clinched it all for them nice and tidy. And realized too how much she missed the intriguing task of digging around for unknown information. "The long and the short of it is that one of Great-Grandma's great-something or other grandmothers left Hungary in the late 1600s. It was her daughter who ended up in Sweden some years after that. The in between years are a little murky and I didn't go back further to see how long they'd been in Hungary but I'll dig out those details later."
"I'm sure you will." She nibbled on the cookie she'd chosen from the jar. "Casey," Mary began as she took a quick look at the items on the table. Her cousin had definitely been busy. Her worries over Casey's low spirits since her middle of the night arrival didn't seem to be an issue for the moment. On the other hand, she felt exhausted both physically and emotionally even though the day wasn't half over. Despite that a thought had occurred to her on the drive back from the cemetery that she couldn't seem to let go of.
"Casey," she started again and waited for her cousin to turn in her direction. "When you were digging around at the library the other day," she paused, wondering if there was a way to pose the question without her very astute cousin picking up on the direction of her thoughts. Then decided it was fruitless she simply asked. "Did you by any chance notice or see anything pertaining to who built the Marshall Street house?"
Casey paused in her process of counting out spoons of coffee grounds into the filter. She turned, the glitter in her eyes evidence of her quick mind. The slowly broadening smile on her face giving Mary the answer before Casey voiced it. "Great-Grandma, who else." She shoveled a couple more spoonfuls of coffee into the coffee filter, not certain where she was in the count, not particularly concerned about it at that point. Flipping the top of the machine closed and turning the switch she sat down at the table and started making notes in one of the many notebooks she'd just purchased for that purpose. Then she started shifting through her papers to find the copies she'd made during her quick visit to the library that pertained to the Marshall Street house.
"I didn't even think about it, didn't put it together," Casey muttered as she continued to search through her stacks of papers.
"It may not mean anything." Mary tried to insert a level of caution into Casey's unmistakable enthusiasm. She could practically feel it from where she sat.
"Maybe," Casey conceded. "But maybe, just maybe, Great-Grandma had a tendency for hidey-holes." She glanced up at her cousin before concentrating back on the papers in front of her. "She built this house," she waved her free hand in an outward arc encompassing the kitchen...the entire house they sat in. Both glanced through the kitchen doorway to the rooms that were currently filled with the contents of the old chest found hidden away in the attic. Spread out and covering almost every flat surface in those rooms. Family treasures packed up and put aside by their great grandmother. All from just one of the many trunks in the attic.
"She built this house," Casey repeated and zeroed in on the papers she was looking for. Pulled them carefully from the stack. Running her finger down the page, skimming over the old and barely legible writing until she reached what she was looking for. "She bought and rebuilt this house almost fifteen years after she built the Marshall Street house." She thought hard about what she had learned, had seen in the papers at the library. "I don't know for certain why she built this one, it was years and years before Nanno actually moved in after Grandpa died and she moved out of the Marshall Street house." She looked at the items that covered the dining room table, easily visible from where they sat in the next room. "Maybe for some other relative to live in," she made some notes in her notebook. "Who knows why, she was obviously a cagey and pragmatic woman. She may have built it for the rental revenue and wouldn't that be a hoot." She shrugged at the irony of it. "I can probably find out but I know this...she didn't build this house to live in herself." She made a few more notes to herself. The library might have the original floor-plans of both structures. She tapped her pencil against her chin as she thought it out. They might or might not include the basement or attic. But anything would help. "Anyway," she continued ignoring the amused, knowing look on her cousin's face. "If she felt the need for two hidey-holes in a house she wasn't even going to live in who knows what she may have wanted for the one she did live in." She looked straight at Mary, "She and Great-Granddad built the Marshall Street house not long after they got married. And lived there for a bit until they moved into the house on Summer Street so who's to say she wouldn't do the same there." She thought about it, thought about the stories she'd heard of Great-Grandma's troubles in her homeland and her difficult voyage to the country that would become her new home. "Considering everything she went through in her early years, it may be that Great-Grandma wasn't a real trusting soul and simply had a thing about hidey-holes."
Mary had considered the same line of thought. She watched Casey gather her notebooks and grab her purse. "Where are you going?"
"The library." Casey checked the oven clock for the time. "I'm going to make the copies I should have made when I was there before, then I'm going to see if I can find floor plans for both houses." She thought about it. "We know this house, we ran rampant through it for years when we were children. So we had a sense of the house, knew about the room in the basement just didn't know how to get into it. That gave us a better sense of what we needed to look for in the attic." She shrugged, that and they had been really lucky. "But we know next to nothing about the Marshall Street house." She stood where she was for a moment, looked at the woman who had quietly let her, no...encouraged her to be part of this venture. "I love you, Mary," she interrupted her cousin before she could respond. "No, let me say this." She placed her hand in the one offered. "I know you probably had a sense of all this even before I did. But you've let me take the lead, you've let me be part of it when you didn't have to." She looked around the room that h
ad become her haven in so many ways. "You gave me purpose when I needed it most...when I had none, and you did it in such a smooth way I believed I was doing it for myself." She laughed softly. "It took me a while but I figured it out."
"And have you figured out anything else?" Mary had a feeling she had a plan, sensed the excitement vibrating in waves off her cousin went beyond finding hidden family treasures. Maybe a plan for a future she didn't have before.
"Yeah. I don't have it altogether in my mind yet but when I do I'd like to talk with you about it."
"Anytime." Mary looked at her cousin, pushed a bit. "Maybe when you get back from the library."
"I'll be back soon and I'll bring some dinner with me or we'll go out so don't bother cooking anything."
Mary knew better. "You mean so we have more time to maybe haul more stuff down from the attic or maybe even go over and prowl around the other house."
Casey smiled. She couldn't help it. It felt good to be known so well and loved despite it...because of it. "Yeah." She rose, headed for the front door. "I'll be back soon."
Later that night Mary and Casey ended up meeting Grace at a nearby restaurant for a late dinner. The atmosphere was quiet with music from an aging 50’s style band played quietly providing a lulling buoyancy to the room instead of blasting the senses into overdrive. After Casey returned from the library much of the afternoon had been spent going over copies of deeds, surveys, and everything else she'd been able to find. Each had studied the property architectural drawings until their eyes crossed but found no clues that suggested Great-Grandma might have built-in any hidey-hole type room or space within the walls of the Marshall Street house.
At a loss they decided against searching through the house with the darkness of the evening closing in on them. Instead, with Grace's help they dragged down a few more of the large wooden crates from the attic room and because of her help were also able to bring down several of what had turned out to be old steamer trunks. They were far from making a huge dent in the room, far from even seeing their way close to it, but they were also running out of room in their living quarters to put the stuff. The living and dining room were almost impossible to walk through. Every flat surface was covered with the contents of the old containers. By the time they'd gotten to a stopping point that evening all three were exhausted. They’d decided to head straight out to eat without opening any of what they'd hauled down, a first for Casey who was like a child experiencing a perpetual Christmas morning.
Both Mary and Casey knew they needed to come to some decisions about what to do with everything. Already from what they’d opened and dug through, it was easy to see there were going to be some items they simply wouldn't need or want to hold on to. Just as there were those things they wouldn't part with even under the most dire of circumstances.
Mary suspected Casey had some type of plan in mind. She had admitted as much earlier in the day. And from the casual, just getting to know you line of questioning she'd heard so far that evening directed ever so subtly at Grace she was beginning to get a sense of what it might be.
Her first temptation was to wave it off. Mostly because the thought was so completely opposite of her cousin's previous career, her entire life style for that matter. But even as she dismissed it she realized her judgment was based on Casey's long term identity as a nationally known and revered TV anchor. Something she obviously had no intention of ever returning to. With that thought she was forced to look at herself and her own actions. Hadn't she done the same?
She had walked away very much like Casey had from a successful career. She'd passed up another long term and very financially enviable contract. To do what...nothing. Not that fixing up an old house was nothing but compared to what she had done, what she had achieved, many would see it as exactly that. So who was she to put Casey in that same mold? She listened to the conversation flow between the other two women at the table as they waited for their food to arrive. They had a tremendous amount in common. She wondered if either realized just how much of what they'd learned and experienced in their previous careers was guiding them in many ways with what they were building here.
And where did that leave her, Mary wondered, unconsciously tapping the table to the beat of her anxiety. What were her plans? At some point the house would be as renovated as it could be. She would have fulfilled her own heart’s desire as well as keeping at least part of a pledge to her mother. Then what?
"Mary." Casey wondered where she'd gone off to. She'd seen her do the exact same thing when she was in the midst of a book project. She'd get an idea and let it flow in her mind. Then she'd be all over the place looking for pen and paper. "Mary," she watched eyes that matched her own turn towards her. "Where were you?"
Mary knew exactly what she asked and it had nothing to do with their location. Sighing, she gave the most honest answer she could. "Trying to figure out what to do with my life when I grow up."
"Mrs. Lane?" A young girl approached the booth so quietly none of the three women sitting there noticed until she was at Mary's elbow.
"Hi." Mary saw the book in her hand and however much it still embarrassed her, she smiled at the young girl wanting nothing more but to put her at ease.
"Would you please sign this for me?" She held the book out, her small hands visibly shaking from nerves that Mary instinctively made an effort to calm.
Glancing at the cover she saw it was one of her more recent titles. Tilting her head, she studied the girl, judged her to be close to ten if not already there. "Do you enjoy my books?" She dug a pen out of her purse, again smiling at the girl.
"No." Then realizing how it sounded, "I mean, I don't know," she hurried to explain, knowing and hating that she sounded like an idiot. "My mother just loves your books. My Dad and I were shopping for her birthday and I picked it out." She glanced over at her father who was seated in a booth several tables away, gained strength from his broad smile and nod of encouragement. "He noticed that it might be you while we were eating and," she took another deep breath. "I thought it would be really cool for my Mom if she got an autographed book."
Mary studied the girl thoughtfully. "What's your mother's name?" She began writing and personalized it as she did. As she handed the book back she also slid a piece of paper in front of her on the table. "Why don't you write down your name and address." She smiled gently at the girl's look of panic and patted her hand gently. "I have another book coming out in a couple of months. I was just thinking that if you'd like I'll have one sent to your mother directly."
"Wow!" Penny swallowed hard. "That would be so cool." She smiled hugely over her shoulder at her Dad. She wasn't nearly as upset with him as she'd been before for pushing her over here. "Can I tell her about it now so that she knows it's cause of me?"
Mary smiled, missing her daughters dearly. "You certainly can." And with barely a thought, she pulled out another slip of paper, wrote her address and phone number on it. She handed it to Penny as the girl handed her the one with her address on it. "This is where I live. When it comes, if your mother wants, just call me and we'll set up a time for the two of you to come over. We can have a visit and she can tell me what she thinks of it."
Penny just stared. She didn't know what to say or do. This was the woman her mother just went on and on about. And she was going to get to take her to meet her. That was just so cool. Without thinking about what she was doing she leaned forward and threw her arms around Mary in a huge hug, squashing the paper she held tightly in her hand as if it was gold. "Thank you, " she whispered. And without another word ran back to her Dad, her joy visible in every step. They could hear her explanation to her father, her hands reiterating her words as she hopped back and forth, excitement in every motion. With the book in one hand and the treasured paper in the other, father and daughter walked toward the door. But not before her father gave a friendly wave and grateful smile in Mary's direction, both of which she returned.
Sighing, she turned back to th
e other women at the table who had stayed conspicuously silent during the entire conversation. She wasn't at all surprised by Casey's amused expression. The little girl had been precious. She was completely surprised by Grace's solemn expression that bordered on sadness.
"What?"
Grace looked down, then back up with the slightest sheen glistening in her eyes. "I'm not certain, I've only seen the daughter once or twice..." she paused.
"Go on," Mary encouraged quietly with the feeling she wasn't going to like what was coming.
"Well, if I'm right, that was Penny Mars. I think her Dad's name is Rick, or Rich..." she shrugged. "Her mother comes into the store a lot. Patsy. Patsy Mars." She drew a deep breath. "She has cancer." And that said it all. "She's been in and out of treatment for a couple of years. From everything I've heard it's been a couple of really hard years," she added.
Mary thought about it. Felt the full weight of Grace's sorrow. "It says a lot about both her and her husband that their daughter, in spite of what the family is going through, is such a happy little girl."
"She adores her daughter. I don't think there's anything she wouldn't do for her." She thought about the few times she had seen them together. "I think that everything she does, how she's handled her illness...everything...has been to make it easier for her daughter." Grace couldn't even begin to imagine how difficult that had to be.
"It shows," Casey said quietly staring out the window watching the father and daughter walk together down the street as if they didn't have a care in the world.
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