by Betty Bolte
Paulette laughed. “How sad is that? Of course, even in love stories nobody’s perfect, and thus no relationship is perfect. It’s about finding a way to communicate, to share, to be together. That’s what ultimately creates a happy ending. What was your favorite book the summer you turned twelve?”
“I don’t know.” Meredith hadn’t thought about storybooks in ages. “Why?”
“You used to read this one book over and over.” She stared at her, a smile spreading on her lips. “Don’t you remember? Lassie, Come Home. Now that’s a happy ending.”
Meredith had cried and laughed and worried her way through the story of the dog who had to find her own way home to Timmy and his family. The collie had to overcome obstacle after obstacle, but nothing stopped her from returning to her home and the family that loved her.
Another icy blast whipped through the attic, even though the windows remained shut. The pages of the album whipped closed with a resounding thud. The back cover stared up at them, a silent witness to the strange occurrence in the attic.
Meredith rubbed her hands on her arms to warm them as the air slowly returned to its normal temperature. She tentatively sniffed the air and exhaled with a smile.
Paulette mimicked Meredith’s actions and grinned. “Now that’s another happy ending right there. Do you think she got what she came for?”
Meredith nodded. “But what do you think it is?”
“The promise of a happy ending for her. She did point out the graveyard. Perhaps…” Paulette tapped a forefinger on her chin; then her shoulders sagged. “I don’t know. What do you think she wanted?”
Meredith stared at the blank black cover of the album, seeing again the photo of the three siblings, then Joe’s funeral. Of all the pictures for Grace to have emphasized, why those two? She raised her gaze to meet Paulette’s waiting expression and made a moue. “A happy ending?”
__________
Silver clanked against the yellow china plate as Meredith’s dad set the dining room table. He’d insisted he knew best how to lay the places for their Sunday dinner. In years gone by, Grandma invited the family to gather for a formal meal once a week. A time of sharing and connecting they often skipped during the week’s activities. Shrugging at the unusual claim, Meredith nonetheless acquiesced. If he wanted to pretend to be Miss Manners, she wouldn’t argue.
She made a few final tweaks to the floral arrangement she’d cobbled together from the various blooming flowers surrounding the house. Sean had performed miracles when it came to the landscaping and the abundance of fresh flowers available. The wide-mouthed, cut-glass vase held an array of spring blooms: yellow daffodils, purple bearded iris, and red and white tulips. Their combined scents softened the air.
“The salad fork goes on the outside,” muttered Brock as he made his way around the table. His large fingers dwarfed the handles of the silver.
Meredith grinned to herself. Reconnecting with her parents had proven to be less painful than she’d imagined possible. They’d slipped back into her life, not judging and not annoying her. Well, other than their initial reaction to her intended future for Twin Oaks. An intention wavering with each passing hour. She’d changed as much as they had. Both had mellowed, perhaps, not expecting quite as much from each other.
She lifted the vase from the side table where she’d been working and placed it carefully in the center of the dining table. She stood back, angled her head to obtain a better view, and then turned it slowly to increase the visual impact when one walked into the room. Perfect.
Brock placed the last of the silverware on the table and stepped back, hands on hips, contemplating his efforts. “Nicely done, if I do say so myself.”
“I agree, Dad. I couldn’t have done better.” Meredith straightened the alignment of the nearest spoon handle with the knife handle beside it.
“So there was room for improvement after all.” Brock chuckled at Meredith’s startled glance.
“It was only a touch off.” All a matter of perspective. Paulette’s chiding at the Hideaway played through her memory. She grinned. “Can’t help it, apparently.”
“You never could, always so precise.” Brock made his way around the table, double-checking the alignment of the silverware handles.
“Leave it, Dad.” Meredith gripped the back of the nearest chair. “It’s about time I relaxed my tendency toward perfectionism.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” Brock gazed at her, eyes serious. “Your talents rely upon such precision, so don’t give them short shrift.”
“Good point.” She studied him, his strong neck and steady hand, despite approaching his seventies. “Do you remember helping me with the Twin Oaks miniature?”
A smile lit his eyes and spread across his entire face. “You did a fine job. Your first piece too. I knew then creating lovely buildings was your future.”
Creating. Buildings. Two words strung together into one sentence summed her life’s ambition. Or had been until Willy’s senseless death, along with their little boy. At the thought, she waited for the feeling of emptiness, or desolation, to follow. But instead she longed for something else. Something more.
Since returning to Twin Oaks, she’d become aware of the family she’d distanced herself from. The family that, in some ways, she’d banished from her life in order to be with Willy. They’d moved away, putting a physical and psychological barrier between them and her family. Now she sat circumscribed by her heritage as well as her living family. Heck, her dead ancestors surrounded her as well. From the building itself, to the memories it contained, the furnishings used by her grandmother, parents, and sister, right down to the books, journals, and even handwritten letters handled by ancestors she’d never met. Her family, like her heritage, enveloped her.
She tried to summon up the desperate need to demolish everything in order to move forward, to push the past behind her where it couldn’t hurt her any longer. She tried to recall again her husband’s limp body, blood everywhere. She tried to feel the sharp pain of the bullet lodged into her womb. Nothing. Instead of pain, an undefined yearning crept through her.
“Dinner is almost ready.” Paulette sashayed into the dining room. She scanned the table with its shining china and silver, sparkling crystal, and colorful arrangements of flowers. “Lovely job, you two. I’ll tell Mom the table is set.” With that she hurried from the room.
“Seems like old times, doesn’t it?” Meredith was struck by the combination of new and familiar. Old and groundbreaking.
“Sure does.” Brock snagged a side chair and settled into place at the table. “I’m glad we came to visit for a while, though we can’t stay too much longer. I’ve got a job to do later this week.”
“Yeah, I know the feeling.” Her job still waited for her attention, but she’d been distracted by all the happenings here in Roseville. She’d never imagined she could be so diverted by small town happenings, either.
Meg carried in a platter of sliced roast beef and placed it on the sideboard next to the polished silver tea service. Hard to believe the teapot, coffeepot, sugar bowl, and creamer had been squirreled away for more than a hundred years and still could be refurbished and cleaned up to such a shine.
Dina walked into the room carrying a tray with steaming bowls. She added the tray to the sideboard, and Meredith caught the scent of boiled potatoes and pole beans. Paulette placed a silver basket, lined with a cloth napkin, alongside the vegetables. From the bacon and corn aroma, she’d bet a month’s salary it contained some of Meg’s famous buttermilk cornbread.
“That should do it. You all enjoy your meal.” Meg wiped her hands on her apron. “I’ll be back to clean up after I have my dinner with Sean.”
“Thanks, Meg, for helping with dinner today.” Dina hugged the elderly woman. “You make me look good.”
Blushing, Meg headed for the door. “You’re more than welcome. Ta-ta!”
Meredith watched Meg hurry away, wondering about her future after Meredith moved on. One
way or the other, things must change.
“Grab a plate, dear,” Dina said to Brock. “You start us off and get your hulk out of the way so we have room too.”
A knock on the kitchen door had Meredith pushing back her chair. “I’ll see who it is. You go ahead.”
Max waited in the kitchen by the time she arrived. A tremor of something nameless, or that she’d rather not name, slipped under her skin, warming her. Her earlier realization of wanting something she couldn’t define floated into her memory when he smiled at her. She grinned back, folding her arms across her chest. “You really need to replace my screen door so I can lock it.”
Walking up to her, he stopped out of reach. “Yes, I do. I’ll take care of replacing it this week.”
His eyes, so vibrant and captivating, did their job and held her attention. Others must notice different details about a person, but for her the eyes spoke the truth of the soul.
“What brings you here?” She gripped her arms to avoid the familiar compulsion to touch him. All it would take would be to move one hand a few inches and her fingers could feel his bicep.
“The coroner’s office released the skeletal remains to my custody to return to your family.” He nodded toward the door and his pickup parked beyond.
“Oh. We’re about to sit down to dinner.” Her pulse pounded in her ears, distracting her. Muddling her thoughts. Otherwise she wouldn’t have blurted out, “Care to join us?”
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Does that mean you forgive me for the fireman’s carry the other night?”
Heat crept into her cheeks as she recalled the image of hanging over his shoulder and then being plopped onto the truck seat, her skirt around her waist. “Not necessarily, but my mother would tan my hide if I didn’t offer you the proper Southern hospitality.”
“I’ll accept, then, before you change your mind.” His grin widened as he patted his stomach. “I’m starved.”
“Aren’t you always? Come on, then.”
Before long, everyone sat with steaming plates of food before them. The aromas of the meal made Meredith even hungrier. She scooped potatoes into her mouth, enjoying being with her family. Max’s presence added a pleasing tension to the atmosphere. The conversation verged on banter, laughter punctuating the meal.
Meredith contemplated Paulette’s situation. Her sister’s expression had softened with the passing of time at Twin Oaks. Yet she still faced an uncertain future. She had several decisions to make, not the least of which remained whether to keep her child or give it up for adoption. And if she chose to keep the baby, then how to provide the necessities. She also needed a roof over their heads. So many decisions and choices to make; perhaps the best thing for her to do was to face facts.
Meredith cleared her throat. “Paulette, don’t you have some news to share with Mom and Dad?”
Paulette gawped at Meredith. She swallowed and glanced at their parents. “News?” She squeaked out the word.
“Yes. You know.” Meredith paused, seeing understanding dawn in Paulette’s expression. “Johnny’s parting gift?”
“Mer, this isn’t the time to share such breaking news.” Paulette glanced at Max, and then back to Meredith.
“Did you want me to leave?” Max folded his napkin, preparing to rise.
“No, it’s fine.” Paulette waved him back into his seat. “There’s nothing to share anyway.”
“Yes, there is. You can’t deny the truth forever. It will come out eventually.” Meredith sipped her wine and waited for Paulette to begin.
“Must I?” Paulette’s voice pleaded for commutation of her sentence.
“Yes.” Meredith waited, taking several deep breaths, seeing the curiosity on her parents’ faces. “Or I will.”
Paulette gripped her napkin with both hands, twisting it. “If you insist.” She twisted the cloth the other direction, observing her parents with wary eyes. She sighed, a long exhale releasing her reluctant admission. “I’m pregnant.”
Stunned silence ended with Dina clapping her hands. “I’m going to be a grandmother? Congratulations, Paulette! I’m so happy for you.”
“Pregnant?” Brock asked. “It’s Johnny’s?”
Paulette nodded.
“He took off for Alaska,” Meredith supplied. “He said he’s not ready to be a father.”
Brock frowned. “Who the hell is?”
Max laughed and folded his arms. “Congrats, Paulette. That’s wonderful.”
“Don’t rush the congratulations, folks.” Paulette twisted her napkin tighter. “I’m not sure I’m keeping it. Yet.”
Another moment of stunned silence followed.
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Meredith said. “You’re planning to stay here for a while, right? You have time to make that decision.”
“You’re not going to go through with your plan?” Paulette turned hopeful eyes toward Meredith and laid the napkin back on her lap. “If that’s the case, then I’d like to stay.”
Meredith hoped she wouldn’t regret her offer or her decision to renege on her plan to build the park rather than a garden. “Great. I’m glad that’s settled.”
“If I’m going to live here,” Paulette said, picking up her fork once more, “I have one request.”
Meredith’s protective shell erected at her sister’s words. “What might that be?”
“It may seem petty, but it feels odd eating with the tea set in here.” Paulette chewed slowly, her eyes darting to the sideboard.
Reflected in the shining silver were five faces turned to contemplate it. If the set had been a fly on the wall, what might it have told them about Grandpa Joe and his sisters? Why had Grace and Edith chosen to hide the silver and nothing else? Was no other item worth hiding?
“I like having it there as a reminder of our ancestors,” Meredith said.
“The obvious irony being the squabble between sisters over a man ended up with them trying to protect something valuable that led to Grace’s death.” Paulette popped a bite of potato into her mouth.
“A family heirloom led to a family secret, a real skeleton in the closet, so to speak.” Meredith picked up her wineglass. The merlot danced in the crystal stemware, its cranberry color contrasting with the white tablecloth. She took a fortifying sip, still a touch dismayed at Max’s presence and his effect on her equilibrium.
“Did you tell Mom and Dad about what happened in the attic?” Paulette plopped a piece of beef in her mouth and blinked.
“No. Should I?” Meredith didn’t want to say anything, but then again why not?
“What happened?” Max asked.
“Are you sure you want to know?” Meredith asked. “It might make you uncomfortable.”
“I’m a big boy.” He motioned with his fork for her to continue. “Go on.”
“Yes, please, tell us.” Dina laid her fork on her plate and peered at Meredith.
Paulette nodded, still chewing, a smirk on her face as she winked at Meredith. Chicken. Meredith sighed and relayed the previous incident. “We think Grace wants a happy ending.”
Brock’s fork clattered onto his plate. “And how do you propose to give a dead woman a happy ending?” Brock appeared utterly perplexed by such a notion.
“That’s the question.” Meredith buttered a wedge of cornbread. “Ideas?”
“That’s easy.” Dina glanced at each of them.
“Do tell.” Meredith bit into the dense yellow bread, the pieces of corn and bacon creating mini explosions of joy in her mouth.
“What, you haven’t figured it out?” Dina sat back, a grin on her face. “I’m enjoying being ahead of the curve on this one, so don’t mind me if I bask in this moment.”
“Mom…” Meredith said, leaning forward, elbows on the table. “Spill it.”
Dina’s Mona Lisa smile made her audience smile in return. “She’s been haunting this old place for more than one hundred fifty years because she died a horrible death at the hands of her sister. Whether accidental
or not, that’s a fact. So naturally, she wants to be laid to rest. And of course, the only place she’d want to be buried is beside her dearly departed brother.”
“Of course.” Paulette clapped her hands. “Brilliant, Mom.”
“Can we do that?” Brock asked. “Aren’t there rules or laws governing even family cemeteries?”
“The ME determined the remains are not Native American,” Max offered. “As far as the state is concerned, you’re free to bury Grace anytime you’d like.”
Meredith caught the eye of each of her family members, sharing a happy grin with each. “Max has her remains in his truck.” Meredith sank back, her hands falling into her lap. “I guess the next step is to plan a funeral.”
Chapter 17
Fog greeted the dawn. Whiskers tickled Meredith’s chin as Grizabella sniffed her lips. She sat up, forcing the insistent cat off her. Shoving the covers away, she swung her legs out of bed and padded to the bathroom. Today they’d lay Grace in the grave waiting for her and hope she’d finally be able to rest in peace. The humidity frizzed Meredith’s hair, making it near impossible to force it to lay as she wanted. She glared at herself in the mirror as she wet a comb and swiped through it, only to have it flip back up. Lovely.
A rumble of thunder rolled across the sky outside, sounding like a distant truck lumbering past on the road. So the storm wasn’t too close-by. The forecast called for possible severe weather in the afternoon, but the funeral would be over by then. The family worked out the details the day before. The guests had been invited to arrive by eleven, and they’d have a brief service led by the local pastor. The pall bearers would lower the coffin into the hole Sean and Max had dug yesterday in the reserved plot beside Grandpa Joe. Knowing it would likely rain, they’d finalized as much of the preparations as they could, even though they had to do so on a Sunday afternoon. After the coffin was covered in its hole and the final benediction said by the pastor, they’d adjourn to the house for a buffet lunch.
Meredith selected a pair of navy-blue slacks, a crisp white blouse, and saddle-leather sandals. She laid the clothes on the bed, dropped the sandals on the floor beside it, and then went to her jewelry chest. Sliding open the bottom drawer, she peered inside. She fingered the strand of pearls Willy presented to her on their wedding night, remembering the love they represented. Her gaze fell on the cameo her sister gave to her the day she graduated from high school beside the gold band. A flash of light drew her attention to the triple dresser’s mirror. Her breath hitched, one hand reaching for her throat. Behind her in the mirror’s reflection, Grace stood in her blue hoop-skirted dress, watching her with kind eyes. The young woman must have stolen many young men’s hearts with her beauty and poise. Meredith grieved for the life Grace never had chance to live. Grace pointed to the gift box lying on top of the dresser, beside the jewelry chest. Meredith locked eyes with her in the reflection, and she nodded slowly. Meredith inclined her head and opened the gift box. If Grace desired it, then she’d wear the jewelry recovered with her body in order to pay her homage. Meredith lifted Grace’s ruby-and-diamond earbobs and matching teardrop necklace and clipped them on in her great-great-great-aunt’s honor. She looked behind her in the mirror’s reflection to receive Grace’s approval, only she no longer lingered in the room.