“No problem,” Bryce said, looking relieved. “Leave everything to us.”
Grace hoped it would be as easy as he made it sound.
The Cutters’ estimate to clear the house and restore the front parlor ceiling and the bathroom above it was straightforward. Returning Delaney House to the condition it was supposed to have been in when she bought it would cost more than forty thousand dollars. She thought Cyrus Mosley was going to be very unhappy.
Grace nodded to Bryce and said, “When can you start?”
Chapter Fourteen
“The bones in the grave belong to a young woman.”
Grace wondered if the police academy had trained Lee McNamara to deliver bad news. He sat across from her in Farquar, Mitchum and Stoltzfus’ smallest conference room and studied her as if calculating her reaction. He’d left his uniform behind in Mallard Bay. In his conservative navy blue suit and red pinstripe tie, he could have been a client anxious to settle a complicated transaction. Grace intended to let the reception staff think exactly that. She needed a new client, not a police chief questioning her about a murder.
“Do you know how she died?” she asked.
“Trauma to her left temple seems the likely cause. Whether she died instantly or not, we don’t know.”
“Any idea who she is?”
“Ideas, yes. Proof, not so much. That’s why I need help.”
“From me.” Grace couldn’t imagine how he thought she could help him.
“You and the Delaneys.”
She was grateful he hadn’t said ‘your family’. She was still processing the new familial ties and, so far, she didn’t like them.
McNamara continued. “I had a talk with Henry Cutter. Went over to Delaney House yesterday to see how the work was coming along. He’s saving a lot of things for you.”
Once again, Grace was reminded there was nothing confidential in a small town. “Did he tell you what I was looking for?” she asked.
McNamara shook his head. “Not specifically, no.”
“Good, because I didn’t tell him.” She felt slightly mollified. At least Henry wasn’t spreading rumors.
“Suppose you tell me.” McNamara’s voice was gentle but firm. He was on her turf, but he still held the upper hand. She didn’t like it, but told herself they could be searching for the same thing. What difference did it make who got to the answer first? She had to trust someone, and Lee McNamara appeared to be her best bet.
“I hope my mother left something in the house that will tell me who my father is.”
“You don’t know?”
“I know who she said he was. They fell in love while she was in college and married when she got pregnant with me. He was older, in the Army and was deployed right before I was born. He died in a car accident in Germany when I was a few weeks old.”
“Sounds reasonable. Sad, but reasonable.” McNamara settled back in his chair and crossed his legs. He had the air of a man waiting for the rest of the story.
“It gets sadder,” Grace said. “He had no family. They had no friends in common who could tell me about my father as I grew up.”
“This bothered you,” he said when she stopped.
“That’s just it. It didn’t. I never questioned it. Mom and I were happy. ‘Two girls against the world’ she’d say. We had a nice home, a good life. Mom dated some, no one for very long. She had a lot of friends, but most of them were work related or neighbors. Even when I grew up, went to law school, got this job, we were always together. We talked ten times a day by phone or text and had dinner whenever I could get away from work. She was my best friend.”
It was only when McNamara leaned forward and said, “I’m so sorry,” that she realized tears were leaking from the corner of her eyes.
“Oh, God!” She grabbed a tissue. “I can’t believe I went into all of that. It isn’t important. What I wanted to say,” she stopped as she realized she’d said exactly what she wanted to this kind man, who even now was waiting patiently for her to finish. “When my mother died and I had to go through her papers, bank accounts, and safe deposit box, it was what I didn’t find that bothered me.”
“Documents?” McNamara asked.
Grace took a deep breath and said, “In the papers in the house, was there a death certificate for my father?”
“No. I’m sorry. You were hoping to find something in Delaney House that might identify him?”
“I know his name, place of birth. I mean, he’s real.”
“Of course, of course,” McNamara said. “Do you have any records at all?”
“No. No marriage license or obituary. Nothing from the Army. Not a single piece of paper with his name on it.”
“And you thought you’d find information in Delaney House?”
“I recently learned we lived there after he died. I hoped maybe she left it all behind her when we moved to Washington. Maybe she didn’t only cut ties with her family, she cut ties with her entire past.”
McNamara opened a canvas briefcase and took out a thick sheaf of papers.
“These are copies of all the documents of any kind that we found in your grandmother’s house. There’s nothing concerning your father. In fact, most of this is ordinary daily detritus, grocery lists, bills and such. But there are some items we’re hoping will spark a memory for you or the other family members. Anything you remember hearing about the time of the murder or afterward would be helpful. Anything at all.”
Grace eyed the thick stack of documents. “There are hundreds of pages here.”
“Most of it useless, I’m sure.” McNamara’s tone was agreeable but didn’t offer an option for refusal.
“Most?”
“The documents are in chronological order. There is an inventory sheet on top. The earliest items are letters between Emma Delaney and her family back in North Carolina. You’ll see in later correspondence her mother returns the letters and, obviously, Mrs. Delaney kept them. I’ve given a set of these documents to Stark and Niki, too. Winston refused to cooperate, but I’m hoping one of you will read something that will spark a useful memory.”
“Is there anything about my mother in here?”
“I’d rather you read everything without bias from me.”
Grace looked at the stack. “This will take forever.”
“According to the medical examiner, the murder occurred sometime in the late fifties or early sixties. A young woman has waited more than a half-century for justice.” McNamara rose and held out his hand. “Whatever you can do to help will be appreciated.”
She was able to ignore the papers on her dining room table until the weekend. In the intervening days, the long awaited court case settled on the eve of the trial only to be promptly replaced by two more battling clients funneled her way by David Farquar. Her boss seemed pleased. Grace felt like she was drowning. By the time the official workweek was over, she would have mucked out the kitchen of Delaney House if it meant she didn’t have to read another legal document or listen to another angry person.
She knew she should spend the weekend getting up to speed on her new cases, but she gave her Saturday morning to Lee McNamara’s documents. By the time she’d finished a pot of coffee, she was hooked. It didn’t happen immediately. McNamara was right. Most of the papers were trash and rated no more than a cursory glance. But others did what all the hours she’d spent in Mallard Bay had failed to accomplish. Slowly, Grace began to get a sense of who her grandmother had been.
Grocery store receipts showed Emma Delaney usually bought bologna, saltine crackers and box wine. Fuel bills, bank statements and tax returns said she must have closed off most of the house in the winter and could have qualified for food stamps.
As the image of Emma’s last years began to take shape in Grace’s mind, so did the memories of her own childhood with summer camps and riding lessons. Had the luxuries she’d enjoyed while growing up come from a woman who was cash poor at the end of her life? Why hadn’t Emma sold Delaney House soo
ner?
But it was her grandmother’s letters that caused Grace to keep reading through the afternoon.
She watched the sunset from her tiny balcony overlooking Connecticut Avenue and remembered the sunrise on the Chesapeake Bay. Her 900-square-foot condo felt cramped after the expanse of Delaney House. The balcony suffered in comparison to the wide porches back in Mallard Bay.
She needed to talk to someone objective, but friends had fallen by the wayside during the years she had narrowed her life to her work and David. When Julia’s cancer reappeared with a vengeance a year ago, the last of Grace’s social life disappeared. She’d been torn in half between Julia’s needs and the demands of a man who was always busy. Always too busy.
Now she was almost free. Free and rudderless for the first time in her life. She could pick up the phone, find Cyrus Mosley and accept his offer. She imagined the conversation, signing the papers. Disposing of the house, its people and their secrets.
It felt wrong.
She didn’t expect David to be completely understanding when she called him on Sunday morning to tell him she needed another leave of absence, but she also didn’t expect him to fire her. She’d thought she was ready for a negative reaction and was surprised to find his words hurt.
It’s too much, Grace. I’ve done what I can, but you’ve pushed me too far.
That was her whole problem, she thought as she sat staring at her cell. The tiny photo of David’s face seemed to watch her reproachfully from the contact list. She was tempted to stab the little green phone symbol next to his name and tell him how wrong he was.
She hadn’t pushed David, or anyone else, far enough. But that was about to change.
Feb 20, 1953
Dearest Nanny,
I am so sorry. I have so much to tell you, but those words are the most important. I need to say them to everyone, especially to Ford, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I’d have to tell him why I’m sorry and I’ve waited too long to do that. I think you guessed the real reason why I couldn't leave after Christmas as I’d planned. Your lighthearted treatment of my excuse let me know you didn’t believe influenza prevented me from traveling. As usual, you were correct. And as usual, I ruined everything - again.
Poor Ford never knew. I kept dithering about telling him. I wanted to leave so badly and if he knew I was in that condition, he’d come after me, so I didn’t say anything.
I got ‘sick’ after the New Year’s Eve party. After I realized what kind of ‘sick’ it was, I couldn’t decide what to do. Last week, the decision was taken out of my hands. I wasn’t far enough along to need a doctor, thank goodness, so Ford didn’t have to be told. Of course, he didn’t notice anything was wrong.
He isn't a bad man, Nanny, despite what I’ve said. He simply isn’t the man for me and I certainly am not the woman for him. The awful truth is, I’m relieved not to be tied to Ford with babies. And since I’m not, I’m coming home. I still have the money Mother gave me as a wedding gift, so I won’t be penniless even though I won’t take any money from Ford. Maybe Mother knew how things would end with us.
Anyway, I’ll be with you on Stark Mountain in a week or two. It all depends on timing. Ford is going on a business trip and will meet up with his father in New York. I’ll use his visit as a chance to - I almost wrote ‘escape’. That sounds so horrible, and yet that’s what it feels like.
I’m coming home.
Love,
Emma
Oh, Nanny!
I didn’t get yesterday’s letter sealed before the phone rang and Ford gave me the news his father isn’t coming. His new wife is pregnant and can’t travel. Can you believe the irony? Ford is beside himself. I have to get this into the mail. I don’t know now when I will come, but I AM coming home. Don’t worry and please don’t tell Mother and Papa. I will figure it out.
All my love,
Emma
April 2, 1953
Dear Mother,
Ford and I are well and very relieved to hear you are all the same. Please read the newsy parts of this letter to Nanny and Papa and let them know how much I love them. Tell Nanny everything is fine with me and make her believe it. I’m working things out here and I will never forgive myself for worrying her when she was so sick. Promise you’ll never keep bad news from me again. The thought I could have killed her whining on about my life when her heart is so bad - enough about that. You take care of her and I’ll straighten myself out here. Fair deal?
Here’s a blurb for her: Winter has passed and spring here on the Eastern Shore is glorious. Papa needs to figure out how he can get away from the store and bring you all to see me. Now that Nanny is living in town with you, maybe you can take a vacation? You will love this beautiful place. It’s so different from Asheville, you'll swear you are in another country.
I’m sure Papa is saying one can travel easier than three and I really would come home to see you, but Ford can’t make the trip right now. Too many pressing things at work, and he doesn’t want me to travel alone. Besides, he has me involved in so many activities, leaving at this point would upset his schedule.
Anyway, I have a new friend, Audrey Oxley, and I know you will love her when you meet her. Mother, not a word about my best friend being a single woman. She's the niece of a local merchant who is very successful, and he is the head deacon of the First Church in Christ. The family is well placed, so don’t worry. It’s a relief to have a friend who isn’t a social obligation, if you know what I mean.
You will be pleased to know, Mother, Mallard Bay is just a little Asheville in terms of the ins and out of our social hierarchy. I am putting your lessons to good use. Why, only last week, I hosted the Garden Club and my new rose bed was much admired. When it’s in full bloom, it will be featured on the Bay Republic’s society page and I'll send you a copy of the article. Now that should make Nanny smile!
I must close and get busy. Dinner for eight tonight - a campaign strategy session for our local congressman. I am sure there will be imaginative plans for arm-twisting donors hatched over the prime rib. The beautiful Waterford goblets you sent at Christmas will toast a band of merry conspirators. Audrey and I will entertain the ladies with something lighter and I’ll serve your lemon icebox pie.
I hope you are all pleased with the transformation of your tomboy rebel child.
Tell Nanny not to worry, there’s still a bit of the old me here, but I’m trying hard to grow up.
Love,
Emma
Chapter Fifteen
“Mother, he’s a grown man, not a child. He’s behaving like a jackass and since I can’t stop him, I’m not having anything to do with him at all. I am certainly not apologizing to him or anyone else.”
Niki rolled her eyes at Grace and held up an index finger, “Mother, mother! Stop. I’m with Grace right now and she can hear you.”
It was true. Grace could hear the tinny voice blasting through Niki’s phone.
“I’m sorry I raised my voice,” Niki said when the squawking paused. “I apologize to you for being rude, okay? Now I have to go. Grace is giving me a ride home and I don’t want her to hear this."
“Glad I was useful for something,” Grace said as Niki dropped her phone into her jacket pocket.
“Mom’s trying to guilt me into coming over for dinner and making nice with Winnie. It’s not happening. I’m cutting him out for a while. For my own sanity, you know?"
Grace pulled her car over to the curb in front of a large colonial that looked old enough to have come by the description due to its actual age. A white sign in the yard announced Victory Manor Inn in gold letters. She’d arrived in Mallard Bay only a few hours before and called Niki. This time when Niki offered a room at her inn, Grace said yes and they’d sealed the deal with lunch at a harbor-front cafe.
While she’d have preferred to stay at the Egret Inn with its lovely privacy, the severance pay David offered in exchange for a non-compete agreement would only keep her solvent for a few months. Most of
the lump-sum payment would go into Delaney House and Grace knew she shouldn’t count on getting all of her money out again anytime soon, if ever.
“I won’t be staying long. I’ll get a place as soon as I can,” Grace said as she opened the BMW’s trunk and took out a suitcase. Niki hadn’t blinked when Grace told her she was in Mallard Bay to stay through the renovation, but the loaded trunk seemed to surprise her.
“Think you brought enough stuff?” Niki asked.
“I was able to rent out my place for six months. I’ll find a place here as soon as I can.”
“Nonsense,” Niki said. “You’ll stay with me.”
Grace tried to make her smile look more genuine than it felt. The ‘family’ rate at Niki’s B&B was much less than the cost of staying at the Egret Inn, but it would still take a bite out of her funds.
Sub-leasing her condo in Washington had been a last minute decision. Money won over worry when a house-hunting co-worker asked if leaving the firm meant Grace was moving away. Short-term rentals in buildings like Grace’s were rare and a tenant she knew personally was too tempting to pass up. Having the condo’s mortgage and fees covered meant one less worry while she was in Mallard Bay. An apartment on the Eastern Shore or even the room at Niki’s inn would be a fraction of the cost of her DC home.
Grace felt better about the arrangement when she saw the pretty yellow room on the second floor of the Victory Manor Inn but still wasn’t sure how long she could take her effervescent cousin. She had just hung up the last of her clothes when Niki called out from the hallway that she had a surprise. Grace opened her door to find Niki holding a large plastic box.
“I’ve got a date this afternoon,” Niki said. “I’d cancel, but it’s complicated, so I thought maybe you could entertain yourself with these while I’m gone. I mean, if you want to.” She held the box out to Grace. “Family photos from Gran’s house. I’m not much for keeping stuff like this, but you might be interested.”
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