by Marja McGraw
“Ms. Treat, this is Sandi Webster. I’m interested in a property you have listed over on Figueroa Terrace.”
“Please, call me Joanne. How can I help you?”
“My great-great-great-grandmother was the original owner of the house, and I’d like to look through it if that’s possible.”
“Are you interested in purchasing the home?” I surmised by her tone of voice that she wasn’t going to be interested in me unless I turned out to be a potential buyer.
“Why, yes. As a matter of fact, I’d love to bring the old place back into the family. When can you show it to me?”
“Would you be able to meet me there in about forty-five minutes?”
“I’ll be there,” I replied.
I hung up and picked up Merced’s letter again. I could kill a few minutes by reading.
Ol’ Grandpa Vincente was beginning to sound like a pain in the neck.
Dear Sister,
I hope this letter finds you feeling well. The children and I miss you and hope you’ll be able to return for another visit soon.
I don’t know what to think about Vincente. Could he possibly be hoping for a reconciliation? Lately, on numerous occasions, I’ve felt his presence and upon peeking out the window, I see him there, on the property. He just stands and stares at the house or looks around. On one warm day recently I found him perched on the woodpile behind the house, just gazing about. I finally walked outside, taking my broom with me, and ordered the old skinflint to leave the premises. I must admit that I shook as I ordered him about. He glanced at me, as if awakening from a dream, and left without a word.
He has his fallen women to use for any dalliance he desires. I won’t be a part of it and truly don’t want him to come home. So long as he meets my financial needs, I don’t have any desire to lay eyes on him.
What could our father have been thinking when he arranged my betrothal to Vincente? But then, he didn’t see the cruelty. V. hid that side of himself from father. He only saw that which V. wanted him to see. Mother saw it, and she knew the difference in our ages was a problem, but our culture wouldn’t allow her to disagree with Father. I know women will have a new place in this world, but it will be a long journey. I only wish I could be here to see it.
The tone was angry, and Grandma Merced was the injured party. I couldn’t blame her for wanting him to stay away. I was curious and more of the letter.
Miss Perty, from the next farm, tells me that my brother-in-law, Miguel, has been fighting in the streets again. He was seen leaving a saloon with blood on his face. She is my truest friend here. She only tells me these tales to warn me of things to come. I expect to find we will be the talk of the town once again. I would so like to live a quiet life without all the gossip these men cause.
I have heard there may be a new ‘nurse’ within his reach. Her name is Florence, not that the name matters. She’s one of many. I am appalled that he refers to these soiled doves as nurses. He must think we’re all quite slow-witted. Alas, this one is already lying in wait for the old skinflint to let go of his memories of Jessica, the one who was murdered. It has been said that the new one tried to turn Vincente’s head while the murdered girl was still alive and living in his house.
Enough of this. He and his women should be beneath my thoughts. It’s so bothersome, though, and I know I can tell you about the whole sordid affair without being judged. I do need someone to talk to. I only wish you were here to sit with me.
The rest of the letter went on to relate information about the children and a disagreement with a local retailer. My grandmother had known that women’s lives would change. I, too, wished she could have been around to see it. And my heart ached with the realization that she apparently didn’t have any true friends or confidants to talk to.
Knowing I had to stick to business, I opened my desk drawer and extracted the list of suspects I’d begun to keep. I added the name Florence. I now had Vicente, Miguel, Dr. Drake, Merced and Florence. I didn’t know if any of them had been involved in the crime, but these were the names that had appeared so far, and I had to start somewhere.
The phone rang and I briefly considered not answering it. I had a gut feeling about who the caller might be. Common sense won out because, after all, I had a business to run.
“Webster & Goldberg. May I help you?”
“Sandra, this is your mother.”
The heart that had been aching suddenly dropped all the way down to my toes. She’d called me Sandra.
“Yes, Mother, how are you feeling?”
“Fine. Is Frank there by any chance?” She didn’t sound upset. Maybe her mood had already passed. One could always hope.
“No, Mom. He and Pete have gone out to watch baseball. And Stanley went with them. I think they went to a local bar.” I wasn’t sure how she’d take this news.
“Oh, good. He needs to be out with other men. Actually, I was wondering if you’d come pick me up?”
Thank goodness, I’d been right and she was okay. She didn’t sound the least bit angry. “Actually, I’m leaving in a few minutes to meet the real estate agent and look at the old house.”
“Good. Pick me up on your way. That’s exactly what I want to talk to you about.”
“What?”
“Buying that house.”
“Buying the house? What are you talking about?” I asked.
“Come pick me up and we’ll discuss it.” She hung up before I could answer.
I sighed, deeply, and retrieved my backpack from the desk drawer. I wondered what my mother had up her sleeve.
It took only five minutes to reach the motel where Frank and my mother were staying. I found her waiting for me by the office. She appeared to be happy and she was smiling at me, so I figured we were off to a good start. Glancing around nonchalantly, I spied the offending hibiscus bush and cringed.
“I left a note for Frank on top of his suitcase,” she explained as she opened the car door, “just in case he comes back before I do. He’ll probably be a while though if he’s out with Pete and Stanley.”
“Probably. What was this about buying the old house?” I couldn’t imagine what she was thinking.
“That house belongs back in our family.” She didn’t say anything else. I glanced at her and noted a self-satisfied expression on her face. Oh no! Was she thinking of moving back to Los Angeles? I didn’t know if my heart could take that.
“Would you like to explain yourself? Just a little?” I needed to know more, and quickly, before my imagination ran away with me.
“I think you should buy that house.”
Oh. Easy one to answer. “Mother, I can’t afford to buy a house.”
“I have that all figured out,” Mother said.
“You do?”
“Yes. I’ll cash in some bonds and make the down payment for you, and it’s a gift. No arguments.”
“Mother, that’s so thoughtful. I love you for wanting to do that, but I’d never find a lender. I own a small private investigating firm. They’re not going to look at me as a good financial risk.”
“Okay, here’s an alternative. I have good credit and I can buy the house. You can rent from me and when the time is right, you can buy it from me. I want you to have that house.”
Mother was full of surprises. “You haven’t thought about this for very long, or very hard. I don’t have a guaranteed income, you know.”
“I know, Sandi. But that house belongs in the family, and you need to get out of your apartment and into a home of your own. I’m quite proud of you, my dear. You’ve taken what could have turned out to be a disaster, and turned it into a decent little business. After all, you did leave a steady government job. Anyway, I’ve seen you in action and you know what you’re doing.”
I chose to take this as a compliment.
“I haven’t forgotten how hard you worked when you were young to try to help me out after your father died. Don’t ever think I took that for granted. I know you never had the chanc
e to be an ordinary teenager and do all the things you would have liked to do. I also know you never had a chance to form friendships because of our lifestyle after your father passed. You’re a good-hearted, special little woman, and I love you very much. I couldn’t ask for a better daughter.”
How could I respond to this? My mother and I never had this type of conversation. We loved each other, but she’d been constantly surprising me during her visit.
She wasn’t done. “Besides, it’s my money and I can do what I want with it. Think of this as an investment for me.”
I was flabbergasted. My mother had just about taken my breath away. It took a moment to pull myself together and respond to her.
“Well?” she asked.
“Mom, I’m overwhelmed by this. I don’t know exactly what to say.” What do you say when your mother opens up and tells you she loves you and she’s proud of you? I mean, she’s told me she loves me many times, but the rest of it had gone unsaid until now.
“Have I ever told you I like it when you call me ‘Mom’ instead of ‘Mother’?”
One surprise right after the other. I was on overload.
“Let me think about everything while we drive over to the house.” I simply didn’t know how to respond.
We arrived and found Joanne Treat waiting for us on the porch.
“Don’t mention that this was our family’s house,” Mother whispered.
“Too late.”
“You have a lot to learn about business. I’ll bet she holds out for more money since she knows why we want the house.”
“I don’t think so.” At least, I hoped not.
“Hello.” Joanne approached the car to greet us.
“Hi. I’m Livvie Webster and this is my daughter, Sandi.”
“I believe I spoke to you on the phone, Sandi.”
“Yes, you did. My mother wanted to come along to see the old place.”
“It’s a treasure, believe me,” Joanne said. Interesting that she chose those words. I hoped it was a real treasure, with all my heart.
Chapter Twenty-three
1898
Florence left the room and quiet descended. Vincente sighed. He turned to go to his bedroom and stumbled, feeling tired. He undressed and settled on the bed, but sleep wouldn’t come. Memories of the previous year flooded his mind.
He remembered the day of the doctor’s visit. Only a moment had passed since the physician’s departure when there was another knock on the door. He angrily yanked it open, expecting to see that Dr. Drake had returned. Instead, he found his brother on the doorstep.
Miguel pushed past Vincente and demanded a share of the gold. The two men quarreled, with the younger brother shaking his fist at the old man. Vincente noticed for the second time that his brother’s hands were bruised and cut.
Vincente’s eyelids lowered to half-mast. He quietly asked what had happened to his brother’s hands. Miguel, glaring, said he’d been in a fight over a bar bill and told him it wasn’t any of his business.
Vincente was at his most dangerous when he was angry and spoke quietly. He filed the information about the cuts and bruises away in the back of his mind.
The old man ordered his brother to leave, threatening to shoot him if he didn’t. It wasn’t an idle threat.
Miguel, realizing he’d pushed Vincente too far, turned and left. He yelled at Vincente as he stomped out onto the porch, telling him he’d get even. His wasn’t an idle threat either. He was known for his violent nature. He wanted the money and he’d run out of patience.
Vincente knew that even with all his bluster, Miguel feared him on some level. His brother’s bravado wouldn’t save him when the time came for a true showdown. This knowledge caused the old man to narrow his eyes and grin.
2003
Joanne took us on a tour of the house, starting with the attic and working her way down. I was surprised to find that the attic was full of boxes and furniture. I’ve seen television documentaries about old houses where people had moved away and left things in the attic or the basement, and I never could figure out why they did that. I questioned Joanne about this peculiarity.
“I suppose people don’t want to be bothered about it. We considered clearing everything out, but sometimes the buyer actually wants these things. You may find something relating to the house or its history up here.”
Mother was already trying to open a box, her curiosity getting the best of her.
“Mother, not now.”
“Just looking, dear.”
We moved to the second floor of the house, where we found three bedrooms and a bathroom. I could see some renovation had taken place. Closets had been added where furniture had been used to store clothes in the past. The bathroom was an obvious addition, too. The original windows had been replaced with newer, larger ones. I noticed a built-in window seat that was surely original. I lifted the seat to find a storage space underneath. Mother and I looked through closets and cubbyholes.
It was a wonderful old house with lots of places to store things, which was unusual in a house of this particular Victorian style. Some of it had been done through renovation, but much of it had been from the original plans. My grandmother, Merced, must have been a woman of vision.
I remembered reading somewhere that specialized rooms in this type of house signaled your social position and financial status. Many of the old homes only had a hall and a parlor, where the families ate, slept and entertained visitors. Merced had foresight, and more than a little money to work with when building her home. I knew that it had been built while Merced and Vincente were still together.
“Why don’t we take a look downstairs?” Joanne asked.
Mother and I could hardly tear ourselves away. There was a connection. Merced had lived and slept here. I’d never been overly interested in family history, but this house inspired me.
“Sandi, this is wonderful,” Mother whispered while we climbed down the stairs.
“I thought you said not to let her know we’re anxious,” I replied.
“Oh, she can’t hear me.”
I chuckled. I could practically see Joanne’s ears wiggling, anxious to know what was being said.
On the ground floor we found a large kitchen with a tiny pantry and small breakfast room, another bathroom and the larger living room, with a very small bedroom down a hallway. There was also a small dining room. The breakfast room, bedroom, dining room and bathroom appeared to be recent alterations. That would explain the size of two of the upstairs bedrooms. The rooms were certainly larger than one would expect in an old house. They, whoever they were, must have enlarged the bedrooms when the additions were made.
“This was once another bedroom and a parlor,” Joanne explained when we toured the living room, “but one of the owners tore out a wall and turned it into this lovely living room, leaving part of the bedroom at the end of the hallway. And, of course, there were some additions made on this floor and the second floor. You may have noticed that the attic is smaller than the second floor. Great job, don’t you think?”
“Well, I don’t know…” Mother was trying her hardest to be cagey, but I knew she was hooked the moment she walked through the front door. So was I.
Joanne knew it too. She had an expression on her face that read, “Sale! I’ve got a sale here.”
“Mom, come look at this.” The renovations included two large niches in the wall, bordering a beautiful fireplace. “What a comfortable room. I can picture myself sitting here with a cup of coffee, curled up on a couch with one of those books you think I should be reading.”
Oops. Joanne couldn’t contain herself any longer. Her grin widened as my mother and I took a second tour of the house.
“This is it, Sandi. This is your new home. What do you think of it?”
“Oh, Mom, this would be a dream come true. It really would. But I’m worried about the money.”
“Not to worry. We’ll work it out.”
“Well, Sandi, what do you thin
k?” Joanne joined us in the kitchen. “Would you like time to mull it over? I do have to tell you though, that I have another potential buyer looking at it tomorrow.” Now who was the cagey one?
“Yes, we’ll think it – ”
“We’ll take it,” my mother interrupted.
“But Mom, we haven’t even discussed the asking price yet.”
“She’s right,” Joanne said. She quoted the price, adding that it was firm. No room for bargaining.
“That’s reasonable,” Mother said, pulling out her checkbook. “I’ll give you something to get things started. We’re going to Laughlin, Nevada, and I’ll be out of town for about a week, but I’ll contact my bank about financing on Monday.”
“I can fax the necessary papers to you in Laughlin for signature,” Joanne said, “and you can courier them back to me.”
Mother nodded, apparently eager to complete the deal. “What’s the quickest we can get this through escrow?”
“If there aren’t any problems, a couple of weeks,” Joanne replied, beaming.
“But, Mom – ”
“Shhh. I’m trying to take care of business here.”
“What if I don’t want the house?” She was taking an awful lot for granted.
She turned and looked directly into my eyes. “Don’t you want the house?”
“Well, yes, but – ”
She turned to Joanne. “How much do you need to get this started?”
Joanne’s smile widened to unexpected proportions.
Chapter Twenty-four
Mother rode back to the office with me. We were very quiet during the ride. She began to fan herself, but then stopped and giggled.
“What?” I asked.
“I’ve never done anything like this before. What a rush. It tickles me to pieces.”
“Me, too. Mom, thank you. For everything.” I didn’t know what else to say. I had a lot to think over.