A fit of coughing kept them both waiting until he could speak again.
“Mike, why don’t we talk about this later, when you’re feeling better?”
“No, no. I’m fine. Just a little croaky. What I found was just a mention in an old notebook someone wrote in 1931, and it says—” He hacked a bit more. “Scuse me. It says ‘David Ralston recently bought a plot of heavily wooded land north of town and built a fine cottage. His business keeps him away, so it’s unsure if he ever plans to live there. Perhaps he wants a holiday retreat and Fairview certainly will provide that for him.’ That’s all I’ve found, and I’ve gone through most of my records while I’ve been laid up. You know I can’t stand to lie still.”
This time the coughing went on until Annie was afraid for Mike’s well-being.
“Mike!” she shouted above the sound of coughing. “Get off the telephone, and go lie down. I’ll talk to you later.”
He wheezed a reply, which she interpreted to be affirmative, and Annie broke the connection. She wondered if Mike’s wife, Fiona, knew that he was up and shuffling through old records instead of recuperating while she was at work. She doubted it, but it was hard to keep a man like Mike Malone down. That restless drive to stay busy reminded her so much of Wayne that sudden, unexpected tears stung her eyes. She blinked them back and refused to give in to that familiar lonesomeness. Lonesomeness. Ian would probably smile at her use of the word again. Gathering her crochet tote, the phone and the two empty cups, she went inside to fix lunch.
Later, Annie sat in the window seat and munched her tuna sandwich while Boots watched every bite with unblinking green eyes.
It was hard for Annie to enjoy her meal when her mind kept rolling over the news that Gram might have had a deed to Fairview and yet not actually own the place. Could that possibly be the case? Would that be why Betsy never mentioned the property to anyone?
The need to know the answers bothered Annie so much that she decided there was no reason to sit around the house and wait while someone else did the investigating for her. She gave Boots the last quarter of her sandwich—bread, pickle, celery, and all—and went to change clothes and freshen up.
****
An hour later, Annie stepped through the doors of the lovely old brick courthouse in Wiscasset and found the county records office.
She presented the deed to the woman across the desk and said, “I need to know anything you can tell me about this property.”
The woman quickly looked over the papers, and then gave Annie a warm smile and said, “Sure. With our new computer system, we can find information about this in a flash for you.”
Annie waited while the woman tapped the keys and scanned the screen. Finally, she gave a final click of the mouse and a nearby printer slid out a couple of pages. These she handed to Annie.
“There you are!” She tapped Betsy’s name on the document. She leaned forward slightly, as if sharing a confidence. “Y’know, I just loved Betsy. And her cross-stitch work was just so … mmm,” she seemed to be searching for a word, “well, just so exquisite.”
“You knew my grandmother?”
The woman’s merry brown eyes widened. “You’re her granddaughter? Oh, how interesting. And aren’t you the lucky one to have been related! From your accent, I’d say you didn’t grow up in Maine, though.”
“No. I’m from Texas. But I spent summers up here with Gram.”
“I see. Well, I didn’t know Betsy very well, but I talked with her from time to time when she came into the courthouse. I ran into her at a craft shop in Portland once. She was always so nice and pleasant to visit with.”
The words warmed Annie’s heart. She hadn’t spent as much time in the last several years with Gram as she should have, but it gratified her to know that others, even near-strangers, had regarded her grandmother with affection and respect.
“I’m wondering,” she said, “if Gram ever talked to you about the place recorded on this deed? Fairview?”
The woman bunched her face as she pondered, and then she shook her head.
“I suppose it’s possible that she did. But I just don’t remember. We have so many property records that, truly, it is simply impossible to remember them all.”
Annie hid her disappointment and said, “I understand.”
She eagerly took the copies the other woman handed over, thanked her effusively, and then stepped aside so the woman could wait on the man who had entered the room shortly after Annie had. He now stood behind her, sighing loudly and shifting from foot to foot.
It only took Annie only a few moments to read the papers and learn what she had been longing to know.
That proves it! she thought. Gram owned Fairview, free and clear, a gift from Joseph and Alta Harper of Stony Point, Maine.
Except no one in Stony Point knew them. How could someone live in a place as small as that town and remain unknown?
Annie looked up from the papers, and as soon as the impatient man at the counter left, she once more approached the woman who’d helped her.
“I’m sorry to bother you again, but I have another question.
“What is it?”
“Do you happen to remember anyone named Joseph and Alta Harper?”
“Those are the other names on that deed, aren’t they? And I saw another name, David Ralston.”
“Yes. Maybe you know something about him too?”
“Only that he bought the land from the county a long time ago, just as it says on the deed.”
“But you know nothing about the Harpers?”
Again the woman scrunched her face in thought; again she shook her head.
“Sorry. I wish I could help.”
“It was a long shot, and another dead end,” Annie told her. “I seem to be running into a lot of those.”
14
Diamond studs or delicate gold hoops? Maybe the dangling ones with pearls. Annie grimaced at her reflection. If she had had her ears pierced three times like LeeAnn did she could wear all three pair of earrings that now lay on her dresser and not have to choose.
Diamonds were always in style, of course, even small stones like the ones that caught the light and glittered up at her. Wayne had given her those earrings on Christmas the first year they were married. She smiled, remembering how proud he had been to give her diamonds. The hoops, simple and dressy, came from LeeAnn on Mother’s Day just a few years ago. The dangling pearls were classic. She had bought them a couple of months ago from Alice at one of the Princessa jewelry parties in Stony Point. Annie touched each pair with a fingertip, trying to decide which ones to wear on that evening. Why was this so hard? She was purely disgusted with herself for letting a date with Ian Butler turn her into a ninny.
Date. What kind of word was that for someone of her age, anyway? Although, perhaps it applied more to Ian and her than to the younger set these days. She read somewhere that today’s teenagers didn’t “date.” They “hooked up”—the term and its implications made her shudder—or they “hung out,” a more benign activity, usually in groups.
But, in Annie’s middle-aged world, dressing up and going out for the evening with a member of the opposite sex was considered a date.
She sighed and studied her hair again. Really, if she styled it in her customary bob, no one would even see her ears at all. Of course, if she combed it back, and tucked it sassily behind her ears, there were those lobes just hanging there for the entire world to see.
“Oh, for goodness sake!” she said.
She grabbed up a pair of black onyx cubes from her jewelry box on the dresser and put them on before she could second-guess her choice. She didn’t even know where she had gotten those particular earrings, and more to the point, she didn’t care.
At least she wouldn’t have to worry about what clothes to wear. That morning she had gone to Dress to Impress and bought a lovely ice-blue sheath dress. With a crocheted wrap of shimmering cream-color silk and bone-color pumps, the complete outfit was simple and elegant
. The black earrings added just the right touch of contrast.
As Annie gazed at herself in the full-length mirror, she was sure she would pass inspection. She was no raving beauty, but she was pretty sure she would not be too hard on anyone’s eyes that evening.
As she gazed at her reflection, her thoughts turned to Wayne, how his face would light up when he saw her “all dolled up,” as he liked to express it.
“Annie-girl,” she could almost hear him say, “you look good enough to take to town.”
She bit her lower lip. Was this date a good idea or not? Was she ready for something like this with any man other than Wayne? And what about that niggling determination to keep things purely platonic between Ian and her? On the other hand, did she want to go through the rest of her life as “just friends?”
The front doorbell rang startling her a little. Was she ready? Nervous, yes. Cold hands, thumping heart, completely uncertain she was doing the right thing, Annie once more met her own eyes in the reflection and looked far into their depths.
“You can’t allow yourself to stagnate, Annie Dawson. Or to dry up on the vine. This date does not mean you and Ian are going to elope tonight. It’s just dinner. Go out and have a good time.”
The reasonable sound of her own voice helped Annie regain control. She fluffed her hair, leaned forward to check her lipstick, made a final pirouette in front of the mirror to make sure her stockings sported no runs or snags.
“You’ll do,” she said. “Now get out there and have a good time. And for goodness sake, stop talking to yourself!”
Ian’s eyes widened when she opened the door.
“Why, Annie!”
He was dressed far more casually than she was, in khaki slacks and white buttoned- down oxford shirt, open collar, no tie.
“You’re a vision!” he said.
She took a step back and invited him inside. She felt foolish and gawky—and terribly overdressed.
“I’ll just … run upstairs and put on something less dressy. Wait right here. No, I mean, please have a seat in the living room and I’ll—”
“Annie!” he laughed, reaching for her arm. “Hold on. You look lovely. Please don’t change.”
“Oh, but—”
“But nothing! If you change so much as an earring, we’ll go to Weenie World.”
Her mouth dropped open.
“You would not dare take me there. No one but high school kids goes to Weenie World.”
He shrugged. “I’m a kid at heart. So … you gonna change out of that lovely blue dress? By the way, I hear the chili dogs will give you heartburn.”
She shook her head and laughed at him.
“Not if it means you’re taking me for chili dogs and greasy tater tots. No way.”
“Great. Then let’s go.” He opened the front door. “I’m glad to see you have that beautiful shawl. It’s nippy outside.”
“At least the snow from the other day melted quickly,” she said as they walked outside.
“Yes. I’m looking forward to spring.”
“It’s one of my four favorite seasons,” she said.
“Mine too. See? I’ve always known we have a kinship of minds.”
They chatted about the weather all the way to his car, and almost to the Stony Point city limits. Annie realized weather was a weak topic, useful to fill time when no one has anything else to say. She cast about in her mind for a new subject.
“Read any good books lately?” she blurted, interrupting his observations about the month of August.
Ian shot her a sideways look and then focused on the road ahead.
“I don’t have a lot of time for reading, but I’ve been working my way through John Grisham’s novels.”
“I never had much time for reading when I lived in Texas. Work took up most of my day. But I’ve found time to read since moving to Stony Point.”
“When you aren’t crocheting, you mean,” he prompted with a smile.
“Yes. When I’m not crocheting.”
“Did you make that shawl?”
She looked down at the silken wrap, fingered it lovingly.
“Yes. Gram bought me the yarn and helped me get started on it one summer.” She laughed lightly. “I guess you could say it’s an antique, it’s been so long ago since I made it.”
Ian reached out, touched a strand of fringe. It slid through his fingers.
“It’s as beautiful as the lady who crafted it.”
The words, spoken so softly, sent a shiver across her skin. She shifted in her seat, drew the shawl more snugly around her.
“Cold?” Ian said. “I’ll turn up the heater.”
Warm air rose from the car’s heating vents and comforted her. Annie was not sure if she liked Ian’s less-than-subtle flirting. In fact, she thought he was going beyond mere flirting and into a territory she preferred to avoid. Once again she changed the subject.
“So you’ve never been to this place we’re going. What did you say it was called?”
“Sweet Nell’s. I haven’t been there yet, but I’ve heard the food is good and the entertainment is pretty good.”
“Entertainment? You mean like a dinner theater? Oh, what fun! I’ve always loved live theater.”
Ian was very quiet and kept his attention on his driving.
“Ian, is it a dinner theater?”
“Umm,” he stalled. “Not exactly.”
“What do you mean ‘not exactly’?” She frowned, thought about it, and didn’t like what came into her mind. “Now, wait a minute. Ian! You aren’t taking me to one of those … those awful places where—”
“No! Annie, I’m surprised at you even thinking such a thing. I think I’m a little hurt, actually.”
She bit her lip and studied his profile. He didn’t look hurt. His brows were pulled down, but he didn’t appear angry either. In fact, he looked as if he had some sort of hilarious secret.
“Ian? Why do I get the notion you’ve just swallowed a canary?”
He laughed.
“No canaries. Look, there’s Sweet Nell’s just ahead.”
She looked, leaned forward and looked harder.
“That’s that old abandoned tire shop, isn’t it?”
“It used to be, yes.”
“And now it’s a restaurant?
He snickered again as he slowed the car and flipped on the right-hand turn signal.
“Well, they’ve renovated it, of course.”
She leaned back and eyed the structure as they pulled into the brightly lit parking lot. The metal building had been painted a clean fresh color—in the dark, she couldn’t tell what color it was—maybe pale blue, maybe gray, perhaps off-white. The old rusted metal door had been replaced with large, double glass doors, and the light from inside spilled cheerfully across the entrance.
“There are a lot of cars,” she observed as Ian parked. “I suppose you had to make reservations?”
“I don’t think we’ll need them. It’s a big place.”
He got out and went around the car to open her door. He offered his hand as she stepped out. It was a good thing he did so because the heels of her pumps did not take kindly to the rock parking lot. Clinging to his strong hand, Annie stepped carefully until they reached the sidewalk.
“You can hear the music all the way out here,” she said, and immediately regretted the dismay in her voice.
Ian stopped, tilted his head slightly as he looked at her.
“We can go somewhere else, Annie. I chose Sweet Nell’s because I thought you needed something fun to do. You’ve seemed so … oh, I don’t know, a little blue lately, and I’ve heard this place is fun. But I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. We can drive on to Portland, or back toward Wiscasset, if you’d like.”
His expression was so kind and so caring that she reached out and brushed his cheek quickly, lightly with the fingertips of one hand.
“Thank you, Ian. And you’re right. After these last few weeks of allowing myself to give into lonel
iness and frustration and confusion, I do need some fun. My friends in Stony Point are fun. Crocheting is fun. Even investigating Fairview’s history and Gram’s part in it has been fun, in its own way. But I need something new and different to do.” She smiled into his eyes. “I apologize for being such a ‘diva’.”
“Diva! You mostly certainly are not. Divas are spoiled and unreasonable.”
She smiled in relief.
“Thanks for saying so, Ian. I don’t like to be around whiners.” She glanced through the glass doors into the crowded restaurant. “I’d like to see what Sweet Nell’s has to offer.”
“You’re sure?”
“One hundred percent!”
“Great!” He reached out and opened the door for her.
She stepped into a warm building full of the smells of perfume and good food to be met by the worst music Annie had ever heard in her life. It was not only loud, but the singer was terribly off-key and fumbling for lyrics. She looked questioningly at Ian. He wriggled his eyebrows comically.
“Good evening!” someone greeted.
She turned to see a cheerful, plump young man approach. His long-sleeved blue T-shirt sported the graphic of a mic-holding female singer on the front with “Sweet Nell’s” emblazoned above the image in glittering letters.
Was Sweet Nell the singer who screeched so pathetically from the stage? Annie sincerely hoped not.
Since the young greeter wore blue jeans and sneakers, Annie felt more over-dressed than ever. She wished Ian had let her change before they left Grey Gables.
“Just two of you this evening?” the young man asked.
“Yes. Just the two of us.” Ian smiled down at Annie.
“This way, please.”
Annie glanced around as they followed him through a maze of full tables. The restaurant, decorated in retro chic, boasted a variety of old chrome dinette tables with red-checked tablecloths. On the walls, neon signs advertised everything from soft drinks to baking powder. As far as the appearance of the place, Annie felt right at home. In Texas, she had often eaten down-home comfort food in little mom-and-pop diners like this one. Without the stage, of course.
The young man settled them slightly apart from the other diners.
The Deed in the Attic Page 12