The Deed in the Attic

by K. D. McCrite

  “I saw my best friend after she died.”

  The words startled Annie, but she tried not to let it show.

  “Oh?”

  Kate nodded. “I don’t mean I saw her body in the casket. I mean I saw her.”

  Annie gave little credence to the reported goings-on in the paranormal world so she said nothing, but merely waited for Kate to continue.

  “Amanda and I were really good friends all through school. Then she got sick. And she got sicker and sicker, and she died.” She said this all quickly, as if to get it out of the way. She looked out the window again, lost in her memories. “When she first got sick, I’d go over to her house and take her soup, or a casserole, or flowers, or a book. You know, something to let her know I was thinking of her.”

  She looked at Annie as though for approval, and Annie nodded again.

  “I didn’t know how sick she was. She didn’t talk about it very much, other than to say she was tired, or feeling out of sorts. Flowers and food and good books to read weren’t going to help her, but I didn’t know that then. I noticed she got thinner, and her skin took on an odd pallor, and I realized something was seriously wrong. Amanda never told me she had cancer.”

  She took in another deep breath, staring down at the table top where she drew little circles with her fingertip.

  “Then Vanessa was born, and she took up most of my time. The days slipped away. I didn’t visit Amanda as often as I should have. When we talked on the phone, I usually cut it short. Babies need so much attention, and my husband started accusing me of neglecting him, so I felt like I had to give him more of my time, as well. Even though every day I thought about calling Amanda or visiting her, when Vanessa slept, I tried to rest. I was just exhausted, Annie. Exhausted!”

  She inhaled, held her breath, and then let it out with painful slowness.

  “Amanda died.” She met Annie’s gaze. “It had been more than two weeks since I’d spoken to my friend. She was gone, and I hadn’t even told her how much I loved her. I figured she had thought I’d forgotten about her, or that I didn’t care.” Her eyes filled. “That was not true. I thought about her every day. But the hours and the minutes just slipped by until they became days. I never got to tell her goodbye.”

  Annie knew exactly what Kate felt. After all, she had done her own grandmother the same way, cutting back visits to Stony Point until visits were virtually nonexistent; then Gram died and there was no turning back the clock to recapture those missed days. Tears stung Annie’s own eyes.

  “Oh, Kate. I’m so sorry.” She squeezed her friend’s hand.

  Kate nodded. “I knew you’d understand because you’ve mentioned a few times how hard it was on you when Betsy died—how you felt you’d let her down by not being there.” She took a long drink, as though trying to wash down her wretchedness. “I dragged through the days after that, taking care of the baby and Harry, but not much else. I couldn’t get it out of my head that I had been selfish and callous when my friend needed me so much.”

  “But, Kate, you had a new baby and a demanding husband to care for.”

  “Yes. And you had your own family down in Texas. A long way away.”

  They smiled sadly at each other for a bit, each one immersed in the painful memories.

  “One day,” Kate said in a voice so quiet that Annie had to lean forward to hear her, “I was peeling potatoes for dinner, and someone knocked on my door. I opened the door,” she stopped, swallowed hard and continued, “I opened the door, and Amanda stood there, all healthy and smiling. So very alive.”

  Annie gaped at her.

  “I know, you think I’m crazy, don’t you? But I swear it’s true. I couldn’t say a word. I just stared at her the way you’re staring at me right now. Amanda tipped her head to one side, the way she would do sometimes, and said, ‘Katie, you need to stop moping around like a wet dishrag and take care of yourself.’ Then she kind of laughed and added, ‘You are a great mom. I’m so proud of you, and so glad we grew up together. Take care of that baby.’ Then she just fluttered her fingers in this little wave, turned around and walked away. She was gone before she reached the end of the sidewalk.”

  Annie didn’t know what to say. The tale was both eerie and beautiful. Kate told it with such earnestness that Annie harbored no doubts something odd had occurred to her friend at some point. Maybe she had had a particularly vivid dream, tempered with loss and guilt.

  “I was terrified,” Kate said, looking purely miserable. “I had the chance to see my dear friend one last time, tell her goodbye, and instead I stood in that doorway like a frozen ninny, shaking from head to foot.”

  “Oh, Kate,” Annie said. “You shouldn’t feel badly about that. Seeing someone who has … passed on—well, anyone would be frightened by that.”

  “But Amanda? Dear gentle Amanda? And she spoke to me so sweetly, with such comforting words. It’s like I betrayed her twice.”

  Annie almost wished she had turned down this lunch invitation. What could she say that would both soothe and strengthen this young woman across from her?

  “It’s why I refused to be afraid at Fairview,” Kate said while Annie still trolled for wisdom. “Fear had choked me once before, and I just was not going to let it happen again. I decided if I could help someone, anyone, under the same circumstances, I would.”

  “Well, then,” Annie said, “you accomplished your goal. Without you, Peggy and Alice would still be screaming their heads off. Fairview would still be ‘haunted,’ and I would not be able to sell it. As they say back home ‘Honey, you done good!’”

  Kate searched her eyes eagerly, as if looking for deception.

  “Truly, Kate,” she continued. “You did me a huge favor. And I think you taught those two silly women who went along with us to buck up under ghostly pressures.”

  Kate’s face broke into a smile.

  “Thank you, Annie. I just knew you’d understand.”

  Annie could not fully comprehend or accept the whisper of the supernatural, but she understood Kate’s turmoil.

  Their lunch arrived, fragrant with the scent of dill pickles and grilled onions.

  “You will keep my secret?” Kate said, pausing, as she reached for the ketchup, to fix an earnest gaze on her friend.

  “Absolutely. Nary a peep from these lips.”

  “You’re the best, Annie!”

  17

  Sunday afternoon, Annie transported half of the Hook and Needle Club members in her Malibu, and Jason, Stella’s driver, drove the rest of them in her decade-old Lincoln Continental. Annie gazed somewhat enviously at that big old boat of a car and its roomy luxury, but she loved her Malibu and dreaded the day she would have to replace it. Wayne would never buy her another car, and the Malibu remained a treasure because it came from him.

  Once they reached Fairview, the women in the Lincoln piled out, except Stella. She remained seated until Jason opened the door for her and offered his hand. She emerged as regally as a queen and clung to his hand a moment while she looked around.

  “My goodness, Annie,” she said, after a bit. “What have you gotten yourself into? And Jason, don’t you dare let me slip and fall in that muddy yard. I may have on my old shoes and old clothes, but they are by no means muck boots and overalls.”

  In fact, Stella’s shoes were sturdy but polished leather, and her slacks matched her jacket. Annie winced, thinking of the dust and dirt inside the house. Stella’s lovely “old clothes” would look far less classy after an hour or two in the dust, grime, and cobwebs of Fairview.

  “You want me to pick you up and carry you like a delicate princess?” Jason asked.

  Her eyes flashed. “I do not! But if you let me fall, you’ll be looking for another car to drive.”

  “Uh huh,” he replied, with a wink at the other women. “Just step careful now.”

  The cottage looked even smaller once Jason and the entire membership of the Hook and Needle Club had gathered in the front room. The women whispered to
each other as if they were in a funeral parlor.

  “Well, ladies—and Jason—here it is! Three bedrooms, a couple of bathrooms, a kitchen and dining room. Not nearly as big as Grey Gables, but in need of as much renovation, I think! Shall I conduct a tour?”

  “No reason to do that, Annie,” Stella said. “We’ll take our own tours.”

  And that is what they did, spreading out like crime-scene investigators, with as much pluck and confidence as Annie had ever seen on television.

  “Well, Annie?”

  She looked at Alice who had stayed in the living room with her.

  “Well, Alice?”

  “Where shall we look?”

  “Do you really think we’ll find anything?” Annie asked in an undertone. “I mean, really! Gram would never have kept anything of much importance here. Would she? The woman she rented it to was quite poor, and she used whatever was already here. I just don’t think … . Oh, well, we’re here now, so let’s make the most of it.”

  Alice shrugged. “Look around again, Annie. Pictures on the walls, beds made up, everything neat and tidy—just dirty from years of sitting here.”

  “I suppose you’re right. Well, let’s shuck the dust covers and see what we find.”

  Soon a cloud of dust hovered like a dreaded fog in every room. Depending upon the state of whatever found object was discovered, remarks of delight or dismay replaced the earlier hush.

  “Annie, look at this!” or “Annie, come here!” seemed to be the call that came most often.

  “We’ll form a cleaning crew,” Mary Beth announced at one point. She stood in the small hallway, fists on hips, shoulders squared in typical fashion. “We’ll gather up cleaning supplies and polish this place up. Why, it’s cute, once you can actually see it.”

  “It’s darling,” Stella said as she emerged from the back bedroom. “A perfect New England cottage. Why, once Wally has made the repairs you won’t have a bit of trouble selling—or renting—this place!”

  The back door opened with a creak of old hinges, just like every other door in Fairview. Jason’s heavy steps crossed the kitchen floor, and he came into the hallway.

  “Have you looked in the shed out back?”

  “There’s a shed out back?” Annie asked. She had not explored the grounds of the place at all.

  Jason gave her a funny look. “Didn’t you know that? Well, that’s understandable, though. It’s out behind that big cedar. It’s not in nearly as good a shape as the house, but it’s not bad. Look.” He held up a couple of large, grimy tools with considerable rust on them. “This is a miter box,” he said about the long wooden box with two open ends. “And this thing that looks a little like an iron is a hand plane to smooth or shave wood.” He smiled broadly “These are just like the ones my grandfather used.” His strong face softened with the memories; his eyes shone. “Grandpop’s tools were sold off in an auction years ago, but I still remember watching him work with them. He built my mother a beautiful display cabinet, and the dining room set he and Grandma used. Built them out of maple.”

  “Wally would love to see those!” Peggy said.

  Jason nodded. “I’m sure he would. It’s just too bad that they’ve been left to rust.” Annie looked at the man and said, “Take them, Jason, please.”

  He looked up, surprised. “Excuse me?”

  “I want you to have those tools.”

  He looked down at the tools he held as though he had never seen them before, and then lifted his gaze to Annie again.

  “Oh, no, Mrs. Dawson, I couldn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because they’re … they’re old, and valuable, and … and you—”

  “For goodness sake, Jason!” Stella fixed her familiar steely gaze on him. “Annie is offering them to you because she wants you to have them.”

  “Yes,” Annie said quickly. “They’ve been in that toolshed ever so long, rusting away. Please, you take them and make use of them. Think of your grandfather when you work with them.”

  A smile began and then spread across his face.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” he said at last. “I … I’m not sure I will ever use them, but I’ll surely clean them up and take care of them.”

  “Are there other tools out there, Jason?” Annie asked.

  He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. There’s a wood auger and a mortising chisel and some great old hammers. I even found some square nails. I bet all this stuff is left over from when this house was built.”

  “Take them too. If you don’t, someone will surely steal them someday.”

  “I’m surprised someone hasn’t already!” Gwen said stoutly.

  “Wally says tools fetch a good price at flea markets and pawnshops.”

  Jason shot a look at Annie. She saw the expression and knew what he was about to say.

  “I don’t plan to haul a bunch of rusty old tools down to the pawnshop or sell them in a yard sale,” she said firmly. “Jason, take them, if you want them. Share them with Wally Carson.”

  He grinned at her. “Yes, ma’am. I will. In fact, I’ll just call Wally, and we’ll divide them up between us.”

  “That’s a fine idea. They’re yours now, and you do with them as you please.”

  Everyone dispersed again, but about fifteen minutes later Stella came trotting out of the bedroom again, the soles of her shoes tapping against the old wood floor like woodpeckers.

  “Annie, I found something!”

  Annie turned from the stack of dusty books she was looking through, expecting to see a baby booty or a pot holder or yet another framed sampler. Instead she saw Stella waving a yellowed paper.

  “I found this in an old cigar box in the bottom of a bottom drawer.” A piece broke off and fell to the floor. “Oh! I must be careful. This is as brittle as thin glass. Look, Annie.”

  Reverently she handed over the paper. It was a newspaper article, fragile, dry, and crumbling.

  Annie read the account aloud: “This reporter received word that the owner/builder of Fairview on Doss Road, David A. Ralston, died at his home in Buffalo, New York, last week. While Mr. Ralston was not well-known in our little community, our hearts go out to his loved ones.”

  There was no date on the clipping, but the discovery excited Annie.

  “Well, that settles it then!” Annie said suddenly. “Thanks, Stella. I know what to do now. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought to do it before!”

  18

  The Hook and Needle Club members—and Jason—gently packed the old treasures they’d found in the Fairview cottage. Those treasures ranged from the tools Jason found, to a dust-coated oil painting, samplers and quilts.

  “Please take anything you want,” Annie told her friends. “I have more than enough at Grey Gables. And the less that is in Fairview the easier it will be to clean the place.”

  “Well, I was sort of hoping we’d have an encounter with the paranormal,” Gwen said, laughing, as they stood in the front yard before leaving.

  “Oh, no!” said Alice. “If by paranormal you mean scampering rodents, I’m just as glad not to have seen any. Of course, on a warm sunny day like this, I suppose they are more apt to stay hidden.”

  “Gwen,” Annie said, “if I get even a hint of a ghost out here, I will definitely call on you to join our team.”

  As soon as she was home, showered and in clean clothes, Annie settled down on the sofa with her laptop. She was so tired she ached, but she knew she would be unable to relax until she had at least started her search for anything about David Ralston now that she had a tidbit to get her started.

  She had never been a great one for using the computer, except as needed for business at the car dealership. Listening to younger people chatter about Google and Facebook and Twitter and all the rest of it left her feeling old and left out. She reasoned that with so much going on in her life, really, who needed the complications of the technological age creating more chaos? She bought this laptop, planning to use it to keep up with LeeAn
n, Herb and the kids, but she much preferred the telephone or even an old-fashioned letter. For a long time, her research forays had been accomplished at the Stony Point library, but she finally had taken the step to bring Grey Gables into cyberspace. She had recently added an Internet connection and a wireless modem. She knew LeeAnn would be proud.

  “Now, Miss Annie,” she said, flexing her fingers above the keyboard as if she were about to play a concerto, “you are moving into the modern age.”

  When the Internet was up, she typed in “David Ralston Buffalo New York.” Several links came up that led her to contemporary men by that name. But she finally found what she was looking for: an obituary from 1950. It was rather lengthy, and included a grainy photograph that gave little indication as to the man’s looks.

  “David Alan Ralston, 62, of Buffalo, New York, died in his home, November 3, 1950. The son of Bert and Ingrid Bale Ralston, Mr. Ralston was born December 12, 1887, in Cleveland, Ohio. He owned the DaRal sporting-goods chain until 1945. He was preceded in death by his parents and a brother, Henry Ralston. Mr. Ralston is survived by his niece, Elizabeth A. Ralston.”

  Annie looked again at the name of the one relative: Elizabeth A. Ralston.

  She typed in the name. A slew of links filled the page. She clicked one at random.

  “Elizabeth Alta Ralston, daughter of Henry Bledsoe Ralston and Emma Louise Fraley Ralston, graduated with honors from Miami University in Oxford, Ohio, June 8, 1940.”

  “Alta!”

  She read no farther, but closed the link, and as fast her fingers could move across the keyboard, she tapped out Elizabeth Alta Ralston Harper into the empty bar at the top of the screen.

  Pay dirt!

  It looked like a small, inconsequential news item scanned from an old Weston, Ohio, newspaper and published in 1943.

  “Joseph Elmer Harper and Elizabeth Ralston were quietly married June 26 in a small ceremony held at the home of the groom’s parents in Weston. Mr. Harper, a 1935 graduate of Weston-Bailey High School is employed at the Daniels Meat Packing Plant. They will make their home in the McKinley Heights Apartments on Sherman Avenue.”