Art, crafts, junk. Great artist, friend of the family, children, passing strangers, all juxtaposed in a fascinating story of the Muses.
Fae turned over in bed, stretched. Her arm met air—and disappointment. Of course. She was in Mrs. Norcroft’s single bed. She had the aches to prove it. She must have been crazy to leave the comfort of her life and come here to help the family.
Crazy old woman, what possible good could you do? You’re more likely to cause the downfall of the house of Whitaker. And create such a scandal. Possibly go to jail. Was what she’d been party to punishable by law? She felt no guilt. Not one little ounce. Not even when she tried. Which wasn’t often and certainly wasn’t today.
She kicked off the covers and stood on the rag rug, old and faded like all the other junk in the house.
She heard banging and voices in the kitchen. She’d slept late because this side of the house faced west. Her bedroom at the cottage met the sun each day, each glorious new day. Today didn’t seem so glorious. Did they even need her here?
Probably not. But she needed to be here. Needed to make sure Issy didn’t realize just how far Leo had gone into the past.
Fae didn’t blame her. Leo’s past was a fairy tale, at least to Leo. Wes had brought her home one day. A scraggly, dripping-wet girl still in her teens. He walked right beneath the tree branch where Fae sat reading. And he called out without even looking up, “Come inside and meet the girl I’m going to spend my life with.”
Fae slid down to the ground and followed them.
Wes and Leo’s love for each other consumed them, and singed everyone near them. Fae envied them at times. Other times, denied her own love and miserable, she burned with her own fire—jealousy, bitterness, envy. But no more. No more. And yet she wouldn’t desert Leo until Leo was with Wes again.
She didn’t bother with a shower but put on a pair of overalls, light blue with stars on the pockets. Underneath the overalls she wore a man’s T-shirt. Large, too large, but comfy and secure.
It was going to be a workday. She knew that as well as if Issy had told her in advance. At least she could help with that. She padded across the hall to the kitchen.
The two younger children sat at the table, eating a breakfast of eggs and donuts. Fae shuddered.
“I also have bran muffins,” Chloe told her, and put the teapot and an empty cup on the table opposite Mandy.
“Can we watch cartoons now?” Mandy asked.
Her voice grated on Fae’s nerves. Well, that was to be expected when you spent most mornings in quiet, if not solitude, in complete . . . completeness. Was that a word? It was definitely a state of being.
“Can we?”
But not this morning. “It’s Sunday,” Fae said.
“They have cartoons on Sunday.”
“Don’t you go to church?” Fae asked, just because. She didn’t really care. And she had no intention of taking them. Wouldn’t that be interesting? Lightning might strike. They’d enjoy that.
“All the time. It’s so-o-o-o boring.” Mandy slumped down in the chair.
“What about all the beautiful music and the stained glass? Surely that part isn’t boring.”
“Boring. Griff gets to play on Mama’s phone with the sound off, because he’s little.”
Griff glanced up, his cheeks bulging with donut, one edge of his mouth smeared with red jelly.
Fae tossed him a napkin across the table.
“I have one,” he mumbled through his mouthful of food.
“Then use it.” Fae didn’t understand children. Maybe because she didn’t have any. She’d never wanted any. Her story hours were enough for her.
Griff swiped his napkin at his mouth, leaving a smear of jelly across his cheek. Had there ever been a time when she’d sat at the table stuffing food into her mouth with reckless disregard of her napkin? It was so long ago she truthfully couldn’t remember. But she doubted it.
“Yes, I think you better go watch for a few minutes,” Chloe said. “Wash your hands and face first and put the volume on low.”
“Oh, we won’t wake up Steph. She can sleep through an earthquake,” Mandy said, obviously quoting someone.
“Shut up,” Steph said, walking through the door. She was wearing Leo’s trousers and gardening shirt with Fae’s scarf still wrapped around the waist.
Fae’s heart squeezed just a little. Couldn’t anyone see? Didn’t they hear how she was crying out for guidance? Not the guidance that would keep her from wandering off the path they’d chosen for her, but to show her the way to that special place inside her that Fae could feel beating like it was her own heart.
And for a selfish moment, Fae was glad Vivienne and Dan had stolen the estate’s money and dumped their kids here. Steph needed the Muses this summer. Hopefully she’d be here long enough for it to matter.
“Sit down, Steph,” Chloe said. “Would you like a donut or bran muffin with your eggs?”
Stephanie hesitated.
“She’ll have both,” Fae said, and took a sip of her tea.
Issy finished the schemata for the library and took a sip of her coffee. Ice cold.
She headed back to the kitchen through the back hall. Halfway down the narrow corridor she noticed the red blinking light emanating from somewhere along the dark wainscoting. She followed it to a telephone cubicle left over from decades before —where Leo still kept her phone and message machine.
No wonder Issy hadn’t known about it. There were several messages and Issy wondered—no, hoped—that one of them was from her sister.
She pressed the listen button. “Hello, is anyone there? It’s Leo. I’m ready to come home.” Issy deleted it.
The next one. A public-service number to call about something. Issy impatiently moved to the next caller.
And there it was. “Hello, Leo? It’s me, Vivienne. Don’t tell anyone I’m calling okay? There are just some things I don’t want them to hear. I know . . . crazy, but just . . . I’m all right, so don’t worry, not that you would after . . . But anyway. Can you . . . the kids awhile longer? Just tell them I love them. I don’t . . . them . . . worry about me . . . home soon. First I . . . Dan. My phone’s dying, so you might not hear from me until I can . . . to charge it. Just . . . thanks.”
The call ended. Izzy rewound the machine, listened again. Tried to fill in the missing words from the dying charge. Just like Vivienne to rush out and forget to charge her phone. I know . . . crazy? What did Vivienne know was crazy? The way she was acting? That she and her husband stole a huge amount of money from her family? What about Dan? Issy could easily fill in the missing words in that sentence. Dan made me do it, but as long as we’re filthy rich, I’m going to enjoy it for a while. Tell the kids she loved them. If she loved them . . .
Oh, why did she even try to second-guess her sister? At least Vivienne was okay. Issy could put off calling the police for a while longer.
But not for too much longer. She took her cup back to the kitchen, where she found Chloe, Fae, and her grandmother in lively conversation while Steph listened and picked at a bran muffin.
“Well, you’ll be glad to know your mother called,” Issy said, dumping her cold coffee into the sink.
The talk cut off to complete silence and Issy was left listening to the steady drip-drip of the leaking faucet.
“So she’s okay. She said she loves and misses you guys.” So what if that was a little embellishment? “And will be back soon.” Or something to that effect.
Leo stretched out her hand; Issy took it and leaned over to kiss her cheek—and immediately wished she hadn’t.
Leo sucked in a sob. “Oh, Issy, I’m sorry to have caused you such trouble. And over nothing.”
“Trouble?” Issy looked from great-aunt to grandmother. “You’re no trouble.”
“I don’t want to hold you back.”
Issy pulled a free chair next to Leo. “You’ve never held me back. You made me leave, remember? To go to college. Ben drove me to New York. I didn’t
want to go.”
And she had neglected them since then. Is that what they thought? That she didn’t care about them?
“It’s just that I’ve been busy with my career. I travel a lot or else I would visit more often.”
Leo patted her hand. “I know. I understand. Hollywood is so much more exciting than Painter’s Cove.”
“Manhattan, Grammy. I live in Manhattan.”
“Hmm?” Leo gave Issy’s hand a little shake. “Of course you do. Chloe says you’re going to put us all to work this morning with this plan of yours.”
Issy hadn’t really thought about how she was going to pitch her idea to the family. She still didn’t know how much Leo actually knew about their finances.
And she didn’t want to be the one to tell her. And she didn’t want to mention inventory and cataloging because it seemed a bit mercenary.
“I thought we’d start in the library. Dusting and vacuuming and cata—writing down which piece goes where.”
“I don’t think anything has been rearranged since I moved here,” Leo said.
“Well, it’s a good thing to do, in case there’s a water leak or you need to up your insurance.” She stopped. Looked at Fae, then to Leo. “You do have adequate insurance, right?”
“Dan takes care of all that,” Leo said.
That answered one question. Leo didn’t have a clue about what was going on. Issy added check insurance to her to-do list.
“Well, it’s always good to update your inventory. Do you have one?”
Leo and Fae exchanged looks.
“Well,” Issy said. “We’ll do an update just in case.”
“And the house needs a good cleaning,” Fae added.
“Yes,” Leo agreed. “With Mrs. Norcroft . . . not here.”
“Good idea,” Chloe said. “I’ll get Mandy and Griff. And tell them their mother called and then I’ll put them to work. It wouldn’t hurt those two to do something useful for a while. Come on, Steph, you can help me drag them away from the television.”
Issy took the moments of their absence to organize her “workforce.” She heard the television go off and a minute later Chloe and Steph returned with the reluctant pair in tow.
“Mandy and Griff, you two and Chloe”—Issy shot an apologetic look toward her friend—“are in charge of the entranceway. Dust everywhere you can reach. Up the staircase; every spindle, even where it joins the wood tread. Then you can take turns vacuuming the floor.”
“Aw,” Mandy started.
“It’s a very important job. Everybody comes through that front door. And it’s very important that they are, uh, wowed by how sparkly it is. This is Muses by the Sea.”
“Do famous people really come here?” Mandy asked.
“All the time.”
“Really, Grammy?”
“Really. Once your grandfather and I gave a party for a Lithuanian princess and she brought two hundred people with her. We cleaned out Ogden’s Market. They had to borrow trucks to deliver everything.” Leo trilled a laugh.
Both kids looked blank.
“See,” Issy broke in. “You never know who’s going to come through that door, so it’s important that everything looks its best.”
“I wish my mommy would,” Griff said, and the lip began to quiver.
Chloe jumped in. “Okay, troops, follow me.” She marched Mandy and Griff into the cook’s hall; Issy heard rummaging as she handed out cleaning supplies.
The rest of them went to the library.
Issy motioned Steph over to the desk. “So how are you with a laptop?”
She looked blank, then grinned. “As good as you?”
“We’ll see. You and I will start in the library. I don’t suppose you brought your laptop with you?”
Steph shook her head.
“Tablet, iPad?”
“I associate those with homework and I was sulking.”
“Nose and face,” Issy reminded her.
“I know, but I didn’t really think she’d make me come. I missed the dance. My first one.” Her voice wavered.
Issy felt it all the way down to her toes. Twelve is not a good time to miss a dance. Especially a first dance. “Sucks,” she said. “You and I will start in the library.”
“I can dust,” Fae offered.
“I thought you and Grammy would—”
“Sit on our butts like a couple of old women?” Leo said. “We’ll both dust.”
“Actually,” Issy said, “I need you to sit with Steph and tell her what things are, and if you remember the artist, or the circumstances of how it got here.”
“We can take a picture of it with my iPhone,” Steph said.
“Good thinking. Then we’ll give it a number, enter that and the provenance—where it came from—and Grammy’s information in the appropriate boxes. Got it?”
“Yep. It’s a simple spreadsheet.”
Steph was as good as she boasted.
Fae sat Leo in an armchair next to the desk. “And cover your ears when the stories get naughty.” She grinned at Steph, who gave her a saucy look.
And Issy just stopped to wonder how Fae had managed in such a short time to bring the light to the kid’s eyes.
They started on the wall next to the bookshelves. Issy read off a number. Described the painting. “Looks late nineteenth century. An allegory.”
“Oh, the Blashfield,” Leo said. “It was one of your great-grandfather’s favorites.” She chuckled. “It used to be in the front parlor but I don’t think Wes’s mother liked it very much. Or maybe it was just Blashfield that she didn’t care for. She put the Maxfield Parrish there and relegated this to the library, where she said she hoped it got covered up in cigar smoke.”
Steph looked at Issy for instructions. This could take a while. “Blashfield,” Issy said. “Do the best you can with the spelling.”
Steph typed it out. Got up to take a close-up with her phone. They needed another pair of hands.
They worked steadily for an hour, taking sips from water bottles, Fae humming as she dusted. When Leo tired, Fae would pull Issy and Steph into a circle and they’d dance in the center of the room while Leo dozed in her chair.
At first Steph was stiff and uncomfortable, but Issy fell back into her old childhood habits as easily as she could name most of the paintings on the wall.
Then they would go back to work. They could hear Mandy and Griff and Chloe chatting as they cleaned. Playing name games to keep them going when they lost interest. At one point Chloe had them singing “Ninety-Nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall.” Vivienne would be horrified.
Issy was just about to call a lunch break when she heard a car on the graveled drive.
“Mommy!” squealed Griff and Mandy. Brooms clattered and footsteps bounded across the floor. Even Stephanie started in her seat, before recovering herself and sitting down again. But Issy was just as anxious as everyone else to see her sister. And once their fond hellos were over, she’d make her tell what exactly had happened to their grandmother’s inheritance. Then she’d scratch her eyes out.
They all piled out to the porch as a black limo came to a stop at the front steps.
A limo? Paid for by the Whitaker estate no doubt. Issy had to count her breaths not to run out and snatch open the limo door.
“Mommy!”
Chloe clutched at Griff as he ran headlong down the steps, grabbing Mandy as she started down after him. They all managed to reach the bottom without mishap; Steph stood like stone next to Fae.
The driver ran around the limo and opened the passenger door.
The moment the first leg appeared, Issy knew something was wrong. Suntanned legs, stiletto heels. The second foot. The hand held out to take the driver’s hand . . .
Mandy and Griff skidded to a stop.
Issy swore; she heard Fae breathe, “Ah, hell.”
The woman tootled her fingers. “Do you have a tip for this delightful man? I seem to be out of cash.” She smiled, flung her arms open.
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Issy sucked in air and finally found her voice. “Kids, say hello to your grandmother Jillian York.”
Chapter 13
All three kids gasped and clapped their hands simultaneously over their mouths, their eyes wide above their fingers like three “speak no evil” monkeys.
Jillian perused her grandchildren like they were aboriginal specimens: they seemed frozen on the spot, but Issy wasn’t sure whether it was because they didn’t recognize her, didn’t know she existed, or because Issy had mentioned the dreaded—never to be spoken—word grandmother.
“You may call me Jillian.” She turned to Issy and kissed the air in the direction of Issy’s right cheek. Issy moved out of range before she could accomplish the second half.
“You didn’t have to come. A check would have been sufficient,” Issy said, desperately trying to get the upper hand and hopefully some cash before all hell broke loose, as it always did when Jillian was around.
“Really, Oops,” Jillian said. “And leave poor Leo alone in the world?”
“She’s anything but alone.”
“Where is she anyway?”
Issy looked quickly toward the door and was relieved to see that Leo wasn’t there. Fae had disappeared, hopefully back inside to prepare Leo for the shock.
“Inside?” Jillian asked over her shoulder as she breezed past them and up the porch steps. “Be a dear and get my luggage. And can someone please tip the driver?”
She stepped inside and the screen door slammed shut behind her.
“Get it your—” Issy’s knees went weak. Was she crazy? She needed the woman’s money. She was half aware of Chloe’s arm slipping around her waist.
“You asked her to come?”
“I asked her for a loan. I wonder what she’s up to?”
“Maybe she wants to help?”
Issy didn’t bother to answer. Chloe had known Issy since kindergarten. She knew exactly how many times Jillian had ever bothered to visit.
“Should we take her suitcases?” Steph asked, finally breaking the spell.
The Beach at Painter's Cove Page 14