All Good Intentions

by Trudi Johnson

  By the time she reached home, Jeanne had her schedule for the day mapped out in her mind, and the headache she woke up with that morning had disappeared. First, she had to make an important phone call. She’d finally decided the fate of the Sinclair house.

  * * * * *

  “Golfing this week, Dad?” Sandi asked as she sat in the lawn chair on the Martel back deck and twisted her long dark curls through a scrunchy. She watched as Steven scraped the fresh grass off the bottom of the lawn mower.

  “Uh huh. Kurt called me earlier. He’s off this week, so we have a tee-off time for tomorrow afternoon. He’s even persuaded Joe to take the afternoon off.”

  “Yeah, well, knowing him, he’ll substitute Saturday or Sunday.” She rested her feet on the edge of a planter and settled back.

  Lindsay opened the screen patio door and placed her mug of coffee on the arm of the red Adirondack chair before she sat. “Any update on your house?”

  Sandi turned to her mother. “We’re going to make a counter-offer, I think. At least, that’s what we’ve been talking about.”

  “Good. Did David say who had made the second offer?”

  “He didn’t know, and Dan wouldn’t say.” Sandi pulled forward the wooden ottoman for her feet to rest on. “And on a different note, we found out more about the Sinclair house. Remember, Mom, that Mrs. Green told you and Hannah about a carpenter who worked on the house?”

  “Yes. He built the staircase.”

  “That’s right. It turns out he was Kevin Gillis’s father, Edgar. Apparently, Charles Sinclair told others not to hire him, that he couldn’t be trusted. He basically forced the family to move elsewhere to find work.”

  Steven shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

  Lindsay sipped her tea and took in Sandi’s explanation. “That adds to what I’ve been thinking . . .”

  Sandi glanced at her father with a smile. “And what is that?”

  “Alva Green told us that Clarence Boland never wanted anything done to the house and, when Charles tried to renovate it, he became quite angry.”

  “It’s not uncommon for relatives to pass judgment, Lindsay, without being asked. Your mother and sister come to mind.” Steven gave Sandi a wink.

  Lindsay rolled her eyes at his comment. “Anyway, there must have been a reason for Charles to treat Edgar Gillis the way he did. It doesn’t make sense for him to hire the man to renovate their home and then dismiss him. My guess is it has something to do with the Bolands.”

  Sandi turned to her. “So you’re saying it wasn’t his decision,” she commented, as she realized the validity of her mother’s observation.

  “Exactly. Virginia or her parents might have been behind it all.”

  * * * * *

  When Jeanne returned from her walk, she opted for a winter breakfast, a bowl of oatmeal sprinkled with brown sugar and fresh strawberries. Flipping through her day planner with one hand, she poured a glass of cranberry juice and reached for her phone. Brittany answered her call on the first ring.

  “Good morning! It’s nice to hear from you, Jeanne. Are you calling to make an appointment?”

  “Well, that’s not the purpose of my call, but now that you mention it, Brittany, it sounds like a good idea. Please see what you can do to book me in for a day next week, if possible. I’ll have my usual services.”

  “Of course.”

  “But in the meantime, I’m wondering if you have a few minutes to drop by my house on your way home from work? I have something to discuss with you, and it will only take a few minutes.”

  “I’d love to. Would five thirty be okay?”

  “Perfect. Oh, and Brittany, for now would you keep this between you and me? I’ll explain why when I see you.”

  “That sounds intriguing,” Brittany said. “I’ll see you this afternoon, and I’ll check on the appointment for you and let you know then.”

  * * * * *

  After a shower, Jeanne turned her attention to tracking down her son. His office assistant, Diana, said that he had left the office earlier with the intention of dropping by to see his grandparents for a few minutes before he headed to a construction site. Hoping to catch up with him, she pulled into the front of Kurt and Jaclyn’s home shortly after 10:00 a.m. She was surprised when Kurt’s mother greeted her at the door.

  “Good morning, Jeanne! What brings you here this morning?”

  “I’m sorry to interrupt your morning, Catherine. I’m looking for Joe.”

  “Please come in,” Catherine said, and stepped aside. “He just left a few minutes ago to go to a construction site.”

  “Oh, I see. Well, I won’t keep you.”

  “It’s okay. I’m here alone. Jeanette and Jaclyn are playing tennis, and Kurt and his father are gone to a bookstore. Why don’t you visit for a while?”

  In the sunroom, Catherine sat and poured two glasses of iced tea. “This is Jeanette’s special recipe. She adds fresh lime and mint. It’s quite nice.”

  Jeanne took the glass, tasted it, and nodded. “It’s delicious. Thank you.” She placed the glass on the small table next to her and reached into her purse. “Before I forget, I have the recipe for gingerbread and lemon sauce that Hannah promised you when she met you on Saturday night. She wrote it down before they left for Falcon Cove yesterday.”

  Catherine unfolded the sheet and read through the ingredients, admiring the beautiful handwriting. “We used to have this dessert on Sunday evenings when I was a child. Please thank Hannah for me.” She tucked the recipe in her book. “She’s a lovely lady. I enjoyed our chat. The Steffensens can be overwhelming at times. I hope it wasn’t too much for her on Saturday night.”

  “She hopes that no one will expect her to remember names. She met so many people,” Jeanne said with a laugh. She took another sip. “Catherine, over the summer, Hannah reconnected with an old friend of hers. Alva Green. She worked as a housekeeper for my family for many years, and her husband, Lawrence, worked there as well. Maybe you can help me with something.”

  “I’ll certainly try.”

  “Kurt or Joe probably mentioned to you that there’s someone interested in buying the Sinclair house. His name is Kevin Gillis.”

  “Yes, Joe told us about him.”

  “I recently learned by looking through Father’s papers that Kevin’s father, Edgar Gillis, worked for my father as a carpenter.”

  “I remember the name. He did fine work, Jeanne. I recall he worked on one or two local churches and some of the big homes around the city.”

  Jeanne nodded. “He replaced the staircase in our home. Do you know anything about him besides his skill as a carpenter?”

  “I heard he was a good reliable worker. He even did design work, as I recall. Why do you ask?”

  “Because his son claims that in the early 1950s Edgar was denied work in the city when my father spread stories about him and told others not to hire him. He believes that people were told that Edgar was untrustworthy.”

  “That’s quite an accusation. Of course, it was long time ago. Does he have any proof?”

  “Nothing more than what his father told him before he died. Kevin says that he has the receipt for the work that his father did, and I came across the original among Father’s papers. But, of course, that isn’t proof of anything except that he worked for him.”

  Catherine studied her former daughter-in-law carefully. She hadn’t witnessed such intensity in Jeanne in a long while. She could only assume that clearing her father’s name and possibly winning back the favour of Kevin Gillis meant a great deal to her. It was obvious that the events of the past few days had taken their toll. The concealer was not covering the dark circles under her eyes. “It must hurt you to hear your father’s reputation being damaged like that.”

  “I know that my father was difficul
t to work for, Catherine.”

  “In those years, businessmen were losing their authority, and that wasn’t easy. Mainland stores were coming into the province after we joined Canada. I even remember my father complaining about it and wondering where we were going to end up when unions took over.” She adjusted her sweater and leaned forward. “I don’t think you should take these accusations too seriously. Charles might have been difficult to work for, as you say, but I suspect that he was pressured to keep a business going through some pretty tough years. In any event, you can’t be responsible for what your father did. Mr. Gillis should let it go.”

  “The point is, Catherine, Alva doesn’t believe it’s true and, frankly, neither do I. I know that Kevin is telling the truth when he says what happened to his father. That’s obvious, because the family ended up moving to Halifax. But I think that someone else was behind it, and I think that someone else was Clarence Boland.”

  Catherine grimaced, then let out a great laugh. “Oh my, Jeanne. Clarence Boland. When Kurt mentioned him a few days ago, it was the first time I’d heard his name in years. Tall, lanky fellow. Actually, all the family was gaunt, malnourished-looking.” She shook her head. “I remember going with my parents to Government House one New Year’s Day. I was only a young girl. Mother whispered to me that Dora Boland, Clarence’s wife, looked like a broom with a dress on it, and not an attractive one at that.”

  Jeanne laughed at the image.

  “The one exception in that whole family was Clarence’s sister, Lucinda. Do you remember her?”

  “I do. Lucinda was a fine lady.”

  “She ran a store downtown for years, a place for ladies’ accessories. Gloves and hats and scarves. Whenever Mother and I shopped at her store, she was always there with her assistant, Sadie. She made a special effort to greet each customer individually. Lucinda was quite attractive and friendly, but her brother, Clarence, that’s another story indeed.”

  “Although Alva thinks that it was Clarence who started the rumours about Edgar Gillis, she doesn’t know or can’t remember why he would do that. For the life of me, I can’t remember either.”

  Catherine clasped her hands together on her lap, letting her reading glasses rest between them. “Clarence must have had a reason to get Mr. Gillis out of the city. Perhaps he knew something that he didn’t want to let out. Not that Mr. Gillis would spread family secrets, would he?”

  Jeanne shook her head. “No, it’s unlikely. From Alva’s description, he certainly doesn’t sound like that type of person.”

  “That wouldn’t stop Clarence Boland if he was angry enough and he had a few drinks in, as he was wont to do. I have no idea, Jeanne, what his motive would be, but whether he had the power to do it, of that I have no doubt.”

  “He was very influential.”

  “Remember the position of some of these men in the community, Jeanne, and it was only a small community. Believe me, if Clarence Boland was as powerful as he actually thought he was, he’d be able to stop the sun from coming up over the Southside Hills in the morning with a wave of the hand.”

  Jeanne picked up her purse and stood to leave. “Thank you so much for this information, Catherine. It helps a great deal.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “Has there been any word on the house that Joe and Sandi want to buy?” she asked as Catherine walked her to the front door.

  “A counter-offer, I believe. I think it will be taken care of shortly.”

  Jeanne was surprised at her certainty, because she hadn’t heard anything about a counter-offer. Outside, as she unlocked her car door, she saw Quentin pull in behind her. “Good morning. If you’re looking for Joe, he’s at a construction site, and Kurt is out with his father.”

  “No problem,” Quentin acknowledged. “Actually, I’m here to meet with my number one client. Catherine.”

  Jeanne smiled and got into her car just as Catherine opened the front door to greet him. She wondered what they were plotting.

  * * * * *

  After dinner on Tuesday evening, Sandi curled up on the sofa next to Joe in his condominium. “I’m glad we’ve decided to make a counter-offer. I hope that will settle it.”

  “Yeah, I’ll let you know as soon as I hear tomorrow. By the way, Quentin phoned earlier. He wants to drop by with some papers. I’ve no idea what that’s all about.” He glanced at his watch. “He should be here soon.”

  “I told Mom and Dad the whole story about Charles and Clarence Boland. She said that, according to Alva Green, Clarence Boland was never happy about renovating the house. He was furious when they took out the staircase. So Mom thinks that your grandfather had no choice but to get rid of Edgar Gillis, that Clarence made him. You know Mother. She fancies herself a private investigator of sorts,” Sandi said with a chuckle.

  Joe wrapped his right arm around her, pulled her close to him, and kissed her forehead lightly. “She might be right. Nothing would surprise me about either of them.”

  “Is the current staircase the one that Edgar built?”

  “Yes, he replaced the old one in 1952. I have photos of the original. It was nice, but not nearly as impressive as what’s there now. Apparently, in the original, there were locked cupboards underneath where the homeowner stored valuables.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Yeah, it was common practice in New England. But as I said, what’s there now is much better.”

  Sandi flipped through a magazine on the table in front of her. “Have you talked to Hannah or Carrie lately?”

  “I called last night to check the progress on the church hall. Hannah said they’re quite pleased with it.”

  “Whenever I think about Hannah and Charles, I can’t help but wonder . . .”

  “What?”

  “How they got together? I mean, it’s unlikely they even saw much of each other around the house. Yet at some point . . .”

  “Charm.”

  “What?” she asked, wide-eyed.

  He grinned back at her. “Let’s face it, he was older. She was a teenager, away from home, vulnerable and impressionable, to say the least. We do know it was consensual, but he must have charmed himself into her bedroom.”

  “Nah, too easy.”

  “Too easy?”

  Sandi laughed and reached for her wineglass. “We’ll never know, so I have to use my imagination. I’m going with a mutual decision, a plan in the dark of night, that sort of thing. Something deliciously clandestine,” she said dramatically. “I bet Charles and Virginia had separate bedrooms, so his wife never knew what was going on.”

  Joe shook with laughter. “You’re such a romantic, Dr. Martel,” he said, feigning formality. “We’ll never know, and, frankly, I don’t want to know. Ever.”

  Their mutual laughter was interrupted by Quentin’s arrival. Joe shared Sandi’s speculation with him.

  “Let’s not go there.” Quentin shuddered. “After all, these are Joe’s grandparents you’re talking about.”

  Sandi smiled. “Coffee, Quentin?”

  “Thanks, yeah, that would be great. But before you make coffee, I have some papers here for you both to consider.”

  Joe looked puzzled. “Papers?”

  “Yeah, my client wanted you to have these as soon as possible. There was a third offer made on the Maddox house. Or, I should say, the Steffensen-Martel house. It’s yours now.”

  Joe and Sandi stood facing their friend, shocked at his news. Then Joe shook his head. “This can only be Grandma.”

  “Yes.”

  He glanced at Sandi with a grin. “Quentin, is there any point in talking to her about this or even trying to pay her?”

  “You can try. But I predict after ten seconds or so Christian will raise his hand like he usually does, suggesting that you stop. And you know what that means.”


  Joe nodded. “Yes. It means, ‘Enjoy the new house your grandma just bought you.’”

  * * * * *

  That evening, shortly before seven o’clock, Jeanne stood in front of her collection of fine china tea pots and selected the Limoges Old Apple Blossom for tonight’s tea. She believed that it always tasted better when it was brewed in fine china. Alone in her house, she headed for her favourite chair in the sunroom with a tray holding the tea pot and matching cup and saucer. She placed it on the wicker and glass table in front of her. Earlier, she had left a message at the hotel asking Kevin to phone her, but he had not returned her call. She wasn’t surprised. While she thought he deserved to know the truth about their fathers, she resigned herself that she would not see him again. She settled into her wicker armchair and became engrossed in her latest novel.

  A half-hour later, she heard a car pull into her driveway. She got up in time to see Kevin walking toward the front door.

  “Kevin, you got my message,” she said weakly as she opened the door.

  “Good evening, Jeanne. I did get your message, and I confess to being curious. I’m sorry I didn’t call first. It’s been a busy day. Do you have company? I can come back.”

  “No. I’m alone. Please, come in.” She stepped back. “I’m just having some tea. Would you care to join me? Perhaps have a glass of wine or something else? It’s such a lovely evening. I’ve been sitting in the back with the windows open.”

  “Thank you, yes, and tea would be fine.” He followed her to the far side of the house.