“One more thing,” Beth said hastily.
“Yes?”
“Did Katherine have anything to do with your career decision?”
Silence.
“I’ll be sure and tell her thank you on your behalf when I find her.”
Sarah cleared her throat. “Is that all, Ms. LaMonte?”
“Yes,” Beth said faintly, a little sheepish for her smart-alecky comment. “I appreciate your time.”
“It’s been a pleasure,” Sarah responded dryly.
They hung up and Beth stared absentmindedly at the pencil holder on her desk. Katherine hung over her head like a hammer on an anvil. “Can’t I let this go and move on with my life?” She sat for several minutes contemplating the answer to that question. Then she shook her mouse and her computer screen flickered and lit up.
Chapter 20
Bangor
Beth spent an hour on the Internet looking for a dentist named Bennett or Barrette. She had no luck. She checked the surrounding area as well. Still no luck. “Maybe he’s retired,” she mumbled. So she started calling dentist offices one by one. On the eighth phone call, she got a bite.
The receptionist at Dr. Fox’s office said, “Well, Doctor Benning worked here. He’s been retired for four years.”
Benning, Bennett. This could be it, Beth thought. “Oh, Benning. Of course, I’m sorry. My memory fails me sometimes. I don’t suppose you could give me his address. We’ve been out of touch for a while. I wanted to send him some photos of my grandchildren.” Beth cringed privately. Grandchildren? Now that was a good one.
“Sure,” the receptionist replied helpfully. “Just a moment.”
She’s lucky that I’m not an old, scorned girlfriend, Beth thought, snickering.
The receptionist came back on the line and gave the address to Beth.
“Thank you so much, young lady,” Beth replied, laying it on thick.
“You’re welcome. Have a nice day.”
Beth hung up. “I’m going to have a great day.”
Fed up with the telephone, Beth decided she would attempt to visit the retired dentist in person. Bangor was a little over two hours away. She could make it a pleasant day trip and get away from Virginia Point and the cottage for a while. So she showered, dressed, ate a quick snack, and headed out – driving directions in one hand, purse in the other. She figured she would get into town before 1:30.
She arrived at Dr. Benning’s house at 1:17. Built around 1920, the two-story, white house was well shaded by a pair of oak trees in the front, and a large spruce in the back. Forest green awnings accented all of the windows visible from the road. Wild blueberry bushes ran along the right side of the house and roses bloomed near the steps leading to the front door. A two-person bench and a small glass table occupied the left side of the front porch, while a large potted plant sat on the right.
Beth took a deep breath and rehearsed what she would say. Then she walked slowly, but confidently, to the door. A pleasant gentleman in his seventies answered, dressed in gardening clothes. His slightly tousled hair gave him an air of warmth. Beth felt immediately at ease in his presence.
“Forgive my attire,” he said. “I’ve been weeding the strawberries. What can I do for you?”
“Hello, my name is Beth LaMonte. Are you Dr. Benning?”
“That would be me. Come on in, young lady.”
Beth smiled. She enjoyed being called young lady every once in a while. She followed the gentleman into a sitting room overlooking the backyard. Several gardens filled with strawberries, vegetables, and clusters of bushes were visible from the floor-to-ceiling trio of windows. A gray-green couch sat against one wall and two reupholstered, antique chairs framed the windows. The curtains were pulled aside with tiny tasseled ropes, while a large gray-green silk cloth was dramatically draped over the curtain rods. A cherry wood coffee table, littered with books and magazines, sat halfway between the small fireplace and the couch. As Beth entered the room, a sleek, orange cat peered out from under one of the chairs, cautiously observing the new arrival.
Dr. Benning gestured toward the couch. “Have a seat.” He sat in the chair closest to Beth. “Now what can I do for you today?”
“I’m from Virginia Point. I’m trying to locate a woman who used to live there. I have a few of her possessions I would like to return. Her name is Katherine Thompson. Do you know her?”
Dr. Benning sighed softly. “Ah, Katherine. She used to work for me. I guess it was decades ago. She was a lovely girl.” Dr. Benning looked out the window as if, momentarily, he was no longer present.
“Does she still live in Bangor?” Beth asked hopefully.
“I’m afraid I don’t know where she is. One day she disappeared. Never even called in to quit, never said goodbye…very unusual. We have not seen her since.”
Beth’s shoulders slumped. “About how long did she work for you, do you remember?” she asked, hoping that Katherine had given herself time to become stable and healthy before moving on.
“At least two years. The baby was a year and a—”
“Baby?”
“Susie, her daughter.”
Beth reeled as a flood of emotions she could not sort out washed over her. She had the baby.
Dr. Benning continued, “She must have been pregnant before she took the job. I didn’t know. She started to show sometime between Christmas and New Year’s, and she tried to hide it. Honestly, I was as dense as a doorknob. She pulled it off on me, but my wife waltzed in one day to take me to lunch and blurted out, ‘Katherine, when are you due?’ You should have seen the look on Katherine’s face. Oh the poor little thing, she turned as white as a sheet. Linda, my wife, has a way of not beating around the bush.”
Beth smiled, enjoying a sense of warmth and tranquility she had not felt for days. It was as if Katherine had become a part of her, and Katherine, in all of her passion and chaos, challenged the reclusive, detached person that Beth had become. Katherine and her adventures made Beth feel alive on some level which had been extinguished since she was nineteen.
“Linda took Katherine under her wing and helped her get prepared for the baby’s arrival. We’re Susan’s godparents,” he said with a warm smile. “But we haven’t seen Susie since she was one and a half,” he added sadly. “Katherine was very secretive about her past. I hired her on an impulse one afternoon. She struck me as intelligent and honest, and I was short-staffed. I never asked her where she was from, so I didn’t know where to go looking for her when she left. It broke Linda’s heart, not to get to say goodbye to Susie.”
Beth sorted through her emotions, trying to take in the details of Dr. Benning’s story. As she gazed absentmindedly at the bird bath in the backyard, a dignified woman in her early sixties appeared in the hallway. Her smooth, shiny, silver hair hung about her shoulders. She wore a brown sweater and tan pants, and she walked gracefully on her long legs. Everything about her appearance smelled of old money, yet an air of acceptance and warmth radiated from her person. She was carrying a bag of groceries, humming softly.
“Hello, Wyatt. Who is your guest?” Without waiting for an answer the woman set down her groceries and marched gregariously toward Beth with an outstretched hand. “I’m Linda Benning.”
Beth stood up, stepped forward, and shook the woman’s hand. “Beth LaMonte.”
“Beth is looking for information about Katherine,” Wyatt Benning informed his wife.
Linda gasped, dropped the how-do-you-do face, and exclaimed, “You’ve found Susan!”
“No, I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m afraid I didn’t even know about Susan. I have some of Katherine’s possessions…I mean I live in her old house…I, ah…I’m trying to find her.” Stumbling over her scattered assortment of half-truths, Beth felt uncomfortable, inauthentic.
“Her old house? Where?”
“It’s in Virginia Point, but I—”
“Does anyone in Virginia Point know where they are?” Linda demanded. Then she took a deep breath. �
�No, of course not, I’m sorry. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here. Give a woman with a broken heart a bit of leeway, if you could, Beth.”
“No problem, Mrs. Benning. I’m sorry if I raised false hopes for you.”
“Please call me Linda,” she said. “Anyway, it’s not your fault. After all these years, I still drop my britches at the mention of their names.” She laughed sadly and her eyes drifted away. “I just wish I could have said goodbye.” Linda crossed the room and sat in the other antique chair. The orange cat jumped immediately into her lap. She stroked him as he turned in circles, trying to rub her chin.
Beth bit her lip and looked at her feet. Then she sat down again, still looking at the floor. Eventually she looked up and posed another question. “Could you tell me a little about the days leading up to her disappearance? Was she depressed?” She cringed slightly, hoping the last question would not open unhealed wounds.
“Oh, dear, I wish I could tell you,” Linda said. “I was in New Haven for several months. My mother had a stroke in the fall of seventy-seven. She needed constant care.” Linda pursed her lips to one side and shook her head. “She never recovered. She died mid-February the following year.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It was a very difficult year.” She looked up at the ceiling as if trying to recall a series of events. “I tried to call Katherine a couple of days after Wyatt said she had disappeared. She lived as a boarder with a dreadful woman named Eleanor Sharpe. I called every day for weeks. Once I thought that someone answered the phone and then hung up. Wyatt tried to visit several times. The house was always dark.
“On the day I got back I ran over to that house. I saw someone slip from the front room into the kitchen, so I continued to knock and ring the bell until she finally answered the door. It was Eleanor. She said that Katherine and Susie had disappeared in November. One day they were there, the next day they were gone.
“I asked her if they had moved out, you know, taken their belongings. She acted kind of weird about that question. She stammered for a moment. Then she said that they had taken some things and left others behind. Eleanor gave the abandoned items to the Salvation Army because she needed to rent the room, she said. I suppose it made sense, but the woman gave me the willies. I always wondered if she got into an argument with Katherine, or threw her out because she had a baby. No one knew she was pregnant when she moved to Bangor. But wouldn’t Katherine have come to Wyatt or me?”
“I would imagine so,” Beth said. The details disturbed her. It seemed very likely that Katherine would have come to the adults she trusted the most. Why didn’t she? It was not a pleasant question to consider. Beth looked up and noticed that Linda Benning wore the same expression of unease.
“Could you give me Eleanor’s address? Is she still around?”
“I believe she still lives in that same house, yes. She’d be about eighty by now,” Linda pondered. “I don’t think it will do you much good to talk to that woman, but I shouldn’t let my cynicism damper your quest. Maybe you’re the angel I’ve been waiting for all these years,” she said sadly. Linda left the room briefly and returned carrying a small note card with Eleanor’s address. “Oh, and please take my card as well.” She fumbled in her pocket, searching for a business card. “Wyatt and I make floral arrangements now.”
Wyatt stood up. “I couldn’t bear the thought of a complete retirement. What would I do all day? Watch the grass grow?”
“I promise I’ll call you if…no, when I find them.”
Linda smiled at Beth. It was a smile weighted by a look that said I’ve already exhausted the possibilities.
“We look forward to hearing from you, Beth,” Wyatt said, casting a stern glance in Linda’s direction.
“You will,” Beth assured him.
* * * *
Eleanor Sharpe’s Tudor stood at the end of a long drive, about two miles from the surrounding neighborhood houses. It was a striking, well maintained home, mostly brick. Chocolate brown strips of wood accented its white gables. A large brick chimney to the left of the arched doorway dominated the front, and a forty-five foot red maple shaded the right half of the house. Its leaves rustled softly as Beth walked up the path and rang the bell.
A young woman answered the door. She looked tired and disgruntled. She sighed. “May I help you?”
“Is Eleanor Sharpe home?”
“She really doesn’t want visitors right now.”
Beth inspected the young woman. Her brown hair was unkempt but clean. She wore thin, white cotton pants, and a blue striped cotton shirt. She stood with one hand on her hip. Reading the body language, Beth surmised that the young miss was the person who would not welcome visitors.
Beth stepped forward slightly and spoke loudly, glancing up the stairs to the right of the entryway. “But I’ve come all this way just to see her,” Beth said, hoping her voice resonated throughout the house.
“Who’s there, dear?” an elderly voice called from somewhere upstairs.
The young woman glared at Beth. “Who exactly are you?”
“I’m Beth LaMonte from…” Beth paused for a moment. Eleanor Sharpe had avoided the Bennings decades ago when they came looking for Katherine and Susie Thompson. It was not likely that a full disclosure of Beth’s true mission would gain her entrance into the home. She rattled her brain for a plausible fib. She had told so many in the previous two weeks; they ought to have come naturally. Finally she said, “I’m a friend of her grandson.” Keeping her fingers crossed that Mrs. Sharpe actually had a grandson, Beth clenched her jaw and waited.
“Send her up, dear. Send her up,” an enthusiastic voice rang from upstairs.
The woman in cotton rolled her eyes, stepped aside, and made an overtly sarcastic gesture swishing her arm from the door toward the stairs. “Come right on in,” she said, making no attempt to conceal the disdain in her voice.
She led Beth upstairs to the first door on the right.
Excessive floral prints overwhelmed the bedroom. Lavish dark wallpaper covered with roses made the room feel small and somewhat oppressive. Lilacs adorned the bedspread and matching window coverings. The thick curtains remained partially closed, giving the area a gloomy atmosphere. A long, white, antique dresser with curvy legs sat by the wall next to the closet. It would have been beautiful, except that the paint was chipped and an assortment of scarves, brooches, and lotion bottles cluttered its surface. With a little daylight and a tad less flash, the room might have been considered cozy.
Mrs. Sharpe looked pale and weak. She sat propped up in bed with a book in her lap. A glass of water and a half dozen medicine bottles lingered on the bedside table. The elderly woman’s body was frail, but her eyes were full of life. She eagerly awaited the arrival of her unexpected guest.
“Don’t you mind Rebecca. She’s a bit of a grouch to strangers, but she’s the best nurse I’ve ever had.”
Rebecca gave Eleanor Sharpe a look normally reserved for a parent to a mischievous child.
“Are you Tom’s girlfriend?” Eleanor asked, her raspy voice filled with anticipation.
Beth looked back at Rebecca. “Would you excuse us for a moment, Miss Rebecca?” she said in a saccharine tone.
“Why certainly,” Rebecca said, an artificial grin adorning her face. She exited and swiftly closed the door behind her.
“So, how is Tom?”
Beth took a deep breath. How long would it take Rebecca to throw her out? She listened, as Rebecca’s footsteps grew fainter. Then she admitted, “I’m not Tom’s girlfriend.”
“Well, then who…oh my, is he in trouble?”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Sharpe. I don’t even know Tom. I’m here because I’m trying to locate Katherine Thompson. She was your tenant in the late seventies.”
Eleanor’s smile faded. Beth looked away, bracing herself for an outburst of anger and an immediate summons to Rebecca. But there was only silence. Beth looked up. The old woman’s face seemed to have aged five years in
the matter of a moment.
“Sit down,” she said in a low growl.
Beth grabbed a wooden, high back chair with a red floral upholstered seat from the corner of the room. She sat down a few feet away from Eleanor’s bed.
“So who are you looking for? Katherine or Susie?”
The question caught Beth off guard. “Both, I guess. Initially, I came looking for Katherine. I didn’t know she had a daughter.”
“If you are looking for Katherine I cannot help you. That irresponsible young woman disappeared one day, leaving her eighteen-month-old daughter behind.”
Beth’s jaw dropped. “She left her behind?”
“Yes,” the old woman barked. “She left her here with me, a forty-six-year-old divorcee, trying to make ends meet. A freeloading boarder who needed her diaper changed,” she grumbled bitterly.
Beth gasped and her stomach churned. The chill in the air grew more ominous.
Eleanor took a few deep breaths. The emotional outburst left her weary. “I’m sorry,” she said in a more civil tone. “It’s just that I was so angry. That young girl got herself pregnant, rented a room from me without letting me know she was expecting, and then left that poor child…abandoned her. I hated her for it. Stupid, selfish girl.”
“Did she leave you a note? Do you think she abandoned her or could she possibly have committed suicide?”
“What’s the difference?” the old woman snapped.
“I suppose you are right,” Beth mumbled. She sighed. “Did she say anything? Who was taking care of Susie that day? Did Katherine disappear in the middle of the night?”
Eleanor cleared her throat. “Conveniently,” she said in a flippant tone, “I was taking care of Susie that day. It was a Sunday. During the week Susie either went to Mrs. Luntz’s daycare or Katherine took her to work. The dentist and his wife spoiled that undeserving little tramp. Imagine, letting her bring a baby to work.
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