The Sugarhouse Blues

by Mariah Stewart

  “Don’t you think Uncle Pete has had enough of the Hudsons’ goofy inheritance stipulations?” Allie asked.

  “I like to think he’s merely accustomed to our creativity.”

  “It just occurred to me that once you pass to the other side, you can ask your mother what she did with the necklace, then you can leave signs around the house,” Cara suggested.

  “But it would have to be a sign that all of us got at the same time so we all had the same opportunity to look for it.”

  “Leave it to Des to come up with rules for the hereafter.” Allie searched her bag for her wallet, then opened it to look for a credit card.

  “Maybe we should get a Ouija board, girls, and I could communicate with you that way.” The thought seemed to amuse the normally sensible Barney.

  “What a swell idea,” Allie muttered.

  “Are you buying this dress?” Cara asked, her finger poised to go to another page.

  “Unless I find something better. I want to take one more look.” Credit card in hand, Allie moved toward the screen, and Cara got up to give her room. “I should warn you girls, though—Nikki has a to-do list for this summer, and right there at number one: find the emerald necklace.”

  While Allie monopolized the computer, Des wandered out into the hall, where portraits of a dozen or more ancestors watched over the family home. Althea Brookes Hudson—Des’s great-great-grandmother, who’d had a college named in her honor—was third from the right of the front door. She wore a dark green gown, chosen, no doubt, to set off the emeralds that were set in gold and draped around her neck.

  “My father described those stones as big as a lumberjack’s thumbnails.” Barney came into the hall behind Des. “Not that I know what a lumberjack’s thumbs look like, but that was probably an apt description. The necklace was appraised once, but I forget what the carat size was. I do remember the stones were all identical in carat, clarity, color, and cut. It was definitely a work of art.” She smiled. “I often wondered what the parents of that Spanish prince thought when they found out he’d given that lovely piece—probably an heirloom—to a young American girl who was just passing through Seville with her parents.”

  “I bet he lied and said he had no idea what happened to it.”

  “All I know of the story is what I told you girls before. That Lydia—she was my great-grandmother—was eighteen, and apparently very lovely. While on a grand tour of Europe with her parents, a Spanish prince fell head over heels in love with her and proposed marriage. He gave Lydia the necklace, which her parents demanded she return because they thought for sure it was the first step toward seduction. Lydia told them she’d given it back, and they whisked her back home to Pennsylvania. A few years later, she met and married Jefferson Hudson, and shortly thereafter began to wear the necklace. They said it was the talk of Hidden Falls because she wore it every chance she got.”

  “If we found it, we could probably sell it and use the money for the theater,” Des mused. “Assuming that you agreed.”

  “I said it would become the property of whoever found it, and I meant that. I’ve gotten along this far in my life without it. So if you find it, you can do whatever you want with it.” Barney chuckled. “On the other hand, if Allie finds it—well, good luck talking her into selling it and using the proceeds for whatever the theater might need by then.”

  “Good point.” Allie finding the necklace on her own was a sobering thought.

  “Hey, Des, come here,” Cara called from the kitchen. “We found the perfect dress for you for Saturday night.”

  “Go on, see what they’ve found. I’m sure you’ll be lovely in whatever you wear.” Barney started toward her sitting room. “Come on, Buttons. Let’s go read for a while.”

  “What did you find?” Des asked as she went back into the kitchen.

  “Just the most perfect LBD.” Allie got up and offered the seat to Des. “For those of you who aren’t up on your fashion shorthand, that means—”

  “Right. Little black dress. Believe it or not, we do get Vogue in Montana.” Des sat and stared at the dress on the screen.

  “See, it’s perfect, right? Classy, but just sexy enough to turn Greg’s head.” Allie crossed her arms over her chest, obviously pleased with herself.

  Des nodded. “I like it. I’d definitely wear that.”

  “All you have to do is grab your credit card and click on that little bar, and she’ll be on her way to you within twenty-four hours. Free shipping today and tomorrow,” Allie said. “And you can upgrade the shipping so that it’s here in twenty-four hours.”

  “How ’bout we put all our dresses into one order and express ship them? We can share the shipping costs that way. The free shipping deal doesn’t apply to express orders, but I don’t want to run the risk that the package doesn’t arrive until sometime next week.”

  “Great idea, Des. Did you find something, Cara?”

  “I’m going with the blue one we were looking at earlier. Why don’t we put them all on your card, and Des and I can give you checks for our share.”

  “Perfect. Let’s do it.” Allie took over the ordering for all of them. “I’m going with black as well, but a different neckline.”

  Allie put in her credit card number and hit buy now before anyone could change her mind. Then she sent a text to Nikki showing her what they’d all bought.

  “I told her about the cocktail party,” Allie explained. “She wanted to know what everyone was wearing.”

  “She’s definitely her mother’s daughter,” Des noted.

  “We can take pictures on Saturday night to send to her,” Cara offered, but Allie was already on her way out the door, texting as she walked. Cara turned in her chair to face Des, who was staring out the back window. “I’m kind of looking forward to this party, actually. We haven’t done anything like this since we’ve been here. Do you think your professor friend will be there?”

  When Des didn’t respond, Cara repeated the question.

  “What? Oh, I don’t know.” Des shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “All right.” Cara turned off the laptop and closed the lid. “What’s on your mind?”

  “What if we can’t find someone to restore the ceiling? Then what? Do they paint over all that beautiful art?”

  “I certainly wouldn’t approve of that. If there’s no one who can restore it, I’d leave it as it is before I’d destroy the rest, but you’re getting ahead of yourself. There has to be someone. We may have to dig for a while to find her or him, but someone is out there.”

  “Ever the optimist.” Des smiled and went to the sink for a glass of water.

  “You gotta believe, to quote that T-shirt you wore the other day.” Cara dug in the fruit bowl for a grape and popped one into her mouth. “Want to know where the expression came from?”

  “It’s just an expression. Everyone says it. You see it everywhere. On mugs as well as shirts.”

  Cara nodded. “Maybe, but it didn’t become a thing until it was used by a pitcher for the 1973 Mets.”

  Des raised an eyebrow.

  “It’s true. The Mets were in last place through the end of August that year. At a team meeting, someone from the front office came in to give them a pep talk. One of the pitchers, Tug McGraw, yelled, ‘You gotta believe,’ and it became a kind of mantra for the team. Long story short, the Mets came back to win their division and go all the way to the World Series against Cincinnati.”

  “Did they win?”

  “No. Cincinnati won, five games to two. But would they have even gotten to the series if they hadn’t all decided to believe in themselves and in their teammates?”

  “Why do you even know that?”

  Cara laughed. “My mom was a big Mets fan. I even remember their theme song. Want to hear it? ‘Meet the Mets. Meet the Mets. Step right up and—’ ”

  “That’s okay. I’ll pass on the rest of it.” Des finished the little bit of water left in her glass. “Some other time maybe.”


  “But you got the point, right? That we all have to believe we’ll find the right person and the ceiling will be restored and we’ll finish the rest of the work and the theater will be ready to go.”

  “Go where, Cara?” Des stood. “What happens then?”

  “I’ve asked myself the same question. And I don’t have the answer.”

  “Do you think about staying? Here, in Hidden Falls?”

  “Sometimes. But then I think about my life in Devlin’s Light. My friends. The house I grew up in. My yoga studio.” Cara shrugged. “I don’t know what I’d miss more, Devlin’s Light or Hidden Falls.”

  “Or Joe.”

  “Or Joe. Right. I don’t know where that’s going. I keep asking myself, what if we fall totally in love—like, deeply in love, can’t-live-without-each-other love—and he asks me to stay?”

  “What would you do?”

  “I have no idea. On the one hand, I think he’s probably the best man on the face of the earth. I would be the luckiest woman ever if he asked me to stay here with him. But Devlin’s Light is my hometown. I’ve lived there all my life. It’s hard to think about walking away. Even with that messy little matter of my ex and his new family.”

  “I understand.”

  “How ’bout you? Do you think about your home in Montana?”

  “Every day. Oh, not so much my house. I didn’t grow up there. I have no deep emotional ties, but I do wonder sometimes if that’s where I belong. But I’ve committed to this, and I’ll see it through.”

  “You could run a lot of shelters with the money from Dad once we can settle the estate. I’m sure that motivates you.”

  “Some. But that’s not why I came here.”

  Cara raised an eyebrow.

  “The truth is, I wanted to see if I could somehow fix my relationship with Allie. I wanted to see if we could put aside all the old resentments and hurt and just be sisters.” Des’s eyes filled with tears. “That was—still is—reason number one. Reason number two? I wanted to get to know you. I wanted to see if we could be, if not sisters, then friends at least. I wanted to see if I could figure out how I’d missed that my father had another family that he loved. Another woman he loved more than he loved my mother. Another daughter . . .”

  “I think he loved all three of us equally, Des.”

  “Maybe. Now that I know you, and know something about your mother, I have to wonder if maybe he loved you guys just a little more. He spent more time with you, those last few years of his life. There was a reason for that.”

  When Cara started to protest, Des stopped her.

  “It’s okay. He obviously found a peace with your mom that he never had with mine. It’s not your fault and it’s not mine. I’m not responsible for driving my father away. I am responsible for the fact that I never tried all that hard to be a part of his life after he and my mother separated. I was content to go my own way. A distance developed between us, and I did nothing to close it. I regret that now, but I can’t change it.”

  “Why do you suppose you did that? Left that distance between you?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe I was blaming him for not sticking up for me when I said I didn’t want to do that TV show that my mother was forcing me to do. I mentioned that to Seth, and he asked me if I knew for certain Fritz hadn’t tried to talk to her about letting me off the hook.” A tear from each eye ran down her cheeks in parallel lines. “And I had to admit, I don’t know if he did. I just assumed that he hadn’t. And all that time I’d had to ask him I’d wasted being angry with him. And now I’ll never know.” She looked up at Cara. “It never occurred to me to ask.”

  “Seth is one pretty smart cookie.”

  Des nodded. “Anyway, I can’t change that any more than I can change how Allie feels about me, but I’m grateful for the opportunity to know you. I may never be able to completely mend the rift with Allie so that the past isn’t between us anymore, but I know I have a sister in you.”

  “You do.” Cara got up and put her arms around Des. “I am now and always will be your sister. You’ll never have to doubt that, Des.”

  * * *

  Having a great time! Went shopping in downtown Chicago again today! Gramma loves to shop almost as much as you do! Woo-hoo! Just one more week and I’ll be on my way to you guys for the entire rest of the summer! Can’t wait! Luv u!

  The exuberant text from Nikki raised Allie’s spirits enormously. Knowing that her daughter would be with her soon was the best news Allie’d had since her daughter returned to California after having spent her spring break in Hidden Falls. Breathing a sigh of relief, Allie went into her bathroom and poured her second drink of the night and took it into her bedroom to relax and celebrate.

  It had been almost an hour since she’d heard the others close their doors and thirty minutes since she’d heard Des turning off the shower in her room across the hall. The house lay quiet and still around her, and on a whim, she got up and opened her bedroom door. There was no sign of life from either Cara’s or Des’s rooms, and it appeared the only light in the house came from the night-light at the end of the hall. Grabbing her drink and the pack of cigarettes she’d picked up at the drugstore on her way back from the theater the day before, Allie tiptoed into the hall. She crept to the stairs, and keeping to one side to avoid the steps that creaked, she made it to the first floor.

  The front door would be a challenge, but what was life without those little challenges?

  She unlocked the door and, inch by inch, opened it. Leaving it slightly ajar, she padded onto the porch in bare feet and sat in the dark on one of the rocking chairs. Amused by the fact that she’d made it outside with such stealth, she lit a cigarette, tried not to cough, and put her legs up on the railing. She’d given up a short-lived smoking habit long ago, but every once in a while she bought a pack of a brand she didn’t really like so she wouldn’t want to smoke the whole thing. She knew it was disgusting and would kill her if she picked up the habit again, but tonight she wasn’t thinking about any of that. Tonight she just wanted to sit in the night air and forget everything negative that had happened to her over the past few years. Her ever-present resentment of Des. The divorce from the man she’d loved with all her heart. The separation from Nikki. The death of her father. The realization that he’d been lying to them all for over thirty-five years. She wanted it all to just drift away with the smoke and disappear forever.

  When she was in this mood, her mind always took her to the same place, that part of her brain that wondered how Fritz had kept his secret for so long.

  Then again, who would suspect their parent of living a double life? It wasn’t as if that was something you’d search online. What would you type into the search engine? Franklin “Fritz” Hudson—double life?

  She could accept Cara as her sister, but she refused to think of Susa as her father’s wife. There was no denying Allie felt a certain amount of curiosity about Susa, though. She was obviously the exact opposite of Allie’s own mother, and that alone made her wonder what it would have been like to have a mother like the one Cara had described. A mother who was always interested in what you did. Who was positive and fun and who did so many things with you. Granted, some of those things included tie-dying T-shirts and learning how to knit and macramé, organic gardening, and making things like jam and pottery, none of which Allie’d ever had the slightest interest in, but still, Susa sounded like a fun person.

  Allie wouldn’t have admitted it, but sometimes she envied Cara and the life she’d had with her laid-back mother, who’d apparently brought out the best in their father.

  She finished the cigarette and went down the steps to stub it out in the grass, taking care to make sure it was dead before placing it on the step. She’d remember to take it back inside and wrap it in a tissue before she tossed it into the trash.

  The breeze picked up a little more. She sat in the rocker, her head back, her face up to the cooler air. Overhead the stars were blinking through the leaves on the tr
ees, and all was incredibly quiet. She’d have one more cigarette, finish her drink, and take herself back up to bed. There were nights when she’d drink until she passed out, but this wouldn’t be one of them. The sweet night air soothed her, the motion of the rocking chair relaxed her, and the text from her daughter had reassured her.

  She lit the cigarette with an old lighter that had belonged to her mother, one of the few possessions of Nora’s Allie had kept. It was blue enamel with a three-dimensional pink flower on the front. A clear crystal had once been set in the center of the flower, but the crystal was long gone. She flicked on the lighter and sat watching its flame for a moment or two, then lit the cigarette. She’d just about decided that she didn’t really need to smoke, and started from the chair to put it out, when she realized a car had stopped in front of the house.

  Allie froze momentarily as the car door opened and a man got out. He’d taken ten steps onto the front walk when she realized the car was a police cruiser. Which meant the man could only be one person.

  Of course it would be him. It was always him.

  Defiantly, she took a long drag from the cigarette, and suppressing the cough she could feel building in the back of her throat, leaned against the porch pillar and let the smoke curl slowly from her mouth.

  “Evening, Sheriff,” she whispered when he reached the bottom of the steps. She was well aware that his title was chief of police, but it had tickled her contrary nature to pretend to forget his position because it had always seemed to tweak him. Tonight he appeared not to have noticed.

  “Ms. Monroe,” Ben whispered in return.

  “Nice night.”

  He nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  “So what brings you to Hudson Street at . . . oh, one-thirty in the morning?” She took another drag off the cigarette because she suspected he disapproved, then turned her back and sat in the chair and began to rock gently.

  “Just my normal patrol,” he told her. “And it’s two.”