by Tara Ellis
“Miss. Covington, I presume?” she asks matter-of-factly. “I wasn’t expecting a whole entourage.” The comment was obviously directed at the girls, although it wasn’t said with malice. It was more like anxiousness.
“Yes! It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Potts. And please, call me Lisa. This is my sister, Cassy,” Lisa continues, guiding Cassy by the shoulders to move up next to her. “And these are my students, Sam and Ally. They’re taking key roles in creating the fundraising club. I thought it might be nice to have them present their idea to you. I hope you don’t mind. It won’t take long.”
Realizing that she’s at risk of being rude, Mrs. Potts takes a sharp intake of breath and then waves them all inside the large, well-lit foyer. “Oh, of course! It’s just that I haven’t had company in so long; I’ve forgotten how to be a gracious host. Please, kick off your wet sneakers and come join me in the sitting room. I have a nice fire going. It’s the first time this year I’ve lit one and I just love the sound of the crackling pine!”
Following behind as Mrs. Potts leads the way, Sam is surprised to find that she’s reminded of her Grandma Wolf. She and Grandpa live far enough away in Montana that they only get to visit once every year or two. Grandma Wolf is a tall, gracious, and composed woman. At first, she appears quite strict and rigid. But once you get to know her, she’s actually funny and loving. Sam wonders if Mrs. Potts might be the same way, and her original sense of unease is replaced by curiosity.
The sitting room turns out to be exactly what it sounds like: a place to sit. There are two chaise lounges opposite each other, to either side of a large, river-rock fireplace. Facing the fire is an over-stuffed loveseat, big enough for two people to sit comfortably. Based on the blanket and book left on the white cushions, it’s obvious that this is where Mrs. Potts prefers to relax.
The furniture completes a square with the fireplace, spaced so that there is plenty of room to walk between them and the large windows that line the walls of the room. The girls stand awkwardly for a moment, hesitant to sit on the immaculate upholstery. Everything in the room is white, from the couches to the walls, and even the carpet … although that’s more of a cream tone.
“Please,” Mrs. Potts urges, spreading her arms wide to encompass the whole sitting area. “Take a seat. Make yourselves comfortable.”
They all move forward at her prompting, with the three young girls crowding together on the far lounge, and Lisa on the other. Mrs. Potts moves her blanket aside before sitting, and sets the paperback on an odd coffee table in the center of the space. Sam notes how the marked and pitted wooden slab seems out of place.
“It’s an antique,” the older woman explains. Apparently, she’s very observant.
“I like it,” Sam says simply, smiling back at their host.
“So,” Mrs. Potts continues, turning to Lisa, without offering any further explanation on the table. “You are our new teacher!”
“Yes, I am,” Lisa confirms. “I’m originally from the area. The Covington Ranch is my family home.”
“Oh, I’m well aware of who you are,” she says quickly, waving a hand in the air. “I knew your parents. I’m terribly sorry for all you’ve been through. I know what it’s like to lose someone you love.”
Lisa’s parents both died in a plane accident when she was sixteen. It ultimately led to the mystery that the girls helped solve just over a month ago, and also the reunion of Cassy with her older sister.
“Thank you, Mrs. Potts,” Lisa replies softly. “My condolences to you, too. I remember reading about Mr. Potts’ accident. I had moved in with my aunt by then, but it was all over the news. It’s not often that we have that big of a storm off our shores!”
Sam struggles with her memory, straining to recall a story she remembers being told on occasion at the dinner table and around the campfire. Lisa didn’t shared with them how Mrs. Potts came to be a widow. Before she can decide whether it would be too rude to ask, Cassy is the first to break the silence.
“I hope you don’t mind my asking, but what happened?” Lisa shoots Cassy a disapproving look, but Mrs. Potts intervenes before she can scold her.
“It’s perfectly all right. I don’t mind talking about it. And please,” she continues, looking at Lisa, “call me Grace. I might be getting up there in years, but being called Mrs. Potts really makes me feel quite elderly.”
Sam smiles at Grace, her first impression of her resembling her grandmother being further solidified. That was totally something she would say. Relaxing a little more, Sam leans back into the plush cushions and listens intently to the story.
“As to my husband’s untimely death … I need to preface the story with a couple of things. Our boat company was something we both worked hard for and treasured a great deal. My husband had a difficult start, losing his father at a rather early age. His drive and determination was something few people could match! We built the business into one of the largest in the area, and we both felt obligated to give back to the community. That is how the afterschool program began. It’s one of the first charities we founded and the closest to my heart.
“Unfortunately, while my husband was an expert boat-builder and I a marvel at social graces and marketing, neither one of were much of an accountant. I should have hired a professional to handle the books early on, but I was too stubborn to admit I needed help. The summer before the accident, we were in trouble. On the surface, everything ran as usual, but we were paying out more than we were taking in at that point. The market changed. Sure, we still had clients willing to pay for the handcrafted specialty work that Benjamin did, but that wasn’t where the money was anymore. Mass market. That’s what we needed to tap into, and neither of us knew how.
“Benjamin was working for years on a new boatbuilding material. It was ingenious, really. Lightweight, inexpensive, but looked as nice as real mahogany. He was convinced it would be our salvation, but a large production company initially turned him down. He needed investors to make it a reality. So that Saturday afternoon, he took his small sailboat, made of this material, out on its maiden journey. He assured me that if he could prove how well it worked, no one could say no.
“It will forever be a question left unanswered. Maybe he was right, but we’ll never know.”
Her face tightening, Grace stares down at her hands in her lap. Although she claims to not mind talking about it, it’s obviously difficult.
“The storm wasn’t supposed to come ashore for another day. At least, that’s what Benny told me before he left that afternoon. Dark clouds were already gathering on the horizon, and I begged him to wait. But he wouldn’t listen. Thinking back, I suspect that he knew he’d be caught up in the weather, and could use it to further prove the seaworthiness of his invention. But it was so much worse than anyone anticipated. The largest storm ever recorded in our region.
“His boat was never found. We searched for days. Long after any hope remained and the coast guard called off the hunt, I still looked. But…Benny was just gone. Taken by the sea that he loved so much.”
Ally sniffs next to Sam, and she turns to look sympathetically at her friend. As sad as the story is, though, Sam can’t help but wiggle in her seat, distracted by the fact that she desperately needs to use the bathroom. They came straight from the school and she’s been holding it since fifth period.
“Oh please, don’t cry, dear.” Grace snags some tissues from the coffee table and hands them to Ally. “That was six years ago. I’m really quite all right now, aside from becoming a bit of a recluse. After Benny’s death, our close family friend, Gregory Kingsman, saved me from bankruptcy by salvaging the business. Since then, I’ve concentrated on overseeing the charities. I have no close family left since Benjamin and I never had children. I hate to be a cliché, but I’m afraid that’s what I’ve become. The old widow all alone in the manor up on the hill, and all of that.” Laughing lightly at herself, Grace sets about arranging the items on the table, and then gives Ally another tissue.
“You’re all alone here?” Cassy asks, leaning forward. The motion sets Sam’s bladder into alarm mode.
Nodding, Grace makes her way to the impressive fireplace, and busies herself with putting another log on the fire. “It’s how I want things. But I get out from time to time, for functions and such. It’s kind of you to be concerned, but I assure you that I’m happy.” It’s a clear dismissal of the topic, and the perfect opportunity for Sam to speak up.
“I hate to ask, but do you possibly have a bathroom I can use?” While Sam is embarrassed to ask, she didn’t actually think that their host would say no. However, it’s clear that Grace is hesitating, paused with the fire poker in her hand.
“Ummm, of course!” she finally replies, turning towards the hallway. “Follow me.”
Sam scrambles to keep up with the older woman, who is surprisingly quick. They go back to the foyer and then continue past it, down another, similar hall on the opposite side. Sam notes the tall ceilings and ornate trim work in the impressive home, all painted in rich creams and tans. Grace finally stops and opens the third door on their left.
“Here you go. Can you find your way back?”
The look Mrs. Potts gives her is in contradiction to her tone. Sam gets the distinct feeling that it’s more of a warning, directing her not to wander. Which makes her curious.
“Sure I can. Thank you!” Ducking into the bathroom, Sam briefly wonders if it’s possible for your bladder to explode.
A few short minutes later, she re-emerges in a much better state, half expecting Grace to be there waiting for her. The hall is empty, but as she turns towards the foyer, a distinct smell catches her attention.
Sniffing, Sam pauses, confused. It’s a men’s cologne. She’s certain of it, because she and her mom spent hours scouring the stores this past Christmas looking for the distinct brand. Her mom first bought it for her dad three years ago and it’s become harder to find each year. It’s expensive, and her father only wears it on special occasions. Turning in the opposite direction, Sam follows the scent, which she is certain wasn’t there when she entered the bathroom.
After turning a corner, the hallway opens up into a space that obviously serves as a mudroom. There’s a built-in bench next to a backdoor. Rows of shoes line the floor opposite it, sitting under several jackets that hang from pegs. Another interior door to her left stands partway open, exposing steps leading down.
The cologne smell is already dissipating, and Sam feels the first pangs of guilt for not going straight back to the sitting room. But as she turns to go, she spots a pair of men’s leather work boots, and freezes. They’ve been placed under a large black raincoat. What she finds fascinating about the clothing … are how both are glistening wet with fresh rain.
4
BENEFACTORS
“So, she likes to wear men’s clothes when she works out in the garden,” Ally says with a hint of frustration. “I don’t understand why you won’t let this drop.”
Sam kicks at a rock littering the sidewalk, and considers her response. Their visit to the Potts’ manor yesterday has been bugging her all day. “I told you, the boots were several sizes too large for her. Anyway, it’s not so much the clothes, but the cologne. Someone must just walked through the hallway, and Mrs. Potts said she was alone.”
“I’ll bet she’s not as alone as she likes everyone to think.” Sam and Ally stop to look at Cassy, surprised by her statement. “Well, think about it,” she continues, blushing slightly. Placing her hands on her hips, Cassy looks at her two friends with a hint of a mischievous smile. “Her husband has been gone for quite some time. It’s not like she’s that old, and I’m sure she must have some friends. Who’s to say she doesn’t have a boyfriend, and she was uncomfortable sharing that with a bunch kids she doesn’t know?”
“Well, I think she’s stunning, and it wouldn’t surprise me at all,” Ally agrees, looping one arm through Cassy’s, and the other through Sam’s.
The three of them continue down the sidewalk at a casual pace. Fortunately, Grace loved their idea and gave her blessing, so they’re now on their way to the building that houses the afterschool program they’re raising money for. It’s a short distance from the middle school, and they plan to hit up the local stores in town for donations afterwards.
Sam can’t think up any reason to disagree with Cassy and Ally, but she’s come to rely on her intuition. She might not be able to say what it is that’s bothering her about the situation at Mrs. Potts’ house, but she knows that something is off.
Deciding to let it go for the time being, Sam files the thought away for later examination. Squeezing Ally’s arm, she then smiles at her. “Okay. You’re right. I’ll let it go. Do you think they’ll let us talk to the kids that are there today, to see what they would want in the haunted house?” she continues, changing the subject.
Furrowing her eyebrows, Ally purses her lips at Sam. That was too easy. She knows her friend well and suspects this will come up again later.
“I still know most of the staff there,” Cassy answers, unaware of the subtle exchange. “They’re all really nice. I’m sure they’ll be happy to talk with us about it!”
The three of them arrive at the building a few minutes later. It sits on the corner of the quaint, downtown area, an old house that was renovated into offices long ago. Cassy explained on the way there that the Potts purchased it for the afterschool program and made several needed upgrades. Looking at it now, Sam admires the rustic clapboard siding that matches the surrounding seaside theme. A slightly faded wooded sign over the main entrance reads, ‘Ocean Side Afterschool Program’ named for their small town.
A small bell over the door announces their arrival, and a young, dark-haired girl rushes out to greet them. “Hi, Cassy!” she cries, running around the small desk in the reception area. Although she’s several years older than they are, Sam notices as they hug that Cassy is about the same height.
“Kim, these are my friends, Sam and Ally. We’re helping to put together a haunted house at the middle school to raise money for the Potts’ Foundation.”
Kim steps back from Cassy and smiles even broader. “That’s great!” Crossing her arms, she glances back down the hall she’d emerged from to make sure no one is there. “Because we could really use it,” she continues, speaking much more quietly. Her smile gone, she reaches out to grasp Cassy’s hand. “I overheard the director and Mr. Kingsman talking the other day. He was saying how he can’t afford to give the program any more money, and we could be shut down before the end of this school year!”
“That’s horrible!” Ally gasps.
“Hasn’t this been here for a long time?” Sam questions, her mind working. “I know Lisa said you’re struggling, but Mrs. Potts didn’t mention anything about it being this serious.”
Nodding her head vigorously, Kim turns her focus to Sam. “The Ocean Side Afterschool Program has been running for like, over ten years now. I started coming here when I was in third grade. I’ve been helping with the kids since last year, when I was a Junior. I’ve never heard anything about money trouble until last week. Mrs. Trent, the director, sounded really shocked, too.”
“Kim, do we have some visitors?”
All four girls jump at the voice behind them, and turn as one to find an older, pleasant looking woman observing them. One eyebrow raised, she doesn’t appear mad, as much curious.
“Mrs. Potts phoned and said you might be stopping by,” she explains, coming forward to extend a hand to each of them. “I’m Mrs. Trent, the program director.” She introduces herself before turning to Kim. “I need you back in the rec room, please,” she instructs, a tight smile pulling at her lips.
Although Mrs. Trent doesn’t say anything about the conversation, Sam is quite certain that she must have overheard at least part of it. Sam gets the distinct impression that Mrs. Trent will be having a private talk with Kim later about gossip.
Feeling guilty, even though she didn’t have anything to do wit
h the older girl divulging the private information, Sam fights not to blush too severely. Glancing at Ally, she notes that her red-headed friend is faring much worse, her cheeks burning a dark crimson.
“Cassy, I understand you attended our program for several years? I took over as the new director this past fall, so I don’t think we ever met.”
Sam is relieved to have the conversation steered away from finances. As Cassy and Mrs. Trent engage in a pleasant discussion, she takes a closer look around the room they’re in.
While not fancy, the decorations are modern and tasteful, continuing with the sea theme. The walls are painted a light, seafoam green. The lower half is paneled with antique-looking bleached wood, giving the appearance of a picket fence. Someone was extremely clever and lined the top of it with an old anchor rope. Starfish, seashells, and even a small buoy hang from it at even intervals. Smiling at each new item, Sam turns in a complete circle to look at them all.
“Mrs. Potts has a knack for interior design.”
Turning to Mrs. Trent, Sam is startled to find that everyone is staring at her. “Sorry,” she apologizes, hoping the older woman doesn’t think she’s being rude for not being a part of the conversation. “I’m easily distracted.”
Laughing, the director returns the smile. “I can relate. Here, you might find this interesting.”
The three girls rush to keep pace, and follow Mrs. Trent to the far side of the room. They all stop in front of a large, highly polished, antique wooden ships wheel, positioned in the corner. It’s the kind you see in pirate movies, where the captain stands at the helm, grabbing the spokes to steer the vessel.
Only this one has been turned into a memorial. Sam guesses that it’s about as wide as she can spread her arms, and wonders what kind of ship it came from. The middle of it has been modified to hold a plaque, which includes a dedication and picture of the late Mr. Potts.