There was something there.
She pulled a sheet of paper out from under the desk. It was a letter dated April 22, just three days before Mary had died. Under the letter, Kate found an envelope marked certified mail. A carbon copy receipt was attached to the front, with Mary’s signature dated April 25. Kate started to tremble and lowered herself into the desk chair. It was here, in the sunroom, that Leslie had found her mother . . . right here, beside the desk.
“Goodness gracious, Mary,” Kate uttered softly. “Did this letter kill you?”
Kate thought of Leslie and Sam relating how hard Mary had fought for the house, how much effort she’d put into saving it, to fighting the highway project from the very beginning. If she was under the impression that she had won and that her house was secure, it must have been a shock to get this letter. Kate quickly read through its contents. It was just as she had expected—a notice from the state DOT informing Ms. Walker of a change in route that would better serve the community as a whole and have less environmental impact—a route that would now include the Walker family property. Kate shook her head in disgust. It didn’t make sense that after years and years of planning, the state could just swoop in and say, “We’ve made up our minds. It’s your house we want.” The letter advised Mary to contact the department by the following Friday to sign her compliance and enter into negotiations for the purchase of her property. If they did not hear from her, their next step would be contacting the county commissioners to schedule a hearing and initiate the process of eminent domain.
“Well, of course you didn’t hear from her,” Kate said out loud. She dropped the letter on the desk in frustration.
* * *
Kate called the attorney first thing Monday morning and read the letter aloud.
“It isn’t good news, Ms. Sinclair,” Mr. Marshall responded. “Ms. Walker signed for the paperwork. As far as the state is concerned, they fulfilled their obligation to notify the property owner of their intent. There is little we can do to fight it.”
“There must be something we can do,” Kate insisted. “Can’t we take them to court? Protest in some way?”
“Court cases have been filed, and some have been ruled in favor of property owners, but in your case, I’m not sure there is a justifiable claim. Yours is one of many properties involved, Ms. Sinclair. And numerous studies have been done to determine the best possible route for this highway. I fear a judge would not be sympathetic to your cause, not to mention the tremendous expenses involved with bringing a case before the court.”
“I’m not worried about the money,” Kate interrupted. “If there is any chance, even a small possibility that I could save this house, I have to do it, whatever it takes.”
Mr. Marshall sighed heavily into the phone. “I thought you might feel that way. We will go to the hearing and file an official protest to the seizing of your property, notify the board that we intend to prepare a court case, and ask for an extension of time to allow us to get ready. That may at least buy us a few months’ time. If there are other property owners at the hearing, we can see if anyone else is filing a similar protest. Strength in numbers might help your case. I have to warn you that this will be a long and drawn-out process. I daresay, if you want my honest opinion, I think you may be better served by simply negotiating an acceptable sale price with the state and cutting your losses.”
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Marshall. This house has been in my family for over a century. I cannot give up without a fight. Aunt Mary would have fought. I have to do this for her.”
Chapter 23
Over the next two weeks, Kate spent a great deal of time on the phone with Mr. Marshall. He was not optimistic and was still in favor of cutting a deal, but he was not completely unsympathetic to Kate’s wishes. Even still, it was hard for Kate to shake the feeling she was living in a ticking time bomb. The anxious annoyance that accompanied an unknown outcome was wearing on her nerves. The hearing was on Friday, just four days away, and Kate felt it could not arrive fast enough.
In addition to her worry over the house, Kate had long since exhausted the gracious offer of “extended” vacation time from her boss. She had been out of the office for nearly a month and was constantly fielding phone calls from coworkers expecting and needing her back at the office. Mr. Blanton had even called himself, more than once. His patience and tolerance for Kate’s absence was running thin. Mentally, Kate had all but handed in her resignation. She knew she could work remotely. She and Mr. Blanton had discussed the possibility several times. But doing so would drastically change her responsibilities for the company. It was a major change, and something kept holding her back. Even when Mr. Blanton pressured her, she kept insisting they didn’t need to make any changes just yet. She would be returning full time. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t tell him the truth. Perhaps because she found herself doubting her decision, wondering if she really could leave her job and her old life. Leslie was the only person she’d told of her decision to move to Rose Creek. While she still felt it was the best thing to do, she hesitated to change things at work, not until she was sure.
“I’m making an exception because it’s you, Kate,” Mr. Blanton had said. “I wouldn’t normally be this tolerant.”
“I know that,” Kate responded. “And I’m grateful. I just need a little more time. My family still needs me.”
“Your family doesn’t sign your paycheck. If you’re not at the meeting next Monday morning, I’ll assume you have resigned and expect your office cleaned out by the end of the week,” he had said.
A week, Kate thought. It didn’t seem like enough time to make such life-altering decisions. When Kate was spending time with Andrew and with Leslie and the children, she didn’t even flinch when she thought of leaving Atlanta. But then, when she talked with Mr. Blanton and heard how much he wanted her back at the office, she couldn’t help but feel she still belonged there as well. The unrest and uncertainty surrounding the house didn’t help her thought process. She wanted to believe she would stay in Rose Creek even if she lost the house. But she wasn’t certain.
Fortunately, the weeks preceding the hearing weren’t all bad. Kate spent a great deal of time with Andrew and even larger amounts of time with Leslie and her kids. She was absolutely smitten with Tommy and felt like Emily was her new best friend. Nicholas was a bit more reserved, not as openly affectionate as his younger siblings, but Kate felt the connection building. She could also tell that Leslie appreciated her being there and was grateful for Kate’s efforts in developing relationships with her kids. As long as they didn’t talk about religion, the two cousins got along as well as they had years before.
It wasn’t an easy thing for Kate. She felt as if she were living parallel lives—the one her family was a part of, and the one that involved the Mormons. Linny and Leslie still struggled with her interest in the faith. They’d both met Andrew and agreed he seemed like a nice guy but were convinced Kate was only studying the LDS Church because of him. After several contentious discussions with both women, Kate found it easier to just avoid the subject all together. She had learned a good deal of information about the Church from the missionaries and from Andrew but still didn’t feel knowledgeable enough to debate the finer points with her family, especially when they seemed so determined to believe what they wanted instead of what Kate shared from her own experience.
It was frustrating. Leslie and Linny couldn’t even claim to be faithful parishioners of any congregation. Why did they care so much where she went on Sunday mornings? Kate had attended church with Andrew for the first time the previous Sunday. It had been lovely. The congregation was small but friendly and very welcoming. There was a quiet peace that ran through the meeting, a sweetness and simplicity that had touched Kate. She looked forward to going back.
She thought of Andrew walking through the halls with her and sitting with her in Sunday School. Kate couldn’t help but notice the furtive glances and hushed whispers passing among the other paris
hioners, particularly among the women.
“Are you a celebrity or something?” Kate had asked.
“They’re just excited to see me with a girl,” Andrew had replied.
Kate smiled as she thought of his response again. She’d been searching her wardrobe all afternoon for something to wear to dinner at the Spencer home that evening. It was there she would finally meet Andrew’s sister and show her Ian’s journal. By 5:00, Kate was finally dressed, wearing a flowing knee-length skirt and a pale green sweater that complemented the rich color of her eyes.
She looked in the mirror one last time before she heard a frantic knock on the door downstairs. She hurried down the stairs and opened the front door to find Andrew standing breathless in front of her.
“Good grief, Andrew, is everything all right?” Kate asked, making room for him to enter the house. He looked excited, eyes bright and hopeful.
“I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before,” he began. “Kate, I think we can save your house.”
“Wait, what?” Kate asked. “What didn’t you think of before?”
“Look around you, Kate,” Andrew said, smiling broadly. “This house is an architectural relic. I remember thinking the first time I saw it that it ought to be on the historical registry. You just don’t see many houses this old in such good shape.”
“Okay, yes. It’s an old house,” Kate said. “But I don’t think the state DOT really cares about that.”
“That’s just it, Kate. If your house is a registered historical landmark, they have to care. The house will be blanketed by the protection of the State Preservation Society. The department of transportation won’t be able to touch it.”
Kate sat down on the bottom step and looked at Andrew, still too hesitant to be hopeful. “Is that even possible? I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
“It is possible. You just create a petition requesting landmark status for the property and turn it into the board of commissioners. I made some calls before I came over. You need an architectural survey that verifies that the house is indeed historical, and then you need a summary of the property’s history—why it’s significant, that sort of thing. Kate, I also called the county commissioners office, you know, to ask them a purely hypothetical question,” he said, smiling. “Here in Harrison County, houses added to the historical registry are approved by the board of county commissioners. There is a separate preservation society, but it is run by volunteers, so the county commissioners office makes all of the decisions. From what I understand, when the board receives a petition for landmark status, they have thirty days to review it. At the end of thirty days, they will accept or deny it. In the case of your house, they will have to reschedule your hearing with the department of transportation for after the thirty days required to consider your petition. Any negotiations with the state cannot take place until it has been accepted or denied.”
Kate still doubted. “Why would the board of commissioners approve landmark status for a house they’ve all but turned into an exit ramp? Maybe if it were a separate committee or a different organization that could rule the house historical and then the county commissioners would just have to comply, this could work. But why would the commissioners willingly put a kink in their own plan? I don’t see that happening. Won’t they see it’s just a ploy to save the property?”
“Except it won’t be just a ploy,” Andrew said, not allowing her to dampen his enthusiasm. “This house really does deserve to be a historic landmark. It’s got the architecture, the history—it would be tragic to destroy a place like this. All we have to do is convince the board to recognize the value of this place. Just think about it. If you try and you succeed, think of all the attorney fees and time and energy you could save.”
“So it just has to be turned in by Friday?” Kate asked. “Do I even need to attend the hearing?”
“I’m not sure,” he answered. “They just told me on the phone that your petition needed to be turned in before the close of business hours on Friday.”
“I think I could handle writing a historical summary of the house, but what about an architectural survey? I don’t suppose that’s the sort of thing you could do, is it?”
“I absolutely could. I’m licensed to work in North Carolina and Virginia. And if that’s not enough, I’m a card-carrying member of the Society of Architectural Historians. Early twentieth century farmhouses aren’t exactly my specialty, but I think I could still swing the survey for you.”
Kate was momentarily distracted. Over the past few weeks, she had convinced herself she didn’t need to worry about Andrew’s occupation that wasn’t really his occupation. Surely he had a reason to be in Rose Creek, handling odds-and-ends jobs for his uncle. But whenever his career came up, she couldn’t help but wonder why he wasn’t practicing in his field. He’d been avoiding any discussion about his career for too long. Kate found herself growing impatient. The questions coursing through Kate’s brain briefly drowned out the bigger issue at hand, and she realized how much she didn’t actually know about this man. But the house deserved her attention. She tried to push away her doubts and focus on what Andrew was saying.
“It will take a bit of research, but I think I can point out the aspects of architecture and construction that set this house apart from its more modern counterparts. And really, I think it would be fascinating work to really get in and see the bones of the house, the design . . . I would love it. Only if you want me to though,” he quickly added.
Kate let out a long, audible breath. “Do you really think it’s possible?”
“I think we have to try,” he said.
They sat silently for a few moments, the wheels in Kate’s head spinning as she considered their conversation and started to make plans. She felt lighter just imagining the possibility of avoiding a long, drawn-out legal battle. Could it really be over as soon as Friday? She would call Mr. Marshall in the morning to run the idea by him and get his reaction. She knew a good deal of information about the history of the house, but she didn’t think it would be enough. She thought of the Harrison County genealogy room at the public library and wondered if she would be able to find any additional noteworthy information about the house or her ancestors that might strengthen her cause.
“Isn’t there a little history museum on East Main Street?” she asked Andrew. “I wonder what sort of information they have there.”
“It would probably be worth checking out,” Andrew said. “I think the County Preservation Society operates it. They’d at least have some information about the other homes in the area that are on the registry.”
“I’ll have to go by tomorrow. I don’t think I know nearly enough about this house to write an entire history. I wish I knew what sort of things I ought to include.”
“Well, if you find out your great-grandfather was an ax murderer, you probably ought to leave that part out,” Andrew joked, smiling at Kate.
She laughed and reached over to rest her hand on Andrew’s arm. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I don’t know what else to say. It’s nice to have your support through all of this.”
It touched Kate that he so naturally aligned himself to her. He was ready to help her fight her battles and offer strength and encouragement. She suddenly felt like this was no longer just her fight but that it was their fight.
Kate had grown quite used to Andrew’s presence the past few weeks. They had spent a lot of time together, seeing each other nearly every day, and yet, save one small kiss on the cheek when he’d dropped her off after dinner two nights ago, he still hadn’t kissed her. She was happy to build a friendship and was content with his company, but she had to admit she was feeling a bit impatient. They were adults, after all. What was he waiting for?
Kate’s previous questions rose back to the surface. She couldn’t help but wonder what he was keeping from her. And did it have anything to do with why he seemed so hesitant about their relationship progressing?
Kate didn’t want to
push. There were certainly things she hadn’t told him about her past. Some things, even, that as she learned more and more about the lifestyles and standards of the Mormons, she thought Andrew might not actually want to know. But she was curious. She wanted to know everything she possibly could about this man, both good and bad—if bad were even possible with him. As she sat there breathing him in, feeling the warmth of him so close to her, Kate knew her feelings were rooted in something much deeper than mere curiosity. Ready or not, she was falling in love.
“I’m happy to help,” he insisted, reaching over and taking her hand. “If it’s all right with you, I can come over first thing in the morning and get started.”
On the drive over to the Spencers’ home, Kate looked around the inside of Andrew’s car with a more critical eye. During the day, he drove the large white contractor’s truck that belonged to his uncle’s company. But when he and Kate went out in the evenings, he drove his own car. It was a nice car—an indication that wherever he had worked previously, he’d probably commanded a respectable salary. Kate wondered again why he had left. Perhaps he hadn’t left voluntarily but was fired. There were too many questions. Kate’s mind was doing a good job of minimizing the idea that there could be anything about Andrew that wasn’t thoroughly respectable, but she also wanted him to be honest with her.
The House at Rose Creek Page 16