“I need to name the ones I’m keeping. Any suggestions?”
David shrugged.
“So, how did Dodger do in his agility contest?”
“We started out pretty good, but it all fell apart fast. Frank—Mr. Haynes told me to call him that—said that Forever Friends will sponsor us, and he’s paying for us to take lessons.”
“Really?” Maggie replied.
“Yep. And the classes are great. Dodger and I are learning a lot. We’ll be so much better at our next competition. Even Frank and Sally are taking lessons.”
“You don’t say.” And this time Maggie couldn’t hide her astonishment. “I never thought Frank Haynes would tear himself away from his business to pursue a hobby.”
“She’s a sweet thing, Sally is. And with training, she might be almost as good as Dodger. I’m helping them practice between lessons.”
What an odd couple these two must make, Maggie thought. David Wheeler and Frank Haynes. But it appears the alliance is good for both of them.
After they finished feeding the kittens, Maggie picked a large box off of the kitchen counter. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
“Here, let me take this for you, ma’am,” David said. “Where does it go?”
“Up in the attic, I’m afraid. You don’t have to do that. I can manage.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he replied, already halfway up the stairs to the second level. “Just show me where to put it.”
Maggie followed him up the first set of stairs, then led the way to the attic, making sure that the doorstop was firmly in place before they ascended the final set of steps. Sam had fixed the knob after that disastrous day just a few months ago when she’d been locked in the drafty old attic, but she was still leery of it.
“Wow! Look at this place,” David said as he set the box where Maggie indicated. “What’s in here? I bet there’s all sorts of cool stuff.”
“I haven’t had a chance to get through it yet.” She turned to survey the attic. “Just moving things around and cleaning it up will be a huge task. But I agree—we’ll uncover some interesting things.” She pointed to the secretary in the corner where she’d found a treasure trove of tarnished silver during her fateful confinement. “That large cabinet—next to the broken-down hat rack—is full of old sterling silver pieces. I’m dying to bring all of them downstairs. They have to be cleaned and cataloged.”
“If you could use some help, I’m good at odd jobs.”
“Really?” Maggie said, turning to him. “Rosemont is full of odd jobs that need to be done. Do you have time?”
“We’ve got a three-day weekend next week. I could get started then, and I can work over spring break.”
“You and your mom won’t be going anywhere?”
David shook his head.
“You’re on! We’ll bring all of the silver downstairs and spread it out on the dining room table.”
“I’ll see you on Saturday. Frank and I always go to Pete’s for breakfast right after our agility lesson.”
Would wonders never cease? Maggie thought.
“I’ll come over as soon as we’re done.”
Chapter 20
David arrived midmorning on the gray and cheerless Saturday. “This looks like the perfect movie set for a haunted attic,” Maggie remarked as she turned on the lights. David took a step back. “I’m kidding. There’re no ghosts at Rosemont,” and as she said it, she wasn’t so sure.
“Let’s clear a path to that secretary in the corner,” she said, pointing with her flashlight.
“That cabinet thing?” David asked.
“Yes. It’s called a secretary. Anyway—that’s where I found all of the silver. There may be more up here, too. I didn’t find any downstairs in the butler’s pantry, which is where it would have been stored back in the day.”
David shrugged. It was clear he had no knowledge of such things.
“The butler would have been responsible for keeping it polished and accounted for. It would have been kept in a locked cabinet,” she continued. David moved boxes and slid furniture aside as they made their way to the secretary.
The key remained in the lock where Maggie had abandoned it, and she slowly opened the doors. The sight still made her gasp.
“Where do you want it?” David asked, reaching in to begin loading his arms with pitchers.
“We’ll take it all down to the dining room. I’ve cleaned off the table and padded it with blankets so nothing scratches the wood.” Maggie swiftly reached over and took two pitchers from him that he was holding by the handles with one hand, allowing them to knock against each other. “I know this stuff isn’t breakable, but it can dent and scratch. We have to be careful with it.”
“Are we taking it all downstairs a piece at a time?” He wasn’t able to conceal his incredulity.
“I brought some empty boxes and towels up here. We can cushion each silver piece in towels so it doesn’t rub against anything else. How would that be?”
David nodded and they got busy, Maggie handing a piece of silver to David, David placing it carefully in a box, and Maggie checking and eventually redoing everything David did. Although it took all morning, they finally moved the contents of the attic secretary to the dining room table.
Maggie was thrilled with what they’d found so far: an ornate tea set, a chocolate pot, a large flatware set bearing a family crest, and a dozen demitasse spoons, each engraved with a sign of the zodiac, along with trays, pitchers, and serving pieces of every description. Her fingers itched to pull out the silver polish to start restoring them to their former luster.
“That’s everything from the cabinet,” David said. “Do you want me to look in that stack of boxes next to it, to see if there’s any more?”
Maggie tore her attention away from the array on her dining room table. “That’d be a good idea,” she answered. “Do you need me to go back up with you?”
“No. I’ve got it. And I know to be careful. I’ll make sure we brought all the silver down here, and I’ll organize stuff for when I come back on spring break. That’s if you still want me,” he added hastily.
“Of course I do,” Maggie assured him. “You’ve been extremely helpful, and I appreciate how careful you’ve been with all of this.”
“It looks pretty cool. Hard to believe anyone ever really used all of it.” He paused, eying the table. “Glad I wasn’t a butler,” he continued, and Maggie laughed. “Me, too. You go do your thing in the attic. I’ll start polishing all this.”
Maggie tuned to the classical music station on her radio—somehow, that seemed fitting for the task at hand—while David returned to the attic. He found two additional boxes of silver, which he ferried downstairs to Maggie. He spent the rest of the afternoon in the attic moving the furniture to the area in front of the windows and arranging boxes and trunks in neat rows along the far wall. In the center, he created an area of items comprising the miscellany of lives lived at Rosemont: dress forms and golf clubs, curtain rods and tennis rackets, plant stands and drying racks. He never noticed, in the dim light of the incandescent bulbs, the folder labeled F.H./Rosemont that slipped to the floor and was trapped underneath an old steamer trunk.
***
Maggie had barely made a start on the items covering the table and would soon be out of polish. She was heading upstairs with cookies and a soda for David when she spotted John’s Suburban swinging to a stop by her front door. She opened it as he stepped out of the car.
“Just checking on my best girl. You’ve got some bad history with that attic. I wanted to make sure we didn’t have a repeat of that unfortunate incident.”
Maggie smiled and wrapped her arms around him. “Aren’t you the most thoughtful fiancé? Everything’s fine here. You won’t believe what we’ve found up there!”
John steeled himself for a lengthy discussion on vintage silver—a subject he had no interest in, but one he knew she loved talking about. “I have a suggestion,” he said, brushing
a kiss along her hair. “Why don’t you call Judy Young to come over after she closes up Celebrations? She’s an antiques buff. I’m sure she’d be excited to hear all about it.”
“And you wouldn’t, would you?” Maggie asked, rocking back to look at him closely.
“You’ve got me there. It’s not one of my core interests.”
“Your loss. Lots of fascinating stuff there. But now my lips are sealed. I need to run out for more silver polish. I’ll swing by Celebrations and talk to Judy. I may need her expertise.”
“Is David still here?”
“Yes—working like a maniac. He wouldn’t even stop for lunch. I was just taking him a snack.”
“Let me see if he needs a hand,” John said. “And I think it’s time to let him take his kitten home. I talked to his mother today, and she agreed.”
“Wait till you hear the name he’s chosen for him,” Maggie said as they climbed the stairs.
“What do you think, Ms. Martin?” David asked, turning as he heard her footsteps on the stairs.
“You’ve done a marvelous job,” Maggie said, stepping into the attic.
“Hey, David,” John said, extending his hand. “How would you like to take your kitten home today? Your mother says it’s okay.”
David beamed.
“Let’s go get him. Maggie tells me you’ve picked out an unusual name?”
“Namor,” David said proudly. He paused and watched John’s puzzled expression change to a grin. “Very fitting. Roman would like that. Let’s go get Namor. I’ve got a cat carrier for you and some food, litter, and a litter box—to get you started.”
“Thank you, Dr. Allen,” David said as he rushed down the stairs to the laundry room.
Namor, however, was not quite ready to leave Rosemont. He shot out of the laundry room as soon as David opened the door and tore through the kitchen heading for the stairs. John got a hand on him as he rounded the turn at the second-floor landing, but Namor wriggled free and made a beeline for Maggie’s room, with Eve in hot pursuit. Maggie snagged Eve’s collar and managed to drag her out of the bedroom and close the door.
She turned to John and David who were now standing in the hallway outside of her room. “That sure happened fast,” she exclaimed.
“Sorry, Ms. Martin. I didn’t expect him to be that fast.”
“At least we know where he is. Let me put Eve outside before you go in there,” she said, gesturing to her room.
“I’ll get the carrier and some cat treats, in case he’s hidden himself away somewhere,” John said.
Namor, as feared, was nowhere to be found. The three of them looked high and low, in every nook and cranny, with no sign of the kitten.
“He couldn’t vanish into thin air,” Maggie sighed in exasperation.
“Let’s get a flashlight,” John said.
David wrapped his arms around himself and shifted from foot to foot. “You don’t think he went up the chimney, do you?”
“No,” John turned to the boy. “He’s here, and we’re going to find him. Cats have an uncanny aptitude for hide-and-seek. Don’t worry—he’s not lost. In fact, I’ll bet he’s enjoying himself immensely right now.”
David straightened and nodded.
Maggie retrieved the flashlight from the drawer in her nightstand and handed it to John. “I’ll go downstairs and get two more.”
Twenty minutes later, Maggie was on her hands and knees, shining the light under her bed for the third time when she noticed a slight bulge in the fabric lining the bottom of her box spring. “John,” she called. “Can you come and look at this?” And as she said it, the bulge changed shape.
“Yep,” she said, rocking back on her heels. “That silly cat has gotten himself into the box spring!”
John laughed as he took the flashlight and trained it under the bed. “You’re right. There he is.”
David let out a low whistle. “Here,” he said. “Let me see if he’ll come out to me.” He lay on his back and reached a long arm under the bed until he touched the lump. “It’s him all right. C’mon, Namor,” he coaxed. “Get out of there.”
“Is he moving?” John asked.
“He’s trying to. I think he’s caught on something.”
“We’ll have to take the bed apart,” Maggie said, dismantling the mound of decorative pillows.
David and John slid the mattress to the floor. Namor began caterwauling as they shifted the box spring off the bed frame.
“At least we know his lungs are good,” John observed.
Namor began thrashing, his sharp claws tearing the batting that sealed the underside of the box spring.
“Let’s cut him out before he does any more damage to himself or my bed,” Maggie said, inserting a pair of scissors near the spot where Namor flailed and swiftly cut the fabric.
Namor shot out of the opening and David tackled him as he attempted to streak past.
“You rascal,” David said, holding him tight. He placed Namor into the cat carrier and closed it securely. “Sorry about that, Ms. Martin.”
“You’ve got a cat with quite a personality,” John observed, and they all nodded in agreement.
***
The bell jingled as Maggie walked through the door of Celebrations shortly before closing time. Judy Young was at a table near the back, mediating a dispute over wedding invitations between a bride-to-be and her mother. She smiled at Maggie over her half-moon glasses.
“I think you’ve narrowed it down to these two?” she asked, gathering up two samples. “Why don’t I let you take them home tonight to think about it? Can you have them back to me by noon on Monday? Good. Then it’s settled.” She rose and the two women followed suit.
“Either one will make a perfect choice,” she said as she ushered them out the door.
Maggie burst out laughing as Judy turned to her. “Look who’s the diplomat. Long day?”
Judy stretched. “Long and slow. Other than a handful of people buying birthday cards, it’s been dead. And those two have been here for over four hours. They looked at every invitation in every book. They don’t have the same taste or vision for this wedding, and neither of them can make a decision to save their life. God knows how they’re going to plan a wedding.” She patted Maggie’s arm. “But you didn’t come here to listen to me complain. What are you looking for?”
“Advice, really,” Maggie said.
Judy arched her brow.
“Remember when I got locked in my attic? Did I tell you I found an old secretary full of vintage silver?”
Judy’s head snapped up. “I remember you getting locked in. But you never mentioned vintage silver!”
“I’ve had it all moved downstairs, and I’ve started polishing it. In fact, I ran out of silver polish and just bought more. You should see this stuff—incredible!”
Judy’s breathing quickened.
“John said to call you. That you’re the local expert.”
“He’s right!” Judy said, flipping the Open sign on her door to Closed. “Let’s get out of here. My day is suddenly looking up!”
Chapter 21
“Hey, John,” Judy Young said, never taking her eyes from the treasure spread out on the massive dining room table at Rosemont.
“I can see I’m not needed,” John said, winking at Maggie. “I’m on call tonight at the emergency animal hospital, so Roman and I will just head on home.”
“Coward,” Maggie said, walking them to the door.
“You better believe it. You won’t get rid of her before midnight.”
“That’s fine by me. I’m lucky that she’s knowledgeable and interested.”
“What was it my grandmother used to say? Always count the silver?”
“I’m not worried about Judy,” Maggie said.
John leaned in to kiss her. “Call me if you get lonely later.”
Judy was circling the table like a lion stalking its prey when Maggie returned to the dining room.
“Incredible, isn’t
it?’ Maggie asked.
“I’ll say. You’ve got quite the collection. And it’s from different periods. Mostly Victorian, but that little creamer in the center—next to the teapot—is almost certainly Revolutionary War era.”
“Really? I thought it was too unadorned to be a contemporary of most of this stuff, but I had no idea it could be that old.”
“If it’s Paul Revere, you can probably retire. Let’s take a look,” she said as Maggie handed the piece to her.
“Nope. Sorry. But it’s got a stamp and the patina is consistent with the era. Here,” Judy said, handing the piece back to Maggie. “Hold it while I snap a photo of the mark with my phone. I’ll go online and do some research.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Maggie protested.
“I want to do it,” Judy stated firmly. “This is the most fun I’ve had in ages. Makes me wish I had an attic full of old junk.”
“Did you see this flatware?” Maggie asked, pointing to the sideboard.
“Holy cow—how many pieces are there?”
“One hundred and fifty-five. I don’t even know what some of them are supposed to be used for,” Maggie said. “I know this is a teaspoon, of course, and one of these must be a soup spoon, but what about this other spoon? It’s almost the same size and shape as the soup spoon. Why are there two similar, but slightly different shapes?
“Good question. Very observant of you. The smaller of the two is a bouillon spoon. You’ve also got both teaspoons and coffee spoons. See? The coffee spoons are a bit smaller.”
“You’re right. I hadn’t noticed that. There’re also fish forks and knives. The original Mrs. Martin must have been a very particular hostess to have owned all of these specialized pieces.”
Judy turned one of the soup spoons over in her hand, examining the decoration on the handle. “I’m not sure that Mrs. Martin ever used this,” she said.
“Really? Why do you say that?”
“Take a look at this. It’s a family crest. I don’t recall hearing about a Martin family crest. But I do remember the story of a wealthy English family named Donaldson who lived in a mansion that stood where the high school is now. They made their money in banking and lost everything in the Great Depression. The story has it that the old couple jumped out of a third-story window on the night before they were to lose their home to foreclosure. A joint suicide.”
Uncovering Secrets: The Third Novel in the Rosemont Series Page 7