by Jan Fields
Not understanding a word she said, Tartan simply soaked up the attention with his usual boundless cheer.
When she finished the walk and drove home, Annie was surprised to see Alice already crossing the yard between them as she pulled in.
“I know,” Alice said sheepishly. “I have no patience.”
“That’s not a problem,” Annie said. “I don’t need to change since Tartan already decorated my pants with paw prints—so a little dust shouldn’t be a big deal.”
They stepped in the door, and Boots raced over to greet them. She took one sniff of Annie’s slacks and immediately stalked past her to visit with Alice instead. “She has been pointedly ignoring me ever since Ian left,” Annie said.
Alice scooped up the gray cat and gave her a hug. “You know you should make friends with Tartan,” she said. “He may be your brother some day.”
Annie laughed. “You have a vivid imagination. Ian and I are just really good friends.”
“I don’t know,” Alice said. “Ian doesn’t call me when he needs a dog sitter.”
“He probably doesn’t want to be teased endlessly,” Annie said.
“Sure, sure, that’s the reason,” Alice said, and then she gestured toward the stairs. “Shall we head to the attic? I don’t suppose we’ll find the mystery up there this time, but we might find some clues.”
“After you, Nancy Drew,” Annie said.
They walked to the second floor with Alice still carrying Boots. The cat normally didn’t like being carried, but Annie suspected Boots was just tolerating it to show she liked Alice better than Annie. Boots had made it very clear that the smell of dog on Annie marked her as a traitor.
When they reached the narrower attic stairs, Alice set the cat down. “These are steep enough without carrying you, Miss Tubby,” she said.
Boot sat and began carefully smoothing all the fur that had gotten rumpled from being carried. “I’ll be happy to have her stay down here,” Annie said. “She’s always jumping out from behind things up there. I do believe half my gray hairs are a direct result of that cat in the attic.”
At the top of the stairs, Annie looked over the mostly neat rows of trunks and boxes in the attic. She was constantly amazed at how many people had entrusted their special things to Gram’s care during her lifetime. The attic of Grey Gables was like the Smithsonian—it served as the storage place for many of Stony Point’s secrets.
“You know, nearly every time I poke around up here, someone ends up mad at me,” Annie said.
“That’s the thing about secrets. Most people are afraid to see them exposed,” Alice said, “but you’ve done a lot of good too. Sometimes things have to be uncovered if they have any chance of healing.”
Annie nodded at that. She had made some close friends through uncovering mysteries from the attic too. She knew more about her family. And she helped some people stop being afraid all the time. “Do you suppose Candace feels like that?” Annie asked, expecting somehow that Alice could read her mind.
“Like what?” Alice asked, looking up from a box she’d been peeking in.
“Afraid all the time,” Annie said.
“Well, I guess if you’re running away from something, it does make you afraid.” Alice ran a hand through her thick auburn hair. “I used to feel that way about John. I was scared half to death when he came here looking for me. I guess I was afraid I’d be stupid all over again.”
“He can be very charming,” Annie said. “And he’s handsome.”
“But now that I really know him, he doesn’t seem so handsome or charming,” Alice said. “I found out that I’ve definitely grown wiser.” She looked around the attic. “So where are those books?”
“In a chest over here,” Annie said, easing her way down a row. “I’m sure I put them in there.” She opened the large steamer trunk and took out a tissue-wrapped bundle. When she unwrapped it, two picture books were revealed.
“Wow, they’re in great shape,” Alice said. “They look like new.”
“Yeah, Gram didn’t wrap a lot of books in tissue like this,” Annie said. “I remember being surprised. But if she bought them for the twins, I guess I could understand that.”
Alice took one of the books and began to flip through it. “Candace Caine made some beautiful collages for these books. You could look at them all day and discover something new on every page.”
“That’s probably what’s made her books so popular,” Annie said. “They really are works of art.”
“Just like the cats,” Alice said. She flipped to the title page and froze. She looked up at Annie and slowly held up the book so Annie could see the page. It was signed, “Thank you for Sanctuary, Candace Caine.” The inscription was written in the same careful printing that they’d seen on the cards and tag included with the needle-felted cats.
“Well, I guess we know why Gram had the books,” Annie said. “She knew Candace Caine!”
“We should take a photo of the handwriting,” Alice said, and she handed the book to Annie as she fished in her pocket for her cellphone. Annie held the book up for the photo, and a slip of paper fell out and fluttered to the floor.
Annie bent to retrieve it. “It’s a form of some kind,” she said, “but it’s a little faded. We should take it downstairs where the light is better. It’s from some place called ‘Friends of St. Francis.’”
“I don’t think I’ve heard of it,” Alice said. “Do you suppose it’s a church? Maybe some kind of church auxiliary group?”
Annie shrugged. “Maybe. Is there a church around here with St. Francis in the name?”
“Not that I know of,” Alice admitted. “Maybe it was a church in London.”
They carried the books and the piece of paper downstairs to the kitchen. Annie put the kettle on for tea, and they sat at the small table near the window while they waited for the pot to boil. Annie glanced out the window and saw the rain had started, though it was far from a scary storm. It seemed like a normal spring shower. Then she turned her eyes toward the faded paper.
“Oh,” she said as she held the paper up turning it toward the light of the window. “The Friends of St. Francis was some kind of animal shelter. This is about the adoption of a kitten.”
“Maybe it’s Boots,” Alice said. “What does it say about the kitten?”
“Health, shots, age—that sort of thing,” Annie said. She held the paper closer to the window to get as much light on the cramped and faded print as possible. The kitten is described as gray with white stockings. It must be Boots!” Annie flipped the paper over, but the back was blank. “Why would Gram stick the adoption paper for Boots in a picture book?”
“Maybe she was using it for a bookmark,” Alice suggested.
“Who needs a bookmark for a picture book?” Annie said. “They take about five minutes to read. You don’t really need to take a break in the middle.”
“It’s a mystery,” Alice said, dropping her voice to spooky tones. She turned to open one of the books and began flipping pages. “These really are gorgeous. Are you going to give them to the twins?”
Annie nodded. “Eventually.” She took the other book and began slowly turning pages. The book told the story of a magical bookstore in the middle of a tree. In nearly every picture, a small black cat with a white bib chest peeked out from behind books or twined around stools. “I wonder if this cat is Ebenezer,” Annie said.
“Ebenezer?” Alice echoed.
“Adam Smithfield said Candace had a black tomcat that she left behind in London when she disappeared,” Annie said as she turned the book around. “And this story has a black cat on every page.”
“She manages some amazing detail for such a tiny cat,” Alice said as she leaned close, examining the book. “Look at the way it’s stretching in that picture.”
“You know, if Candace loved cats, maybe she was involved in helping Gram get Boots,” Annie said. “Maybe that’s why the paper was in the book. I wonder if the Friends of St. Franci
s are still around.”
“You should ask Mary Beth,” Alice said as she slipped her hand into her blazer pocket and pulled out her cellphone. She offered it to Annie. “Nothing much gets past her.”
“Do you know the number?” Annie asked. “I’ve found I never memorize numbers now that I have a cellphone. They’re just all on my contact list.”
“Same here.” Alice scrolled to it quickly on her contacts, and Annie took the phone. Kate picked up the phone at A Stitch in Time on the second ring. Annie asked for Mary Beth and chatted with Kate a moment while Mary Beth finished with a customer.
“Have you solved the mystery already?” Mary Beth asked when she took the phone.
“Actually it may be getting even more mysterious,” Annie told her. “Did you hear about the cat found at the diner?”
“Peggy called on her first break,” Mary Beth said. “I thought I might go by and see it when I close up this evening. Have you photographed all the cats yet?”
“We haven’t been to the church yet, but I wanted to ask you something. Have you ever heard of the Friends of St. Francis? I think it was some kind of animal shelter.”
“More of an animal rescue with foster homes,” Mary Beth said. “It closed about five or six years ago when the lady who founded it passed away. She had put up most of the funding, and the group couldn’t continue without her. They were nice people, very dedicated to the cause.”
“I found a piece of paper in a book that looks like it might have been from Gram’s adoption of Boots,” Annie said. “It sounds like she came from there.”
“She might have,” Mary Beth said. “But I know for sure that Betsy didn’t adopt Boots. She got the cat as a gift.”
Annie felt a surge of excitement. “From whom?”
“I really don’t remember,” Mary Beth said. “It’s possible I never knew. I’m not sure. Let me ask Kate; maybe she remembers.”
As Annie waited, she quickly told Alice what Mary Beth had just said. “You know,” Alice said, “now that you mention it, I do remember Betsy saying something about Boots being the best gift she ever got outside of her family. I’d forgotten that, but it was when Boots got really sick from eating some houseplant. Betsy was so glad she pulled through and was a little gushy about Boots for a couple weeks after that.”
Mary Beth’s voice in Annie’s ear pulled her attention back to the phone. “Sorry, Annie,” she said. “Kate doesn’t remember either. You might ask Stella or Gwen.”
“Do you know of anyone in town who might have worked with the Friends of St. Francis?” Annie asked. “Maybe they’d remember the adoption.”
“You could ask Dr. Martin,” Mary Beth said. “Her dad took over the veterinary practice around here from your grandfather, and then Janet took over from her dad. Either her dad or she must have handled the care for the animals at the Friends of St. Francis. They might know more.”
Mary Beth offered to ask around a little and see if anyone remembered Betsy telling them who had given her the kitten. “That would be great,” Annie said. “Thanks.”
As she handed the phone back to Alice, Annie considered calling the veterinary clinic, but then she remembered it was Wednesday. The clinic was closed to everything but emergencies on Wednesdays since they were open on the weekends. “Mary Beth suggested asking Dr. Martin about Boots,” she told Alice. “But it’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”
“So, should we run over to take pictures of the last cat at the church?” Alice asked. “I know the church secretary should be there for another hour or so. She might go to lunch after that. I need to take her a Divine Décor catalog anyway.”
“Sounds good!”
The rain had lightened to a heavy mist, but it was still far from convertible weather, so they drove to the church in Annie’s car. Just as they pulled into the church lot, the sky seemed to open up again, and rain pounded the car.
“Hmm,” Alice said. “I think I’ll just sit here for a few minutes.”
“Afraid you’ll melt?” Annie teased.
“Are you saying I’m sweet,” Alice shot back, “or comparing me to the Wicked Witch of the West?”
Annie laughed. “Sweet, of course.”
“Speaking of sweet,” Alice asked, “when is Ian coming home?”
“Oh, that’s an interesting transition. I don’t actually know. He hasn’t called. He must be having a difficult time. From what he told me, his mother-in-law doesn’t even remember that Arianna died.”
“That can’t be easy,” Alice said. “Must drag up a lot of memories.”
“I’m sure it does.”
“It’s too bad you’re not there,” Alice said, looking away from Annie at the rain. “You could help him get through it.”
“He clearly never considered having me along,” Annie said. “I’ll admit, sometimes I do think Ian and I might end up being more than friends, but now, here’s a big emotional thing in his life, and he’s comfortable going it alone. That tells me that he and I really are just friends.”
Alice turned to look at her. “It could be that he thinks it might be uncomfortable having you with him as he attends his dying mother-in-law,” Alice said, frankly. “Or maybe it’s telling you that he doesn’t think you’re ready for it to be more. Asking you to come along would have been a big step. Maybe you need to talk to the poor guy a little and find out how you both feel.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Annie said.
“Tell him how you feel.”
“I don’t know how I feel,” Annie said. “Sometimes I feel like I would like there to be more between Ian and me. And then sometimes I like things just the way they are. And hanging over all of that are my feelings for Wayne. I love him, and I miss him.” Annie’s eyes began to mist.
“Do you think you can only love one man in a lifetime?” Alice asked. “Because I loved John until I figured out what he was, and I love Jim now—even though that’s probably always going to be a relationship that never advances past where it is.”
“At least you know Jim is crazy about you,” Annie said.
Alice nodded. “And I suspect the same is true about Ian’s feelings for you. We’ve seen enough evidence of it.”
“I know he’s fond of me.”
“Annie, my dear friend, you really need to sort this out and see where the relationship is going.”
“I don’t know,” Annie said, leaning back on the headrest and closing her eyes. “I don’t want to mess things up. I like having Ian for a friend. What if talking about it ruins that?”
Alice shrugged. “I’d just be careful about how long I waited to be honest with yourself—and Ian.”
Annie opened her eyes and saw with relief that the rain had let up again. “Looks like we can go in now.”
Alice chuckled. “Saved by the weather.”
“You know it,” Annie mouthed as she hopped out of the car.
15
When they reached the secretary’s office, Alice tapped on the door frame and smiled at the sweet-faced young woman who had taken over as church secretary when the previous secretary retired. “Alice!” Ellen Whitaker said. “How nice to see you.”
“I wanted to drop off the latest Divine Décor catalog.”
“Oh, I’m so glad,” Ellen told her. Then she patted her flat tummy and spoke softly. “We need some ideas for changing our guest room to a nursery.”
“Really?” Alice and Annie both cried out together and rushed over to hug and congratulate the pleasant young woman.
Ellen beamed and thanked them, and then her smile turned curious. “I’m sure the both of you didn’t brave the rain just to bring me a catalog. Did you need anything else?”
“We were hoping for a closer look at the little cat sculpture,” Alice said. “I want to take some photos of it.”
Ellen stood and gestured toward the door. “Sure. You’re welcome to see it. It’s back in the youth minister’s office right now. I’m sure she’s gone to lunch, but I know she wouldn’
t mind if you looked at it. She’s been showing it off for days.”
They headed through the halls of the church, and when they reached the minister’s office, Ellen tapped on the door, pausing a moment before opening it. The little needle-felted cat was frozen in mid-step on the middle of the huge maple desk that took up virtually all of the space in the room that was not allotted to bookshelves.
Alice began snapping photos of the cat from different angles as Annie turned to Ellen, “Who found the cat in the first place?”
“Actually, that would be me,” Ellen said. “It was the oddest thing. I went back to the supply room to get a new toner cartridge for the laser printer, and I saw the little cat prancing across the first shelf inside the door. Isn’t it the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?”
“A supply closet seems an odd place to leave a gift,” Annie said. “You would think a visitor would leave it in the sanctuary somewhere.”
“I know—right?” Ellen said. “The closet isn’t even marked or anything, so you wouldn’t know what it was unless you looked in.”
“Or unless you knew your way around the church,” Alice said as she turned from her picture taking. “Oh, I’m sure it’s not anyone here,” Ellen said. “Who would want to keep that kind of talent secret? I figure some visitor was looking for the office or the children’s church area and just got lost. These halls can be very confusing.”
“How many people do you think would know exactly where the supply room is?” Alice asked.
“Well, there’s me, of course,” Ellen said, “and Reverend Wallace and his wife, and the youth minister, and the folks who clean, and all the Sunday school teachers and helpers. Some of the older kids, if they’re sent to fetch things during service. I almost forgot about the choir director and probably some of the other music people.” She bit her lip lightly as she thought. “Oh, and there’s Mary Beth, of course, because she and the other ladies are storing some of their stuff in there for the hand-bell choir. And the ministry and outreach groups, and all the people who’ve ever volunteered for the bazaars, because they always store things in there.”