by Amy Isaman
“This floor has a more antique Victorian feel.” Darius pointed at the dresses. “Since the home has been in the family for so long, we’ve got quite an assortment of pieces, so I tried to organize them somehow. The second floor has a slightly more contemporary feel with the art. And the lobby is the most eclectic space.”
“Are these all family pieces or do you collect?” I asked.
“Ah, some of both. I think of myself as a bit of a scrounger. I like to find pieces that’ll fit here and there.”
“Estate sales or antique stores?”
“Both. And auctions. Do you collect?”
I nodded. “A bit. Actually, I’m an independent insurance adjuster specializing in fine art. I work closely with appraisers and conservators. That’s why I’m here. I’m sitting on a panel discussion for Christie’s summer conference at the end of next week, but we have the next few days to be tourists before I have to go to work.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I hired an appraiser several years ago. It was an interesting process. I’m not quite meticulous enough to work at something like that. I tend to buy what catches my eye and what I like rather than collecting for appraisal or value.”
“It’s the best way to do it,” I agreed, and judging from the quality of the pieces in the lobby and those I glanced on our way up, he had a great eye.
“You’re here for a few days, so if you’d like me to show you some of my collection, I’d be happy to. I’ve got some interesting pieces.”
“Yes, I, uh… yes.” I struggled to get out a coherent sentence, my heart fluttering around in my chest like it hadn’t done in, well, a long time. “That would be lovely,” I finally managed to sputter.
He opened the door to the second room and nodded to Laurel. This room would be hers, and no chintz paper lined the walls in here either. Apparently, my exhaustion was causing hallucinations or something. “The loo is just through that door.” He pointed to another door on the landing. “I’ll let you ladies get unpacked. Let me know if you’d like some suggestions for any restaurants or outings. I’ve got a list for guests and also be sure to let me know when you’d like a look at more of my collection.”
“Thank you,” I said, as I watched him head back downstairs. I needed a bit of space to process the fluttery feeling I had in my stomach every time Darius looked at me. I hadn’t been with a man other than Bret since my early twenties. I stopped myself. He’d asked me to look at some of his collection, and I panicked. Slow down girl. One step at a time, I thought as I stepped into my room.
The weird feeling of Déjà vu washed over me again. What was it about this Inn? I knew I’d never been inside this old row house, but I also knew that in the back, there was a small garden with a wrought-iron gate. I sat on the edge of the bed and briefly closed my eyes, breathing deeply, to center myself. Laurel must have shown me pictures of it before she booked it. Every place had a website with images to entice people to stay, right?
I pulled out my phone and texted my mother-in-law who was in charge of Trent while we were gone. I was sure she would still be asleep, but I also knew she’d want to know we safely arrived the instant she woke up.
Laurel puttered in her room next door. Trent was at home. Everyone was right where they should be.
Except, perhaps, for me. As soon as I sat on the bed, the phone in my room rang.
“Want me to get that?” Laurel asked, entering my room.
“Yes, please. It’s probably Collin. I can’t.” I lifted my head up. “Can you go grab his notes for me? Tell him I’ll go over them, and I’ll be in touch as soon as I wake up to set up a time to see him and Lucy?”
Laurel laughed. “I’ll take care of him. Go to sleep. You have two hours to regroup before we hit the streets.” She grabbed the phone, chatted for a moment, and shut my door softly behind her.
I lay my head on the pillow and listened to her light tread bounce down the stairs. Collin was the one who convinced me to pitch the conference and visit England, and since I agreed to come, his attention was a bit much. I wondered briefly at the state of his marriage. Then, I closed my eyes, succumbing to the aggressive sleepiness that plagued me since we landed at Heathrow.
Chapter 2
I’M WALKING ALONG THE beach. The waves are big, and each time one crashes, water comes a little further up the sand.
A wave catches me, wetting my shoes and the bottom of my skirt. They’re black, ugly shoes. Heavy and stout. Like nothing I’d ever wear, so I kick them off into the ocean where they sink immediately.
The water is cold and pulls at my feet as the waves recede, but the sand feels good between my toes. I make my way higher up the beach to avoid the water and head toward a large sand dune.
Laurel runs toward me down the dune, carrying a large box. She’s running as if someone is chasing her, but I can’t see anyone else. I feel her fear.
“Take this,” she yells, shoving her box into my arms. It’s wrapped in red and green paper with a big gold bow on it, like a Christmas present.
“Why?” I ask, pulling it close to my chest.
“It’s for you. It’s always been for you.”
I take the box, but it’s no longer a box. Now it’s an orange and white cat, like I had as a child. It curls up in my arms, purring.
“Where did you find him?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer me. Instead, she dives into the waves, swimming away, her strong arms pulling her further out, her hair streaming behind her like a mermaid. She kicks her feet up, diving toward the bottom, and I don’t see her again.
I wonder if I should go after her but don’t. I know that she’ll be fine.
I begin walking again. The cat stretches one leg out as he sleeps in my arms. I come to a wall. It extends all the way into the ocean and is covered in chintz wallpaper with giant red and pink roses. I can’t get around the wall. It’s too tall to climb. Should I turn around or keep walking? The cat leaps from my arms and saunters along the wall.
Following behind, I pause when he does and see a small door at the wall’s base. It has a little handle on it. The cat sits, waiting for me, then pulls the door open with its paw.
It’s black inside, and I don’t want to put my hand in there. But the edge of something glints in the light, and I reach for it.
It’s a white ironstone pitcher filled with clear water. I pour the water into the sand, which runs toward the ocean waves. The cat laps up the water, before digging in the sand. He uncovers a package. It’s old, the paper brittle and yellowed, and I feel a strong need to keep it safe, put it where no one will ever find it. I set the package inside the wall in the dark and latch the door securely.
A sense of relief washes over me, and I sit back petting the cat, which leaps from my arms and flies away.
Even though the door covering the hole in the wall is closed, I can still see its outline in the rose covered wall, so I pile sand in front of it to hide it.
I wonder if I’ve hidden it well enough.
“Mom? Mom, wake up.”
A warm hand rubbed my arm, and I stretched, squinting my eyes open. Laurel sat on the edge of my bed, looking refreshed and young, her light brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. The dream, and Laurel leaping into the ocean and swimming away like a mermaid, came back to me. I closed my eyes again, seeing the cat and the weird wall.
Laurel shook my shoulder. “Mom, wake up, sleepy head. I’m starving. Let’s go see London.”
I groaned and rubbed the sleepiness from my face and eyes. The light in the room was soft. “What time is it? How long did I sleep?”
“It’s the middle of the afternoon.”
“Give me a minute.” I rolled over and tugged at the covers to pull them back up.
“Nope.” Laurel pulled the covers off my shoulders. “You’ll go right back to sleep. You’ve been out for almost three hours.”
I stretched, blinking to try to orient myself before sitting up and leaning against the headboard. “I had the strangest dream. You
gave me this package and then turned into a mermaid and the package turned into a cat. He found this door in a wall.” The whole thing was so weird but also so vivid. I realized the chintz wallpaper was in the dream, just like it had in my mind’s eye when I first saw the Inn. I felt off-kilter. I took a few deep breaths.
Laurel raised her eyebrows at me. “Yeah, that sounds like a dream. They’re always weird.” She stood, pulling the rest of the covers off of me.
I sighed. The dream still vivid in my mind.
♦♦♦
We walked down the street and around the corner to find a small pub that Darius told Laurel about while I slept. When the server set my sandwich in front of me, I managed to hold myself back from shoving half of it in my mouth in one bite. Neither Laurel nor I spoke for a full five minutes while we ate. Our last “meal” was a leftover package of peanuts I found buried in my purse that we shared while waiting for our baggage at the airport.
Appetites sated, we sat back and drank some beer.
“How’d your visit with Collin go?” I asked, somewhat surprised that she hadn’t mentioned him yet.
“Fine. I set his notes on the writing desk in your room. He said he’d be in touch, and he really looks forward to seeing you.”
“Yeah, I’d like to get together with him too, to review possible questions and thoughts about the panel we’re on. We did a bit of prep but thought it might be easier to do one-on-one once I arrived.”
“Mom, you know you can do video calls, right? You could save some time.”
I nodded. “I know, but he’s a good guy and was a good friend of your father’s. His son was in a terrible accident a few years ago. He’s in a wheelchair, and I think he needs some pretty intense care. It hasn’t been easy, and I’d like to see them.”
“Ah, that makes sense,” Laurel said.
“What do you mean?”
“He just seemed kind of eager to see you. And maybe a little disappointed when he saw me instead of you. But I got his notes.” She shrugged. “He seems nice enough, but not really your type.”
“At all,” I added. “He and your dad went to school together. His specialty is Renaissance art. He teaches at a university here in London. And he’s quite a talented painter, but I don’t think he paints anymore at all.” It was a little alarming to hear that he seemed eager to see me. The four-day conference I’d been so looking forward to could quickly turn into a nightmare if he had other ideas. I’d deal with him later. “So, what do you think of the Inn?” I asked, curious if she had any weird sensations of Déjà vu or if that was just my exhaustion and imagination getting the best of me.
“I love it. I thought you’d appreciate all the antiques and the art.” Laurel smiled, waiting for my approval.
“Well, yes, that part is lovely.” I wanted to convince her to move because something about the place gave me the heebie-jeebies. I knew I’d never been there before, but somehow, I had. It was weird, and I didn’t do weird. I did whatever I could see in front of me, and the feeling the Inn gave me? I couldn’t really describe it other than unsettled, nor could I put my finger on exactly what caused it other than a vague sense of Déjà vu.
“I wasn’t expecting to have a whole floor to ourselves, which is cool. And we can pretty much walk wherever, or if you’re tired, we’ll catch a cab.”
“I know. I just thought, maybe, some modern conveniences, like an elevator, might be nice after all the walking we’re doing.” I sighed, unsure of how to convince her.
Laurel responded with a laugh. “Seriously? You’d rather have an elevator than that innkeeper? You work in the city and walk everywhere already, right? That means you tackle some serious hills. Are the stairs really that bad?”
“Well, no, but… I don’t know. I think I’d rather stay somewhere else.” I sounded lame even to myself. This was not the well-thought-out proposal I usually laid out in front of my children or clients or whoever when a decision needed to be made. This was me, going off a gut feeling, unfamiliar and unwelcome territory.
“Mom, is it Darius?”
I shrugged, feeling foolish. No, it wasn’t Darius. It was his house.
Laurel reached across the table and laid her hand on mine. “Mom, Dad’s been gone for a long time. You’ve done a great job raising us. You’re a beautiful woman. It’s okay if you notice a charming, good-looking guy who you have a ton in common with.”
I turned my hand over and squeezed hers. “Honey, I know that and I appreciate it. Someday I’ll be ready for it, but really, Darius isn’t the reason I suggested leaving the Inn. Yes, he’s a good-looking man, but I’ve spent all of ten minutes with him.”
“He’s really nice. We talked for, like, an hour while you snoozed. The house has a cool history. His family has owned it forever. You should talk to him about it. I think you’d enjoy the stories.”
“Not a chance. This week is all about spending time with you.”
“No, it’s about you too. Don’t stop living your life, mom. Or maybe start living a little. Trent and I are old enough to handle it.”
“Hey, I do live,” I objected. “And your Dad was the love of my life.”
She raised her eyebrows at me. “Mom, going out to dinner and a movie on a Friday night, with your mother-in-law, for your weekly fun isn’t exactly living life on the edge. Don’t be afraid to have a little fun this week.” She grinned and grabbed her bag. “You ready?”
“Yes, but I still think I’d rather stay somewhere else.” I stood to leave.
She patted my back. “I know. But we’re not moving. You put me in charge of the accommodations, and we’re staying at the Silver Birch Inn. It’s perfect.” Laurel grabbed the bill off the table. “Let’s go. It’s time to be tourists. We’ve got a week to play until your conference.”
I thought of returning to the Inn and my stomach clenched though I wasn’t sure if it was with fear about the Inn itself, the innkeeper, or maybe both. I swallowed my trepidation along with my last sip of beer.
“You ready? Where to first?”
“Since today’s half gone, I thought we’d take it easy with a bus tour and see whatever catches our interest. You can get on and off the tour busses with the passes I got, and we won’t have to walk a ton since we haven’t slept much. Kinda cool.”
“Sounds good. Let’s do it.”
Chapter 3
LAUREL TRAIPSED DOWN the stairs to the kitchen to grab some coffee. It was nine a.m. here, one a.m. Pacific time, but surprisingly, she wasn’t tired. She’d never been to London, and she wanted to experience it all. Yesterday after their late lunch, they got off their bus, meandered through Westminster, seen Buckingham Palace and the changing of the guard, and learned that London was teeming with tourists. It was late by the time they returned. This morning, she let her mom sleep for at least another hour.
“Well, good morning.” Darius greeted Laurel. He set a plate of scones on the large table in the kitchen at the rear of the ground floor. “Can I get you anything?”
“Just a couple cups of coffee. I’ve gotta get my mom awake. The time difference has not been easy on her.” Laurel paused. “Do you have coffee? Or just tea?”
Darius grinned and pulled a mug from the cupboard. “Of course. But the time doesn’t seem to be affecting you, now, is it?”
“Not yet. I’m so excited to be here. I’m sure I’ll crash when my mom goes and does her conference thing, but until then, I feel like I want to see everything I possibly can.”
“This is your first trip to London, I take it?”
Laurel nodded as she filled her mom’s cup with the requisite amounts of milk and sugar. “We didn’t take tons of vacations or big trips growing up. We’d drive up to Idaho to my grandparent’s house, or fly to the east coast to visit my Dad’s family. They’re all back there.”
“Ah. I’ve never been to California. What’s on your agenda for today?”
“We were thinking of visiting the Victoria and Albert Museum and walking around South Kensi
ngton. Maybe visit Kensington Palace. Be tourists. Any other ideas?”
“Sure. You might tuck this into your bag.” He reached into a basket of papers and fliers on the counter and handed Laurel a photocopied sheet with the Silver Birch Inn Letterhead at the top. “That’s got all of my favorite neighborhood places to eat and visit.” Laurel reviewed the sheet. It even had specific people to ask for at restaurants for discounts or a free glass of wine.
“Will you be eating breakfast this morning?” Darius asked. “I’ve got some fresh scones and fruit. I’m happy to serve you in the garden.”
“That would be lovely! Can you give me a half-hour to get my mom down here?”
He smiled, “Absolutely. I’ll see you then.”
Laurel went back upstairs to deliver the coffee and happily heard the shower going. Her mom could be slow to wake up, but once she did, she was pretty much no maintenance. She had a mass of thick shoulder-length dark hair that had started to turn silver at the temples, but she hadn’t ever colored it. She wore minimal make-up and either put her hair up or left it down.
Laurel tapped on the bathroom door and opened it slightly. “Mom? I’ve got your coffee, here. Darius has scones and fresh fruit for us downstairs when you’re ready.” Laurel set the mug of steaming coffee on the bathroom sink.
“That sounds heavenly. Thanks. Give me fifteen minutes.”
Laurel lounged on her bed, reading through Darius’ list of recommendations. She wanted to try them all, but she chose two, one for lunch and another place for dinner when her mom stuck her head in and announced that she was ready. She pulled her hair back in a low ponytail and wore a red sundress and sandals. She looked great.
Laurel followed her mom. Tricia studied the photos of Darius’ family members on the way down. When she passed one, an older woman in a black dress, she paused and reached up, gently rubbing the woman’s cheek with her thumb. “Mom, what are you doing?”