“Meow.”
“He might not even be here.” The house was a large stone structure that looked dark from the outside. Of course most of the windows were covered in thick drapes that would block out the light from inside the house, should there be any.
Ebenezer just looked at me. I could see he was becoming impatient with my stalling.
“Okay,” I breathed. “Here goes nothing.”
I took a deep breath and knocked on the door. The iron knocker made a deep, hollow sound that seemed to echo through the area. After less than a minute an old man, stooped with age, opened the door.
“Ebenezer.” The man looked at the cat. “Wherever had you gotten off to?”
The cat meowed and trotted inside.
“This is your cat?” I asked the emaciated old man.
“It is. Who are you? And what are you doing on my property?”
“My name is Caitlin Hart. I live on Madrona Island. I found Ebenezer last night at St. Patrick’s Catholic Church and he led me here today.”
The old man, who I assumed to be Balthazar Pottage, turned and looked at the cat, who had jumped onto a table just off to the side and begun to purr.
“Damn cat,” the man grumbled, but I noticed there was warmth in his eyes as he picked him up and started down the hall. “Close the door behind you,” he instructed.
Was the man inviting me in? He’d told me to close the door behind me, but had he meant come in and then close the door, or simply close the door on my way out? Because he hadn’t specified, I decided to take my chances and come in. I closed the door and then followed the man down the hall.
The dark hardwood doors on either side of the hall were all closed. Eventually the man turned into an open room that was cozy in a shabby sort of way. There was a nice fire in the large stone fireplace that seemed to be the only heat supplied to the room. Or the whole house, for that matter. It was almost as cold in the house as it had been outside.
The white-haired man sat down in one of the chairs placed in front of the fireplace. The cat looked quite content as he curled up in his lap. I looked around the room, trying to decide what to do. There was an old sofa, but the distance from the fire was twice that from the chairs, so I decided to sit down across from my host in the other chair.
“Nice house,” I said, trying for polite conversation. I noticed a half-eaten bowl of broth on a table next to the chair.
“Bah.”
“I take you’re Balthazar Pottage?”
“Who wants to know?”
“I told you. My name is Caitlin Hart.”
“Why are you here?”
“To return your cat. At least I guess I’m supposed to return him. He showed up at the church last night and then led me here this afternoon.”
“Hmph.”
I noticed the man didn’t seem at all surprised that his cat had been found miles away on another island or that Ebenezer had managed to communicate with me his intent to pay a visit to the house today.
In spite of the fact that I was sitting across from the man he didn’t say another word. He just stared hypnotically into the fire, as if I weren’t even in the room. How in the heck was I supposed to find a smooth segue into a discussion concerning the Bayview Apartments if he wasn’t inclined to speak to me?
“I suppose I should be going, now that Ebenezer is safely home,” I began.
The man didn’t answer.
“I’m glad I finally had a chance to meet you. I’ve always wondered about your house. You can’t see it from the water with all the trees on the property. I hadn’t realized it was so large. From the outside it appears to have three full stories. Is there an attic at the top? It’s hard to tell for certain based on the roof line alone.”
The man closed his eyes. Was he going to sleep? I knew I was rambling, but I figured it was better to keep talking than to let the conversation die. Even if said conversation had, to this point, been one-sided at best.
“I imagine it gets lonely living here all alone in this big house. I guess it’s a good thing you have Ebenezer for company,” I continued to babble. “He seems like such an agreeable cat. I really enjoyed my time with him. Still, it’s odd he showed up all the way over on Madrona Island. I wonder how he got there.”
The man didn’t respond.
“I suppose he must have stowed away on one of the boats that brings you supplies. I’m sure you must get deliveries of one sort or another on somewhat of a regular schedule. Food, propane, that sort of thing. Do you travel to the other islands often? I’ve heard you prefer to remain on your island most of the time.”
The man still didn’t respond, but he did open his eyes. Maybe he was finally getting tired of my rambling and would be willing to engage in a two-way conversation. “You still here?” Pottage asked, as if to indicate he hadn’t heard a word I’d said. Not that I blamed him. Even I was getting tired of my endless chattering about nothing in particular.
“I’m afraid so. I don’t suppose you have a phone? I’m supposed to call my friend when I want him to come pick me up, but the cell service is a bit sketchy.”
“Why are you really here?” the man asked.
“I told you, to return your cat.”
He sat up straighter. “The cat comes and goes on his own timeline. If he brought you here it was for a reason. I’d like to know what that reason is.”
I moved forward in my chair in an attempt to look taller and therefore more formidable. “I wanted to speak to you about the Bayview Apartments.”
“What about them?”
“I hear you plan to tear them down.”
“So?” The man glared at me.
“So, a lot of really wonderful people live in those apartments. If you tear them down they’ll be homeless.”
The man sat forward and mimicked my body language. He might be old, but he was at least a foot taller than me, which made him look a tad more threatening than I was comfortable with.
“The apartments have fallen into disrepair. I’ve been notified that I need to bring them up to code or they’ll be condemned. I chose to have them torn down instead, not that it’s any of your business.”
I adjusted my position in my chair so I was farther away from the man’s dark stare. “Why don’t you just fix the place up? If you did you’d have a piece of property with increased value and the tenants wouldn’t have to move.”
The man got up from his chair and slowly made his way across the room. He picked up a piece of paper and then walked back across the room to hand it to me. It was an invoice that I didn’t totally understand, though I did understand the large number at the bottom of the paper.
“This is the estimate I was given when I inquired what it would take to bring the place up to the current code,” Pottage informed me.
“Wow.”
“If I spend this amount of money on that building I’ll need to double the rents in order to recover the cost. Not a single person living in the building could afford to have their rent doubled.”
“No, I guess not,” I admitted.
“The easiest solution to the problem is to tear the place down and sell off the land.”
That did make sense from a business standpoint, but certainly not from a human one.
“It might be hard to find a buyer,” I tried, even though I knew what I’d said was a bald-faced lie. The apartment building had been built on an oceanfront lot that had to be worth millions today.
“I already have a buyer. He’s made me a strong offer. He plans to build condos in the spring.”
“So why the rush? Why not wait until the spring to tear down the old apartment building? I’m sure we could work something out with the building inspector to give the tenants more notice.”
“The buyer wants the tenants gone and the building removed before he’ll sign the final paperwork. He’s offered me an incentive to have the building torn down by the end of January.”
“You have a lot of money,” I pointed out.
/> “I do.”
“Can’t you just fix up the place and let the tenants stay?”
“As I said before, to recoup my expenses the rents would need to be so high none of the present tenants could afford them.”
I hated to admit it, but the man had a point. A good one. The only reason the people who were in the building lived there was because it was the most affordable rental on the island. If the rents were doubled everyone would have to move anyway.
“I realize it might not be the best business decision, but couldn’t you leave the rents the same?” I suggested. “At least for a while, until the people can make other plans.”
“Why would I do that?” The man sat back down in the chair, but I noticed that the cat had moved to a place by the fire.
“As an act of human kindness,” I said, a question in my voice.
“Bah. Why should I be kind to others when others have never been kind to me?”
I didn’t have an answer to that.
I looked around the room, searching frantically for a solution to the seemingly impossible problem before me. Ebenezer got up from his spot and walked over to a nearby table. There was a book on top, which he swatted to the floor. I joined him and picked it up.
“A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. A classic. Are you reading it?”
“Trying. My eyes aren’t what they used to be, I’m afraid.”
I opened the book and looked at the title page. There was an inscription there that read: To my husband on our first Christmas, Love, Belle.
“You were married?” I asked.
“For a while, a long time ago.”
I closed the book and set it back on the table. I started to step away but then changed my mind. I needed a way to get through to the old man, and if prior experience with Tansy’s cats was any indication, Ebenezer had knocked the book off the table for a reason.
“I can read to you for a while before I leave if you’d like.”
The man looked at me. He appeared to be surprised by my offer.
“Why would you do that?”
I shrugged. “I need to wait for my ride back to San Juan Island. It’s almost Christmas and I enjoy the story of Scrooge. I assume you do as well, considering your cat is named Ebenezer.”
“I don’t need a nursemaid.”
“I know,” I answered. “I just thought I’d read to pass the time and I’m happy to read out loud as long as I’m at it.”
“Do whatever you want,” the man grumbled.
I smiled.
I picked up the book and opened it to the first page.
MARLEY was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it: and Scrooge's name was good upon 'Change, for anything he chose to put his hand to. Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail.
Mind! I don't mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country's done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marley was as dead as a door-nail.
Scrooge knew he was dead? Of course he did.
I noticed Pottage had closed his eyes as I read. He appeared to be listening to the story rather than sleeping, however. I even noticed a faint smile on his thin lips a time or two. Ebenezer was curled up in his lap, purring loudly as the old man listened to the tale.
After a half hour my phone dinged, indicating that I had a text. Trevor had anticipated that I might have a problem with cell service so he’d come back for me and was waiting at the dock. He indicated that the storm was getting worse and we’d need to leave now or risk being trapped on the island.
“I have to go.” I closed the book. “My ride is here.”
“But you haven’t finished the story.” The man looked more than just a little disappointed.
“The storm is getting worse. I really need to go,” I insisted.
“Will you come back to finish the story?”
I stood up and pulled on my jacket. The trip from Madrona Island was long and not all that pleasant during the winter, but reading to the old man would be a small price to pay if …
“I’ll come back on Monday to finish the story if you promise to at least consider an alternative for the Bayview Apartments that will allow the current residents to stay.”
The man nodded his head.
“Then I guess we have a deal.”
Chapter 3
Friday, December 11
“That book you ordered came in,” Tara informed me as we worked side by side to unpack and catalogue the shipment of merchandise we’d just received for our store.
“Oh, good. I plan to take it with me when I visit Balthazar Pottage on Monday.”
Tara stopped what she was doing and looked up at me. “Are you still determined to get the old man to rescind the eviction letters to the tenants of the Bayview Apartments?”
I shrugged. “I’m going to try. I know it’s a long shot, but I figure I’ll have his undivided attention for several hours when I go back. Once I finish the book, I’m going to insist we talk about the apartments.”
“And you actually think he’ll consider remodeling the apartments at his own expense even though it’s unlikely he’ll ever recover his investment?”
“He might,” I said with more certainty than I felt. “Apparently, Pottage likes to read and has been unable to do so since his eyesight began to fail. I’m going to use that to my advantage and volunteer to go out to the island to read to him every week if he’ll save the apartment building. He doesn’t need the money. Based on everything I’ve heard, he has a ton of it. Being able to have his favorite books read to him might be worth the cost to repair the building to him.”
Tara stopped what she was doing. She turned and looked at me. “You know, there are books on tape.”
“Of course I know that, but I don’t plan to mention it to him. Besides, in spite of his gruff exterior I think he appreciates the company. Even if he prefers to keep his own company most of the time, it must get lonely living out there on that island all by himself. He doesn’t even have a television. I really can’t imagine what he does to pass the time.”
Tara returned to her task. “Are you sure it isn’t dangerous? I mean, he does have a reputation for being disagreeable and he does live alone on an isolated island.”
“He’s like a hundred years old. I think I can take him if it comes down to a fight.” I laughed.
“Unless he has a gun,” Tara pointed out.
I began stacking the empty boxes. The store had gotten a lot busier with the approaching holiday and restocking the shelves had become a regular occurrence.
“I don’t think he’s dangerous,” I informed Tara. “I had Cody do a background search on him last night just to be sure. He’s really good at digging up any information he needs for stories, so I figured finding out the details of Pottage’s past wouldn’t be all that hard for him. Based on what Cody found out, I think he’s just a bitter old man who’s chosen to shut out the world.”
“Do you know why he’s so bitter?”
“Actually, I think I do. I saw an inscription in the book I was reading to him from a woman named Belle. I asked him about her and he said he was married a long time ago. I’ve since found out that his relationship with Belle ended quite tragically.”
Tara began unpacking the new shipment of pink Coffee Cat Books mugs. “Tragically how?”
I sat back and looked at Tara. “For the story to be truly appreciated I need to back up a bit and start from the beginning.”
“Okay, I’m game. So where’s the beginning?”
I could see I had Tara’s complete attention, and her complete impatience as well. I pushed the box I’d been working on asi
de and started the next as I began my tale.
“Cody found out that Balthazar Pottage was orphaned at an early age. He didn’t have all the details, but he thought he was around five. After his parents died he lived in a children’s home, which, it seemed from what Cody could find, wasn’t a pleasant place to grow up.”
“Some of those places are pretty nice these days,” Tara pointed out.
“True, but that was a long time ago, and it seems the home he lived in was known for its rigid structure and severe discipline policy. Anyway, when he was old enough to be on his own he got a job and began to save his money. In just a few years he bought his first business, and from that point forward he began to build a financial empire. By the time he was in his midfifties he was still single but had amassed a fortune.”
“I’m assuming this is where Belle comes into the picture,” Tara commented as she sat back and waited for me to continue.
“It is. She was the daughter of a man whose business he’d bought out of bankruptcy. At the time she was thirty-two to his fifty-six, but they fell in love and married. Or at least I know they married. I can only imagine that they fell in love. Anyway, Pottage built her a grand home on the north end of Madrona Island.”
“They lived here?” Tara asked.
“Part of the time. Cody discovered they had homes both on Madrona Island and in Seattle. It seemed as if Belle spent a lot of her time on the island, at least during the final year of the marriage.”
“Are you referring to that old mansion on the point that’s been deserted as far back as I can remember?” Tara asked.
“Yes. That was the home Pottage built for Belle. He abandoned it after.”
“After what?”
“Hang on, I’m getting to it.” I moved over to the coffee bar and began assembling what we’d need for the rush when the next ferry arrived.
“Anyway,” I continued, “Pottage built Belle a grand home and three years after they wed they had a son: Charles. Twenty years ago, when Charles was just six weeks old, he was kidnapped from his crib during a reception the family hosted on Christmas Eve to celebrate his christening.”
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