To know he was thinking about me and worrying, warmed my heart so fully, tears filled my eyes. “I’m fine. I just have to take care of this family issue. I’ll be home, come hell or high water, on Friday morning. I’ve talked to the caterer and texted all the vendors, and we’re set. The wine is going to enjoy a beautiful launch.”
“You’re sure?”
The baby curled her fingers into fists and squawked, so I crossed to her and gently jostled her seat. Her face relaxed and she quieted. “I’m very sure. Grace is doing much better, and I’ve been able to meet with her doctors to get her medicines figured out.” The trouble with lies wasn’t creating them, but remembering them. By the time I entered kindergarten I was an accomplished liar. I understood telling the truth about Mom’s sickness caught the attention of the teacher, which eventually led to Social Services. Where’s your lunch, Addie? Is your mother okay? Where are you living now? By the time I was ten, I told stories better than a seasoned con man.
“When you get back and we get this opening behind us, I want us to spend some alone time. If this break has taught me any lesson, it’s that we need to talk more.”
Gently, I rubbed my thumb along the bottom of Carrie’s foot. “We talk plenty.”
“Lately, it’s been the vineyard or my dreams. It struck me today, we never talk about you.”
“I can promise you, Scott, my story is not interesting.”
“Everything about you is interesting.”
His kindness was nearly my undoing. Here was a man who I loved with my whole heart, and I was hiding so much of my life from him. What was wrong with me? Why didn’t I share my stories with him? As much as I wanted to tell him now about Janet and Carrie, I couldn’t. Blame it on old habits, but I truly feared my family’s past would taint my future with Scott. “Thanks.”
“I miss you. And, I miss the vineyard.” The front door on the first floor opened and closed, and I quickly glanced to Carrie to make sure she was still sleeping. “Scott, it sounds like Grace is home from the doctor’s. Let me get her settled for the night.”
“Call me tomorrow.”
“You can count on it.”
“Addie, I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
I hung up and held the phone to my heart, pushing back the tears welling in my eyes. My chest tightened and my breathing grew shallow. A tear spilled, but I quickly swiped it away. I would make all this work. I would get Carrie to a good home. Janet would come out of the mental hospital with her meds balanced, and my life in the country would resume. This story would have a happy ending.
As I tucked the phone in my back pocket, I turned to see Grace entering the room. A glance at me, and her expression soured. She didn’t spare a glance toward the child as she moved to the refrigerator and pulled out a cold beer. She twisted off the top and took a long drink.
“Wow, Aunt Grace, bad day?”
“You could say that.” She glanced at the beer bottle, judging what remained.
“What’s going on with you? Other than the obvious with Janet, what’s bothering you?”
She held up the bottle. “Isn’t all this enough?”
“More than enough, but there’s something else.”
“I got an offer on this place. A good offer. More money than I could make in a lifetime. I’ve always known the land was worth a small fortune, but no one gave me hard numbers to consider.”
“I didn’t realize you wanted to sell.”
“I don’t. I love this place.”
“But it’s getting to be too much.”
Grace’s gaze widened a fraction as she stared at me. Instead of answering, she took another long pull on the beer. “You’ve been talking to Zeb.”
“I’ve got eyes. I walked the warehouse a couple of times. I noticed the inventory was very low. How long has it been since you took on a job?”
“About a year. I lost my manager, and I couldn’t find anyone to take on this place. I figured there was time to sort it out. The warehouse was full. But I never expected inventory to dwindle so fast.”
“No jobs in a year?” In this business, you built connections with local contractors who were scheduled to demolish a home. You built connections with designers who visited your shop weekly, looking for the next trend. You built by word of mouth in the community. Everyone, especially the contractors, expected you to be there and ready to act. Disappoint these folks a few times, and you fell off their radar.
Grace dug her fingernail into the beer bottle’s label. “I got a call from Zeb this afternoon about demolishing an old stone fireplace. It’s all that remains of a small house once part of the McDonald Plantation. The hearth dates back three hundred years. Two years ago, I’d have jumped at the job.”
Working at the warehouse, I made a point to learn the area’s history well. Alexandria became an official city in 1749, and when the first lots in the city went on sale in July of that year, they all sold within days. The primary stipulation of each land sale required that a permanent house be built on the lot within two years. A few brick homes were constructed, but most were wooden structures that didn’t survive the test of time. Surrounding the new city were hundreds and hundreds of miles of Virginia farmland dedicated to growing the highly profitable crop of tobacco. Our warehouse now on King Street was only blocks away from the original Hunting Creek warehouse built to receive, inspect, and pack tobacco for shipment to England.
“Why haven’t you? You could always hire day workers.”
“Yeah, I suppose. And then what? I’d have a bunch of stones lying in my warehouse.”
The market for old stones consisted mostly of high-end designers who wanted to create a unique feature for a client. “Do you still have the list of designers?”
“I have the list, but I’m not sure how active it is.”
“Give them a call.”
“I can’t pull this off fast enough. I have to be on site tomorrow to haul away the stones.”
“Zeb can’t give you more time?”
“He placed the first call a month ago. I’ve been putting him off.”
“The stones would be an easy flip, Grace.”
She raised the bottle to her lips and drank. “Not sure I care enough to try anymore.”
“What if I picked up the stones? I could bring them back. Make a few phone calls and see if anyone wants them.”
Grace’s face softened with amusement. “One job isn’t gonna do me much good, Addie. This whole operation is on borrowed time.”
“I’m stuck here until I hear from the social worker, Grace. I could do the job and see if I could sell the stones or sit around here and go insane. Honestly, the insane option doesn’t appeal, and I would like to get out in the fresh open air and move a little.”
“You got the baby.”
“I also have you. You work with me, and we could make this happen. We both could ride out to the property and have a look. The truck still runs, because you drove it to the vineyard.”
“Yeah. It’s tip-top.” She dug deeper into the beer bottle label with a thumb made crooked by arthritis.
“You want me to call Zeb?”
“Honestly, Addie, I don’t care.” She lowered into a seat, no longer able to shoulder the weight.
“Grace, is there more going on that I should know about?”
“I’m running out of steam. It’s all getting to be too much for me.”
“What’s getting to be too much?”
“Life.”
I reminded myself that my plate was full as I reached for the phone in my back pocket. I scrolled through the numbers and found Zeb’s number. I hit Send. The phone rang once and Zeb’s crisp, “Hello,” cut through the line.
“This is Addie.”
“The baby okay?”
“Baby’s great. Sleeping for now. And than
ks for the car. Really helped.”
“You didn’t call to say thank you.”
“I called about the job you offered Grace. The stone job.”
Silence crackled. “I put one last call in to her today, Addie, but if she can’t handle it, I’m gonna demo the rocks. I’ve an addition to build for this client, and I can’t put her off any longer.”
“What if I came out tomorrow with a few guys, and we hauled it off?”
Silence crackled. “I can give you until noon and then my grading crew has to get started.”
“Where’s the job site?”
“Not fifteen minutes from you, down Richmond Highway. The property was the old McDonald Plantation.”
“Grace told me. Can you text me the address?”
“Sure.” A chair squeaked and I imagined him standing from his office chair. Seven years since I stood in his office, but I suspected he still owned the beat-up pine desk that once belonged to his grandfather. Behind it stood a tall bookshelf crammed full of construction manuals and supply catalogues, model airplanes he made as a kid, and pictures of Eric. There were also pictures of Janet, but I assumed they were gone. On the wall was his diploma from the Virginia Military Institute, an old Virginia college, ripe with tradition. Zeb was the first in his family to attend the school and graduated with honors in Civil Engineering before he went into the Marines and served for eight years, including two tours in Iraq. Within months of arriving back in Alexandria after leaving the Marines, he met the vivacious Janet and fell head over heels in love.
“Thanks. I’ve got this.”
“Addie, are you sure you can tackle this? The baby’s a handful.”
“I’ll bring her along with Grace. The kid seems to be happiest when we’re on the move. She only has an issue when I do selfish things like sit or close my eyes.”
His heavy sigh cut through the phone. “Okay. Address is on the way.”
“Thanks.”
I hung up and looked at the sleeping infant. “Grace, you’ll have to watch over the kid while I manage the site.”
“I don’t know anything about babies.”
“All you have to do is watch her. Keep her out of the sun. If she has an issue, get me.”
“It can’t be good for a baby to be outside.”
“If we keep her out of the sun and heat, she’ll be fine.” The kid stirred and a glance at the clock told me it was feeding time again. Damn, this kid is punctual. As I moved to the social worker’s bag of formula, I flipped through a mental Rolodex of people who could help us. “Do you have cash in the business account?”
“Some. A thousand maybe.”
“It’s enough for a couple of day workers. Who have you used lately, or, at least, most recently?”
“Not anyone in a regular way in a couple of years. But last year, Margaret McCrae helped me out. You played with her and her sisters, Rachel and Daisy, that summer you lived here.”
“I remember. Do you have Margaret’s number?”
“Sure. In my office.”
I cracked the top of the formula bottle and secured a nipple as the baby’s eyes opened. She looked around, clearly searching for a reason to cry. Her gaze drifted toward me and she found her reason.
Ready this time, I picked her up and put a bottle in her mouth. “Can you get the number while I feed the baby?”
Grace nodded. “I knew you were the one who could fix the mess.”
“Addie, Fixer of Messes. It’ll be engraved on my tombstone one day.”
Grace shrugged unapologetically. “You were always good at helping, even when you were a little kid. Janet was older. Your mom was the parent. But you ran the show.”
“That’s not my job anymore. Right now, I’m trying to fix a crappy situation and see that we all come out of it with what we want. You might not want the money from the sale of the stones, but I’m betting Janet could use it.”
Grace snorted. “She won’t know what to do with the money. I don’t care how many medications her doctors put her on, she’ll spend it on crap.”
“Then I’ll put it in an account for her.”
“And what? You’ll keep helping her after she gets out?”
A bank account was one of those distant bridges I couldn’t consider crossing now.
* * *
Grace found Margaret’s number, and once Carrie was changed and settled back in her dresser drawer cradle, I dialed the number. If Margaret couldn’t help, I hoped she could at least point me in the direction of someone who could. I really didn’t want to call Zeb back and tell him we couldn’t do the job. He sounded so unsure of me, and I needed this. I couldn’t really fix my family, but I needed to prove, to myself more than Zeb or Grace, that I could at least do this.
On the third ring, I heard the shatter of glass hitting a floor, muffled curses, and then, “Margaret McCrae.”
Clearing my throat, I leaned forward on my bed. “Margaret, this is Addie Morgan. My Aunt Grace owns the architectural salvage company on King Street.”
“Yeah. Sorry about the crash and the curses. Just knocked my coffee cup over.” She cleared her throat. “It’s been a long time, Addie. Like twenty years. How’s Grace doing? I haven’t seen her in a year.”
“Great.” The lies tripped easier and easier. “I’m in town for a few days, and she’s gotten a lead on a salvage job. She said you helped her with the last job, and I was wondering what you’re doing these days?”
“Still chasing any historical gig I can find. Landed a job in St. Mary’s County, Maryland, last year but that ran its course. Working part time at the Archaeology Center, and if the Universe really hates me, I help at the bakery.”
“I don’t think I’ve been in the bakery in over seven years.”
“A lot has changed. Daisy is running the joint along with Rachel. My parents finally retired. Hard to keep them in town much. Have Winnebago, will travel. They’re always on the go.”
Hard to forget Mr. and Mrs. McCrae from that summer. I visited the bakery more to see them than to play with Daisy and Rachel. They were solid, hardworking people and they seemed to really love and care for each other. That kind of respect and affection between a husband and wife was foreign to me, and I savored it as much as Grace’s routines. “Good for them.”
“You know Rachel’s husband died.”
“Grace told me. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. But she and the girls are good. She was dating a French baker, but is single again. And old Daisy got herself hitched last year and made a baby. Never, ever thought I’d see that day.”
Her candor teased a laugh. “She’s a tough customer.”
“I think Mom still has the book that you two ripped in half. She pulls it out every so often and tells the story. If Mom is telling the story right, you give as good as you get.”
“No doubt.”
“So what are you doing these days?”
“Work on a vineyard in the Shenandoah River Valley. Started off as a picker and I now manage the place.”
“And Janet? She was always a firecracker.”
“Around.”
“Ah, more to that story, I sense.”
I glanced at Carrie. “You’d be right.”
“So, you said you have a job?”
“It’s an old stone hearth. I don’t have a lot of info on it, but I’ve been told it dates back to the early eighteenth century. Located on what was the McDonald Plantation. The owner wants the hearth removed so she can build a garage or expand her driveway.”
Margaret sighed. “How much history has been lost because someone needed more parking?”
“This job will give you a chance to dig into a bit of local history. The McDonald place was a tobacco plantation.”
“We’re the city tobacco built.” Interest warmed Margaret’s whiskey voice, and I sensed it
wouldn’t take much to hook her.
“I dismantled a few hearths in my time, and I always found something unexpected hidden in the rocks.”
She chuckled. “You know how to sweet talk a girl, don’t you?”
I smiled for the first time in days. “I’m giving it my all. If you say no, I have to hustle and find someone else.”
“I’m not saying no. This sounds good. So what do you need from me?”
“I’ve got the truck, but I need day laborers, and if you’ve got the time, I’ll pay you to be on-site. The more I know about the site’s history, the higher the price the stones will fetch.”
“What time tomorrow?”
“It’s going to be early. I’ve until noon to clear the site.”
“You telling me a developer is going to destroy the site right after they take a lunch break?”
“Zeb Talbot is trying to work with us. He’s been asking Grace for a couple of months to clear the site, but she kept turning him down.”
“Is she really doing okay?”
“She’s old, Margaret. She wants to do this, but even though she won’t admit it, the job’s too much.” That wasn’t true, but Grace was family, and I lied for family.
“Might be fun, and if we go super early I can push back my work at the bakery. They’re very used to my tardy, delinquent ways.”
A small weight lifted from my shoulders. “That would be great, Margaret. Do you have any muscle men?”
She chuckled softly. “I can always round up muscle. Now tell me again where the property is. You’ve peaked my interest, and I’m feeling the need to do a bit of pre-dig research.”
I checked my texts and found one from Zeb. I read off the address. “Can you go as early as six or seven?”
“Split the difference. How about six-thirty?”
“Great.”
November 1, 1750
Captain Smyth arrived home today on the Constance safely. So excited was his wife to see the white sails on the horizon that she bade me to run with her to the bluffs. We watched as sailors, anxious to be ashore, unloaded their cargo of dark-skinned creatures onto barges as they also tossed rocks used for ballast overboard.
At the Corner of King Street Page 12