“Okay… thanks,” Claire said, and did.
“I’m so glad for a chance to meet you,” his mom smiled, as she removed a pitcher of tea from the refrigerator, and filled the waiting glasses. “Although, I feel like I already know you.”
Claire tried valiantly to look less bewildered than she felt.
“Yeah, I’m really glad to meet you, too. Did you know my grandmother?”
“No, I didn’t,” his mom said regretfully. “I did meet your grandmother, but living here in Ashland, I can’t say I really knew her. You should talk to Alec’s grandmother, though. They were neighbors for more than twenty years.”
“I will,” Claire replied. She carried her plate to the table his mom motioned to, and she and Alec soon joined her.
“Tonight, Claire is having dinner with one of her grandmother’s close friends,” Alec mentioned.
“Oh?” his mother said, turning a curious look in Alec’s direction.
“I’m hoping she can answer some of my questions,” Claire added. “I’d like to find out if she knows anything about the secret sitting room.”
“How exciting that must have been to find it,” his mom commented, her eyes shining softly as she imagined. “And what a surprise!”
“Yeah, it… was,” Claire replied.
It was only slightly more surprising than finding out just how much Alec’s mother already knew about her.
Chapter 13
Alec pulled out of his parents’ driveway, and onto the street. Claire waved back at his mom one last time, then turned her attention to the way ahead. And, to studying Alec out of the corner of her eye.
“You were right. Your mom’s really nice,” she commented.
“Yes, she is,” he smiled. “I knew you’d like her. She likes you, too, if you couldn’t tell.”
“Yeah, I kind of gathered that. I kept wondering if we met before. She seems to know all about me,” she said, glancing at him sideways. He glanced back.
“Well, yeah. We’ve hung out every spare minute this week. Of course I told Mom about you.”
“Oh,” she said. Claire wasn’t sure that added up, but she pondered it, anyway.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t said a word about me to your best friend, Daphne,” he said, glancing at her again.
“Well—yeah. I guess, probably, I have mentioned you, maybe once or twice,” she conceded reluctantly. She suspected she was blushing, which was ridiculous. He told his mother way more about her, than she told Daphne, about him! She chose to believe that, anyway. He’s the one who should be blushing! Instead, he was smiling. He appeared to be amused by something.
Rather than tell her what it was, he changed the subject.
“What time is your dinner with Mrs. Frederick?”
“Six o’ clock,” she replied.
“By the time we get back, that’ll give us about four and a half hours to see what’s in your garage.”
“Think it’ll be enough?” she wondered.
“It all depends on what, and how much, is in it.”
“I hope there’s room to store some things. The closet in my room is now a hall, and the closets in the secret sitting room are occupied.”
“We’ll know soon whether it does, or not,” Alec replied.
Forty-five minutes later, they stood in front of Claire’s garage.
“I hope this key works,” she commented, looking dubiously at the housekey in her hand. “It’s all I’ve got.”
“One of my guys is a pro at picking locks. If you can’t get it open, I’ll call him,” Alec assured her. Claire gave him a strange look. He looked back at her, puzzled, then understanding dawned, and he laughed. “Now and then, we find it necessary to get into a locked vehicle. It’s all owner-endorsed, and legal, I assure you. There’s no other locksmith in town. We don’t advertise, but everyone seems to know to call us, when they lock themselves out.”
“Oh. I’m glad to hear that, Alec. I was beginning to wonder,” she replied, and he laughed again.
The key turned in the lock, and she swung the door open.
The windowless space was lit only by the light shining through the doorway. It dimly revealed a ladder hanging on one wall, shelves filled with a conglomeration of items on another, a large sheet-covered object on one side, and…
“A lawnmower!” Claire said triumphantly.
“What’s under the sheet?” Alec wondered, far more interested in that.
“I have no idea, but there’s a lawnmower!” Claire said again. She felt along the doorframe for the switch. Overhead, the fluorescent light suddenly flickered, then glowed. “How do I make it work?”
“Fill it with gas and pull that cord until it starts,” he said distractedly, his attention on the sheet covered item that filled the opposite half of the garage.
“And look! There’s lawn food,” she said excitedly. “I think the lawn needs fed, it isn’t as green as yours. How do I do that?”
“Pour it into that thing, turn the dial to the proper setting, then run it over your lawn like a mower. Then water it. What’s under the sheet?”
Claire tore her gaze away from the plethora of lawncare items that filled the shelves, and looked at the dusty cover.
“I don’t know. It’s probably not a body, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she replied. Alec looked intense.
“Don’t be so sure about that. May I?”
“Yeah… sure,” she answered, giving him a puzzled look.
Alec ran his hands through his hair, and stepped forward slowly. Claire watched with concern as he carefully took hold of one end of the sheet, and began to fold it back.
She had no idea what was the matter with him. He looked like… she wasn’t sure what. Way more excited than a sheet covered pile could possibly warrant. She watched as he folded it back some more.
“Oh. It’s a car,” she said, a little more interested now.
But not nearly as interested as he was. He breathed in sharply, and… was he shivering, as he folded back the sheet, bit by bit? Trembling wasn’t a very manly word. Maybe he was shaking. It was an old car, maybe he…
“Claire, do you know what this is?” he asked softly, as he lay aside the covering. His voice was shaking, too.
“Uh… if I had to guess, I’d say it’s an old car.”
He shot her a reproving look.
“It’s not old, it’s a classic,” he corrected her.
“Okay… well, it looks exceedingly classic. And dusty. I wonder why it’s here?”
“Maybe because it belonged to your great-grandparents, and your grandparents knew it would be worth more than their house someday. I have no idea, but Claire, this is amazing!”
She stared, as he ran his hand along the body of the convertible, and examined the interior. He opened the hood, and had a look at the engine.
“You said… it’s worth more than the house?” she finally managed.
“Maybe close to the six-figure range, I won’t know for sure, not until I get it into the shop—it needs to be serviced. After all this time, the gas is dried, the tank’s bound to have rust… you’ve got to let me take this in! It’s gorgeous… I can’t believe this was right next to my house the whole time, all these years…”
Alec was mesmerized. If he looked at her, the way he was looking at that old, dusty car, she wouldn’t wonder whether he wanted to be just friends, or more than.
“You look like you’re in love,” she pointed out.
“I am,” he said. He also looked like he might cry.
“Should I leave you two alone?” she asked dryly. Alec laughed as he spun, hugged her, and whirled her around.
“Thought you were going to warn me next time,” she gasped, her heart racing again. Alec laughed some more, and turned her so she could get a good look at the car.
“You have no idea what you’ve got here,” he said with excitement.
“I’m beginning to wonder. Whatever it is, it appears to have jam-like properties,” she
retorted.
“It does! This, Claire, is a 1955 Packard Caribbean convertible.”
His eyes shone as he looked at it.
“And?” Claire prodded.
“Only five-hundred of these cars were ever built. It’s got the original leather interior. The white jade, rose quartz, and gray pearl paint is flawless from what I can tell, through the dust, anyway. Whoever bought this chose all the options… I can’t believe this, the mileage! Did this get driven anywhere but to church? Once a month? This car is an amazing find!”
“Only five-hundred of them?” she asked, giving the car another look. “Then… I guess it is worth a lot.”
“You have no idea! You’ve got to let me restore it. A chance like this comes along once in a lifetime, if at all! Please, Claire. Not that you could stand to sell it, I don’t mean that. But… what else are you going to do, cover it up again, and leave it? Let me restore it! Please. I’m begging, Claire. I’ll get on my knees if I have to,” he pleaded, glancing at the filthy floor of the garage. She felt more than a little overwhelmed.
“Alec, I—it may be worth close to six-figures if it’s restored, but I don’t even have three to restore it with, right now. Maybe later, but…”
“That’s fine! Don’t worry about it. I want to do this, and it’ll be great to add to the list of models we’ve restored. If you sell it…” and he looked sick at the thought, “…then you can pay me back. Or you can keep it, and let me drive you around sometimes.”
“I don’t even know what to say, that doesn’t seem very fair,” she said, as she stared at the dusty old—the dusty classic, that is—goldmine in front of her.
“I’ll clean out Herschel’s litter box, and your refrigerator, for the rest of your lives,” he bargained. Claire stared back at him for a moment, then laughed.
“No, I mean it doesn’t seem fair to you!” she clarified.
“Are you kidding? Then give me permission, while there’s still time to get a flatbed out here!”
Claire looked from him, to the car, and back again, a little uncertainly. Then she tossed her hands in the air.
“Fine, go ahead. If that’s really what you want,” she agreed. Alec laughed and hugged her again, nearly crushing her in his enthusiasm. He released her just as quickly, and snatched his phone out of his pocket.
“Ken! I need a flatbed. I’m at my neighbor’s, she’s got a 1955 Packard Caribbean in her garage, she just discovered it. She had no idea. I know! So get some of the guys out here. The tires are rotten, it’s been sitting here for a long time, twenty or thirty years, maybe longer…”
In short order, the tow truck arrived. Claire stayed out of the way, as Alec assisted the other guys in moving the car gently. They seemed almost as enamored with it as he was.
At last it was safely on the flatbed, and on the way to his shop. Alec and Claire stood in the driveway, watching as the truck turned the corner, and the car was lost from view. She glanced up at him, and bit back the urge to laugh in response to the expression on his face. She looked deeply sympathetic instead, and patted his arm.
“You’ll see it again,” she assured him. He glanced down at her and caught the teasing gleam in her eyes, then laughed.
“I can hardly wait,” he smiled, and glanced at his watch. “What can I do for you, before it’s time for you to go to Mrs. Frederick’s?”
“I have no idea,” she replied, giving the interior of the garage a speculative look. With the door raised, the contents were clearly visible. “I’ve got storage space, now. I don’t want to store anything until after I figure out what it is I want to store, though. I need to go through the boxes first.”
“Okay… I’ll check your transmission fluid, then,” he decided. “You shouldn’t go anywhere, without doing that first. If the part came in today, I’ll replace it Sunday. Then you won’t have to worry about this anymore.”
“Thanks, Alec. You’re a good friend,” she said gratefully, and he smiled back. She unlocked her car and popped the hood, and he raised it and checked the fluid level. He replaced the dipstick, unscrewed the cap, and slowly poured transmission fluid into the reservoir. When he was satisfied, he lowered the hood, and latched it in place.
“Go ahead,” she said magnanimously, waving toward the corner where the flatbed truck disappeared with her crazy-expensive car. She still had a hard time grasping that part. “I know you’re dying to go check on it. You’re probably dying to get started.”
“I’m starting to think you know me, Claire,” he smiled, and she laughed. “Call me after dinner. Let me know how it went. Or stop by the garage, if you want. We’ll trade updates.”
“Okay,” she smiled. “Maybe I will.”
Alec hopped in his truck and headed to his shop. Claire unlocked her backdoor, and headed inside.
Herschel met her, alternately purring, scolding, and telling her how concerned he was that she’d never return.
“You poor thing,” she crooned, emptying a can of food into a clean dish for him. Rather than eat, he wound around her ankles, and rubbed against her over and over. “That must have been terrible when my grandmother left. You had to wonder why she never came back.”
Herschel still wondered.
Claire picked him up and held him, until he was satisfied with the attention she lavished on him.
He kicked, and she let him down. Now, he was ready to eat.
It was nearly six o’ clock, so Claire got herself ready, and followed the directions to Mrs. Frederick’s house.
To her delight, she discovered that the pink shuttered, flower surrounded cottage she admired the day she arrived, was Mrs. Frederick’s. Claire parked in the street, mindful of her leaky transmission, and walked to the door. She might as well have walked all the way from her house, no further than it was.
Hummingbirds zipped back and forth, alternately drinking nectar from the colorful flowers, and chasing after one another. House finches, and other birds Claire didn’t recognize by name, picked through the rapidly diminishing seed in the feeders and splashed in the birdbath. The soft evening breeze stirred the flowers, filling the air with their combined scents.
Claire breathed in the intoxicating fragrance as she followed the path to the front door, and knocked.
A set of wind chimes hung from the eaves of the porch. It swayed gently, adding soft musical notes to the chirping of the birds, and the zooming of the hummingbirds, as they raced by.
Claire caught a glimpse of movement on the other side of the heart shaped window in the door, and it opened. Mrs. Frederick stood on the other side, her smile welcoming.
“Here you are, and right on time,” the elderly woman said, opening the door wide and motioning for Claire to come in.
“Hi, Mrs. Frederick,” she smiled back. “Thank you so much for having me.”
“You’re very welcome. I’m so glad you could join me. Come right in, and have a seat…”
Mrs. Frederick led her through the nearest doorway, and into a charming little sitting room. The furniture was as diminutive as that in her own grandmother’s secret sitting room. The upholstered loveseat was covered in wine-colored velvet, as was one of the chairs. The remaining seating differed each from the other, but the greens, pinks, and blues, harmonized beautifully. In the corner, a grandfather clock chimed the hour. Gold damask drapes hung at each side of the sheer curtained window, and an ornate, gold framed mirror adorned the wall above the carved mantle. Floral still life paintings decorated the striped cream and gold, paper-hung walls. A thick, velvety area rug in a pink, blue, and green floral pattern, occupied much of the wood floor. On the coffee table, sat a tray with petite sandwiches and other finger foods. Two glasses of iced tea sat on the coasters beside it.
“I love your house,” Claire commented, as she had a seat in one of the chairs, as directed.
“Thank you, I do love it myself,” Mrs. Frederick smiled. “Go on and help yourself, and we’ll get down to business. I’m sure you have plenty of questions.�
�
“I do,” Claire acknowledged. “As soon as I have one answered, I come up with several new ones.”
“Where would you like to begin?” Mrs. Frederick asked, handing Claire a small, cut glass plate.
“At the beginning,” she promptly replied. “I know I visited here before, but I don’t remember it. I don’t remember anything. So I’d like to start at the beginning. Whatever you can tell me, is probably more than I have now.”
“Well, then…” Mrs. Frederick considered. “Let’s start with your grandparents. Your grandfather was born right here in Juniper Creek, and your grandmother, in Maplewood. I went to school with your grandfather, he and my oldest brother were good friends. Your grandparents met during a football game, both schools were heated rivals. That complicated things, as you can imagine, but it was love at first sight, they both said…”
Claire listened, enraptured, as Mrs. Frederick led her from one event to the other in the lives of her grandparents, and then her father. Puzzle pieces she didn’t even know were missing, began to fill the empty spaces she was only vaguely aware of, until now.
“I do want to hear about when my parents met,” Claire interjected. “But what about my half-sister? All I really know is her name, and that her mother left our father.”
“You haven’t met, then. That you can remember.”
“No, we did… last Tuesday, for just a minute. We were supposed to have coffee, but… it didn’t really work out.”
Mrs. Frederick nodded. She looked sympathetic.
“I can imagine.”
“Alec said she and my grandmother weren’t close.”
“Alec is right. They weren’t.”
“Why?” Claire wondered. “Wouldn’t her mother let her see our grandparents?”
“I can’t say what her mother did,” Mrs. Frederick answered hesitantly. “I do know it wasn’t your grandparents’ decision not to see Marlena. She wasn’t friendly though, the times they did.”
Claire sighed.
“I don’t understand that. I don’t understand why my mother kept me from having a relationship with them, either. I look at the albums, and… I can’t understand it. We seemed so happy. We all did.”
Lochlan Museum: The Case of the Collectible Killer Page 23