“That’s the one. It’s listed on the National Registry of Historical Places as the Bradley-Tucker House. Sally was meticulous in maintaining it. After her folks passed on, she and her husband moved into it. He died years ago, but she stayed here, even after her daughter married and moved to Houston. She lived by herself until she was eighty-five, then hired a live-in housekeeper. Bless her heart, she managed to stay in her home until about six months ago.
“Mrs. Simpson gave me the impression that she wasn’t interested in keeping many of her grandmother’s things other than her jewelry. She inherited her mother’s portion of the estate some time back, but I suppose she’ll get the rest of it now. Not that she deserves it.” Sue frowned. “Sorry, that wasn’t nice. But neither she nor her mother made much effort to keep in contact with Sally. Sally’s daughter came to see her once a year on her birthday, but rarely any other time. Neither of them called more than two or three times a year. They were both too busy to bother with her.”
Emily felt a twinge of guilt. She often went three or four months without contacting her parents. Of course, it wouldn’t kill them to call her. When she had finally been able to get in touch with them a few days after the fire, her mother had been genuinely relieved that she was all right. Miranda had also been concerned about those who had lost so much, but minutes later, she’d gone right back to denigrating Emily’s job.
Just like you denigrate hers.
Emily drew a quick breath. Where had that thought come from? She sighed softly. There was no need to question it. She’d felt the Holy Spirit’s prodding before, not on this issue but on others. She had never considered how judgmental and critical she’d become of her mother’s career.
During her childhood, she thought her mother was a beautiful princess living a glamorous fairy-tale life. As she grew older and participated in some fashion shows, she learned it was far from a fairy tale. Modeling could be grueling, with long hours and photographers, runway managers, or egotistical clothing designers making ridiculous demands of the models.
What bothered Emily now about her mother’s business was the very thing she’d thought so wonderful when she was a little girl. The glamour, the emphasis on beauty, feeding the fashion obsession of women and girls, and the useless materialism of the whole thing.
“Uh-oh, I think I lost you somewhere about a mile back.”
Emily turned toward Sue. “I’m sorry. What did I miss?”
“Nothing important. I was just wondering how much of Miss Sally’s things we’ll actually wind up with. She had some wonderful antique furniture that belonged to her parents and an amazing silver set they had received when they were married in 1900.”
“We could set up a parlor scene or a dining room scene. Or both. We have the room now. I’m hoping she kept some of her father’s early medical records or equipment. That would make a terrific addition.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. Sally had a great respect for her father and her family’s history. She was also something of a pack rat.” Excitement danced across Sue’s face. “There’s no tellin’ what we’ll find.” She glanced at Emily with a smile. “So how was your visit with your grandmother?”
“Good. It always is. Grandma Rose is as steady as they come. She was quite taken with Chance. Of course, he was Mr. Charisma.”
Sue chuckled. “That boy can charm the gold out of your fillings when he wants to. I’m sure he wanted to make a good impression on your grandmother.”
“Oh, he did. And on her friend Bertie too. Bertie said she had a crush on Dub’s father years ago. She only met him once, but she still had a dreamy expression when she talked about him.”
“William Callahan was a man who turned women’s heads. For that matter, so are Dub and the boys. But there was something special about William. When he talked to someone, he had a way of making them feel like the most important person in the room. Is Bertie married?”
“She’s a widow, like Grandma. But she was happily married for over forty years. So she didn’t pine away for William.”
“That’s a relief.” Sue slowed as the speed limit dropped outside of town. “Chance really liked your grandmother too. He told me about her antiques store. I’ll have to make a trip to Eden one day soon and have a look.”
“She’d enjoy that. Though if you want to meet her, you’d better call and see when she’ll be there. They have a couple of people who work in the shop part of the time while she and Bertie look for other merchandise. It’s really more a hobby than anything, but they have good things.”
They pulled up in front of the lovely old house. There were several old homes in Callahan Crossing, but this was the grandest that Emily had seen.
As they got out of the SUV, a tall, slim woman with expertly highlighted soft brown hair stepped out onto the porch. She looked around fifty, but she’d had a few facelifts. Emily could spot such things in thirty seconds, as easily as she noted the designer clothes likely purchased at Neiman Marcus in Houston or perhaps Bergdorf Goodman on a trip to New York. Michael Kors ivory trousers with a brown and black geometric tunic, easily a two thousand dollar outfit. No wonder Mrs. Simpson didn’t want to be bothered with cleaning out the house. She’d likely never touched a dust cloth. Had she even cared enough to bring someone to help?
As Emily neared the steps, she assessed the other woman’s shoes. Prada half boots, around five hundred dollars. Who was she trying to impress? The electrician working near the top of the power pole down the street? Or the folks at the Boot Stop if she lowered herself to eat there?
Emily was quite content in her faded jeans and blue cotton sweater purchased at JCPenney, but if her mother had witnessed the scene, she would have died of mortification because Emily’s clothes weren’t high priced. It wouldn’t matter whether or not she knew the woman on the porch – Alicia Simpson was rich. And she had expensive taste in clothes, which was her mother’s primary criteria for judging anyone.
Given that Emily could spend two thousand on a pants outfit if she wanted to, she was rather proud she hadn’t done so in years.
Sue was dressed in her usual Wranglers and western boots, though she’d taken a few minutes to change into a lovely yellow cashmere sweater. Emily was certain she had not found it at Penney’s.
She felt another twinge of guilt. Why did it matter what they were wearing? She was critical of her mother for judging people by how they looked and what they wore, yet she was doing the same thing. Lord, forgive me. Please help me to quit thinking this way.
“Good morning, Mrs. Simpson. I’m Sue Callahan, head of our Historical Society. This is Emily Denny, a curator from San Antonio, who is setting up the museum for us.”
“Good morning.” Mrs. Simpson smiled graciously and held out her hand to Sue as they walked up the porch steps. “Thank you for coming out so quickly. I hope there’s enough here that you can use to make the trip worthwhile. I’m afraid I have no interest in old things, so I don’t have any idea if it will suit your purposes. I don’t know values of the furniture, but I expect most of it is high quality. There are a few pieces that probably should be tossed, but I’ll leave that decision up to you. I’ve set aside some family photos that the housekeeper will ship to me. And as I mentioned on the phone, I’ve also taken Grandmother’s jewelry. Gaudy old pieces, but the gems will be lovely in different settings.”
She opened the door and stepped back, motioning for them to go ahead of her. When Emily walked into the entryway and glanced into the living room, she barely stifled a gasp. Everything in the room dated from the 1890s to the early 1900s.
“Told you,” Sue said with a wide grin.
“Grandmother left some things to her housekeeper, Linda, but she’s already taken those except for the television. She’s going to pick it up the next time her son comes to visit.” Mrs. Simpson led them into a smaller sitting room down the hall. Here, the twenty-first century reigned. Two pretty blue recliners faced a large screen LCD television. A long sofa table sat against the wall,
holding a combination stereo-radio and a stack of music CDs. A cordless phone rested in the charger on the small round table between the chairs, and a tattered Bible lay beside it.
“You’re welcome to anything you think would benefit the museum. Linda will handle the distribution or disposal of whatever is left. She’s already taken the newer linens and useable household items to the church donation center. She was careful to leave anything that you might want.” Sally’s granddaughter smiled and traced one finger over a crocheted doily. “I’m glad she has a sense for that kind of thing. My interests have always been in modern art and decor, so I would have been lost without her.”
“This will be a wonderful boon to the museum,” said Sue. “Much of what we had in the old one was lost in the fire.”
“Excellent. I know Grandmother would be pleased to see her family legacy remembered.” Mrs. Simpson glanced at her watch. “I have to leave in a few minutes, so let me give you a key to the house. There’s one in the kitchen.”
Sue and Emily followed her into the large kitchen, which held an old round oak table and four chairs. Though in reasonably good condition for its age, the nicks and worn finish told its history. “This has been around a long time,” Sue commented.
Mrs. Simpson’s lips twisted in a mild reflection of distaste. “I have no idea why Grandmother kept that ugly thing. It seems so out of place with the other furniture. Perhaps Linda can explain it. She’s on her way over.” She took a key from a hook above the kitchen counter and handed it to Sue. “Feel free to come and go as you please. Just make certain the house is locked when you leave. The neighbors keep an eye on the place. Linda will let them know that you’ll be here and will possibly be moving some things out.”
“We’ll be moving a lot of things out,” Emily murmured as she inspected an icebox sitting in one corner of the kitchen. “I suspect the table and chairs, along with this icebox, were purchased by your great-grandparents when they were newlyweds. The time period is right.”
“Well, that might explain it. Grandmother was rather sentimental. Linda probably knows.” She moved to the kitchen counter and wrote a note on a tablet, signing it with a flourish. “This gives you authority to start going through things and take what you need. I’ll have my attorney draw up a legal document and send it to you. Here is his business card.” She handed the card to Sue. “I’ll let them know that you’ll be calling to give them your mailing address and if there is anything specific you need included in the permission.”
Sue tucked the card in the pocket of her jeans. “We’ll keep an itemized list of what we use and have everything appraised. Do you want me to send the list to your attorney or to you?”
“Send it to my attorney. He’ll pass it on to whichever accountant handles such things.” Mrs. Simpson smiled at Emily. “It was nice meeting both of you. I apologize for racing off this way. We have some friends who arrived in town unexpectedly, so I must get back to Houston. I don’t want to miss my plane. If you have any questions or run into problems, consult with Linda.”
“Are you going to sell the house?” Sue casually walked with her back down the hall. Emily tagged along behind them, curious to hear the answer. If the Historical Society could get this beautiful treasure, it would draw more visitors to Callahan Crossing.
“Yes, though I don’t suppose we’ll get much for it. Things are so cheap out here, and it’s so old. It probably should be torn down.”
Emily bit back a cry of dismay. Tearing it down would be a disaster.
“Would you consider donating it to the Historical Society?” Sue held her hand behind her, fingers crossed.
Emily figured that was more a signal to say a quick prayer than a wish for good luck. Please, Lord. Help us save this beautiful jewel.
“What would you use it for?”
“As part of the museum. I’m hoping to set it up as it would have been when it was first built. Or at least early in its history. Displays in the museum are nice – and we’ll be thankful for each one – but a home gives visitors better insight into how people actually lived. It puts their lives into better perspective.”
Mrs. Simpson shrugged lightly. “I suppose it would make a good field trip for schoolchildren.”
“Yes, it would. It would certainly make that section of history more interesting.”
Their benefactor’s expression grew thoughtful. “Would you take it as is? I don’t want to be bothered with having things repaired.”
“I think we could, though we’ll have to have it inspected first. I’d be in a pickle if I agreed, and we discovered it was about to fall down or something. It’s not a decision I can make on my own anyway. The Historical Society will have to vote on it.”
“That’s my only condition. I’ll be delighted if you’ll take it off my hands. Let my attorney know whether or not you want it.”
“I’ll give him a call as soon as we make a decision. It may take a few weeks to have the inspection done and get everyone together to vote on it.”
“Not a problem.” Alicia Simpson hurried out the door, tossing them a graceful wave. “Ciao.”
Sue looked at Emily as the woman drove off. “Did she really say chow?” Her eyes twinkled, revealing that she knew Mrs. Simpson was saying good-bye. “If I’d known she was hungry, I would have brought her a hamburger from the Sonic.”
Emily laughed and closed the door. “Adios seems more appropriate out here.” Considering Mrs. Simpson’s social set, her laughter faded. “But I doubt that is in her vocabulary. It certainly doesn’t seem to be in my mother’s.”
“Perhaps we should invite your parents out for a visit and loosen them up.”
Emily shook her head. “Please don’t. Everyone would be miserable within an hour.”
“Are they really that bad?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Sue murmured something that sounded like, “That could be a problem.”
Emily wasn’t sure she understood correctly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch what you said.”
“It’s nothing. Just thinking out loud.” Sue slid her arm around Emily’s waist and grinned. “What are we doing standing here? Let’s explore.”
11
“It’s incredible, one of the best Queen Anne’s I’ve ever seen.” Emily spread pictures of Sally Tucker’s house across the big brown ottoman coffee table in front of Chance. The whole family had settled in the ranch house living room after dinner so Sue and Emily could tell them more about it. With a little silent cooperation from his kin, Chance nabbed the spot on the couch next to Emily.
He picked up a photo of the house from the front. It was a grand structure. He had admired it for years and had visited Miss Sally several times. He liked the old lady. She appreciated his interest in her home and gave him permission to wander through it to study the architecture.
Now he was jealous of the old Victorian. That was pretty bad. Maybe he had a right to be a little out of sorts. He didn’t even know if they still wanted his building. Emily had been so excited about it the week before, but neither she nor his mom had mentioned it once this evening. And her eyes hadn’t sparkled quite this much when she’d talked about his building.
Of course, it was empty. The Bradley-Tucker House was filled with wonderful stuff. Even Emily had used the word stuff when she’d run out of breath trying to describe it.
“But we have to have it inspected.” His mother looked at him, narrowing her eyes.
Here it comes. I’ve been demoted from answer-to-our-prayers-wonderful-building-giver to lowly building inspector.
“And we need it done right away.” His mother smiled gently, using an expression she knew he never could ignore. “We don’t want to agree to taking it if it’s going to fall down.”
“You also don’t want to give Mrs. Simpson time to change her mind.” Chance sighed softly, mentally running over his full schedule for the next day. He was done with the debris cleanup, but he had appointments with clients and potential clients all da
y. Glancing at Emily’s hopeful expression, he knew he’d rearrange everything if necessary to make her happy. “I could do it early in the morning.” He held her gaze. “But it will have to be at first light.” She winced and he almost laughed. Instead he reached over and patted her hand. “Sorry, that’s the best I can do. My schedule is tight. But you don’t have to be there. I just need a key.”
“No, I’ll go, but I may not be too alert.”
“I’ll bring a thermos of coffee.”
“With lots of sugar.”
He’d rather sweeten her up with hugs and kisses, but that might not do much for her coffee. “Two thermoses, then. One black and one syrup.”
“With a little milk.”
“Maybe I should just pick up a mocha latte and have them add a Sonic Boom espresso shot?”
“Perfect.”
“Boom,” cried Zach, throwing his hands up in the air.
As Chance joined in the laughter, he caught his grinning mother lightly nudge his dad with her elbow. Was she thinking about her cute grandson or was she expressing her excitement about him and Emily? Better assume the latter and head her off before she made a comment. “Do y’all still want my building?”
His mom opened her mouth to speak, but Emily beat her to it. “Oh, my goodness, yes. Miss Sally has a century of things stored in her home and the two double garages out back. Far more than we could ever display in the house. It may take us a month to go through it all.”
Chance relaxed against the back of the red leather couch and silently thanked the Lord for answering his prayer to keep Emily there longer. “I’ve always loved that old house. Thought a lot of Miss Sally too. I used to visit her on occasion.”
“You did?” His mom’s eyebrows rose. “I didn’t know that.”
“Started when I was in high school. She let me study the architecture anytime I wanted. I’d spend time with her too. She was a neat lady, interested in what was going on at school and in what I wanted to do when I grew up.” A bit of wistful sadness touched his heart. “She encouraged me to follow my dream and was proud when I opened my company.
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