Sanders examined it and took pictures from all sides, and with Mary Beth’s reluctant permission, he even took the back off to look at the works.
“It’s obviously from the mid-1800s like the other things. Gorgeous carvings, and it’s still in amazing condition too.”
He quoted her a nice price.
Mary Beth glanced at Annie. “No, I don’t think so. I want to hang on to this, even if I have to sell some other things.”
Sanders nodded. “It’s a one of a kind, for certain. I know about a few woodcarvers from this period, but it doesn’t look like the work of anyone I’ve seen. It keeps good time?”
“Excellent. I set all my other clocks by it.”
He increased his offer by half, but Mary Beth shook her head. “I’m sorry. No. This clock has been in my family for over a hundred years. I can’t let it go.”
He gave her a hard glance and then doubled his most recent offer.
Mary Beth bit her lip. It was tempting. So tempting.
“No,” she said finally. “I just can’t. I appreciate it, but no.”
“Too bad.”
Sanders looked disappointed, but he seemed in no hurry to leave. He still studied the clock, jotting down notes to himself about the carvings and the works.
“I’m going to see if I can find out more about whoever made this.”
“If you do, I’d love to know about it,” Mary Beth told him. “I’ve always wondered.”
He was bold enough to help himself to the rest of the living and dining room, commenting on various items he found there, offering to buy a few pieces, but eventually Mary Beth herded him toward the door. “I appreciate your generosity, but, really, I don’t want to sell anything right now.”
“Too bad,” Sanders said again, “but you know how to reach me if you do.”
With a nod at Annie, he finally left.
Mary Beth locked her door behind him and then sank down on the couch. “Sorry to put you in a spot like that, Annie, but thanks for coming.”
“He just showed up and wanted to come in?”
“Yeah. I mean, I’m sure he’s harmless enough, but I didn’t really want to let him in knowing I was here by myself.”
Annie sat down beside her. “I’m glad I could help you out. He sure did like your clock, but who could blame him?”
Mary Beth grinned. “It is a beautiful old thing, isn’t it?”
“He offered a pretty good price for it too.”
“I know.” Mary Beth frowned. “I just couldn’t sell it. Even his last offer would be only enough to postpone the inevitable. And if I have to lose the shop, I don’t want to lose the last of my heirlooms as well.”
Annie hesitated for a moment. “How are things going with the shop?”
Mary Beth shook her head, afraid for a moment she might cry, but she managed a smile instead. “Nothing’s changed. Either I find a miracle by the end of next month or Stony Point gets a Burly Boy’s Burger Barn.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
She knew Annie meant it, that she’d help however she could, if she possibly could. Too bad it wasn’t that simple.
“Just keep praying for that miracle.”
“I’ve been doing that all along.” There was a twinkle in Annie’s emerald eyes. “All of us have.”
“For now, how about having a cup of coffee with me? It’s the least I can do after dragging you over here without a moment’s notice.”
“Thanks, but I really don’t have time to—” Annie frowned at the clock on the mantel. “I think it’s stopped.”
Mary Beth growled half under her breath. “That little pip-squeak. What did he do? That clock never stops.”
She went to the mantel, gave the clock’s pendulum a gentle push and was rewarded with a satisfying ticking sound.
“I’m sure he didn’t mean to mess it up,” Annie soothed. “You saw how interested he was in it. ‘Fascinated’ might be a better word.”
Mary Beth came back to the sofa and sat down. “I’m sure you’re right. I could tell he was trying to be careful when he looked at it, even if he did practically take the thing apart. But, still, he shouldn’t—”
The clock wasn’t ticking any more.
Mary Beth bit her lip, figuratively biting her tongue at the same time. “OK, one more try.”
She started the clock again. It managed a few strong ticks and then fell silent.
“Why don’t we take it down from the mantel and look it over?” Annie suggested. “If the mechanism is over a 150 years old, it can’t be very complicated.”
They did just that, but neither of them could find anything wrong.
“It doesn’t look as if anything is broken.” Mary Beth moved the light a little closer to the back of the clock. It was the one she used for fine needlework, and it was bright and clear—perfect for the task. “It does look a little dusty in there.”
“Maybe a good cleaning and a tune-up is all it needs.”
Mary Beth shook her head. “I’m sure you’re right. I guess it’s going to have to sit still for a while until I can get it looked at by a real clockmaker.”
“I tell you what,” Annie said. “I’m supposed to go into Brunswick on Friday. How about letting me take it with me to the clock shop there? They’ll probably want to keep it for a week or two, but I know they’ll do a good job. I’ve taken some of Gram’s things there for repairs in the past. Mr. Malcolm is a genius with antiques.”
“You know I can’t do it right now, Annie.”
“I know you have the shop open during the day. That’s why I’ll be happy to take it for you.”
“I appreciate it, but it’s not the lack of time that’s the problem. I wish it was only that.”
“Oh.” Annie looked a little flustered. “Listen, I know what this clock means to you. Why don’t you let me take it in? My treat.”
“Do you know what repairs on these things cost?”
“I have a pretty good idea. I had to get some of Gram’s things fixed too. Come on, Mary Beth. Let me do one nice thing for you.”
“This isn’t the same thing as springing for lunch, you know. It might cost three or four hundred dollars to fix it.” Mary Beth frowned, thinking of Frank Sanders. “Besides, you’re not the one who broke it.”
“I don’t think it’s really broken. Just out of whack somewhere. And like you said, it does need cleaning. When was the last time somebody looked at it?”
“Never,” Mary Beth admitted. “Not since I’ve had it anyway. I know it could use some fixing up, but I can’t let you pay for it. It’s too expensive.”
She felt herself weakening though. She did love the clock, and it would be so nice to have something good happen right now.
“An heirloom like that ought to be taken good care of.” Annie put her arm through Mary Beth’s and squeezed tightly. “Come on, let me take it. If you have to, you can pay me back when you’re rich and famous.”
Mary Beth swallowed hard. Then, with a laugh, she pushed free and stood up, blinking hard. “Annie Dawson, you are not going to do this to me. You’re not going to make me cry over that dumb clock.”
“You know this isn’t about the clock, which certainly isn’t dumb, by the way.” Annie looked at her almost reprovingly. “You don’t realize how much we all love you, and you ought to. You’re worth every bit of it.”
Mary Beth looked down at the table, knowing her face was flushed, but unable to decide if it was from embarrassment or pleasure. Maybe it was a little of both.
“Now,” Annie said softly. “You’re going to let me take your clock with me on Friday, right?”
“No, really, Annie. You’re so sweet to offer, but I can’t let you spend that much. It’s crazy.”
Annie thought for a minute. “What if I just take it for an estimate? I’m going to be right there anyway. The worst that could happen is that I’ll bring it back to you like it is. No harm, no foul, right?”
Mary Beth nodded her head, laughing
. “Just an estimate. I mean it.”
Annie grinned.
****
As planned, Annie took the clock to Brunswick on Friday. Mr. Malcolm at the repair shop was almost as fascinated with the clock as Frank Sanders had been. The estimate he gave her for repairs and cleaning was fairly broad and contingent on what he found when he made a detailed examination, but he told her he would call when they had more specific information, and if she decided to proceed, she would probably be able to pick up the clock in two weeks.
When she got back home to Grey Gables, Alice rushed out of the carriage house next door to meet her.
“You’ll never believe what happened. Mary Beth’s house was broken into.”
“No!” Annie scrambled out of her car. “As if she didn’t have enough to worry about. Poor thing. Is she all right?”
“Hanging in there. She was at the shop, of course, so she didn’t know until she got home. Her window was broken out, the one by the back door in her dining room. Whoever it was just let himself in.”
“Did he clean out everything?”
“It’s funny. Mary Beth says there wasn’t anything taken that was worth much—a pack of soft drinks from the fridge, a box of cookies and a couple of bags of chips and her CD player and DVD/VCR. I don’t remember what else. Not much.”
Annie scowled. “Kids, I bet. Poor Mary Beth—everything seems to be happening to her right now. Do you think she could use some company?”
“We can always call up and ask. Maybe we could take over a few things and make a little dinner party for her. It might cheer her up.”
Annie smiled. “It won’t hurt to ask. Come inside, and let’s see what she says.”
Annie called right away; Mary Beth sounded exhausted and a little overwhelmed, but she seemed glad for the company and the knowledge that she wouldn’t have to worry about fixing anything for herself for dinner.
“Well,” Annie said once she had hung up the phone, “that’s settled. Now what can we make to cheer up Mary Beth?”
****
Mary Beth was just finishing tidying up her ransacked kitchen and living room when her doorbell rang. She glanced at her dining room table, checking to see that the three place settings had the appropriate number of knives and forks and spoons, and that a crisp spring-pink napkin was folded beside each plate. The only real tangible reminder of the break-in was the gap on her living room shelf where her CD and DVD players had once sat and the broken dining room window. Wally had made her laugh when he came to board it up, asking her if he should set up a regular glass-replacement appointment for her from here forward.
She was trying to be thankful that the break-in was no worse, but piled on top of everything else, it was hard to do. Annie and Alice would cheer her up, though. And both of them were terrific cooks.
“Coming!”
She flung open the door and stopped short.
“Mr. Sanders.”
“Yeah, I know. Twice in the same week is a little bit much.” He shrugged and smiled. “I don’t mean to be a pest, but I was in Stony Point again, and I thought I’d take another look at your clock. I think I have the maker narrowed down to one of three from that era in Virginia, but there are a few details I wanted to make sure I got right. And I’d like to check for some particular maker’s marks too.”
Mary Beth pressed her lips together and dredged up a regretful smile. “I’m sorry, but the clock isn’t here right now. And this really isn’t a good time. I’m expecting company.”
He followed her glance through the living room to the dining room table. His eyes widened when he noticed the boarded up window.
“Oh man. What happened to your window?” He looked around the living room a little more. “A break-in?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Then the clock was stolen?”
“No, I’m thankful to say, my friend Annie took it to Brunswick for repairs.”
He looked relieved. “Well, that’s good news. It would be a shame to lose something like that. You didn’t have any of your other antiques stolen, did you?”
“No,” she assured him, amused in spite of herself by his single-mindedness. “And I will absolutely call you first if I decide to sell any of them.”
They both turned when Alice’s red Mustang pulled into the driveway.
“There’s my company.” She waved toward the car. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“Sure.” He padded down the porch steps. “But you’ll let me know, right?”
“You’ll be the very first.”
He gave Annie a little wave as he passed her, and then he was gone.
“Him again?” Annie giggled. “I think he has a crush on you.”
“Very funny.” Mary Beth tried to lift up the corner of the aluminum foil that covered the casserole dish Annie carried. “And this is … ?”
“No peeking,” Alice scolded, getting between her and Annie, “or you don’t get any of this.”
She held up a covered pie dish, and Mary Beth hurried back up to open the front door for them.
“So what did your stalker want?” Alice set down her pie dish and a plastic bag full of other goodies. “He’s persistent, isn’t he?”
“Last thing I needed today.” Mary Beth rolled her eyes when the telephone rang. “Excuse me—I’ll be right back.”
“We’ll just get everything on the table,” Alice said. “Take your time.”
Dinner was ready to serve by the time Mary Beth came back, but by then she wasn’t very interested in eating.
“That was Chief Edwards. He said they found my DVD and CD players all smashed up and thrown in one of those dumpsters out behind the Grand Avenue Fish House. At least he’s pretty sure they’re mine. They’re the same models, and it would be an awfully big coincidence for two just like mine to show up just now. Based on the other trash in the dumpster, he’s sure they were put in there today. Why would anyone steal something like that just so they could smash it all up and throw it away?”
Alice shrugged. “Cold feet? If it was kids who broke in here, maybe they decided they didn’t want to get caught with stolen goods. Did Chief Edwards say they found any fingerprints?”
Mary Beth’s mouth turned down. “Wiped clean. Evidently, not even mine are on there anymore.”
“That’s just a shame.” Annie shook her head. “You know, it just doesn’t make sense. Why did they break in?”
10
Annie stepped inside the clock shop, charmed as always by all the little ticks and whirrs and bells that greeted her. It was almost like stepping into a meadow full of birds, cheery and busy. When Mr. Malcolm called her the week before to give her the estimate for the repair, she had immediately told him to go ahead. The cost wasn’t quite as high as she had expected, and she was more determined than ever to have something positive happen to Mary Beth. This would cheer her up some, and that would make it worth every penny it cost. Mary Beth would be so surprised when she brought the clock back, working again and running like new.
Mr. Malcolm looked up from his desk where he was examining a little brass-and-ivory clock no more than four inches high, and his rheumy eyes brightened.
“Ah, Mrs. Dawson.” He put down the jeweler’s glass he was using. “Good to see you. How can I help you?”
“I came to pick up Mary Beth’s clock. The one with the forest scene carved into it.”
“Oh, that one. That’s a real beauty. But, I’m sorry you came all the way here. Mrs. Brock’s husband picked it up this morning.”
“Her husband!?”
“Yes. I wasn’t here, but my assistant said he was a very nice fellow. He said he wanted to surprise her. I’m sorry he didn’t let you in on it though. It would have saved you a trip.”
Annie could only stare at him, open mouthed. “Her husband?”
“Yes. Is something wrong?”
“Mary Beth doesn’t have a husband, Mr. Malcolm.”
Mr. Malcolm didn’t say anything for a moment. “
And I suppose you still have the claim slip?”
Annie dug it out of her purse.
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Dawson. I wasn’t here this morning. My staff has strict instructions not to release any repair items without a slip.” He got up and retrieved a ledger book from the counter behind him and opened it to the last used page. Then he picked up the telephone on his desk and pressed the third button at the bottom. “Jennifer, may I see you a moment?”
The girl who came from the back of the shop was young, probably not long out of school, and she couldn’t stop apologizing. She was almost in tears.
“I didn’t know. He described the clock to me and said it belonged to Mrs. Brock. Then when I told him that wasn’t the name it was under, he said he remembered that you had brought it, Mrs. Dawson, and he gave me your name. I thought it was OK. He paid for the repair. I didn’t think he’d do that unless it was his.” She bit her high-gloss lip. “I didn’t know.”
“What did he look like, Jennifer?” Mr. Malcolm was being extremely patient. Annie was glad he was being kind to the girl, but she hoped he realized this was an extremely serious matter too. Mary Beth would be heartbroken.
Jennifer only shrugged her slim shoulders. “I don’t know. Just a guy.”
“Was he young or old?” Annie asked.
“Sorta old.” The girl thought for a moment more. “Yeah, he was sorta old. Probably as old as my dad—forty or fifty or something.”
Annie managed to not roll her eyes. “What color was his hair?”
“Umm … kinda brownish blond, I guess.”
Annie had a terrible thought. Frank Sanders might be as old as forty, and he had sandy blond hair.
The Key in the Attic Page 8