Time Is a River

by Mary Alice Monroe

  “It’s not what, but who. Arthur Stone was one of the leading arts and crafts silversmiths in America. He had a unique mark. See? It’s his name with a hammer going through it. She must have commissioned it.”

  “Are you sure? She wasn’t married. I assumed there must have been some ancestor with the same initials.”

  “No, that wouldn’t be possible. Stone only started producing work under his own name sometime around the turn of the century. So this had to be commissioned between, say, nineteen hundred and nineteen thirty, give or take a few years. I’ll look it up when I get home.”

  “But this doesn’t make sense. Why would she have a set of silver made using her maiden initials?”

  Maddie pursed her lips in thought, then said, “Because she knew she would never marry?”

  Mia picked up a silver fork and slowly turned it in her hand. The fork needed to be polished but it still maintained that gorgeous burnished sheen of sterling. It truly was a lovely piece. The sleek lines of the design were timeless.

  “Where was Stone’s shop located? In the south?”

  “Oh, no. Somewhere up in the northeast. Massachusetts, Rhode Island, New Hampshire. I’m not sure.”

  Mia shook her head with a rueful smile. “I’ll bet this was a gift.” “From her lover?”

  “Of course. DeLancey was from upper-crust New York. A man who could afford to travel in a private rail car would have known a silversmith of Stone’s caliber.” She walked to the armoire and Maddie followed her. She pointed to the blue taffeta gown. “Her dress, his white scarf, the china, the silver…DeLancey rented the cabin when he came for his fishing trips.”

  Mia and Maddie looked at each other and shared a smile of understanding.

  “They must have had some very romantic dinner parties,” Maddie said with exaggeration. “He probably brought champagne and caviar on his railcar.”

  “Well, think about it,” Mia said with rising excitement. “They couldn’t have gone out in public. That would have stirred gossip.”

  “So they created a world of their own here, where he could wine and dine her in the manner to which he was accustomed.”

  Mia sighed and set the silver fork back on the table. She knew it had to be true. She could picture the whole scene vividly in her mind. “He must have loved her very much.”

  “And she him if she was willing to risk everything—the chance of a good marriage, her reputation—all to continue her affair with him. I could understand if she was poor and he offered her a world she could only dream of. But a woman of her position? Her independence? Why would she do that?”

  “Why not?” Mia asked. “She never put much store in the opinions of others. It got her into trouble in the end, true, but early in the affair all she knew was that she was in love with DeLancey. Recklessly so. Maybe even defiantly so.”

  She walked back to the armoire and pulled out the blue taffeta gown. She shook the fabric to let it fluff out, then held it out in front of her, envisioning the woman who had worn it.

  Maddie came closer to press the dress against Mia, holding the shoulder to Mia’s, then matching the waists. The hem fell below Mia’s ankles. “It fits,” she said, tugging at the skirt.

  Mia held the gown close. She was beginning to understand the complexities of a real, flesh-and-blood woman better than the one-sided heroine she’d imagined. “I don’t think she ever wanted to marry. She was self-sufficient and independently wealthy. She had avid interests, a full life, a doting father. She had the admiration of many men. Why would she give that up to tolerate the demands of one?”

  “Spoken like a woman about to get a divorce.”

  They looked at each other and laughed.

  “Well, it’s a mystery,” Maddie said, returning to the table and putting the silver back into the felt liner.

  “Exactly. That’s what got me curious about the woman who lived here. You know how you feel when you see a pile of puzzle pieces on a table? You can’t help but try to match a few, just to see what fits where.” She carried the gown to the armoire, hanging it back up. She remembered her surprise at finding it there that first day in the cabin.

  “At first, finding all this finery in the cabin was like being surrounded by puzzle pieces. And I had a lot of free time. So bit by bit I started putting the pieces together.”

  “And now you want to finish it.”

  “Yes, I’m getting the picture now and there are a few key pieces still to match up.”

  “Well, you can tell Belle that this particular puzzle piece will bring her a tidy sum,” she said, holding up the felt bundle. “There isn’t much Stone silver out there. Most of it is in churches or private collections. And,” she added, unrolling the second of many bundles, “it looks to me like she’s got a complete set.”

  “I’m going to ask you a favor. Would you mind taking a sampling of the silver and porcelain back to Charleston with you? I told Belle you knew dealers on King Street and would get it appraised. She wants to sell the furniture, too. I thought if you could take some photographs and show them to the appraiser, he could let her know if it’s worth her lugging it to the city.”

  “Of course I’ll do it. It’ll be fun. But I can tell you right now that the furniture is worth taking to a dealer. And the silver? Absolutely. The china is gorgeous but it’s one of those quirky items that’s either going to be worth nothing or go through the roof.”

  “That’s what we hope the appraiser will tell us.” Mia smiled. “And I’m hoping for through the roof.”

  “Belle wants to sell it all? Even though it belonged to her family?” “Especially because it belonged to her family.”

  Maddie opened her mouth to say something, then changed her mind. “That’s another topic for another time.” She grabbed hold of her suitcase. “So, where do I sleep?”

  “Upstairs. Follow me.” Mia grabbed her purchases and the vase of flowers and led her sister up the narrow stairs to the garret. Her heart was beating with excitement, hoping her sister would like the room she’d prepared for her with care and attention.

  She stepped into the long room with the steep, angled ceiling and long row of windows and smiled with pleasure. She’d transformed the once dark and dank space to a cozy guest room. Asheville was a haven of craftsmen, and she’d found a beautiful bed made of polished logs on sale that she knew would be perfect for the room. Walking across the floor, she set the flowers on top of the small, hand-painted pine dresser she’d found in an antique store. It was a bargain she couldn’t resist. She pulled the quilt out of the bag and spread it over the mattress. The bright, rosy colors of the crazy-quilt pattern seemed to dance in the sunlight.

  “There,” she said, looking over at her sister. “It’s all ready for you.”

  “I’m never going to want to leave, either,” Maddie said softly, and sat on the bed. Her hand stretched out to smooth the quilt in a wistful movement.

  “Oh, yes you will,” Mia replied. “You have to walk down the stairs every time you need to pee. There’s only the one bathroom. But don’t let me hear you complain. At least there’s hot water now.”

  They showered after their day in town, then cooked a meal together like they used to when they were younger and lived under the same roof. They uncorked one of the bottles of North Carolina wine, then the other, with the promise to buy more for Maddie’s husband. After dinner Mia lit a fire and they curled up on the blue velvet sofa, and their talk turned, as they knew it would eventually, to more personal matters.

  “So,” Maddie began, getting right to the point. “How is the divorce coming along?”

  Mia brought her glass to her lips and took a long sip. “Well,” she began cautiously, her feelings twirling like the wine in her glass. “A few weeks ago he sent me a packet of papers to sign so he could file.”

  “What kind of papers?” Maddie asked. Her voice sounded imperious, but Mia was quick to recognize the timbre of worry.

  “Charles filed the petition for divorce. That’
s the first pleading filed in a divorce action. Since we don’t have children there isn’t any custody battle, and as long as we agree on the division of property and the terms of the divorce, we want to get through this with the least amount of damage. All I had to do was sign.”

  “So, how did he divide the property?” Maddie asked with a frown. “He’s living in the condo, after all. Rent free. Does he expect you to just hand it over?”

  “He offered to buy it from me. And I sold it.”

  “You did? For what price? If he lowballed you—”

  “No, he didn’t. He sent the comps and offered me top price plus the cost of the furniture. I called Charlie Aiken, a friend of mine in real estate in Charleston, and he checked it out for me. I trust Charlie and he said the offer was more than fair, even generous.”

  “Guilt is a powerful motivator.”

  “He also divided up the stocks and bonds. Not that we’re all that heavily invested, but we’ve made some gains.” She shrugged. “That and our cars were our only real assets. Granted, he’s driving a luxury car and I’m driving a cheap sedan, but we bought those before we were married. The terms were fair and I signed my approval. That,” she said with emphasis, “was quite a moment. But surprisingly…I felt much better about the whole thing the next morning. Freer, you know? He’s already sent me a down payment on the condo. Just in time, too. I was down to my last one hundred dollars. Now I’m flush! I’ve been having a great time. I put in the gravel driveway, bought the bedroom furniture and a few other things I had my eye on. It’s been nice to have a few dollars to spend after pinching pennies so long.”

  “Whoa, slow down, sister mine. Don’t go on a spending spree. That’s your nest egg. You’ll need it for a down payment on your next place.”

  “Oh, I know, I know,” she replied with a weary pat on her sister’s hand. “But I’m tired of always being responsible. Let me have a little fun, Maddie. I deserve it.”

  Maddie’s frown of worry shifted to a wobbly smile of understanding. “You’re right. You do deserve it. I’m just a worrywart.”

  “And I love you for it.”

  “So,” Maddie said with an upbeat tone. “When will you be a free woman?”

  “The divorce can be finalized as soon as the sixty-day waiting period expires.”

  “You mean by fall?”

  “If all goes well.”

  Maddie raised her glass with a whoop. “Here’s to a fresh start!”

  They clinked glasses, laughing.

  Mia’s thoughts drifted to Stuart.

  Maddie uncrossed her legs and clumsily rose from the sofa. “Stay put. I’ll be right back. I’ve been dying to do something.”

  Mia sipped her wine and stared at the fire while Maddie hurried upstairs. A few minutes later she heard thumping down the stairs, and Maddie came back into the room carrying her hairbrush and some clips.

  “What’s that for?”

  “I’ve been staring at your hair all day. Honey, can I brush it? Like I used to when you were little? It was so hard for me to see your hair fall out and here you have these curls and oh, I do love the color. It looks like copper, and you know how I love my copper pots.”

  Mia backed into the sofa. “I don’t know…”

  “You’re afraid it’s going to fall out again, aren’t you?”

  Mia nodded.

  “Well don’t be. This is your hair and it’s healthy and glossy. Let’s have some fun with it. I brought some pretty barrettes to play with.”

  Mia took a leap of faith. “OK.”

  “Now just relax. You’d think I was going to pierce your ears. I’ll be gentle. I’ve done this before, remember?”

  “I remember you used to pull my hair so tight for braids I thought you were pulling it out.”

  “Those were French braids, thank you very much, and I had to pull it tight. Your hair’s not long enough for them, so relax.” Slowly, with exceeding gentleness, Maddie began brushing her sister’s hair. It was fine but thick and fell in odd layers over her head because Mia hadn’t been able to bring herself to cut it. Mia felt the sensation of soft bristles on her scalp. She closed her eyes and let her shoulders droop.

  “I guess you’ll be coming back home soon?” Maddie asked, brushing.

  “Hmmm?”

  “Stop daydreaming, we have serious things to discuss. Like when you’re coming home.”

  “I still have to finish my investigation on Kate Watkins.”

  Maddie stilled her brush. “Mia, you’re obsessed! Why are you so into this woman? It’s just some local ghost story. Let it go.”

  “I can’t. Not yet.”

  “This is nuts. I’m getting worried about you.”

  “Why? I want to finish this. I’m so close to a breakthrough.”

  “About what? This murder thing? Isn’t this going too far for some vacation curiosity? Besides, how do you know Kate didn’t kill that DeLancey guy? Did you stop to think that maybe you really were just stirring up the mud?”

  Mia grew obstinate, tired of always having to defend this project. “I just do.”

  “Just so you realize, no matter what you find out, Belle’s going to be furious.”

  “I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t.” She hesitated. “Do you think I’m doing something terribly wicked?”

  “No, honey, your heart’s in the right place.”

  “Maddie, just look around you,” she implored. “We’re surrounded by her things, evidence of a life lived. Wait till you read her diary—I want you to. You’ll understand why I feel so compelled. Kate Watkins was so gutsy, and yet so very human. She deserves to be understood.”

  “But Mia, you can’t put your life on hold until you unravel some mystery that has nothing to do with you. You have some serious decisions to make back home. You need a job, a place to live…”

  “I know and I will. They’ll all be there waiting for me when I get back to Charleston.” Mia felt a soft breeze across her shoulders. She shivered and looked around the room with a strange gleam in her eyes. “I don’t mean to scare you, but I sense her presence. Do you feel it?”

  Maddie drew herself in and looked around the room with a haunted expression. “No. Why? Is she here? A ghost?”

  “I don’t know if I can call it a ghost. It’s more a feeling.”

  “Oh, God, I’m sleeping with you tonight.”

  “Don’t be afraid. I’ve never seen her and nothing moves or goes bump in the night. Nothing like that, I promise. Maddie, she’s like my friend. Or more, my mentor.”

  Maddie set her brush down and pulled locks from Mia’s head back in a barrette. “Mia, when you were a little girl, do you remember you had an imaginary friend? You used to talk to her all the time.”

  Mia chuckled, remembering. “Her name was Cha Cha. I know where you’re going with this. Whether Kate’s presence is real or just a figment of my imagination, it doesn’t matter. Kate Watkins has been here for me through some of my toughest moments. She’s inspired me to get out of myself and outdoors.”

  Maddie set the brush down and came around the sofa to sit. “When I signed you up for Casting for Recovery, I thought it would be good for you to be with women who were going through the same experiences you were. I didn’t think you’d stay up in the mountains, or become such an avid fisherman. Or woman…”

  “I didn’t either. Maddie, fly-fishing isn’t just about catching fish. It’s about making a connection. When I’m fly-fishing I can’t think about cancer, or the divorce, or needing a job, or all those other things that my mind usually goes over in the middle of the night. You see,” she said, looking into Maddie’s eyes, “once you’re diagnosed with cancer, it’s always lurking somewhere in the back of your mind, like the monster under your bed when you were little. You know it’s not really there…but you’re not sure.”

  She smiled when Maddie laughed. “When I’m fly-fishing I’m only aware of my surroundings and the fish. I’m in alignment with the universe.”

 
; “It sounds very Zen,” Maddie said, half teasing.

  “Yeah,” Mia replied with a self-deprecating laugh. Then she added sincerely, “Nowhere else do I experience that peace. And I have you to thank for sending me to the retreat and getting hooked on fishing in the first place. And Kate to thank for teaching me not to be afraid of the dark.”

  “And how did she do that? Does she talk to you from the other side?”

  Mia refused to make light of this. It was too important to her. “Through her diaries, through the articles she’s written, the letters, the stories people have told about her. Those are some of her sayings on the wall.” Mia rose from the sofa and went to the bookcase to take out Kate’s diary and fishing diary. She handed these to her sister.

  “Don’t take my word for it. Take these upstairs for your nighttime reading. See for yourself.”

  “She won’t come up and haunt me while I’m up there, will she?” Maddie asked. She was only half kidding.

  “You should be so lucky.”

  Early the following morning Mia was pouring two mugs of coffee when Maddie came down the stairs yawning and rubbing her eyes.

  “Good morning, sleepyhead,” Mia called out.

  “Do you always get up so early?”

  “I heard you stomping around up there.” She handed Maddie the mug of steaming coffee.

  “Mmm…thanks.” She took a sip, then sighed lustily. “That’s better. Nectar of the gods. I need it this morning. I was up half the night reading the diaries.”

  “And?”

  “You’re right,” she said begrudgingly. “She even makes me want to go out and walk in the woods.”

  Maddie made no secret of her loathing of anything involving the outdoors—hiking, surfing, kayaking. She preferred going to exercise class and treadmills.

  “I knew it.”

  “She certainly was all about fly-fishing, wasn’t she?”

  “Yes. And soon you will be, too. I’ve got a little surprise for you. Hurry and drink your coffee. We’re going fishing.”

  Maddie groaned. “I had a bet with Don that you’d get me in the river this weekend. Why the hurry?”