But the true source of Phee’s guilt was that she was making decorating decisions without Joanna. Britt didn’t care as much about this kind of thing, but Jo had strong opinions—and frankly, Phee would be really hurt if the tables were turned and Jo was the one out here arranging furniture and hanging a gallery wall without her.
It had been one of the biggest challenges with the purchase of the cottages—having to be patient and wait on each other’s schedules. Having to reach an agreement on what color to paint the bedrooms, what kind of drawer pulls to put on the kitchen cabinets, whether to strip and refinish the hardwood or just install new carpet. So far, they hadn’t had any knock-down-drag-outs, and she didn’t think any of them felt as if they’d compromised on what they really wanted. Still, it was an exercise in patience.
Like now. She could have these paintings hung in an hour, and oh, what a difference it would make in giving the house some style and the feel of home. And it wasn’t as if she was making irreversible changes. They could always rearrange the paintings or move them to another room if Jo didn’t like the arrangement. Maybe she could appease Jo by offering to let her take the lead on decorating the bedrooms or the little room behind the French doors that they’d taken to calling “the office,” even though one end of it would ultimately hold at least a daybed, so they could rent it out as a bedroom when they got the Airbnb up and running.
Thankfully, their tastes were similar. Jo’s style was a bit more minimalist than her own. But they’d always admired each other’s apartments, and all three of them—and Mom, before she’d become ill—had often shopped together to furnish their homes.
Phee set the box of paintings near the hearth. “If we were staying all night, I’d light a fire.”
“Let’s wait and have our first fire the first night we move in. To celebrate.” Britt tilted her head. “Do you know how to make a fire? I know Dad taught us, but I’m not sure I remember.”
“I think I would. We’ll figure it out. The inspector said they had a chimney guy here before they put it on the market, so it should be ready to go.”
Britt took a painting from the box and unwound the bubble wrap. “Here, I’ll dust them off and you can start working on the layout.”
“I’m going to arrange them on the floor first, just to get a feel for—” The needles pricked deeper until she finally couldn’t ignore them. “You know … Maybe we should wait on Jo before we hang anything.”
“Oh.” Britt looked deflated, but she conceded. “You’re probably right. She’d want to be in on this.”
“Where was she tonight anyway?”
“She had some kind of meeting for work.”
“Has she been staying with you at Dad’s?”
Britt puffed out her chest. “I’ll have you know, I have stayed by myself three nights in a row now.”
“Way to go, sis. And you’re what? Only twenty-six?”
“Very funny. And FYI, I’m twenty-four. You don’t even know how old your own sister is?”
“Sorry. I got your age mixed up with Jo’s.”
“Um … if I was twenty-six, that would make Jo twenty-eight.”
Phee cringed. “Ouch. She would not be happy about that.”
“You got that right. She’s having enough trouble with twenty-six. Just remember, I’m the baby of the family.”
“Ha! How could I forget?”
“Even though I act more mature than either of my much older sisters.”
“Whatever.” Phee rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help but laugh too. Britt joined in, and it struck Phee that there hadn’t been much laughter in their lives since Mom was diagnosed. It felt good. No doubt the credit went to this project of buying and renovating the cottages, which brought hope that there would be more laughter within these walls in the months to come.
Chapter 15
Phee moved the box of paintings to the corner of the room. “Let’s go work on getting that desk ready to paint. Jo won’t mind about that, and we can hang the gallery wall tomorrow night or maybe Saturday.”
It was nearly dusk by the time she and Britt finished unloading several smaller pieces of furniture into what would be the master bedroom. With Quinn’s help, they’d painted the walls and trim in the two bedrooms, but the floors needed some love before they moved in beds or the larger furniture.
Britt helped her carry the old desk into the office. “It’s awfully dark in here. Can we move a lamp in or something?”
“Hang on. I think Quinn left a work light here when we were painting the bedrooms.” She hurried down the short hall and found the lamp on the floor in the corner of the smallest bedroom. She carried it into the office and clamped it to the windowsill.
“Much better,” Britt declared. “So what color are you going to paint this?”
“I have a little blue and a little green milk paint that I think will mix up a little lighter than the color of Mom’s gallery wall.”
“So, aqua? Is there any other color in the world?”
“Not for me.” Phee grinned, but studied her sister’s expression. “Are you not feeling it?”
“Oh, no. I like it. I’m just not surprised.”
“I think it’ll be nice to have that color carried between the office and the darker teal shade in the living room, since you can see into each room from the other.”
“I agree. Did you bring the paint?”
“I brought it the other day. Haven’t mixed it yet, but I don’t think I want to start on it tonight. I’d rather work on it in the daylight. But we can at least take the hardware off and get the desk cleaned and sanded before we leave.”
Together they worked to take out the desk’s drawers and remove the metal pulls. If they cleaned up the way Phee thought they would, she’d reuse them.
Britt held out a hand. “I’ll go work on those while you sand.”
“Hey, help me turn this upside down first, would you?”
They hefted the desk and stood it on one end, then flipped it onto its top.
“You got it from here?” Britt asked.
“I’m good. Thanks.”
Britt disappeared into the kitchen, and Phee gathered sandpaper and rags and set to work. A piece of plywood covered the cavity where the largest drawer had been. The wood was warped and looked as if it had been added as an afterthought. Though for what purpose, Phee couldn’t tell. She worked with a claw hammer and screwdriver to pry it from the desk.
Once she’d removed it, she noticed a thin block of wood about the size of a small shoebox lid attached beneath the desktop. At first, she thought it was meant to stabilize the drawer, but on closer inspection, it looked like the piece was hollow. She adjusted the work light and dropped to her knees to see if she could figure out how to open the box.
The whole piece appeared to have been glued to the underside of the desktop. At least she couldn’t find any nails or screws holding it in place. It didn’t seem to serve any purpose, so Phee tried to pry it off, but the hammer’s claw was useless.
“What’s all the racket in here?” Britt stood in the doorway, drying her hands on a rag.
“Look at this.” Phee motioned her over and showed her the strange addition.
“What’s it for?”
“I have no idea. It’s just taking up space and making it so the drawer won’t hold as much.”
“It won’t come off?” Britt hung her rag on the doorknob and held her hand out for the hammer. “Here, let me try.”
“Okay, but be careful. I don’t want to tear up the desk trying to get it off.” Phee handed her the hammer but hovered protectively over the spot where the compartment was.
“Look at this, Phee. It’s a box. Like a compartment.”
“Let me see.” Phee held the light closer.
“This piece is a sliding lid. If I can just get—” She tapped hard on the side of the compartment with the hammer.
“Did you get it? Open it.” Curiosity piqued, Phee moved the light closer yet.
&n
bsp; “I can’t. It’s stuck.” Britt hammered harder. “You said this was Mom’s desk?”
Phee nodded. “I think she said she had it in her dorm at college. Here … Hand me that.” She took the hammer from Britt and wedged the screwdriver underneath the compartment. “Stand back.”
Britt took a few steps back and Phee struck the end of the screwdriver hard with the hammer. The entire box popped off and bounced over the apron of the desk onto the wood floor.
“Got it!” Phee cheered.
“What’s inside?”
“Probably nothing, but it’s kind of cool. I might try to reattach it. Like a secret compartment.” She shook the box. “It doesn’t feel like there’s anything inside.”
“I wonder if Mom even knew this was here?”
Britt lost interest, but Phee worked for another five minutes trying to loosen the sliding lid. It finally gave enough that she could peek inside. “Hey, there is something in here! Come here, Britt.”
Britt shined the light on the box. “Looks like paper.”
Phee worked the lid open further. “It’s an envelope.”
Britt’s eyes widened. “Maybe this is where Mom hid her love letters from Dad.”
“No, Dad has those, remember? Mom used to have a stack of them tied with ribbon on her nightstand. Just for decoration.”
“Oh, yeah. Dad packed them with that box of Mom’s stuff he put in storage.”
Phee nodded. “He said we could read them after he dies.”
Britt frowned. “I wish he wouldn’t talk like that.”
“I don’t think he meant anytime soon.” She tapped the lid gently with the hammer. It slid a fraction of an inch with each strike. Finally, the opening was wide enough that she could get her fingers inside. She pinched one end of the envelope and carefully withdrew it from the box.
It wasn’t only paper. She felt something else, something solid, in the envelope. But the envelope was sealed. Phee turned it over. Nothing written on either side.
“Open it!” Impatience sent Britt’s voice up an octave. “What do you think it is?”
“I don’t have a clue. Probably extra hinges or hardware to the drawers or something.”
Britt’s expression fell. “Well, that’s not very exciting. If it’s just hardware, why would they go to the trouble of hiding it in a secret compartment?”
Phee shrugged. “Do you think we should open it?” For some reason, she didn’t feel right about opening the envelope. But if it was something like hardware, what was the harm?
“Duh.” Britt ripped the envelope out of her hand.
“Hey. I’m the one who found it!” She grabbed the envelope back.
Britt didn’t fight her for it, but stood watching, waiting for her to do the honors.
Phee took a deep breath, preparing herself to be disappointed when the contents turned out to be nothing more than a couple of rusty old screws and a hinge. It felt more like something metal now that she’d had a chance to feel the outline of the object inside.
She slid the tip of the screwdriver under the flap and carefully sliced it open. A necklace and a plain gold ring fell into her palm. Phee slid the simple gold cross along its delicate chain. “Wow. These must have been Mom’s.”
“Or maybe Grandma Clayton’s. Can I see?” Britt opened her palm.
Phee handed her the jewelry and looked into the envelope again. A scalloped corner of an old photograph poked out. She extracted it. There didn’t appear to be anything written on the back. She turned it over to reveal a faded color photo.
“Who is that?”
“I’m not sure.” She held the photo up to the light. She frowned. “I think that’s Mom. I’ve never seen this picture of her.”
Britt leaned over her shoulder. “But … that doesn’t look like Dad. Why is she wearing a veil?”
A frisson of alarm went through Phee. She leaned closer to inspect the photo. “Look … she’s wearing this ring and necklace in the photo.” But why was Mom wearing a wedding dress and veil and clutching the arm of a stranger?
“Maybe it was a cousin or something. Or a friend of Dad’s. Just someone who wanted his picture taken with her.”
Phee shook her head. “Britt, that’s not Mom’s wedding dress.”
“What do you mean?”
“That’s not the dress Mom wore when she and Dad got married. Remember? Mom’s dress had a high collar. And she didn’t wear a veil.”
Britt looked closer. “Then … what is this?”
“I don’t know.” She studied the photo again, trying to find some clue in the image.
“Maybe she was in a play or something?”
“Then it was performed at a real church. Look at the background.” The colors were faded, but she could make out an elaborate altar and an arched stained-glass window behind the couple.
“But Mom and Dad didn’t get married in a church.”
“I know.” Her parents had never hidden the fact that they’d eloped and been married by a justice of the peace in Chicago, where they’d also honeymooned. It was one of the reasons Mom had been so adamant about her daughters having “real” church weddings. And why, as the eldest daughter, Phee had always felt a bit like a failure for not finding a husband before Mom died so her mother could have watched at least one of her daughters walk down the aisle. “But why would Mom save a picture from a play in a … secret compartment?”
“Why would she save a picture of herself in a wedding dress with some guy we don’t even know?” Britt gave a little gasp and her voice wavered. “You don’t think Mom was married before, do you?”
That was exactly what Phee had been thinking, but to hear it voiced aloud made the idea seem ridiculous. Mom had never been one to keep secrets. Certainly not something like this!
Phee stared at her mother’s radiant smile. She’d always been able to talk to their parents about anything—same for Jo and Britt—and in the months before Mom’s death, their discussions had turned even more intimate and frank. This simply wasn’t the kind of thing Mom would have kept from them. Especially if she’d already gone through losing a husband. So … how did they explain the photo? And its hiding place?
“Dad?”
“Phee?” Her father sounded groggy. “What time is it?”
“I’m sorry if I woke you. I know it’s late there.” The clock in her kitchen said ten thirty, but it was five minutes slow. She’d been working up the nerve to call him for the past hour.
“Is everything all right?”
“I have something I need to talk to you about.” She took a deep breath, terrified he might cut her off. And if he did, what that might mean for her. For all of them.
“What is it, Phee?” He sounded fully awake now, and the guarded tone she’d heard so often from him recently was back.
She shot up a prayer that this conversation wouldn’t end abruptly the way so many of theirs had since Mom’s death. “It’s a couple of things actually.” She gripped the phone tighter. “Karleen came in to the flower shop the other day.”
“Oh?” He cleared his throat.
“She asked if you were okay.”
“And what did you tell her?”
“I … said I hadn’t talked to you recently. Did something happen? She sounded like she didn’t know how you were. Did you guys … break up?”
“I guess you could call it that.”
“When were you going to tell us, Dad?” She regretted her caustic timbre as soon as the words were out.
When he didn’t respond, she softened her tone. “What happened? With you and Karleen? Are you … not getting married now?”
“We’re … taking a break for a while.” Weariness crept into his voice.
“A break? From each other?”
“Yes.”
“Is that … what you want?”
“It was mutual. And … I’m sorry I haven’t gotten around to telling you girls yet. If it put you in an awkward position with Karleen, I’m sorry. I didn’t re
alize she’d gone back to Cape.”
“I’m not worried about things being awkward. I’m worried about you, Dad.”
He gave a humorless laugh. “Well, you sure don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine.”
“Are you coming back here then?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll stay in Orlando at least for a while. I’m … in the middle of a project. For work.”
“I wish you’d come back. We miss you.”
“I miss my girls too. I suppose I’ll need to come back for the closing—if we ever get the house sold.”
“You wouldn’t come back sooner? To see your daughters?” She tried to infuse a smile into her words, but instead, her voice broke.
“We’ll see … I might be able to get away. I’m not sure.”
“Is work”—she struggled for the right word—“swamping you?”
“A little bit. But I’ll see what I can do.” He cleared his throat again. “You said you had a couple of things to talk about?”
“Oh. Yes. Several, actually. Um … I wanted to let you know we closed on the property.”
“Quinn told me. Good for you. I’m glad you girls did that. I think it’ll be a great investment.”
“I sure hope it will.” So Dad and Quinn were still in communication. She wondered when they’d talked. And what about.
“So you’re a homeowner now? That’s great, honey. Quinn said you girls have already started working on the place?”
“Yes, on the bigger house. It could use some remodeling down the road, but we’re mostly just painting and cleaning for now. We need to save our renovation money for the smaller cabins.”
“Sounds like a wise plan.”
“Quinn has been great helping with all the paperwork and the closing and …” All the stuff you should have been here for.
“Are you moved in yet?”
“Oh, no. But we might be able to before the first of March. I think Ginger, Jo’s roommate, found someone to take over her lease. We’d like to not have to pay March rent for our apartments if we can help it.”
“Good thinking.”
Seconds ticked past, stretching the silence taut, and Phee could feel her nerve slipping. But she wouldn’t get a moment’s sleep if she didn’t ask. “Dad, we moved some furniture out to the cottage today. That old desk of Mom’s? The one she had in college, I think …”
Reason to Breathe Page 12