by Ellery Adams
At Beatrice’s booth, Nora found a stack of Shaker boxes, a cast-iron bulldog doorstop, a posy vase in green glass, an art deco dressing mirror, and a Victorian bride’s basket.
“I saw you talkin’ to Marie,” Beatrice said as she wrapped Nora’s purchases. “How’s she doin’?”
“She’s tough,” Nora said. “But I wish she didn’t have to be. She has a long road ahead of her.”
“All the dealers took up a collection for her. Word has it she’s pregnant. I hope she’ll move to town before the baby’s born. We’ll help her out. That’s what the folks in this town do. We take care of people.”
Beatrice’s words resonated with Nora. By the time she showed up at June’s with her laptop case and a bouquet of gerbera daisies, her determination to figure out what happened to Danny was stronger than ever.
But it wasn’t stronger than her concern for June.
Nora knocked on the front door and heard June call out, “Come in!”
She was in the kitchen, arranging sandwiches on a platter. Nora gave her the flowers and a big hug.
“Grab that iced tea, would you?” June gestured at a pitcher on the counter. “I thought we’d eat on the back porch.”
Hester and Estella arrived a few minutes later. They both hugged June and sat down, waiting for her to speak.
“Yesterday was a helluva day,” she began. “I’ve been dreaming of seeing my son for almost twenty years. Twenty years. And when I finally got to see him—to talk to him—he had nothing to say.”
Hester and Estella exchanged worried looks. Nora kept her gaze on June.
“The sheriff finally got him talking. I’m grateful to him for that.” June put her hands together as if in prayer. “Tyson’s in serious trouble. He came here looking for money. Not a few hundred dollars. Not even a thousand. Big money. Because he’s in big trouble. The kind you get when you screw over a drug lord.”
June’s friends stared at her in astonishment.
After the moment passed, Hester said, “You’ve tried to send him money in the past. If he needed it so badly, why didn’t he just take it?”
June spread her hands. “Because he never read my letters, he didn’t know that I’ve been putting money aside for him. He remembered the name of the town on my letters and used every penny he had to catch a Greyhound to Charlotte. He hitched the rest of the way here. He didn’t have a plan. Rage and fear pushed him on. And the drugs. He had those too. He’s been using for a long time. They’ve taken over his life.”
“Is that why he did that to your house?” Estella asked.
“Partially,” said June. “He’s still mad at me. I think the drugs helped him hold on to his anger. He hasn’t tried to let it go. My son has been in a fog for half of his life. I don’t know what’s left of the boy I raised under all that mess, but I need to find out.” She glanced at her friends. “I can’t do that without your help.”
Hester started to speak, but June held up a warning finger. “This isn’t easy, but I’m asking you and Nora to refuse to press charges against Tyson. I need to get him in a treatment facility as soon as possible. I have to . . .” Her throat closed around the rest of her words.
“We’ll do whatever you ask,” Nora said, reaching over to take June’s hand. “Whatever it takes.”
June squeezed Nora’s hand before turning to Hester. “Your man won’t be happy about this. He wants Tyson to pay for scaring you.”
“I was scared, but I’m not anymore,” said Hester. “Don’t worry about Jasper. He’ll come around.”
“I know how you could get him to come around.” Estella gave Hester a playful nudge.
The women laughed.
“Lord, I needed that,” June said. “Life has been way too serious lately. Go on. Dig in.”
She passed the sandwich platter to Nora and a bowl of fruit salad to Estella. She then poured glasses of iced tea, humming softly all the while. Her face was full of hope. She looked ten years younger. Nora smiled at her. June responded by giving Nora’s arm an affectionate pat.
Hester speared a strawberry on her fork and pointed the fruit at Estella. “You always want me to talk about my man, but what about you and Jack?”
“There’s nothing to tell because we haven’t done anything.” Estella’s eyes glittered. “Jack is courting me like the gentleman he is. We’ve kissed, but that’s all. He wants to get to know me without the physical stuff getting in the way, and I feel the same. For once, I want to take it slow. I want every second to be stamped in my memory.”
Nora raised her glass. “Here’s to believing that good things come to those who wait. To June and Tyson, and to Estella and Jack.”
Estella knocked her glass against June’s.
As the meal progressed, Nora was content to listen to the music of her friends’ voices. They floated into the air, light as balloons, now that they knew June was okay. As for June, her voice was as warm as a midday sun. Her son had finally returned to her. He needed her help. It didn’t matter that they’d been estranged for years. It didn’t matter that he’d painted her house with anger. It didn’t matter than he was an addict. Tyson was her son—the boy she’d been missing with her whole heart. And her boy was here now. Her prayers had been answered.
Nora was happy for June. Happier than she could express. But the happiness she felt was tinged with sadness because she couldn’t help thinking about Micah’s parents. They’d lost their son forever. And Danny’s child would never know him. These truths bothered Nora. They dimmed what should have been a bright, celebratory moment.
“Nora?”
“Sorry,” she said, seeing that her friends were staring at her. “Did I miss something?”
“We were saying that we’re worried about you.” June jerked her thumb toward the house. “There’s a reason you brought that laptop, and I’m guessing that it’s not because you want to show us cat videos.”
Estella grinned at June. “You could be a YouTube sensation. The Pied Kitty Piper of Miracle Springs. You could get tons of free products.”
“Like what? Cans of Fancy Feast?” June threw a grape at Estella. “Do you want to talk about those damn cats, or do you want to let Nora answer my question?”
With a coy wink, Estella popped the grape into her mouth.
“I need research help,” Nora said. “Which is why I have my laptop. Between that and your computer, June, we could run multiple searches at once. If we can’t find all the answers online, I’ll visit the archives in the town hall basement tomorrow.”
Hester made a time-out gesture. “What’s this about?”
“Danny. Possibly Micah. The Inn of Mist and Roses. Lou.” Nora touched the soft petal of a pink gerbera daisy. “I think it all began as a story of forbidden love. What I don’t know is how the story ended.”
“Endings are important,” said Estella. She was leaning forward, eager to hear more. “Haven’t you read a book that was incredible until the end? When it falls flat, you’re so disappointed. That last scene, those last lines—they have to be just right.”
Hester glanced at Nora. “Maybe we’re supposed to make sure this story has the right ending.”
Nora looked at each of her friends in turn. She was lucky to have them in her life, and after she swallowed the lump in her throat, she told them as much.
The tender moment was cut short by the appearance of a large orange tomcat with a torn ear. His pink nose quivered as he caught the scent of food. Hester cooed at him while Estella tossed a piece of ham into the grass.
“Don’t encourage the beast,” June protested.
The tom purred and rubbed his body across June’s shins. She grunted in annoyance but gave him a bowl of egg salad.
“Don’t tell your friends,” she whispered. He purred even louder.
After the tom gulped down his food, he found a square of sunlight and began what was sure to be a lengthy bathing process. The four friends left him to it and went inside to clean up their lunch things. When the
y were done, they followed June into the living room.
June and Hester volunteered to research the Inn of Mist and Roses. Nora asked them to dig around the Madison County property records database and to take notes on sale dates, owner names, tax records, and anything else they could find on the building’s history.
Nora wanted to focus on the genealogy of the Lattimer family, starting with Rose’s husband, the Colonel. Since Estella had a smartphone with an oversized screen, Nora asked her to read up on the history of the Eastern Band of the Cherokee Tribe, especially those members living near Miracle Springs in the 1860s.
“I guess we’re tabling our book discussion until next week,” Hester said, pointing at the copy of An American Marriage by Tayari Jones on June’s desk.
June glanced at the book. “It was definitely well written, but I’m not in the mood to talk about a black man behind bars.”
The rest of the women murmured in agreement and got to work.
Nora was good at researching the past. During her tenure as a librarian, she’d helped lots of patrons locate family records. Most states had online genealogical databases that were divided into county databases. Madison County was no exception. Not only did Nora find records on the Lattimers, but she also came across an article about the time the Lattimer House had served as a makeshift hospital during the Civil War.
As she read everything she could find on the family, Nora thought about Lou. Lou was interested in genealogy. When she was a girl, Lou had come to Miracle Springs with a sick grandmother. Lou’s dream had been to buy Lattimer House and turn it into an inn. Lou was a Lattimer. Lou had read Rose’s diary, which meant she knew the meaning behind the red bird carved into the inn’s wall. What other family secrets could Lou be keeping?
The afternoon wore on. The four women read, took notes, and occasionally shared a discovery. For example, Estella said, “The Eastern Band of Cherokees had to go into hiding to avoid being rounded up by the government. The feds were going to send all the Cherokee West. I’m talking about the Trail of Tears here. The Cherokee that hid from the feds didn’t become legal citizens of North Carolina until the 1860s. Things couldn’t have been easy for Rose’s lover. If he was her lover.”
“He was,” Nora said. “Rose’s husband was wounded in battle. She traveled to a field hospital in Virginia to see him, undoubtedly hoping to fool people back in Miracle Springs into believing that she got pregnant during this visit. But there’s no way. Her daughter was born six months after the Colonel’s death.”
June swiveled in her chair to face Nora. “She could have been a preemie.”
“I doubt she would have survived. Rose named her baby Ava Claire Lattimer. Ava is Latin for ‘bird.’ I’d bet the bookstore that her father was Chea Sequah. Red Bird.”
Hester held up a pencil. “I found part of Rose’s will online. She left the house and all the property to her daughter, Ava Winston. I assume Ava got married.”
Nora consulted her notes. “Yes. Rose’s daughter, Ava, married James Winston.”
“What’s interesting about the records is that the deed is in Ava’s name,” Hester said. “Just hers. Ava Lattimer Winston.”
Estella lowered her phone. “Nineteenth-century female empowerment? Who got the house next?”
Hester ran a finger down her notebook page. “Claire L. Cecil.
“Ava and James had four children,” said Nora. “Three boys and a girl named Claire. Claire married John Cecil. It looks like the house was passed down to the daughters of the family. Hester, can you search for a document that says as much?”
“I can tell you that Lou and Patty didn’t buy the house from the Cecils,” June said. “I’ve been clicking on tax records, and it looks like the Cecils got behind on theirs. They didn’t pay for three years and ended up borrowing against the house. Some company called Glenn Development LLC offered to buy out the loan. John Cecil signed the paperwork.”
Nora stared at the names she’d written on her notepad. “Hold on. Was John’s name on the original deed? Up to this point, the house has been passed down to Lattimer women and only women.”
“Which is what Rose wanted,” Hester added firmly. “The ladies were the only legal owners of the house. Their husband’s names were never added to the deed.”
Nora tried to absorb everything she’d heard so far. Had Rose written her will to protect Ava and her future children? Had she wanted to be sure that Ava enjoyed the same freedoms she’d known as the mistress of Lattimer House?
“We need to find out if John Cecil had a legal right to sell the house,” Hester said with feeling. “It’s not just a house. I mean, it’s gorgeous and historical and all, but it’s not worth that much on its own. But the land. The original parcel goes behind the house and just keeps going. We’re talking about a stretch of land that leads from the business district to the Meadows. Once the Meadows sells out, the land will be worth its weight in gold.”
Estella stared at her. “Yeah, a development that big can support a few strip malls. A grocery store. A new elementary school. That land is the future of our suburban sprawl.”
“We’re making Neil Armstrong–sized leaps,” June said. “Lord knows we have reason to distrust real estate folks after last year’s fraud case involving the Meadows and our crooked bank, but that doesn’t mean this LLC is bent, or that John Cecil is a bad guy.”
“We’ll see.” Estella picked up her phone and fired away at the tiny keypad. “Glenn Development, eh?”
The other women watched her for a moment. When it was clear that her research wasn’t going to produce immediate results, Hester asked Nora, “Did the Cecils have kids?”
“No.”
“You know, we can use that ancestry site to search for Rose’s complete will,” Hester said. “We’ll have to pay a fee to access the database, and there’s no guarantee that it’ll tell us anything useful. Her will was written so long ago that it can’t be relevant now. Can it?”
Estella stopped looking at her phone. “I have a client who came in for a cut and color two weeks ago. While she was processing, she told me about a trust that’s been in her family for two centuries. Oh, what was it called?” She snapped her fingers. “A dynasty trust. My client’s family has a vacation home they can’t sell because of this trust. They have to pass the home to their kids, even though nobody wants it.”
“I’ll pay the fee for that ancestry site,” Nora told Hester, and dug her credit card out of her purse. “Let’s see what Rose planned for her descendants.”
Rose’s will was very thorough. It contained a specific inventory of items, a list of beneficiaries, and a separate trust stipulating that the Lattimer property was to be passed down to a female Lattimer in perpetuum. The current female owner could sell it only if she was of sound mind and body.
Hester printed the will and handed the stack of papers to Nora. “Since Claire Cecil didn’t have kids, who would have inherited the house if it hadn’t been sold?”
Nora rubbed her temples. “I need to make some kind of chart. Ava had three sons. Those sons moved away and had a bunch of kids. Their kids had more kids. There could be a dozen female heirs by now. Including Lou.”
June waved her hands in frustration. “Hello? Are you forgetting about the other branch of this tree? The non-white branch? If Ava is half Cherokee, and Danny is one of her descendants, then you’ve got more potential female heirs.”
Danny.
Nora was transported back to that moment on the bridge. She saw Danny’s body in the river. That image dissolved to be replaced by the memory of Marie sliding a protective hand over her belly. Finally, Nora saw Lou, tenderly running her fingers over the inn’s mantel.
Had Lou killed Danny to keep his children from claiming their birthright? Had she killed Micah because he knew what she’d done?
“We have lots of information. And theories,” Nora said. “But we have no concrete evidence against Lou or anyone else.” She indicated their collective notes. “Hester, c
an you and Estella take all this to the station and explain it to the sheriff? He can decide what to make of it. In the meantime, June and I can stop by the inn. I need to return Rose’s diary and June made socks for Micah’s parents, so we have a reason to swing by.”
Estella shot her a dubious glance. “Are you going to bring up Danny’s name while you’re there? Because that doesn’t sound smart. Lou could be dangerous.”
“Patty too,” Nora agreed. “But what can they do? Bludgeon us with candlesticks in front of Sheldon, Micah’s parents, and the Gentrys? Don’t worry, I’m not going to mention Danny. I’m going to set a trap. After it’s set, I’ll tell McCabe about it.”
Estella folded her arms across her chest. “What’s the bait?”
Nora smiled. “Something you see every day.”
“A dwindling bank account?”
Nora touched the end of her braid. “A lock of hair.”
Chapter 18
We need to haunt the house of history and listen anew to the ancestors’ wisdom.
—Maya Angelou
There were no workmen at the inn. The rocking chairs on the front porch were vacant. No one moved about the yard. The place had a somnolent feel that gave Nora pause.
She thought of Micah’s parents. Of their grief. Hoping she wasn’t about to disturb them, she rang the doorbell.
June put a hand on her shoulder and whispered, “You got this.”
Nora smiled at her friend. June’s touch bolstered her resolve. She wasn’t afraid of being hurt. She was afraid of discovering that Lou and Patty were killers. It was a discovery she didn’t want to make, but here she was, preparing to trick them into a confession.
Patty answered the door. Her blue and purple curls were wild. Her face was puffy from lack of rest.
“I hope this isn’t a bad time,” said Nora. “I wanted to return the diary and June has a gift for the Fosters.” Nora quickly introduced June to Patty.
Patty opened the door wider. “I was about to make some tea. Would you like a cup?”
Nora and June accepted the offer with a unified murmur of thanks.