Daisy Lane (19 page)

She unfolded the next thick sheaf of papers and a photograph fell out. She recognized the subjects as her great-grandparents. The photo had been taken when they were very young, standing outside this house, holding an infant. The house was beautiful but their faces were grim. She had often wondered how they managed to purchase such a grand house but her grandmother had told her to mind her own business. The papers folded around this photograph were the deed to the property. She put the deed aside and took out the last folded paper in the box. It was a letter written fifty-seven years ago, from a bank in Pittsburgh. This she did understand; it just didn’t make any sense.

She heard someone knock on the front door. Grace put the papers back in the cigar box, stuck it under her arm, and ran down three flights of stairs to answer it. To her dismay she saw it was Mrs. Larson. Grace opened the front door but did not unlatch the screen door.

“Grace?” Mrs. Larson said. “Are you home alone?”

“Scott had to leave but he’ll be back soon,” Grace said.

“You should refer to him as Chief Gordon, dear,” Mrs. Larson said. “I don’t hold with children using the first names of adults; it’s such bad manners. Bless your heart, you just never had anyone to teach you those things, did you?”

Grace could feel hot rage fill her chest, just like it had the day she cursed out Mrs. Larson for removing her beloved books from the library. This time she held her tongue, but found it only built up the pressure in her body until she thought she might burst.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“I’m sorry,” Grace said. “Scott … Chief Gordon told me not to let anyone in.”

“I hardly think that would include me …” Mrs. Larson said.

Her fake smile had worn off and her pinched lips now matched her mean eyes.

Grace was trying to think of a nice way to ask “What do you want?” but everything she considered saying she knew would make Mrs. Larson mad. So she said nothing.

“I had hoped you would come to me in person to apologize for your ugly outburst,” Mrs. Larson said. “I was disappointed when I didn’t even receive a call.”

“My grandfather died,” Grace said. “I’ve been sort of busy on account of that.”

“Well, I know that, of course,” Mrs. Larson said. “I’m not insensitive to the fact that you have suffered a loss. I don’t know why you would accuse me of such a thing.”

“Accuse you of what?” came a voice from the stairway behind Mrs. Larson. “I didn’t hear Grace accuse you of anything.”

Mrs. Larson whirled around, having been startled by the sudden appearance of a woman on the stairs. Grace knew this woman from seeing her around town, but didn’t know her name. She worked at city hall and was always pleasant when Grace passed her in the hallway on her way to pay the garbage/sewage bill. It was hard for Grace to tell how old she was because she was generously padded and had a chubby, pretty face devoid of wrinkles.

“Kay!” Mrs. Larson said. “I didn’t hear you. It might have been nicer manners to announce yourself rather than sneak up on a person.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my manners,” Kay said. She winked at Grace as she came up to the front door. “Sorry I can’t say the same for you.”

“I don’t know what you could possibly mean,” Mrs. Larson said. “If anyone needs a lesson in manners, it’s this young lady. You should have heard her language in the school library the other day. I was shocked. Shocked, I tell you! Such language.”

“I heard you were gathering up books to burn,” Kay said. “I would have swung you by your hair if it had been me. Don’t you have anything better to do than meddle in things that are none of your business?”

“If you think you’ll get elected mayor by talking to your constituents like that, you’ve got another think coming,” Mrs. Larson said. “I for one will lead the campaign against you, and I have a lot of influence in this town.”

“If I needed people like you to get elected I wouldn’t bother running,” Kay said. “Be sure and tell that to all your important friends.”

“Well, I never,” Mrs. Larson said. “I’m not going to stand here listening to you talk to me like that.”

Having said that she stomped off the porch, down the steps and out to her car.

“Are you okay, Grace,” Kay asked. “My name’s Kay Templeton; I’m a friend of Scott’s.”

Her kind words matched her kind face and eyes.

“I’m okay,” Grace said.

“Scott sent me to check on you,” Kay said. “Was the mayor here earlier?”

Grace nodded.

“Well, don’t you listen to anything that rotten rascal says, and don’t you fall for any of his lies.”

“He wants to buy the house,” Grace said.

“Sure he does,” Kay said. “You probably didn’t know this, honey, but this property has something called ‘mineral rights’ that go with it. That means you have the rights to all the resources underneath it, including natural gas and coal. Not many people have those rights anymore, and they’re very valuable.”

Grace unlatched the screen door and pushed it open.

“Come in,” she said.

Kay followed her to the kitchen, where Grace had left the cigar box and documents on the kitchen table.

“I found the will,” Grace said. “There’s also a letter from a bank I don’t understand.”

“Do you want me to look at it?” Kay asked.

Grace handed the letter to Kay, who sat down at the table. She put on the half glasses that hung on a brightly beaded necklace and frowned as she read.

“It sounds like your grandfather’s been contacted a number of times about some financial matter but hasn’t responded to their letters,” Kay said. “I can’t tell from this letter what it’s about, but this bank is still in business. There’s a number you can call. They might not be able to talk to you about whatever it is unless you prove you’re his next of kin. You’ll need the death certificate. What you’re also going to need is an attorney to help you with the estate.”

“Estate?”

“Yes, honey,” Kay said, removing her glasses. “This house and any other assets your grandfather had are all part of his estate now that he’s passed. Unless he appointed an executor, you’ll have to get an attorney’s help to probate the will. That just means to make sure your grandfather’s wishes are honored and the right people inherit his assets.”

Grace handed her the will. Back on went the glasses and Kay read through it.

“It’s not complicated,” Kay said. “It shouldn’t take a long time to process if there are no contestants. That means no one challenges the terms of the will.”

“How can I pay for an attorney?” Grace said.

“We’ll figure something out,” Kay said. “Right now we just need to put all this in a safe place.”

Grace shrugged.

“Most people use safety deposit boxes at the bank for this kind of thing,” Kay said. “Unfortunately, our bank is run by Knox Rodefeffer, whom I wouldn’t trust as far as I could throw him. Maggie has a safe at her store. How about we ask her to keep this in there until we figure out our next steps?”

Grace searched Kay’s face but could not find one tiny bit of false cheer or meanness. She was so relieved to hear that someone else was willing to help her. Between the Fitzpatrick cousins, Doc Machalvie and his wife, plus Scott and Kay, somehow everything felt less overwhelming.

“Okay,” she said.

“I’m a foster mother,” Kay said. “Did Scott mention that to you?”

“He said I would go to your house tonight,” Grace said.

“And you’re very welcome,” Kay said. “It was just such short notice that I haven’t had time to get ready.”

“I’m sorry,” Grace said.

“Oh, honey, no need to be sorry,” Kay said. “I’m apologizing to you for not having everything just perfect for you.”

“I don’t need anything special,” Grace said.

“I’ve got a campaign committee meeting to go to here in a little while, so how about we go to Maggie’s and then later Scott can bring you to my house? I hate to run you around town like that but it’s the best I can do; it’s too late to cancel the meeting and it would look pretty bad to stand them up.”

“I don’t mind,” Grace said.

Kay helped her gather up her few clothes, schoolwork, and the legal documents. As they were about to go out the front door, there was a loud bang upstairs. Kay’s hand flew to her chest as she gasped.

“What in the world was that?” she asked.

“That’s just Edgar slamming the door to the attic,” Grace said. “He’s a ghost.”

“I don’t think I could live in a house where that kind of thing happened on a regular basis,” Kay said.

“He doesn’t hurt anybody,” Grace said. “He’s just lonely.”

Kay gave Grace an odd look but quickly smiled.

“Do me a favor,” she said. “Don’t invite Edgar to stay over at my house.”

Grace smiled.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I won’t.”

Kay’s house was a tiny cottage on Lilac Avenue, across from the Community Center. There were flowers planted in white window boxes beneath window sills, which were painted a cheerful apple green in contrast to the white clapboard exterior of the house. An old metal glider painted a bright shade of pink shared the front porch with a generous rocking chair painted turquoise. There was a colorful flag declaring, “Spring has Sprung!” flying from one column and various wind chimes and party lights strung along the porch ceiling. On the front door was a knocker in the shape of a bug-eyed green frog.

Kay answered the door.

“Come in, come in,” she said, and gave Grace a genuinely friendly smile that extended to her twinkly blue eyes.

Her house smelled like cookies baking. Grace and Scott entered the front room, which was decorated in the same whimsical way but was not as cluttered as the front porch had been. There were faded pastel colored quilts folded on the end of a slip-covered sofa, and a chubby upholstered reading chair with a crocheted granny-square throw draped over the back.

Everything was homey, colorful and cheerful, just like Kay. She was dressed in a hot pink sweater, faded jeans, and had multiple strands of colorful beads around her neck. Her earrings were brightly colored to match her necklace. Her fingernails were painted pink to match her lipstick, and her light brown hair floated around her head in a fluffy bob haircut. On her feet she wore floral-patterned tennis shoes with pink ribbons for laces.

“Come in to the kitchen,” she said. “I’ve just baked some chocolate chip cookies and it’s warmer in there. I may have to cover up my peonies tonight; the weather man says it may frost.”

The kitchen was tiny with a booth built into a small alcove at one end. Grace and Scott sat on either side of this. There were white shutters at the windows and all the cabinets were white to match. All the accessories were bright red, and the leatherette of the booth was red as well. The curtains were red-and-white gingham, and the floor was black-and-white linoleum squares. There was a salt-and-pepper shaker collection in a built-in corner china cabinet. The pair on the Formica tabletop was a chubby chef with a black mustache, wearing a poufy hat, holding a rolling pin marked “pepper,” and the salt shaker was meant to look like a big bag of flour.

Grace’s mouth watered as Kay set a plate piled high with cookies on the center of the table. Kay gave Grace a tall glass of milk and the chief a large mug of coffee. She pulled up a stool to the end of the table and seated herself there, along with a cup of caramel-colored tea. It smelled like flowers.

“Thanks for having Grace on such short notice,” Scott said.

He drew the paperwork out of its folder and handed it to her, but Kay merely set it behind her on the kitchen counter, and focused on Grace.

“I’m glad to have you here, Grace,” she said. “I had decided not to foster anyone for awhile, but I stay on the books for emergencies, as a favor to Judge Feinman. I’m sure we’ll get along fine.”

“Grace has an aunt whom we’re trying to find,” Scott said. “She’s going to take a few days off from school but they will send her work home.”

“I’m not sure what we’ll do during the day,” Kay said. “I work from eight to four, but you’re welcome to come along to city hall with me. I think it’s important for you to not be alone.”

“Hannah, Claire and Maggie are going to help out,” Scott said.

“That will be much more fun than city hall,” Kay said. “I’d rather hang out with those ornery girls any old day. They’ve been thick as thieves since birth. Always laughing, always up to something, but you never ever saw one without the others. When Claire moved back last month, I said to her mother, ‘Now the whole gang’s back together.’”

The cookies were delicious, warm and melty, crunchy and sweet. The milk was ice cold and full of fat. Grace thought she could feel the nutrients feeding her hungry cells as she drank.

“We brought her things,” Scott said. “I guess Stuart was nosing around trying to get his bid in already.”

Grace was interested to see Kay’s blue eyes turn steely.

“You leave the mayor to me,” she said. “I’ll jerk a knot in his tail.”

“How’s the campaign going?” Scott asked her. “It must feel odd to be running against your boss’s wife.”