The Mill River Redemption (14 page)

“Mom wouldn’t have expected us to read hundreds of books in only two months,” Emily said. “If one of the clues is a book, it’ll be one we’ve already read.”

“Maybe,” Rose said. “But even if it is, we’ll still have to figure out what the second clue is to find the key.”

“The second clue, ‘something that will help you obtain it,’ could be a book, too, just a different one,” Emily pointed out.

What I wouldn’t give for a drink
, Rose thought. She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead on her hand.

“Look, at least we’ve started,” Emily said. “Let’s just go back, list out every detail of what’s in our kitchens. You should list which books you have and which you’ve already read. It shouldn’t take that long, just a few more days. Maybe we can meet again this Sunday.”

“Fine,” Rose said as she stood up to leave. She had truly expected to be done with their mother’s stupid directive within a few days. She’d even stopped unpacking in the hope that they’d be leaving soon, but now it looked as if they might be stuck in Mill River all summer.
It figures
, she thought. If their mother had wanted to force them to interact, wouldn’t she have wanted them to live next door to each other for as long as possible?

O
NCE
R
OSE HAD GONE
, E
MILY TOOK
G
US BACK INSIDE AND RUBBED
his ears. “I’ll be back soon, boy, and then we’ll go for a nice walk.” Even though Gus whined in protest, she slipped out the front door. She had a meeting scheduled with Ruth and Fitz.

“Emily! Come sit. I just made some coffee,” Ruth said as she arrived at the bakery. “Or, would you rather have tea?”

“Coffee’s fine, Ruth,” Emily said. “Thanks.”

“I don’t know how much you’ve heard about Mary McAllister,” Fitz said once they were all seated. “She was the lady who lived
in that big white house on the hill. No one ever saw her much or even knew anything about her. Turns out she suffered from a mental illness all her life and never went out much. But, she did a lot for folks here in town without them knowing it.”

“I did her grocery shopping for years,” Ruth chimed in. “I only saw her in person once, though.”

“And she’s still magically gifting people things. After she died in February, she left the house to Ruthie and me,” Fitz said. “We’ve always dreamed of running a bed-and-breakfast, and we figure now that the bakery’s been restored to what it was before the fire this past March, we’re ready to start working on that.”

Emily nodded. “It looks beautiful from the outside. Is the place in good shape?”

“It seems to be,” Ruth said. “It’s well built, and Mrs. McAllister hired contractors for any necessary maintenance and repairs while she lived there.”

“It has seven bedrooms, all but one with a private bath, but most of them were never used,” Fitz said. “Some of the bedrooms aren’t even furnished. They’ve just sat, closed and empty, for more than seventy years.”

“Wow,” Emily said. “It sounds amazing. But, what would you need to do to convert it to a bed-and-breakfast?”

“To be honest, we haven’t decided everything yet,” Ruth said with a smile. “I think we should freshen up the place. New paint, certainly, and maybe we could get new carpets and refinish the hardwood floors.”

“I think we’d need to swap out the bathroom fixtures for new, modern ones,” Fitz said, “and we should also check the plumbing to see if anything’s worn out.”

“And the kitchen, of course,” Ruth said. “I’ll need new appliances and better work space. The kitchen might need the most work of anything.”

“You ought to think about the basic systems in the house, too,” Emily said. “Heating and cooling, and a hot water supply that would be enough to accommodate a houseful of guests. You might need an upgraded electricity supply, too.”

“You’re right,” Fitz said.

“When would you want to be ready to open?” Emily asked.

“We haven’t set a date,” Ruth said. “Certainly, there’s no rush. We figured we’d do the work a little at a time and see how it goes. We’re so busy with our jobs, though, we don’t have much time to devote to our little retirement project.” Ruth reached over and grabbed Fitz’s hand as she smiled.

“It sounds wonderful,” Emily said. “I’ll be honest, though. What you’ve described is a lot of work for one person. I’m not even sure I’m qualified to do some of the more complex repairs. Everything will have to be brought up to code if you’re going to operate it as a motel. I’m sure you’ll need to install smoke detectors and maybe make other changes to protect against fire. And, since it’s an older house, you might have some lead-based paint problems to deal with. Which brings me to my next question—what kind of budget do you have for the improvements?”

“We’ve got enough to do pretty much everything,” Fitz said. “Mrs. McAllister left us a generous amount to be used for renovations. Before we start, we’ll have to submit a formal estimate for the work to Jim Gasaway, who’s overseeing the distribution of her estate. I don’t think it’ll be a problem, though. It’s just a matter of finding the right person, or people, to do the job.”

“We know you’ve worked miracles with old houses,” Ruth said. “Your mom used to tell me all about your projects. I think we’d be happy to have you do as much with the house as you can, and we’d pay whatever fee you typically charge. If there are things you need help with, we’ll hire whatever other contractors you need.”

“Well, okay then,” Emily said. “I’m working at Turner’s a few hours a week, but I still have lots of time. When should I start?”

“It might be a few weeks. I’ll call Jim tomorrow and get the ball rolling on the release of funds,” Fitz said. “I’m sure he’ll want to see a proposal and an estimate for what we want to do.”

“But, if you wanted to, you could go up and take a look around the place,” Ruth said. “Maybe you could spend a little time at the house and plan out what might be good to do first.”

“I’d love to,” Emily said. “In fact, I could work up a proposal and prepare an initial estimate of everything for you, if you’d like.”

“That would be perfect,” Fitz said.

“I’ve got keys upstairs,” Ruth said. “Just wait while I run and get one.” She disappeared through the back room of the bakery, where a staircase led to the two upstairs apartments. In only a few minutes, she was back, breathless and holding out a large key to Emily.

“Thank you,” Emily said to the Fitzgeralds. “I really appreciate your giving me this job.”

“Oh, pish. We’re grateful you came to town when you did and are willing to help us out,” Ruth said, and Fitz nodded in agreement. “There’s no one else we’d rather have.”

As Ruth rushed to tend to waiting customers, Emily left the bakery to get Gus. It took only a few minutes of driving to reach the edge of town and the entrance to the winding driveway of the big white mansion. It would be best to see the place with the midday sun shining brightly overhead, and she felt giddy with anticipation as she reached the top of the driveway and parked her car.

She inserted the key in the lock and let herself in the back door. A rush of cool, stale air met her face as she stepped inside a small mudroom. Gus whined behind her, and she took him gently by his leash and led him forward into the kitchen.

The large room was quiet and dim. Emily walked to the window
above the sink and raised the blinds. She noticed that the appliances and fixtures on the sink were relatively modern, but everything else in the kitchen—the floor, countertops, and cabinets—looked to be the original versions. All were worn and in need of replacement. Still, Emily could see that there was plenty of space to update and modernize, and she could envision Ruth standing in the finished room sliding pies into a new professional oven.

“Stay here, boy,” Emily said, as Gus flopped down on the old kitchen floor. “I’m just going to let some light in.”

She walked slowly from the kitchen. The large gathering room she entered had a vaulted ceiling, and a grand staircase led to the second floor. To her left, there was a dining room with a dusty chandelier hanging from the ceiling. To her right was another, smaller room that might have been used as a parlor or a library. What furniture remained in the rooms was covered by white sheets.

Emily headed straight across the room toward a wall of heavy drapes. She gripped the thick fabric and pulled, squinting as the sunlight streamed through the uncovered picture windows. When her eyes adjusted, she looked from the dust particles floating in the light back into the room. Only then did the splendor of the mansion—the sheer size of the house, the fine woodwork and moldings, the exquisite paintings of horses and Vermont countryside that still hung on the walls—come into view. Emily smiled. She couldn’t wait to see the beautiful home spruced up and open for all to see.

She turned to peer out the window at the little town below. From where she stood, the view of Main Street was absolutely perfect. In fact, almost all of Mill River was clearly visible from her unique vantage point. She looked down at The Bookstop and next to it, her mother’s house, where she’d grown up. It was strange to think that she now stood in the former home of the person who had given her mother that little house in her time of greatest need.
After a moment, Emily’s line of sight drifted from her childhood residence to the two little houses across the street from it where she and her sister were stuck for the summer.

Emily sighed as she thought about her initial meeting with Rose. It had gone well, but it would be a miracle if they actually managed to figure out what their mother had hidden for them without killing each other. In fact, she could barely stand the sight of her sister. The thought of them reconciling, as their mother had so desperately wanted, was such a joke.

She turned to look again at the beautiful room in which she stood. She could patch walls and refinish woodwork. She knew how to replace rotted floorboards and fix leaky faucets, and even how to coax a shine out of the most tarnished metal. She was absolutely confident in her ability to return the old mansion to its full glory.

And she was just as confident that her relationship with Rose was beyond repair.

1986

O
N THE FIRST
M
ONDAY MORNING AFTER THE
N
EW
Y
EAR
, Josie arrived at Circle Realty a few minutes early to prepare for a meeting. She stood at the door, fumbling for the key, when the bracing test blasts of the loud air horn atop the fire station—what locals called the “ten-of-nine whistle”—startled her so badly that she nearly dropped her purse. Since the fire, she’d become so sensitive to sudden loud noises, and the damned air horn nearly gave her a heart attack every morning.

In the warmth and quiet of the Circle Realty office, Josie hung up her coat and waited for her heart to stop pounding. She was pleased to see that the office was almost as tidy as she’d left it on Friday. Since she’d accepted Ned’s offer of employment, she’d completely organized and de-cluttered everything. All of the office files were now properly placed in drawers for open listings, pending sales, or closed deals. The surfaces of all the tables, counters, and storage cabinets were bare and dusted, and even the dark wooden top of Ned’s awful desk was visible in places.

Above her own neat workstation, her newly issued real estate license was already framed and hanging on the wall. Now, finally, she was permitted to show houses. Unfortunately, Josie had arrived at the conclusion that it would be useless to show the listing Ned had given her. The dilapidated house bordering on Rutland’s municipal
landfill would be virtually impossible to sell—a fact that was not lost on Ned. Clearly, he had set her up to fail. But, she was determined to deny him the satisfaction of seeing her struggle. Never would she give Ned any indication of the shock and despair she’d felt upon seeing the property that he had tasked her with selling.

And, she had already come up with a plan.

The property bordering the dump would require an unorthodox buyer, and she had scheduled a meeting for later in the morning that was, in her opinion, her best shot at finding that buyer.

Josie took an old vacuum cleaner in a storage closet and gave the front office carpet a once-over. It was beginning to feel as if her job title should also include “custodian,” but now was not the time to get worked up over that. After she put away the vacuum cleaner and started the coffeepot, she returned to her desk to look over the file for the property.

At twenty past nine, Ned strolled through the front door, late as usual. He was midway through eating what looked like a large bran muffin, and he didn’t seem to notice the trail of crumbs he left as he came inside.

“Morning,” he said as he chewed. “Sorry I’m late, just one of those days. Good, you made coffee. Any calls yet?” He was shifting the muffin from one hand to the other as he removed his coat, which scattered more crumbs and some larger pieces on the floor.

“No, nothing yet,” Josie replied. “I figured it would be slow today, so soon after the holidays, so I was planning to do a walk-through of my listing this morning. It’d be good to see if there’s anything useful to know about it that’s not in the file.”

It was a small lie, because she’d done the walk-through just before Christmas. The inside of the house had been even worse than the outside. Leaks in the roof and plumbing, soiled carpet, and peeling, hideously patterned wallpaper marred the interior.
She suspected that the house had many more problems that weren’t so obvious. She raised her gaze to meet Ned’s and smiled calmly, confidently, as though she hadn’t any worries.

“That’s a good idea,” Ned said. “The owner’s name is Al Celebrezze. Little Italian guy, works down at the Ford lot. His father refused to sell it when the city first opened the landfill and offered to take it off his hands. Al said he was holding out for more, but the city never came up on its lowball offer. Pretty dumb decision in hindsight. His father passed back in October, and now Al’s stuck with the property. He’ll be thrilled if you can help him unload it.” Ned returned her smile as he poured himself a cup of coffee, but Josie saw a hint of a smirk appear on his face before he headed back to his own office.