A Spicy Secret (4 page)

Betsy smiled as she thought of her precocious daughter and her dear husband—both gone now.

“Charlie didn’t want to retire; he loved the animals and loved working with them. But we both knew it was time. He sold most of his equipment, and I packed up his desk, crammed with notes, patient files, and bills. For some reason, he wanted to keep those.

“After that, we turned the carriage house into complete living quarters, with the intention of using it as a guesthouse for visitors. We figured they would be more comfortable in their own space, and I wouldn’t have to worry about having to clear a bedroom.”

Betsy shared the scope of the renovation. They gutted the first floor and created a powder room, dining room, living room, and kitchen, along with the entrance foyer, and added windows to take advantage of the ocean views. In the upstairs—which already had a bedroom, bathroom, and small kitchen—they left the bedroom alone, but ripped out the kitchen, renovated the bathroom, and added a second bedroom, making it a compact two-story home. Like the careful edging on a wedding cake, they added a porch to match the one on Grey Gables, complete with gingerbread trim and white wicker furniture. They also planted rhododendrons and lilacs, most of which had survived the intervening years.

“After Charlie passed,” Betsy said, a catch in her throat, “I just could not bear to keep the carriage house. Between the memories of him and the animals he treated there—plus just the upkeep on the place—I decided to sell it. We’d rarely used it as a guesthouse, so it just made sense to let it go.”

After an exhaustive search for the perfect people to become her neighbors, Betsy sold the carriage house to a couple from New York, Yvonne and Arthur Swann.

“The Swanns are such nice people, and I really enjoyed having them as neighbors,” Betsy said. “They used it as a summer home for many years, and would occasionally host parties for their ‘summer friends,’ as they called them. As they grew older, it was harder for them to make the trek up, so they decided to turn it into a rental property. Lucky for you and for me!”

****

Alice shook her head, bringing herself back to the present and taking another sip of her coffee.

“I think I was far more lucky than Betsy, to tell you the truth. I got to live next to her in a lovely place I could afford, and she gave me a kind and patient ear when I needed it.”

“I wish I had come to visit her more,” Annie said wistfully.

“She wanted to see you too, but she knew how busy life in Texas kept you,” Alice replied. “She really enjoyed her trips to see you, I can tell you that. And she wouldn’t shut up about how precious and cute and darling her great-grandchildren were.”

“Well, they are at that! Who can blame her?” Annie answered, once again feeling slightly guilty for being so far away from her daughter and grandchildren. She resolved to have the whole family up to visit that summer, or else to go see them and spend a few weeks in Texas—maybe both.

“All right, quit being glum,” Alice said, realizing that all the talk about Betsy had made Annie a bit melancholy. Annie was startled, forgetting that her friend could always sense her mood. “We’ve got a box to look through!” Alice put down her coffee cup and hobbled carefully to where the box sat. “Wonder if we’ll find anything interesting?”

The two plopped down on the floor next to the box and emptied it in short order. Papers and files surrounded them.

“Boots!” Annie exclaimed as the cat settled on one of the stacks and stretched to her full length. “Why is it that cats have to be right next to you if there’s paper or food involved?”

“The food part is easy,” Alice laughed. “I’m not sure about paper or boxes. My sister had a cat when we were kids, and that thing just loved cardboard for some reason. I remember one time Mom had bought new dishes or something, and put the empty boxes in the mudroom. We didn’t find that cat for two days because she’d curled up in one of them. Stuff had gotten stacked on top of it, and she couldn’t get out. And she was one of those weird cats that didn’t freak out if she got locked up somewhere.”

“I’m pretty sure Boots knows better than to try something like that, living in the house where other people’s belongings come to rest.” Annie gave the feline a pat on her belly, and turned to the detritus around them. “I have no idea what to do with this after we go through it. I guess just box it back up.”

The two friends stayed mostly silent as they perused the papers, interjecting on occasion if they found something entertaining.

“OK, these files are written neatly, but I think they’re harder to understand than the recipes,” Annie said. “Obviously, I get the animal’s name and the owner’s name, but what do you suppose ‘imrab-1’ means? Or ‘dex sp’?”

“Beats me,” said Alice. “All I know is that they are boring me to tears. Are you sure you even want to keep this stuff?”

“I have no idea. But you know me. It would be hard to just throw everything away. I guess I could ask Carla Calloway what she suggests.”

“She is good with animals, but not so good with people,” Alice replied. “There’s no telling what she would say!”

Carla, a competent vet, ran a shelter for abandoned animals, but some people called her “Carla Callous” because of her brusque manner.

“That’s a chance I’ll have to take,” Annie said. “Besides, she’s been much nicer lately—to people, that is. She’s always been nice to animals. I guess I could have Vanessa ask her. She seems to get along just fine with Carla.”

“That’s because Vanessa is an angel and puts up with her, but it’s mostly because Vanessa loves the animals and likes volunteering at the shelter.”

“I should also ask Cecil Lewey what he thinks. He may want to keep these, or at least look at them. Grandpa mentioned him quite a bit in his journals.”

The ladies were quiet as they went through more of the files.

“Look at this ledger,” Annie said an hour later. Most of the files were—as Alice had stated so eloquently—boring and had been put back in the box. The blue leather-bound ledger was a welcome find. “Sometimes Grandpa would settle a debt by accepting a tool or eggs or wheat or something like that in lieu of cash.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. Your grandpa never would let an animal suffer, regardless of the owner’s financial state.”

“And Gram didn’t have to keep chickens to get fresh eggs for cooking! Seems I remember she liked chickens but didn’t like their upkeep or them getting into her garden.”

The ledger, written in her grandfather’s neat hand, was a straightforward list with the date, animal name and type, owner’s name, procedure, and the amount owed.

Annie missed her grandfather. She’d felt closer to her grandmother, probably because she’d helped Gram with chores—at Gram’s insistence, of course—and the older woman had spent hours teaching her to crochet, while her grandfather had been busy with his practice.

She’d been a teenager when he’d retired. At that age, she’d hung out with Alice and her other friends more than with her grandparents. But she had fond memories of rainy days or those days when everyone else was busy—she’d sit on the window seat of the library, working on a crochet project, while Grandpa sat at his desk and wrote in his journals, occasionally reading a short anecdote aloud. And she’d loved it when, as a child, he’d read her stories from
The Jungle Book
or other classics
.
She was nearly through with college when he died and was thankful for the years she had known him.

Annie decided to add the ledger to the bookshelf that held her grandfather’s journals. Just holding it made her feel close to him.

“Looks like we’re almost to the end,” Alice said, nudging Boots off the last stack.

“Thank heavens,” Annie replied. “I forget how tiring it can be to go through stuff.”

They discarded the first few files without comment.

“Hmmm … this one looks interesting,” Alice said. “Apparently our esteemed mayor had a very sickly cat when he was a child.” Annie tried to grab the file, but Alice kept it just out of reach. “Seems that little Ian liked to feed ‘Banana’ raw eggs, which caused the poor kitty’s fur to fall out.”

“Ian named his cat Banana?” Annie asked.

“Yes. And there’s more! Seems after the raw eggs incident, our young friend decided that Banana needed some raw meat.”

“And?”

“And that caused vomiting and diarrhea. For the cat, not Ian.”

After a few minutes of laughing and playing keep-away, Alice finally handed it to Annie so she could see for herself.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look him in the face again,” Annie said dryly.

“Me either. Or at least, not without giggling!”

At the very bottom of the stack sat a nice, slim container, in much better condition than the rest of the files.

“This looks rather official,” Annie said, turning the box over in her hands and then opening it. “Look—here’s a sticker that says ‘Connor and Sheehan, Boston, Mass.’” Unfolding the papers, she let out a squeal. “Why, it’s the building plans for the renovation of the carriage house!”

“Oh cool!” said Alice. “This is really neat.” Together, they spread the blueprints out on the floor and examined the documents. “Here are a couple of sketches of what the interior and exterior used to look like.”

“According to this, your spare room was the original bedroom,” Annie said. “That means whoever hid the recipes could have lived there back in Captain Grey’s era.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t mean they weren’t put there by someone who rented from the Swanns either.”

“True enough, true enough,” Annie said. She began folding everything up again. Once the pages were neatly placed back in the container, she handed it to her friend. “I think you should have these. After all, you’re going to be the new owner of the carriage house and in charge of its history.”

“Are you sure you trust me with this?”

“Absolutely! I’m also sure it’s one less thing for me to worry about!”

****

After Alice had gone home, Annie fixed herself a light lunch and looked through some of Gram’s crochet books. One of the books, with a copyright of 1979, instructed the crocheter to make forty-eight different squares in very dated shades of gold, light orange, and dark orange. Annie liked the patterns, but she decided that no one loved orange that much, and she knew that trying to figure out that many different stitches, along with the proper gauge, would take too much time.

She decided on two tried-and-true granny-square stitch patterns she’d made in the past and two different yarn colors—a pretty sky blue and white. Settling into the window seat with Boots and a skein of the blue yarn, she got started.

4

Kate didn’t have to work at A Stitch in Time that Saturday, but she still got up at her usual early hour. She spent a lot of time working on a blanket for the project, and when her hands needed a rest, she looked out the kitchen window at the snow and thought about the recipes Alice and Annie had found. Of all the mysteries the club had encountered, this one seemed the silliest, and yet it was so intriguing. Try as she might, she couldn’t remember anyone other than Alice living in the carriage house. And she couldn’t imagine why someone would hide recipes.

She crocheted a little more, and then she flipped through one of her needlework books. She’d been collecting them for years, ever since Betsy Holden had given her a copy of
Crocheting for Beginners
. Betsy had patiently taught her first how to hold the hook, and then taught her all the basic crochet stitches. It wasn’t long before Kate had mastered them and started crocheting more and more elaborate patterns.

Kate practiced crochet and spent as much time with Betsy as she could. Today she wouldn’t give up her skill for anything in the world. She had been careful not to make her daughter feel like she had to crochet too, but Vanessa had happily taken up the crochet hook and learned basic stitches when she was merely five, and she had crocheted off and on as she’d gotten older. Mackenzie had only been introduced to needlework and crafting when she and Vanessa became friends, but she thought it was cool and always wanted Kate to make her things.

Kate smiled to herself. If a cheerleader liked needlework, the other kids could hardly make fun of it. And
everyone
loved Mackenzie. So they might not love crochet or other needle crafts, but they would keep their opinions to themselves.

She glanced at the clock above the kitchen table. Mackenzie had come over to spend the night with Vanessa so they could work all day Saturday on the flyer about the blankets for the orphanage. It was already after ten o’clock; Mackenzie and Vanessa would eventually wake up and come out for breakfast. Kate had heard giggling when she’d woken up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, so it could be a while.

Kate had always loved to sleep in on the weekends, but her mother had never let her and had in fact been vehemently opposed to it. Kate had vowed back then to let her own children sleep as late as they wanted, as long as they got up on time for school during the week.

The phone rang, and she jumped up to grab it before it woke up the girls.

“Hello?”

“Hey Kate,” she heard her ex-husband, Harry Stevens, say.

“Handsome Harry!” she heard herself reply, groaning inwardly. She hated that she still called him that after everything they’d been through. He was handsome on the outside, but
not
on the inside. Plus, calling him that only added to his oversized ego.

“Yeah, so I haven’t had Scooter over for a while, and thought I should arrange for a weekend visit.”

Kate smacked herself in the forehead. She and Harry supposedly had joint custody of Vanessa, but he rarely bothered to see his daughter. If he actually made plans, typically he’d back out at the last minute. To top it off, because they had joint custody, and he supposedly made less money than she did, he didn’t have to pay any child support.

She wanted to scream at him, but replied calmly, “You know she hates that nickname.” He’d christened his daughter with the name when she first learned how to walk—because mostly she’d scooted around on her bottom until she’d gotten the hang of standing up. Kate had found it cute at first, but at six years old, Vanessa had vehemently—and loudly—opposed the term, so she’d never called her that again. Harry, as usual, didn’t care.

“Yeah, well, she’ll always be Scooter to me. And what about it? When can I have her?”

That really set Kate’s teeth on edge—Harry acted and spoke like Vanessa was another
thing
, rather than his only child. But she kept her tone and words as polite as possible, knowing that showing her anger would only make him more difficult to deal with.

“I’ll have to check with her to find out her schedule. When did you want to get together with her? I know she’s got projects due for school, and I seem to remember that one of her friends is planning a sleepover, but I’m not sure which weekend.”

“Well, find out, would ya? I want to take her to the Maine Maritime Museum down at Bath. They’ve got a new exhibit on the scallop industry I’d like to show her.”

She sighed as quietly as she could. “Harry, you know Vanessa won’t want to go the Maritime Museum. Can’t you take her to something in Portland that she’d actually
want
to do, like a Sea Dogs game or the planetarium?”

“Pshaw. Scooter likes seeing the boats. Besides, the Sea Dogs don’t play in the winter. Duh!”

Her ex-husband, a third-generation Stony Point fisherman, owned and ran his own scallop boat and thought everyone was obsessed with the sea and everything to do with it. Vanessa had outgrown her fascination shortly after outgrowing her nickname, yet he refused to acknowledge it. Kate figured he still was mad that his only child had been a girl—he’d really wanted a son to work with him on the boat.

Kate clenched her fists in frustration. “All right. I’ll ask her and get back with you.”

“Cool. See ya,” he said as he hung up.

She took some deep breaths to sooth her nerves and then went back to her book.

****

Later that afternoon, Kate sat in her favorite chair in the living room, crocheting on her first afghan for the Haiti project—using her very own pattern, of course—while Vanessa and Mackenzie sat on the floor, surrounded by art supplies of all kinds—paints, markers, pencils, poster board, stencils, and even a dictionary. The pair laughed as they came up with ideas for the flyer and the poster to track donations. They seemed especially tickled with the line “Heatin’ Up Haiti,” much to Kate’s amusement, even though she had no idea why they found it so funny.

“Hey Mrs. Stevens, didn’t Miss Brock say people could drop off their blankets at the store?” Mackenzie asked, putting aside a red marker and picking up a blue one.

“Duh,” Vanessa teased. “
And
she said she’d give 10 percent off supplies. Weren’t you listening?”

“Uh, yeah, but I still have a question for your mom.”

Kate smiled. “Darling daughter, do try to be polite and let your friend ask her question.”

“Whatev’,” Vanessa said, tossing her hair out of her eyes. To anyone else, it might have seemed like backtalk, but Kate knew her daughter was just teasing.

“Anyways,” Mackenzie said, “I wondered if Miss Brock might like it if we decorated a box for the store, where people could put their blankets when they’re done. I bet our teacher would even give us extra credit for it.”

“I’m sure Mary Beth wouldn’t mind at all, but I’ll ask her just to make sure.”

“We just need a really big box to decorate,” Mackenzie said. “Do you know where we can get one?”

Kate laughed. “Do I ever! We’ve got boxes up to our eyebrows at the store. I could run by and find one. And how about I pick up a pizza for dinner from Sal’s Pizzeria while I’m out? I don’t know how we survived before he opened.”

“I do love his pizza,” said Mackenzie. “I want pepperoni.”

“I want veggie,” said Vanessa.

“All right—you got it! Can I trust you two not to draw on the walls while I’m gone?”

“Mom!” Vanessa said. “We’re not five years old anymore.”

“I just never know with you two,” she said, grabbing her coat and purse, and pulling on a pair of brown gloves and a purple hat. “I’ll be back shortly, and woe unto you if the wall is damaged!”

“Mom! Seriously!” she heard as she went out the door to the garage. Then she heard Mackenzie’s voice: “She didn’t say a thing about the carpet.”

****

Kate hated to leave the warmth of the house and face the gloomy, snowy day. But she also knew she could use a little time to herself, and a visit with Mary Beth would do her good. The girls had woken up not long after Harry had called, and she hadn’t had time to really think about his request. She felt awfully irritated with the whole thing. In fact, practically every word that came out of his mouth irritated her. How dare he not take his daughter’s feelings into consideration and act like Vanessa was a dog or a potted plant he could just pick up whenever he felt like it?

She hadn’t yet mentioned the call to her daughter; she knew Vanessa would get upset and unsettled. The girl preferred not to think about her father. His violence had really affected her, and he continually reneged on promises. Kate knew she’d have to bring it up eventually, but for now she wanted her daughter to enjoy her day.

She arrived at A Stitch in Time a little after three thirty. Mary Beth sat in one of the comfy chairs, working on the blanket she’d begun earlier in the week.

“We’re closed,” the older woman said without looking up from her flashing needles.

“Sure you are,” Kate said. “Your sign says you close at four o’clock, so you still must be open. And anyway, I planned to spend a whole bunch of money today. Guess I’ll just have to go down to Finer Things and get rid of my cash there.”

“Guess so,” Mary Beth retorted, looking up. “I don’t need your kind in my store anyway.” They laughed as Kate sank down into the chair next to her.

“So, really, why are you here?” the older woman asked. “I’m pretty sure I gave you the day off, and it’s practically time for me to get out of here.”

“Ah, well.” Kate heaved a sigh. “The girls are working on the flyer and asked if you’d be OK with them decorating a box to put in the store as a place to collect the blankets. I told them I’d ask and then pick up a pizza.”

“And that makes you sigh, because?”

“
That
doesn’t. Harry called this morning and wants a weekend with Vanessa, or ‘Scooter’ as he persists in calling her. And he gets under my skin like no one else. I still don’t know why I ever married that man.”

“Aw, honey, I’m so sorry.” Mary Beth put her knitting down and gave Kate her full attention. She knew how much Vanessa hated that moniker, and she really hated to see Kate so upset. “You married him because you loved him, and you got a wonderful kid out of the bargain.”

She leaned over and gave Kate a quick hug. “What does Vanessa say about it?”

“I haven’t told her yet. He says he wants to take her to the Maritime Museum—as if she’d even want to do that, and as if he’d actually take her.”

“He’s not exactly one for keeping promises, is he?”

“No! I’m sick of having to clean up his messes, and I’m sick of him hurting our daughter. Plus, I don’t know what weekend she’s free. She’s always so busy with school and her friends.”

“Have you tried ignoring him?”

“Yes, but that ends up being worse.” Kate sighed again. “He accuses me of keeping him from his daughter when I do that. Never mind that he’s the one who stays away.”

“I think all you can do is tell Vanessa as gently as possible, and then tell him when she’s available and hope for the best.”

“I guess you’re right,” she responded. “So, is it OK if the girls decorate a box for people to put their blankets in? Mackenzie said they might even get extra credit for it.”

“Of course! Far be it from me to stand in the way of extra credit,” Mary Beth said. “Would you like me to help you look for one?”

“Only if you can tear yourself away from that chair,” Kate teased.

“Ha, ha. Thank goodness my assistant cleaned the back room,” Mary Beth said. “Should be easy to find one that will work.”

“I hear she’s quite talented,” Kate said.

“That’s what I hear too,” Mary Beth countered. “Hey! How about the box the new refrigerator came in? We haven’t gotten rid of it yet, have we?”

“That would be great!” Kate said. “I broke it down, but it would be easy to tape it back up. Plus the girls can cut it down to whatever height they need.”

Mary Beth helped Kate load it in her car and then gave her a hug.

“Don’t worry, Kate. Vanessa will be fine. You’re a great mom. And soon enough she’ll be eighteen, and you won’t have to worry about Harry anymore. It will be up to her if she wants to see him or not.”

Kate groaned. “Thanks, I think. I’m not sure I want to be reminded that my baby will be an adult soon.”

“Well, she will be. We all get older, even if we don’t grow up.”

****

Kate arrived back home, big cardboard box and two steaming pizzas in hand. She put the pizzas in the oven to stay warm and lugged the box into the living room. She smiled at the sight of two brown heads bent over a poster. It looked like a tornado had gone through the room and scattered art supplies to every corner. Thankfully, the walls were unmarked.

“Hey girls! Dinner’s here, along with your box,” she said.

“Hi Mom,” said Vanessa.

“Oh hey, Mrs. Stevens,” said Mackenzie. “Look! We’re almost finished! What do you think?”

Kate walked over to the oasis of calm in the middle of the floor. On the top of the poster and the flyer, they had written “Blanket Haiti” in big colorful letters.

“That’s a great name for our project! Who came up with it?” she asked.

“I did!” Mackenzie piped up. “But it’s not really my very own idea. My mom bought some sheets from a company called Blanket America. She told me they make a donation to the needy for each sale they make. I figured they wouldn’t mind if I used that, since we’re kinda doing the same thing, and they support Haiti too!”

“That’s great,” Kate replied, “and I love all the colors.”

The flyer featured a tall stack of hand-drawn blankets, each one a different color—from bright blues and fluorescent pinks to pale greens and sunflower yellows.

Three poster boards taped together on the shorter ends made for a very tall tracking poster.

“Look, Mom. We drew the outline of forty blankets on this. You can color in a blanket for every three you collect!”

“How does this sound, Mrs. Stevens?” Mackenzie said and handed her the flyer.

Kate took it and read aloud:

Blanket Haiti.

Volunteers from Stony Point Community Church are heading to Haiti to be of service at Light of Hope Orphanage. In conjunction, the Hook and Needle Club hopes to make and collect at least 120 summer blankets for the orphans and the workers who care for them. Make one (or seven) or donate your like-new extras! They should be lightweight and twin-size. Drop off your blankets at A Stitch in Time before June 15. See Mary Beth or Kate at the store for more information. You can make a difference!