Decorated to Death (16 page)

The next morning, I called JR. Even though it was seven o’clock, I knew that she would be up and dressed.

“Hi, Mom, I figured I’d be hearing from you this morning. How was your dinner last night?”

“Jeez, I know news travels fast in this town but I never thought it traveled quite that fast. How did you find out about it. Was it in Hilly Murrow’s column in today’s paper?” I was being sarcastic. Either JR didn’t realize that or she chose to ignore my behavior.

“No, as a matter of fact, last night we got a sitter for the kids and Matt took me out to dinner at Milano’s. We ran into Peter and Ellie. Your little date with Pops was their idea and the nurses helped them to pull it off,” giggled JR. “Ellie wanted to include some dance music but Peter nixed that. He didn’t think that was a very good idea with Pops’s cast and all. Not to change the subject, but what’s on your mind besides me bringing you some clean clothes when I pick you up later this morning? Peter said you’d be released probably somewhere around ten.”

“A couple of things, starting with your phone call to me when I was fighting for my life in a burning barn, and what happened to my van? It has my purse in it. I also want to know how Pesty managed to survive without both me and your father.”

“That’s more than a couple of things,” JR said before informing me that because of my keeping her on the phone, she’d pushed the wrong button on the microwave oven and instead of keeping Matt’s breakfast warm, “the microwave burnt it up. We can talk after I get you home. Love ya, bye.”

Three long hours later, I was in JR’s pickup truck and on my way home. Kettle Cottage never looked so good.

Before collecting me at the hospital, JR had brought Pesty back from her house and given the pampered little Kees fresh water and breakfast. When Pesty saw me come through the back door and into the kitchen, she ran to greet me with enthusiasm generally saved for French fries and cheese sticks.

With the exception of Charlie not being home, things seemed pretty normal. Thanks to Matt, my car keys and purse were on the counter and the van was parked in the driveway.

Over a plate of Mrs. Fields chocolate chip cookies and glasses of milk, JR told me all about her connection with the underground tunnel that saved my life and the lives of Mary and Vincent Salerno.

“Remember last Monday when you had me and Aunt Mary over to discuss your investigation,” said JR, who continued as I nodded my head, “and we ended up talking about the twins going on the field trip to the railroad station and I mentioned that as a kid I took the exact same trip?”

“Yes, I do,” I said, “the one I missed because of Herbie Waddlemeyer’s big, fat head.”

“Mother, please, let’s not go into that again. You’re beginning to sound like Grandma Kelly. Pretty soon you’ll be telling me how tough you had it during the Depression.”

“JR, for your information I wasn’t even born until after the Great Depression was long over, and since moving to California after Grandpa died, your grandmother seems to have forgotten all about it. Now all she talks about is whale watching, saving the sharks, and surfing. Did I tell you how she wants to be pushed out to sea on her boogie board when she dies? She’s got the whole thing planned…”

“As I was saying,” said JR, rolling her eyes and running over my last sentence, “Sally Birdwell was our guide and because of her, I developed an interest in Overbeck pottery. It bugged me because I couldn’t remember why, but in my mind the pottery had some connection or other with Dona Deville’s property, which in turn was connected to her murder. You know what I’m saying?”

I nodded my head and once again thought about the nursery rhyme with all the connections.

“Remember I said to you a couple of times that if I thought of anything, even if it seemed trivial, I would let you know? Well, when Matt felt so bad about me having to be both mom and dad to the twins ’cause he was so tied up with his investigation, he surprised me with another Overbeck figurine to add to my collection.”

“What does that have to do with the tunnel? You are going to explain the connection, aren’t you?” I said, wishing I could light up a cigarette. Because of JR’s pregnancy and since we were sitting inside and not outside, I decided to curtail my smoking for the time being.

“I’m getting to it, and I’d get there faster if you’d stop interrupting me,” replied JR as she helped herself to the last cookie on the plate.

“My new little figurine is a depiction of one of the many slaves that traveled the Underground Railroad provided by the abolitionists in the days before and during the Civil War. Sally not only told us all about the railroad, she also showed us a portion of it when she opened the hidden door beneath the racks once used to store things in the baggage room.

“At the time, most of the kids were bored or disappointed when they found out that there wasn’t an actual set of tracks or a train in the tunnel. They were even more disappointed when Sally told them that they couldn’t check out the other end of the tunnel that was hidden in the horse stall because the barn was on private property.”

“You know,” I said, “I’ve read about the Underground Railroad but I never knew that there was one in this area. And to think it saved me just like it saved the lives of people whose only crime was that they wanted to be free and treated like human beings and not property.”

“When I held the new little figurine in my hand,” said JR, looking close to tears, “I thought of all the slaves that didn’t make it. I really don’t quite understand it myself, but all of a sudden I had this terrible urge to tell you about the tunnel. It was so compelling that I left you three messages on your regular phone.”

“I was at the funeral and luncheon. When I stopped by the house after the funeral to check on Pesty, I never thought to check for messages.”

“I was afraid of that, and like I said, it was so weird how I couldn’t shake the feeling it was imperative that I tell you about the tunnel that day. So I kept calling you and calling you on your cell phone. When Aunt Mary finally answered it, I was more than a bit irritated with you. I had no idea where you were or what was happening.”

“And with all that was happening, I forgot that Mary had my cell phone in her pocket, and she didn’t remember it either until the wad of Kleenex she had in her pocket shifted when she all but collapsed on the floor of the horse stall. That’s when she felt the phone vibrating.”

JR went to the pantry and helped herself to the last of the cookies. “What?” she said as she caught me smiling at her. “After all, I am eating for two.”

Reaching into the box of diet doggy treats, she gave one to Pesty, who’d dashed over to the pantry in hopes of getting a cookie, not a dog treat. Giving JR a look of disgust, she dropped the treat from her mouth and retreated to her spot under the kitchen table.

Clutching the little stack of cookies to her chest, JR was about to sit down again when she mentioned that while she and Ellie were talking at Milano’s, the subject of the old cottage came up.

“She asked me if Designer Jeans would be interested in taking on the job of redoing the cottage. Of course, I said yes. And get this, Mom, she says she’s leaving everything, even the budget, up to us.”

Leaping out of my chair, I embraced JR in a bear hug, showering Pesty, who’d peeked out from beneath the table to see what all the excitement was about, with cookie crumbs.

“Mother, you just broke my cookies!” JR said, sounding like a little girl again.

“And you, my darling daughter,” I replied, sounding like a very happy interior designer, “just made my day!”

Ellie told JR that she felt both her mother and her aunt had lost their lives attempting to turn the cottage into a useful, comfy abode.

“Ellie and Peter want to redo the cottage as a tribute to Aunt Jenny and Dona,” said JR.

Removing a small packet from her purse, JR showed me some of the pictures that Ellie had selected from various country living magazines. While none of the photographs depicted exactly the decor that Ellie wanted, they provided a starting point.

Three hours later, JR and I had decided on a proposal to present to Ellie regarding the makeover of the cottage. Our plan was to combine the old with the new. In keeping with the spirit of American country, which reflects American individualism, we would work closely with Ellie so that her personality would be the driving force in picking colors, fabrics, and accessories throughout the house. She’d already told JR that she favored stainless-steel appliances for the kitchen and hoped that they could be combined with country furniture and accessories.

“And the best part of the whole thing,” said JR, “is that her aunt Jenny left Ellie an entire house of antiques in Indianapolis. Ellie said even though she hadn’t been to the aunt’s house in years, she remembers seeing things such as a trestle table, a grandfather clock, rocking chairs, dry sinks, sleigh beds, and quilts. Lots and lots of quilts. You know, Mom, I think that between Designer Jeans and Aunt Jenny’s antiques, we can give Ellie the home she’s always wanted.”

“And you know something, JR, I think you’re right,” I answered. And she was.

Because of Aunt Jenny’s penchant for saving everything from skeins of yarn, buttons, old hatboxes, teapots, and baskets to kitchen implements of wire, JR and I had no problem finding appropriate accessories for the cottage. Our only real challenge was the kitchen. While the two upstairs bedrooms and bathroom, like the downstairs living room, dining room, and half bath, were easily turned into real country charmers, the kitchen with its sleek stainless steel appliances presented us with the problem of how to blend old with new.

After considering a variety of countertops, we settled for poured concrete in a light rosy beige, which complemented the diamond-patterned painted wood floor of creamy beige and faded red. We at first considered open cabinetry but found it made the walls of the kitchen a bit too busy, so we switched to cherry wood cabinetry with solid doors and recycled hardware pulls and handles. We used cherry-stained beadboard on the walls and around the sides of the oversized kitchen island. The top of the island was done in stainless steel, which helped to bridge the old with the new. As with the other rooms of the house, Ellie picked the accessories that refelected her likes and not ours.

Because of JR’s pregnancy, we switched roles, with me doing most of the grunt work and JR handling things such as trips with Ellie to fabric stores, flea markets, and garage sales. In the process of doing so, JR and Ellie formed a close and enduring friendship. I like to think that Aunt Jenny and Dona would have been pleased with Ellie’s decision to turn the old cottage into a splendid example of an American country home.