Drawing Close: The Fourth Novel in the Rosemont Series (12 page)

Chapter 26

John Allen tossed the thick
envelope bearing the return address of Hirim & Wilkens, Attorneys at Law,
onto the coffee table and turned to stare at the new painting above the mantel.

“What do you think?” Maggie asked, stepping in
front of the fireplace.

“It’s absolutely perfect. I’m so glad we indulged
ourselves and bought it.”

“I mean about this letter—about Frank’s
owning half of Rosemont?”

“I trust your instincts. If you think Paul was
capable of this, you’re probably right.”

“But what about my idea of selling the silver? We
don’t know how much we can get for it, but it’s our only way to raise the
money.”

John put both his hands on her arms and looked
into her eyes. “I don’t think it’s our silver to sell, sweetheart.”

“What do you mean it’s ‘not ours’?”

“It’s part of Rosemont, part of Hector Martin’s
estate. If Frank owns half of this house, he owns half of that silver, too.”

A guttural moan escaped her lips, and she brought
her forehead to his chest.

“I never thought of that. You’re right, of
course.” Tears slid silently down her cheeks. “We can’t sell the silver.”

“We could take out a mortgage on the place,” John
suggested.

Maggie shook her head. “We can’t afford the
payments on an almost three million dollar mortgage. I’ve got to come to grips
with this, John. There’s no way out. We’re going to lose Rosemont.”

***

Maggie clipped the leashes on Eve
and Roman early the next morning. She’d slept fitfully, if at all, but couldn’t
stand to stay in bed any longer. She’d re-read Simon Wilkens’ letter a thousand
times in her mind and rehashed their situation from a dozen different angles.
All with the same result—they would lose Rosemont. She and John had to
look for a new home, and she must force herself to be excited about the
prospect. The dogs pranced and circled, excited over the unaccustomed early
morning walk, tangling themselves and Maggie in their leashes.

“Settle down, you two,” she said as she unwound
them. “And don’t get used to this on a workday. I’ve got a lot on my mind and
need to stretch my legs before I head into the office.” She looked at the
unlikely pair sitting obediently at her feet, waiting for her command.

“Heel,” she said. “We’re going to go once around
the square and then come home.”

They set off at a brisk pace through the early
morning sunshine. Maggie needed to think. Could she sell the silver and not
tell Frank?
Would that be so wrong?

Maggie paused to let Roman and Eve sniff a fire
hydrant. She looked at the storefronts of the shops facing this side of the square.
Maggie knew the owners of every single establishment in front of her.
What
would they think of me if they found out where I got the silver and that I used
the money from the sale to buy out Frank’s share of Rosemont?
Wouldn’t she
be cheating him?

The door to Candy Alley opened and Charla stepped
out, broom in hand. Maggie watched as she swept the sidewalk in front of her
shop and the print store next door. She pinched the dead blossoms from the
vivid pink petunias spilling out of the urn between their entrances. The
shopkeeper took a rag out of her apron pocket and ran it over the plate glass
windows of both entryways. She looked up and waved at Maggie. “Ellen’s gone to
help her niece with the new baby,” she called. “I’m lookin’ after things for
her.”

Maggie returned her greeting. Charla was looking
out for her neighbor. That’s what the people of Westbury did for each other.
The people of Westbury would expect her to be honest. She advised her children
and grandchildren to do the right thing and tell the truth. Maggie was ashamed
of herself for even thinking about the alternative.

She tugged on the leashes and turned toward
Rosemont. Frank Haynes owned half of that silver. She’d never have enough money
to outbid him. Rosemont would, inevitably, go to him. She put her head down and
concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

She was almost at the end of the block when she
realized someone had been calling her name. She drew a deep breath to compose
herself and turned in the direction the voice had come from.

“Maggie,” Judy Young called, motioning to her from
the open door of Celebrations.

“Morning, Judy,” Maggie said, waving and attempting
to continue on her way.

Judy approached her. “Do you have a minute?’ she
asked. “I’ve got something I want to show you. I did some research while you
and John were away on your honeymoon.”

Maggie sighed. She might as well get it over with.
Judy was not a person to be denied. “Sure,” she said, glancing at her watch.
“I’ve got fifteen minutes.”

“That’s all we’ll need,” Judy said, studying
Maggie closely. “You look like you’ve just lost your best friend. What’s up?”

Maggie shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

“Everything okay between you and John?” Judy
probed. “Sometimes getting remarried after many years on your own can make for
a difficult adjustment.”

“I guess you’d have to ask John about that, but
from my perspective, everything’s wonderful. What have you got to show me?” she
asked, following Judy through the shop to her back room.

“I’ve been curious about your silver,” Judy began.
“It didn’t make sense that all of that gorgeous stuff was in the attic when
more ordinary pieces were carefully stored in the butler’s pantry.”

“Why would that concern you?” Maggie asked. “Maybe
they put it up there for safekeeping.”

“That’s not how you would handle something
precious you wanted to preserve, now is it? Put it in a drafty old attic to
become tarnished from decades of nonuse while you used the more mundane items
when you entertained? I don’t think so,” she stated firmly. “I kept thinking
about it over and over again.”

“And?” Maggie asked, anxious to be on her way.

“I dug a little deeper into the newspaper
archives, looking for stories about the Donaldsons. Do you remember the rumors
I told you about them?”

Maggie racked her brain. “I’m afraid I don’t,” she
said.

“They were the Martins’ best friends. They made
their money in banking and lost everything in the Great Depression.”

Maggie nodded slowly. “Now I remember. They
committed suicide together by jumping off the roof of their home.” She shuddered.
“A pretty gruesome way to get away from your creditors.”

“That’s right,” Judy said. “I confirmed that they
jumped the night before they were to lose their home to foreclosure.”

“You thought some of that silver must have been
theirs, didn’t you?” Maggie said, turning to stare at Judy.

“Yes. The flatware was engraved with their coat of
arms. I feel certain that the rest of it in the attic was the Donaldsons’, too.
They’d concealed their silver from their creditors by hiding it at Rosemont. By
the time they were to lose their house, they’d lost everything else and decided
to kill themselves.”

Judy leaned in to Maggie. “Have you searched that
secretary in the attic where all of it was stored? You might find something
that indicates it belonged to them. I’m guessing the Martins never used
it—even after the Donaldsons died—because it didn’t belong to them,
and they didn’t want anyone to know that they’d been hiding assets for the
Donaldsons.”

“Does it now belong to the heirs of the
Donaldsons?” Maggie asked.

Judy shook her head. “That’s what I was
researching. They didn’t have a will, so I was trying to find out if they had
any heirs. They never had any children and neither of them had siblings. Their
line died out on that horrible day when they jumped.”

“So who does it belong to, do you think?” Maggie
asked, trying to conceal the seed of hope that was taking root. “Would the
Martins have inherited it?”

“Not unless the Donaldsons left it to them in a
will,” Judy stated. “According to what I found, it would legally be considered
‘treasure trove.’”

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” Judy squared her shoulders, “that the
silver in that attic belongs to whoever found it. In this case,
you
,”
she stated.

Judy rattled on, missing the relief that washed
over Maggie, leaving her weak in the knees. “Maybe it doesn’t make any
difference, but I thought you should know,” she concluded proudly. “That silver
is your treasure trove.”

Maggie thanked Judy profusely and tore out of
Celebrations, breaking into a jog on the way back to Rosemont. She unhooked the
dogs’ leashes and dropped them on the hall table. Retrieving the attic key and
a flashlight from the desk on the landing, she raced down the hallway. Maggie
took the attic stairs two at a time and wove her way through the piled-up
furniture to the secretary that remained along the back wall.

Maggie supplemented the meager light from the bare
overhead bulbs with her flashlight as she opened the now empty cabinets and
drawers. Her efforts were rewarded when she reached the bottom drawer. A folded
sheaf of four pieces of paper lay face down in the back corner of the drawer.
She withdrew the papers, yellow and brittle with age, and carefully unfolded
them.

In neat and precise flourished handwriting,
reminiscent of the days when fine penmanship was considered a mark of good
breeding, was a list of items of silver and flatware. Although she would later
confirm her conclusion by comparing this list with the one prepared by Gordon
Mortimer, Maggie knew that the papers in her hand detailed each item of silver
that would soon be headed for auction. And each piece of paper bore a signature
at the bottom: Mrs. Alfred Donaldson.

Maggie rocked back on her heels and clutched the
papers to her chest. The silver was hers. Frank Haynes didn’t have a right to
any of it. If she had good luck at auction, she’d be able to raise the money to
buy out Frank’s interest in Rosemont. She scrambled down the stairs and headed
for the phone. John would want to hear about this.

Chapter 27

Frank Haynes checked his watch. It
was after nine and Loretta was late, again. He glanced at the financial
statements lying neatly across the top of his desk. He’d had time to review
them last night after dinner and wanted to compliment her on them. She’d
reorganized their chart of accounts and the financials made much better sense.
They eliminated his need to make marginal notes and handwritten calculations.
He’d been meaning to do this for months—years, actually—and she’d
done it without being asked. He was truly impressed and anxious to tell her so.

He walked to the coffee station in the reception
area, opened the blinds, and peered out into the parking lot as he waited for
his coffee to brew. Loretta’s car was in its usual spot. He turned expectantly
to the door and waited. When she didn’t appear, he took his cup of coffee and
walked out the door and down the steps. Loretta was nowhere to be seen. He was
beginning to get alarmed when he heard her raised voice coming from around the
side of the building.

He sidled closer. “I’m sorry that my insurance
company isn’t prompt in its payments,” she said curtly. “But I’m making my
payments to you on time.”

He held his breath and waited while she listened
to someone on the other end of the line.

“What? You can’t do that,” he heard her say. “My
little girl needs dialysis now. She can’t wait until the insurance company pays
their portion for her treatments from earlier this year.”

Again, silence.

“I can’t pay my account in full right now. I’m
doing exactly what we agreed on,” she stated indignantly.

“What do you mean you can’t help me? You’ve got
to. My daughter will die without dialysis,” she pleaded, her rising panic
undeniable. “She can’t wait.”

Frank Haynes spurred himself into action, rounding
the corner and reaching for the phone.

Loretta, startled, nodded and handed him her cell
phone.

“Who am I speaking to?” Haynes commanded. He
nodded. “Well, Miss Smith, we seem to be at an impasse here. Nicole needs
lifesaving dialysis and you’re worried about your accounts receivable. Is that
correct?”

Haynes arched an eyebrow at Loretta while he listened
to Miss Smith.

“Here’s a solution to our dilemma,” Haynes said.
“Draw up a guaranty for any amounts that the insurance company doesn’t pay, and
I’ll sign it. How would that be?”

Haynes listened again. “Of course you may. Frank
Haynes,” he said importantly. “I own Haynes Enterprises. You may know some of
my restaurants.” He was smiling now. “Get Nicole Nash scheduled for dialysis,
and I’ll sign your guaranty.”

He handed the phone to Loretta who stared at him,
open-mouthed. “You didn’t have to do that, Frank,” she said.

“You can fill me in about Nicole on the way to the
hospital.” He ignored her response. “I assume this needs to happen quickly?”

Loretta nodded.

“Go get your purse and lock up. I’ll bring my car
to the curb.”

***

Loretta fastened her seat belt as
Frank Haynes turned his Mercedes out of the parking lot.

“We need to stop for Nicole on the way,” Loretta
said quietly.

Frank Haynes nodded. “I figured. She’s at the
babysitter’s, isn’t she?”

“She is. Do you remember where the sitter lives?”
Loretta asked.

“I do,” he replied. “What’s happened?”

“The doctor’s office called me this morning. They
want to start her on dialysis this afternoon, so she doesn’t get as sick as
before. I was walking in from the parking lot when the billing office called me
on my cell phone.” She swiveled in her seat to look at him. “I walked around
the corner so you wouldn’t overhear my conversation.”

“Sorry,” he said, glancing at her.

“Were you looking for me?”

“I was worried about you. I saw your car in the
lot, but you were nowhere to be found. What was I to think? I wasn’t spying on
you.”

“I’m sorry about all of this, Frank. I love my
work and want to do a good job. I feel like I’m finally able to use some of
what I learned in college.”

“The new financials are perfect.” He wanted to
reach over and squeeze her hand but stopped himself. “I have them spread out on
my desk. I was going to compliment you on them when you came in.”

Loretta smiled.

“Your daughter comes first. Let’s get Nicole taken
care of. She’ll be in good hands at Mercy Hospital. And if she needs to see
specialists somewhere else—and I’m not saying that I think she will—”
he hastened to add, “I’ll guarantee those payments, too.”

Loretta turned sharply toward her passenger side
window. Where was the conniving, selfish man she’d come to work for all those
months ago? Was this kind and generous man the real Frank Haynes? If she wasn’t
careful, she’d fall for this guy. And probably get her heart broken again.

***

For the first time in his adult life,
Frank Haynes attended to the needs of others for an entire day. He’d sat in the
colorless waiting room, alone, for more than two hours while Loretta checked
Nicole in and met with doctors. Even though it was now well past lunchtime and
he’d skipped breakfast, he was unwilling to leave his post.

Loretta passed the waiting room shortly before two
and stopped short when she saw Frank hunched over a cup of cold coffee, his
elbows resting on his knees. “Frank!” she exclaimed. “Have you been here the
whole time?”

He got to his feet and nodded. “How’s it going
back there?”

“Dialysis is hard on her. It’s not as bad as the
first time, but I wish she didn’t have to go through it,” Loretta said. “I’ve
been afraid to leave her. I was just heading to the ladies’ room,” she said,
pointing to the hallway in front of her. “I thought you’d just drop me off and
go back to work.”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d need anything,” he stated
quietly. “Can I bring you something to eat?”

Loretta sighed. “Honestly—I’m starved. I
should say no, but I’d love it.”

Haynes smiled. “If I remember correctly, you favor
a chicken Caesar salad?”

“I’m impressed,” she laughed. “That’s what I
ordered when you took me to lunch during my interview. That would be my first
choice. But anything you bring me will be fine.” She turned. “I really need to
make a pit stop and get back in there. Thank you, Frank. Text me when you get
back.”

Haynes smiled. Finding a salad for Loretta Nash
seemed like winning the lottery.

***

Haynes returned to the waiting room
thirty-five minutes later, a chicken Caesar salad and a turkey sandwich on rye
in hand. He’d also bought chips, a fruit cup, hummus, and a carton of yogurt,
in case she’d like any of those. He’d almost bought cookies but decided that
would be overkill.

Loretta appeared in the waiting room almost
immediately after he’d sent the text:

Mission accomplished.

“She’s done with the treatment, and they’re
keeping her under observation for a while,” Loretta said as she led him to a
table along the wall and unpacked the brown paper sack containing their food.
She glanced up at him. “What army were you planning to feed?”

Haynes shrugged. “I figured if you didn’t like
your salad, you might want some of this other stuff,” he said. “I also didn’t
know when you’d be getting out of here.”

Loretta eyed him curiously. “That was very
thoughtful of you, Frank.”

“We can just toss what you don’t want,” he said.

She shook her head. “We’ll leave it for the
nurses. They never have enough time to get something to eat.”

“When will you be able to leave?”

“Within the hour, I should think,” she said,
digging into her salad.

“I’ll wait and take you both home.”

“I’ll have to take her back to the sitter’s.”
Loretta sighed. “Marissa and Sean are coming home from camp late this
afternoon. I’ll have to pick them up. Plus I need to get groceries.”

“I can help with that,” Haynes offered, realizing
he hadn’t been grocery shopping in years. He never ate at home. “Just give me
your list.” He checked his watch. “If Nicole is ready soon, I’ll have time to drop
you two off, get the groceries delivered to your door, and pick up Sean and
Marissa.”

“What about Haynes Enterprises?” Loretta
sputtered. “What about today’s deposit?”

“Leave that to me,” he said. “You just worry about
Nicole and yourself. I can’t have the best bookkeeper—no, financial
analyst—in town running herself ragged.”