Letters in the Attic (2 page)

Alice laughed too. “So if it’s not love letters, what did you find?”

“Come over and have some coffee, and I’ll show you.”

“It had better be something good for me to come all the way over there.”

“Alice! You live next door.”

Alice laughed again. “All right. All right. I’ll be right over.”

Annie hung up the phone and went to open the front door. Alice was already making her way across the autumn-brown grass from the carriage house next to Grey Gables. She waved as Annie came out onto the porch.

Annie waved back. “Look at you. That’s a great jacket.”

“You like it?” Alice’s eyes sparkled as she modeled her quilted jacket and pleated slacks in blue silk. “Notice anything else?”

She came up the steps and stopped to let Annie look her over.

“That’s a new necklace, isn’t it?”

Alice nodded and then turned her head to one side and then to the other. “Earrings too.”

The necklace and earrings were sapphires set in reddish gold, delicate and tasteful, an ideal complement to Alice’s blue eyes and auburn hair.

“Very nice. Is that the new line?”

“Just picked up the samples today, and I have a big Princessa jewelry party scheduled for next Tuesday afternoon. What do you think?”

Annie opened the front door, and they both went inside.

“I think you’ll sell a ton of those, but they’ll never look as perfect on anyone else.”

Alice laughed and shook her head. “You’re such a flatterer. Now what’s this amazing find you were going to show me?”

“Do you remember Susan Morris?”

“Susan Morris.” Alice was silent for a minute. “The name sounds familiar. Susan Morris. Susan Morris. Oh, of course. She moved to New York ages ago, didn’t she?”

“She was going to be a dancer and went to live with her aunt so she could go to some fancy school there, remember?” Annie showed Alice the packet of letters. “We used to write each other during the school year. I haven’t thought about her in years.”

Alice picked up one of the envelopes. “Yeah, I remember her now. Her family had that house off the far west end of Elm Street. But if she wrote to you while you were in Texas, how’d these end up here?”

“I brought them back with me one summer. It was a year or so after Susan moved to New York. She’d written me that she was planning to be in Stony Point again, and I thought it would be fun for us to look at the letters we wrote when we were ‘little kids.’ We were all grown up then and beyond that kind of silliness. Guess I never got back home with them, and of course Gram would never throw anything out.”

“And that was when?”

“About the time I turned 15.”

Alice shook her head. “Practically ready for the old folks’ home by then, huh?”

Annie laughed. “You want some coffee?”

“That’d be great.”

The two women went into the kitchen. Alice sat at the big kitchen table while Annie filled the coffeepot.

“You and Susan must have had a good time looking at those letters,” Alice said.

“Actually, she didn’t end up coming after all. She had a chance to be in a dance troupe that summer and didn’t make it back to Maine. I never saw her again, and we pretty much lost touch after that.”

“Yeah, I know how that can be. I bet she did all right as a dancer, tall and slim and pretty as she was. I remember wishing I had long blond curls like hers. She came back, you know. To Stony Point.”

“She did?”

“I’m pretty sure she did. Couldn’t tell you exactly when—a long time ago—but I did hear she was back. I never really kept up with her, though. John and I had our troubles, and then the divorce, and everything made it pretty hard for me to mind anyone’s business but my own. Susan must have left again sometime. She’s not here now, that’s for sure.”

Annie sighed. “That’s too bad. We always had such a good time together. Gram taught us both to crochet.”

“Yeah, she was over here all the time.”

“Now, don’t be jealous. Gram spent plenty of time with you, and when it mattered too.”

“She did that.” There was a sudden wistfulness in Alice’s expression. “I could still use her advice and her shoulder to cry on.”

“Me too.”

Annie swallowed down a sudden tightness in her throat. Gram hadn’t been gone long, and sometimes Annie ached just to hear her voice again. But Gram wouldn’t have held with self-pity. Not for a minute.

Annie cleared her throat. “Now what about the banquet? The message I got wasn’t very specific.”

“Neither was mine,” Alice said. “Do you have any ideas?”

“Not really. I thought I could make some of Gram’s pies to take, but other than that I don’t know. I’ll be happy to help however I can, of course, if I’m still here.”

“I guess I’ll make my usual pumpkin bread. I know Pastor Wallace likes it, but it would be nice to try something new once in a while.” Alice’s voice brightened. “Maybe we should put our heads together and figure out something fresh and exciting for this year.”

Annie frowned. “Are you sure you don’t remember anything else about when Susan was here? After she came back from New York, of course.”

“I thought we were talking about the banquet.” Alice glanced over at the gurgling coffeepot. “And I thought you invited me over for some coffee.”

Annie laughed and got the cups.

2

The next morning, Annie parked her burgundy Malibu in front of the stately white-columned Stony Point library and went inside. She stopped for a moment in the foyer, loving the feeling of being surrounded by so many books and promising herself a return visit when she had time to spend the whole morning browsing. Then she went into the Great Room and up to the Circulation Desk.

“Good morning, Grace,” she said softly, and the petite woman behind the desk looked up with a smile.

“Well, hello there. Just a sec.” Grace turned to the low shelf behind her, found a book tagged
Dawson
, and handed it to Annie. “Is that what you’re after?”

“Oooh, pretty.” Annie opened the decorating book she had requested and flipped through a few pages. “I already see a couple of things I’d like to try at Grey Gables. Thanks for requesting it for me. I didn’t know interlibrary loans were so fast.”

Grace winked. “Depends on who you know.”

“I guess you know just about everybody in town. Do you remember Susan Morris? She’s about my age. Moved to New York maybe about 1980.”

“Morris?” Grace drew her dark brows together, thinking. “That’s quite a while ago. Was she any relation to the Morrises who lived way out on Elm Street? Ellen and Jack?”

“Those were her parents’ names, if I remember right. You don’t know where Susan might be now, do you?”

“No. If she’s still in Stony Point, she doesn’t come to the library. I guess I could see if she has an active card, but I think I’d remember if she checked anything out more than once or twice.”

“Would you mind looking?” Grace looked at her a little oddly, so Annie added, “Susan and I were good friends when I used to come here for the summer, but we’ve lost touch. I’d like to know how she’s doing these days.”

“All right, let me check for you.” Grace tapped a few keys on the computer keyboard. “No Susan Morris in our database. If she had a library card, it was before we computerized in 1985. Do you remember her address?”

Annie tried to picture the envelopes that were still lying on the coffee table in her living room. 214? 216?

“I think it was 214 Elm.”

Grace keyed in the address. “Not Morris.”

“Could you try 216?”

Grace obliged and then shook her head. “Sorry.”

With a sigh, Annie handed Grace her library card. “Well, thanks for trying, anyway. I guess I’ll just take my book and be on my way.”

Grace scanned the card and the book, and handed them both back to Annie. “If there’s something else I can help you with, just come back anytime.”

Annie left the book in her car trunk and walked up Main Street. The Cup & Saucer was gearing up for the lunch crowd, so she didn’t stop in to talk to Peggy Carson. She’d see her at the next meeting of the Hook and Needle Club. Instead, she went straight to A Stitch in Time.

“Annie! What are you doing here? I didn’t expect to see you until the meeting on Tuesday.” Mary Beth came from behind the counter with a smile on her roundish face. “You must have run out of something.”

“Actually, I decided I’d like to make myself a nice, thick sweater.”

Mary Beth’s smile broadened. “So you’re staying in Stony Point after all.”

“Now, now. Don’t jump to conclusions. I’m just making a sweater, not a commitment. How are you stocked for new and delicious crochet patterns?”

“How about we have a look? Do you have anything specific in mind?”

“Just something nice and warm. I’m not sure what I want, but I’ll know it when I see it.”

Annie and Mary Beth went over to the wall that housed needlework patterns of all kinds. There was a generous section of leaflets and books for crocheted sweaters, and the two women spent several minutes investigating and discussing a variety of them. Mary Beth made a few suggestions, but none of them was quite what Annie wanted. Then she saw it down on the rack nearest the floor.

“Oh, I like this one.” Annie brought the pattern book over to the counter to look at it. “What do you think?”

The photograph showed a young woman raking autumn leaves. Her long-sleeved sweater looked as cozy and bright as the hearth fire in an old country kitchen. It would be perfect.

Mary Beth turned the book so she could see it the right way around. “Oh, that’s one of my favorites—new and delicious. It’ll look great on you too. Not that anything doesn’t.”

Annie snickered. “You should see me first thing in the morning.”

“Ahem.” Mary Beth tugged at the sweater that covered her stocky frame. “I just know that not everybody can wear those horizontal stripes. Do you know what colors you want? I have some really nice worsted yarns that would be great for something like this.”

“I want something for fall, but bright, you know? I feel like going back to the ’70s for some reason.”

“Actually, this is a vintage pattern—a ’70s reprint.”

“I thought so. It’s nice and cheerful. Reminds me of those crazy striped kneesocks that had individual toes. Remember those?”

Laughing, Mary Beth took Annie over to the yarn section of the store and started pulling out soft skeins in a range of vibrant colors.

“Oh, yes, these are great.” Annie selected the colors that she had seen from her front porch the day before: azure, crimson, gold and pine—the colors of Maine in autumn.

Mary Beth checked the list of materials the pattern required. “You’ll need two more colors if you’re going to do it the way they show here.”

“Hmm.” Annie closed her eyes for a moment, remembering; then she selected two more skeins of yarn, burnt orange for the leaves and a darker blue for the sea. “How about these?”

Mary Beth smiled. “Lovely. And you have a size H hook already, right?”

“Oh yes. I’ve got every size from 00 to 14 and B through S. You don’t think Betsy Holden’s granddaughter would be without everything she could possibly need for crochet, do you?”

“Of course not. As your grandmother always said, ‘The right tool for the right job.’ Now, what else can I get for you?”

“Maybe a little information?”

“About what?” Mary Beth’s dark eyes sparkled with intrigue as she rang up Annie’s purchases. “Or should I say, ‘About who?’ ”

Annie shrugged. “I guess there’s a reason I’m thinking about the ’70s today. I found a stack of letters from a friend from my junior high days, and I’d like to get back in touch with her.”

“Somebody from Stony Point?”

“Susan Morris. Do you remember her?”

“She moved to New York, didn’t she? Years ago. Came back here a while later and left again after her parents died, poor thing.”

“When was that? Do you remember?”

Mary Beth considered for a moment. “Must have been sometime in the late ’80s. She was still pretty young at the time. I thought she—”

The cordless phone on the store counter gave a shrill ring. Mary Beth excused herself and picked it up.

“A Stitch in Time. This is Mary Beth. How can I help you? Yes, Mr. Hodges, I have been trying to reach you. It’s about my cabinets … I see. Can you hold just a minute? Thank you.”

She put the phone down and turned back to Annie.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve been trying to get a problem with this guy straightened out for more than a month now. I ordered new storage cabinets for the basement, but they sent the wrong thing. They have our orders and someone else’s all mixed up and have been sending us bills for stuff we never got. Do you mind if we chat later? This may take a while, and Kate’s not in to help with the store right now.”

“No problem,” Annie assured her. “We can always talk on Tuesday.”

“Thanks.”

Mary Beth put the pattern and the yarn into a bag and gave them to Annie; then she returned to the phone.

“Mr. Hodges? Yes, I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. Now, I explained all of this to a Ms. White on the fourteenth of last month, and to a Mr. Carson a week before that, and that was after …”

Annie gave Mary Beth a cheery wave and left the shop. Mary Beth had her hands full as the owner and manager of A Stitch in Time, even though it was obvious that she loved everything to do with threads and yarns and fabrics. Did she ever take a day off?

Annie was thankful that Wayne had left her well provided for when he passed away. Of course, no amount of security could fill the empty space he had left behind, but at least she didn’t have to worry about how she was going to make it financially without him. It was nice to have the freedom to do what she wanted most of the time.

She smiled as she walked back to her car. What she wanted now was to dive into these glorious yarns and get started on her new sweater. It was Friday. Tuesday would be here soon enough, and then she could find out more. Surely, between them all, the members of the Hook and Needle Club could help her figure out how to get back in touch with Susan.

3

“W
hat do you think?”

Annie held up the beginnings of her Maine sweater for everyone to see. She had worked on it all weekend and had made good progress.

“That’s really nice.” Gwen stilled the clicking of her knitting needles to give Annie’s creation her full attention. “Looks like it’ll be warm too.”

Alice fingered the worsted yarn and grinned at Annie. “That’ll be warm enough for a Maine winter.”

“Oh, good!” Peggy dropped the quilt block she was appliquéing and clasped her plump hands together. “Annie’s decided to stay.”

“Hold on! Hold on!” Annie laughed and shook her head. “You’re all going to hurt yourselves jumping to conclusions like that.”

Mary Beth nodded wisely. “You’re making a sweater, not a commitment, right, Annie?”

“Exactly.”

“Well, we’d like you to stay.” Kate shyly lowered her head and went back to work on the delicate crocheted vest she had almost finished. “It’s been so nice having you here.”

Annie beamed at the younger woman and went back to work on an azure stripe in her sweater. “I’ve loved being here. I guess getting Grey Gables fixed up and decluttered has been more of a job than I expected, but getting to know everybody here has been a nice fringe benefit. It kind of reminds me of when I used to visit here in the summers when I was young.”

With a hint of a smile, Alice made a French knot in the intricate floral bellpull she was cross-stitching. “When you and Susan Morris were such good friends.”

“I’m sorry, Annie,” Mary Beth said. “We never finished our chat about her.”

“Susan Morris?” Gwen tilted her blond head to one side, thinking. “I remember her. Didn’t she lose her parents in a car accident?”

“Yeah, she did.” Mary Beth sat in one of the comfy chairs in the circle of crafters and started sorting out a large box of embroidery floss for her store display. “She’d just come back from college and was living at home again when her mother and father were killed. It must have been so terrible for the poor girl.”

“I had no idea. Poor Susan.” Annie had met Susan’s parents only a couple of times, but she knew how close to them Susan had been. What had her life been like after their loss? “You don’t know what she did next, do you?”

“I thought she went off and married some rich guy.” Gwen pulled more yarn from the ball in her knitting bag. “Can’t remember his name now; it’s been so long.”

“That’s right.” Mary Beth bit her lip. “What was his name? He was some bigwig in shoes or something like that. I could pick him out if I saw the name again. Anyway, she sold the family home, that house way out on the far end of Elm Street, and left to get married. Never came back to Stony Point as far as I’ve ever heard.”

“I knew her parents.” As usual, Stella had been nearly silent for most of the meeting, but now she shook her regal gray head, not looking up from her knitting. “That house had been in the Morris family for almost 200 years, but young people, well, they don’t understand what family means anymore.”

That was just like Stella, and in spite of herself Annie smiled a little.

“I don’t know. From what I remember, Susan loved that old house. She always said she never wanted to leave it. Ever. I guess Prince Charming, whoever he was, had other ideas about living in little Stony Point.”

“I wonder if that’s the house where the other handyman in town lives. He’s way out on Elm, I know that much.” Peggy stopped to cut out another piece of fabric to add to her appliqué flower. “Sometimes, when somebody needs a handyman and Wally already has a job, he has them call this guy. His name is Tom something. Maxwell, I think. Of course, until now, there hasn’t been enough work to keep Wally busy.”

“Until now?” Gwen asked.

“Wally got a job installing kitchens for a builder in Newcastle. Should be pretty steady work for a few months. Maybe more.”

“Darn.”

Everyone looked up at Mary Beth, and her face turned a little pink.

“Oh no, I don’t mean I’m not happy for you and Wally, Peggy.” She patted the younger woman’s arm. “I was just hoping he could put in my new cabinets. That is, if the place I ordered them from ever gets me the right ones.”

Annie shook her head. “Didn’t you get that straightened out yet?”

“As far as I can tell. The guy promised they’d send a truck sometime this week to pick up the wrong ones and deliver the right ones. If they do, I’d like to get them installed as soon as possible.”

“I hope so.” Kate frowned. “All the new inventory and extra supplies are such a mess down there.”

“And that’s exactly why I want these new cabinets. A place for everything, and everything in its place.”

“And when he’s through with his other obligations, Wally can come work for me again.” Annie finished up the azure stripe and fished in her bag for her crimson yarn. “He did a great job on my kitchen, and I’m going to have him work on the upstairs bathroom once I decide what I want done.”

“Really?” Peggy’s eyes lit up. “That would be great. Maybe we’ll be able to put a little money aside for once. You know how tight finances have been for us lately.”

Kate sighed. “Tell me about it. At least your Emily is still little. Vanessa will be wanting to go to college before long, and I don’t know how I’m going to swing that on my own.”

Everybody knew Kate’s ex-husband Harry was unreliable. No wonder she didn’t feel she could count on his help with their daughter.

Mary Beth gave her a motherly hug. “One day at a time, hon. That’s about as much as any of us can really handle.”

“Yeah, I know.” Kate smiled. “One day at a time and a few good friends.”

And they were good friends. Annie blinked hard, clearing the mist out of her eyes so she could see her crochet hook again. These were good people, and she was glad to know them all. Still, she couldn’t help wondering who had been there for poor Susan after her parents’ accident, and if she had friends who cared about her now. Well, wherever she was, she couldn’t be that hard to find.

Annie started crocheting again, the rhythm of her hook brisk and determined.

****

When the club meeting finally ended, Annie and Alice stopped for a quick lunch at The Cup & Saucer, and then Alice had to hurry off to her Princessa jewelry party. Annie went next door to the library.

Grace greeted her at the Circulation Desk. “You’re back. How’s that decorating book?”

“It’s got some wonderful ideas in it. I’m going to do my bathroom over.”

“Good idea. I love our old homes, but there’s nothing like a sparkling new bathroom, even if you give it an old-fashioned look.”

“Exactly. And I plan on spending more time looking through your section of books on decorating when I have the chance, but I really came in to ask you about city or state records. Marriages and deaths and that kind of thing. How would I look up something like that?”

Grace smiled. “That’s quite a change from decorating. Are you researching your family history?”

“I’m still trying to find my friend Susan Morris.”

“Any leads yet?”

“I’ve heard that she came back here after she went to college, that her parents were killed in a car accident, and that she sold their house and married a rich man who has something to do with the shoe business.”

The laugh lines around Grace’s blue eyes crinkled slightly. “I guess that’s a start. How about we check the newspapers? If her parents were in an accident, there was probably an article about it somewhere. Do you know when it was?”

Annie considered for a minute. “Susan probably finished high school in 1984 and college in 1988 or so. I’d guess her parents died in ’88 or ’89.”

“Unfortunately, the articles in
The Point
aren’t indexed. Unless you want to go through a couple of years’ worth of microfiched back issues, you might want to check the state’s death records on the Internet first. When you have a date of death, you can see what the paper had to say about it. Come on back to the Reference Room with me. We’ll see what we can find.”

Annie followed her across the main part of the library into the room that housed the reference books, computers, and microfiche readers. It was a school day, so most of the computers were unoccupied. Annie sat down at one.

“Any suggestions on where to start?”

“Try the state of Maine death records,” Grace advised. “And let me know if you get stuck.”

“Thanks.”

Grace gave her a little wave and disappeared back into the library’s Great Room. Annie stared for a moment at the computer screen.
The whole state of Maine, huh?
She took a deep breath and plunged in; “state of Maine death records” brought up the state’s official website and a list of items for genealogical research, including “Index of Maine Deaths, 1960–1996.” OK, maybe this wouldn’t be one of those needle-in-a-haystack searches. In fact, it was kind of fun so far.

She clicked on the death index and was rewarded with a page that would let her input the name, town, and dates she was looking for.
All right, let’s try this out.
She typed in “Morris” and “Jack” and “Stony Point,” giving the date range as 01/01/1988 through 12/31/1989.
That ought to be close enough.

Immediately one record popped up:
MORRIS, JACK L. - 8903367 - STONY POINT - 4/19/1989 - 48 years.

Annie felt a sudden sadness. She had hardly known Mr. Morris, but he had died so young. About Wayne’s age when he’d had his heart attack. Too young. Far too young.

She repeated the search process for Susan’s mother with the same speedy result:
MORRIS, ELLEN P. - 8903368 - STONY POINT - 4/19/1989 - 45 years.

Too sad. Too sad.

OK, plenty of time for getting all emotional later on. Business now.

She had used the microfiche reader before, so it didn’t take her long to find the April 20, 1989, edition of
The Point
.

LOCAL COUPLE KILLED IN TRAFFIC COLLISION

by Robert T. Adkins

PORTLAND — Lifetime Stony Point resident, Jack Morris, 48; and his wife, Ellen Morris, 45; were killed yesterday afternoon when their 1985 Chevy Blazer was struck by another vehicle. The driver of the other vehicle, whose name is being withheld pending notification of next of kin, also died at the scene of the accident. According to the Portland police, the ongoing investigation indicates that hazardous road conditions caused by yesterday’s heavy thunderstorms may have been a contributing factor in the collision. The Morrises are survived by their daughter, Susan, also of Stony Point.

It was just a stark little article on the middle page of the paper where they put the fillers. With a sigh, Annie printed out a copy of the page and of the obituary that ran two days later. Apart from being listed as surviving the couple, there were no other mentions of Susan.

“How’s it coming?” Grace asked when she came back into the Reference Room.

Annie showed her the printouts. “That’s all I’ve found so far.”

“Why don’t you check the records on when she sold the house?”

“That’s a great idea. Any suggestions on how I’d do that?”

“Look up the Lincoln County public records. There should be some information on their site.”

Annie went back to the computer. From the several possibilities that appeared, she settled on the one that said “Lincoln County Registry of Deeds.” When the site came up, she browsed around until she found a place where she could enter Susan’s name and a date range from January 1989 through December 1990.

Several records popped up, but it was the third one from the bottom that made Annie smile.
MORRIS, SUSAN S. - BLANCHARD, PAUL & JUDITH - Deeds - Stony Point - 07/26/1989 - 1564-101.
So Susan had sold the house in July of that year. Now what about the marriage records? If she had married around the time she sold the house, it should be easy to find the name of her husband.

Annie wrote down the information from the deed registry, but just as she was about to start looking for marriage records, Grace’s voice came over the intercom. “The library will be closing in five minutes. Please return all reference materials to the Reference Desk. If you have items you would like to check out, please bring them to the Circulation Desk now. Thank you, and please visit the Stony Point Library again soon.”

Annie glanced at her watch. Five minutes till five o’clock already? The Internet could eat up time faster than anything she could think of. At least she had found out a few things, and she had some actual dates to go on. It was a start.

She picked up her purse and the microfiche copies she had made and went into the main part of the library. Several people were waiting to check out books, so she gave Grace just a wave and a smile before going out to her car. She had a feeling she’d be back soon enough.

When she pulled up in front of Grey Gables, she saw the red Mustang parked in the driveway next door and decided to drop in. Alice opened the door, stylish in a black sweater set that must have set off her line of jewelry to perfection.

“Annie!”

“Hey, neighbor. You busy?”

“Never too busy for you, neighbor.” Alice smiled and opened the door wider so Annie could come in. “Just got back from my Princessa jewelry party, and I have one for Divine Décor in a little while, but I was taking a break for a few minutes.”

“Oooh, it feels good in here.” Annie rubbed her hands together, glad to be inside the carriage house’s cozy living room.

“We may have a little more snow tonight. Have a seat. You want coffee? I have some on.”

“That’d be great.”

It took Alice only a minute to return with two steaming cups of coffee and a little plate of peanut butter cookies.

“I made these for the Princessa jewelry party. Might as well finish them off.”

Annie took one. “How did it go?”

“Pretty well, actually. Sales are always up when Christmas is coming. How was the library? Find out anything?”

Annie handed Alice the newspaper report about the death of Susan’s parents and their obituary. “Gwen was right about Mr. and Mrs. Morris, and Susan did sell the house in 1989.”

“You’re a regular Sherlock Holmes as usual. And the husband?”