Should've Said No (13 page)

She took the next right onto a narrow, tree-lined road. It twisted uphill for about a half mile then turned into a gravel drive as she drove into a clearing. Across a trimmed-grass lawn and atop a gentle rise sat an epic Queen Anne Victorian house. Lindsey slowed the SUV to get a proper look, marveling at how well kept it appeared, especially considering the harshness of the seasonal weather.

The house, crafted with varying shades of fish-scale shingles, rose three stories beneath a steep slate roof. Muted mint green, antique blue, creamy taupe. It featured a dominant gable, a massive hexagonal tower, and lots of overhanging eaves with lead-glass windows nestled beneath, shimmering in the afternoon sun. Lindsey imagined the attic rooms behind the upper windows, and the view over the trees.

Planters billowing with wildflowers accented the welcoming, wraparound front porch, giving the place a fairy-tale feel. Several Aspen trees bordered the house on each side, leaves catching the breeze, silvery and sparkling.

Lindsey followed the driveway, parked, and grabbed the bouquet of pink peonies from the passenger seat. She made her way up the cobblestone sidewalk and onto the porch. With no doorbell in sight, she raised her hand to knock on the huge paneled door, varnish gleaming. It opened with a creak before she had time to strike the wood.

The Montgomery sisters stood there looking bright-eyed and curious, and not at all like Lindsey had imagined them. With the references to
Bewitched
and
Charmed,
she’d envisioned…well, witches, yet more traditional, rustic witches living way up here in the mountains. As for the similarity to
The Golden Girls
—these ladies were definitely old. But they were beautiful, bright-eyed little pixies dressed for tea.

“You must be Lindsey,” the smaller of the two said, examining her curiously. Blue eyes twinkled in her heart-shaped face, the bones of her cheeks high and round. She’d pulled her white hair into a bun that sat neatly at the nape of her neck. Her simple, satiny tea-length dress matched her eyes. She extended her age-spotted hand, an antique silver watch glimmering on her wrist.

“Yes, ma’am.” Lindsey shook her hand, the woman’s grip surprisingly strong. She was pleased she’d worn something appropriate herself—a coral-colored sheath dress and strappy sandals.

“I’m Merribelle Montgomery,” she said with a smile. Lindsey couldn’t tell if she wore a touch of lipstick or if her lips were naturally that pink. “I’d love it if you’d call me Merri.” She rested her hand on the other woman’s shoulder. “And this is my sister, Millicent.”

“Please call me Milly.” She shook Lindsey’s hand then smoothed the skirt of her purple lace dress, which fell nearly to her tiny ankles, her black patent leather shoes gleaming. Milly’s eyes were as green as Merri’s were blue, and two jeweled combs that matched them held the silver ringlets of her hair away from her face. “Won’t you come in?”

Lindsey stepped into the foyer, dazzled by its detailed woodwork and the gorgeous winding staircase. A line of ornate spindles beneath the handrail drew her gaze up the stairs as if they led to something magical.

The house smelled of herbs and citrus and tea, with the faintest hint of cinnamon. Lindsey struggled to make out each element, wishing she could reproduce it herself. “I was thrilled to receive your invitation.” She held out the bouquet. “These are for you.” She’d been so spellbound by the two little ladies and their home, she’d nearly forgotten her manners.

“Ah, peonies.” Milly reached for the flowers, brought them to her nose, and inhaled deeply. She and Merri shared a look, and sprightly smiles stretched across their faces.

Lindsey shifted her gaze between them, pleased they liked the bouquet, yet certain more than that was going on. “They’ve always been my favorite.”

“A fine choice,” Milly said.

Merri nodded. “The flower of riches and romance.”

Lindsey blanched at the mention of romance just when Carden had left her mind for a moment.

“They’re also an omen.” Milly’s eyes danced.

The visit had gone well so far, but were things about to turn creepy?

“An omen?” Lindsey asked.

“Of good fortune and a happy marriage.” Milly winked. The two women set their gazes on Lindsey for a long moment. She forced a smile, starting to see why people found the sisters so peculiar.

“Shall we have some tea?” Merri finally said. Milly hurried off with the flowers and Merri led Lindsey into a grand parlor—all ivory and blue, with high ceilings, floral rugs, and a massive fireplace with a marble surround. Its intricately carved mantel was the showpiece of the room, which was dotted with several seating areas, including a rounded window-lined nook with a stunning view of craggy Rocky Mountain peaks.

“This is lovely,” Lindsey said. “Your home is quite something.”

“It’s been in our family for generations.” Milly headed over to the round table in the nook. It could easily seat six but was set for three. She chose one of two chairs with their backs to the windows, gestured for Lindsey to take the one with the view, and they sat. Light in her step, Merri came in with the peonies in a vase and set them on the table. She relocated the centerpiece of wildflowers to a nearby buffet and took her seat.

“I’m finding that’s the case with so many things around Thistle Bend,” Lindsey said. “Homes and land and businesses that have been in families for more than a century.” She placed her cloth napkin on her lap. Finger sandwiches, fruit, and scones had been artfully arranged on a hodgepodge of china plates and set before each one of them. Next to the peonies, a two-tiered serving tray held a display of delicate pastries—mini cinnamon rolls on the bottom, and pretty petits fours on top.

Milly poured tea into a cup, set it on a saucer, handed it to Lindsey, and did the same for Merri.

“Roots go deep here,” Merri said, “and often intertwine.”

“I’m trying to sort through it all. Thank goodness people are really eager to help.” Lindsey took a delicate bite of a cucumber finger sandwich. The usually boring combination of cucumber and bread came to life with a zesty blend of herbs. “Mmm…This is delicious. The herbs are so fresh and tasty.”

Milly pursed her lips proudly and raised her eyebrows. “We grow them ourselves.”

“Along with vegetables, fruit, and flowers,” Merri chimed in. “We grew most of the ingredients to make everything on your plate—or we baked it fresh, like the bread.”

“Wow,” Lindsey said, wondering how they did all that and maintained the house so nicely, too. If they lived closer to town, she might ask if she could move in. “What do you do with everything you grow?”

“We make preserves and salsas and chutneys,” Merri said. “And whatever else might tickle people’s taste buds.”

Milly nodded. “We make soaps and perfumes, too. Tonics and tinctures. All kinds of things.” She and Merri shared a look. “Whatever suits our fancy.” She waved her hand as if all that work was nothing. “Then we sell it at the Thistle Bend Farmers’ Market on Sundays.”

Merri leaned in closer and whispered, “We also sell it on the Internet.”

Lindsey fought to keep her eyebrows from jumping up into her hairline. These women had to be eighty each if they were a day, and they were running an Internet business?

“We sell things so fast we can hardly keep up with the orders.” Merri rubbed her little hands together, grinning. “Gives us some extra spending money.”

Lindsey smiled along with her. “I’d love to feature you ladies in the museum if you’d allow it. There’s a section where you’ll fit right in.”

“Memories and Milestones?” Merri asked.

Lindsey’s stomach leapt into her throat. How did they know the exhibit areas she’d included in her proposal?

“Because two little old ladies like us running an Internet business would probably be considered a milestone.” Milly raised her cup to Lindsey and took a sip of tea.

“My thoughts exactly,” Lindsey said. “Your grandfather will be featured in a different section.”

“Movers and Shakers, I’d imagine.” Merri took a bite of one of her finger sandwiches—pimento cheese on pumpernickel.

Lindsey clutched her napkin in her lap. Could she get used to living in a clairvoyant community—at least until she could escape? “Of course. It’s crazy to think that Thistle Bend might’ve become a forgotten ghost town had it not been for your grandfather.”

Warner Montgomery III had been a railroad magnate, instrumental in bringing the railroad to Thistle Bend. Being connected by railroad had enabled the mining industry to flourish in the area, and kept the town alive.

Lindsey had a flashback of Carden proudly showing her his model town and railroad, telling her about the train engines and the narrow gauge tracks. About the hours it took to build the miniature train depot from scratch. Her throat tightened. Since the second she stepped inside her cabin, he’d added a spark of excitement to every part of her life—work, home, and personal. Now she’d be lucky if she happened to run into him in Calypso Coffee one day and had the chance to say hello. Her breath hitched as she drew it in, struggling to shove her sadness aside.

“Granddaddy owned nearly all the property as far as you can see from Thistle Bend,” Milly said.

“But he made his fortune early.” Merri stirred her tea, her spoon chiming delicately against her cup. “So he was happy to sell land to families settling here. He said it gave them roots and reason.”

Lindsey furrowed her brow.

“Roots to keep them here,” Milly said, “and a reason for them to help make Thistle Bend a better place.”

Lindsey raised her teacup. “I think I would’ve liked your grandfather.”

Milly and Merri gazed at her, looking happy, yet wistful.

“Since you seem to know a bit about property sales in the early days, what can you tell me about the disputed deal involving the Karlssons and the Crenshaws?” Lindsey tried to keep her voice steady. These little ladies were sharp. She couldn’t give them any clues that she was related to the Karlssons. “Wasn’t that your grandfather’s land?”

“It was,” Merri said. “He was set to sell it to Brooks Karlsson, but one of the Crenshaws raised the bid at the last minute so he sold it to them.”

“That’s how business works, right?” Lindsey asked, a twinge of guilt tugging at her for not defending the Karlssons. “High bidder wins. At least on eBay.”

Merri and Milly chuckled.

“So the Crenshaws raised the bid and bought the land.” Lindsey’s confidence built as they settled into the subject. “Seems unfortunate for the Karlssons, since the land turned out to be so profitable, but why the generations-long feud?”

“Brooks Karlsson wasn’t a graceful loser,” Milly said. “He railed about the Crenshaws stealing his deal. Even posted a letter at city hall. Poor man never let up on it till the day he died.”

“The debate over who should’ve gotten the land became a favorite in town,” Merri added. “People took sides—especially the Karlssons and the Crenshaws.”

Lindsey debated whether to ask the obvious question, but when neither sister addressed it, she hesitantly took the risk. “This is a delicate thing to ask, but wasn’t Mr. Karlsson’s anger a little misdirected?”

Merri pressed her pink lips together, turned up at the corners. She seemed more impressed than offended by the question. “You’re thinking he should’ve been angry with my grandfather?”

Lindsey winced and shrugged one shoulder.

“Brooks Karlsson mentioned Granddaddy in the letter he posted at city hall,” Milly said, “but Granddaddy was a seasoned businessman. He’d been criticized before. And most of Brooks’s venom was aimed at the Crenshaws.”

Merri leaned toward Lindsey as if to tell a secret. “Before the deal, the families were very close.”

“Then why would the Crenshaws deliberately outbid the Karlssons, knowing the deal was practically done?” Lindsey asked. “There has to be more to the story.” At least she hoped so. Because if this was it, she was sunk. If these were all the so-called facts to be gleaned, then featuring the deal in the museum would only perpetuate the feud—
and really disappoint Aunt Tansy and Uncle Oscar
.

Merri nodded. “That’s what people have been saying for years.”

Lindsey figured it best to let the subject go for now, considering there might not be anything more to be learned. Disappointed, yet determined to be a gracious guest, she took a bite of her still-warm scone, which was dotted with gooey blueberries. Scones tended to be bland, in her experience, but this one tasted surprisingly fruity and delicious. She smiled as she savored its crispy sweetness.

“We picked those blueberries this morning,” Milly said.

Lindsey blotted her mouth with her napkin. “Everything is so tasty. Come Sunday, I might spend my entire paycheck at your farmers’ market stand.”

“Not this Sunday,” Merri said. “We packed a goodie basket for you to take home.”

Milly nodded. “It should last you awhile.”

Lindsey’s heart lightened and her eyes welled. “That’s so sweet of you.” Her words wavered and she blinked back tears. “I’m sorry. It’s not like me to get emotional, it’s just that everyone has been so kind and helpful and generous.” Even Carden, to be fair. He’d put a quick end to their budding romance, but he had fixed the lights…and the toilet.

“Everyone’s happy to have you here,” Merri said. “We knew you were the perfect girl for the job. Now that we’ve met you, we’re even more convinced.” She and Milly shared that knowing look again.

Milly set her napkin next to her plate and stood. “Excuse me a moment.”

“Would you like to see the greenhouse and the gardens after tea?” Merri asked.

Lindsey nodded. “Of course I would.”

“We don’t show it to many people.” Merri set her sparkly gaze on Lindsey. “Just the special ones.”

“Why, thank you.” Lindsey felt compelled to curtsey, but since she was seated, she dipped her chin demurely.

Milly returned to the room carrying something brown and furry in her arms, and Lindsey wondered if it was alive.
A cat?
It seemed odd to bring an animal to tea, but considering what she’d heard about the Montgomery sisters, anything was possible.