A Wild Goose Chase Christmas: Quilts of Love Series (15 page)

“Oh, I had big plans for me, too.” She laughed, the way someone does when they’ve told a story so many times that the sad parts aren’t really sad anymore. Just facts of life. “
Swan Lake, Sleeping Beauty
… I was going to move to New York and dance all the big roles. But God had other plans.”

He frowned, working out in his mind why God would inflict a disease on a beautiful young woman just to keep her from dancing.

Izzy caught his look and moved on quickly. “Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think God gave me RA. But I believe he’s used it.”

“How?”

“I was a good dancer. I worked hard. If I hadn’t gotten RA, I probably would have made it to New York. Which means I wouldn’t have been here when Gran needed me. I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to live with her, learn from her. I wouldn’t trade the time I had with her for anything.”

“Not even for Giselle?” he teased.

“Nope.” She swung her head slowly from side to side.

“Not even for Juliet?”

“Definitely not Juliet. Too tragic.”

He shrugged. “Sometimes love is tragic.”

“Not always. Sometimes two people are meant to be together and nothing can keep them apart. Then you get the happily-ever-after ending.”

For a moment, all the noise and chatter of the busy coffee shop fell away. For a moment, it was just Max, Izzy, and the strange circumstances that had brought them together. Was this meant to be? Or was it destined to be a tragedy?

“Max?”

Her voice broke in on his reverie. “What?”

“I said I’ve been thinking about the documentation for the quilt.”

Oh yes, the quilt, the thing that should be first and foremost in his mind. “Great. Have you figured out where it is?”

“Not exactly, but there aren’t too many places Gran could have left it. I didn’t find it when I cleaned out her room at
Vibrant Vistas.” She tipped her head to the side. “I’m almost certain it’s somewhere in the house.”

Max leaned back and scratched his jaw. “I’m surprised it wasn’t at the assisted living facility. I assumed she kept the quilt and the documentation together.”

“According to Virgil, she didn’t know about the quilt until recently. It was in an old trunk in the attic. I guess they were never together.”

“Or maybe they were. Have you looked in the trunk?”

“No.” She frowned, creating adorable wrinkles at the bridge of her nose. “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen the trunk around the house, either. I wonder what she did with it.”

“Maybe it’s back up in the attic.”

Her eyes grew wide and he could tell they’d both hit on the same thought. “It would be a perfect spot to hide something,” she said. “No one ever goes up into the attic.”

“Until today.” Max drained his coffee cup and grinned. “Are you up for some treasure hunting?”

As soon as they walked through the door, Brandon was ready to run, just as Izzy expected he would be. He didn’t even bother asking why Max was there. He grabbed his jacket, said he was going to walk into Old Town, and out he went.

“How was your day, Mom?”

“Boring.” Janice shifted in her spot on the couch.

Izzy hung her jacket on the coatrack by the door. “I thought you’d enjoy spending time with Brandon.”

She frowned. “Your brother is preoccupied with money issues. He spent the whole day on your computer.”

“Can I get you anything? Are you hungry?”

“No. I can wait until dinner.”

Izzy looked at the time display on the front of the DVD player. She and Max had about an hour to poke around.

Janice made a show of looking around Izzy. “Hello, Max.”

Max stepped forward, hand up in greeting. “Hello, Mrs.

Fontaine. Good to see you again.”

She nodded, then turned her attention back to the sitcom playing on the TV.

“Mom, Max and I have something to take care of, but if you need anything,” she wiggled her finger at the bell sitting innocently on the coffee table, “you know how to get my attention.”

“You’re not taking him into your bedroom again, are you?”

A blush warmed Izzy’s cheeks and Max started coughing. “Of course not. He’s going to help me look for something in the attic.”

She picked up the remote and pressed the mute button. “What are you looking for? Or is this another secret?”

If she could, Izzy would keep the whole thing a secret. But she knew that wouldn’t work. “I’d rather not say now. But if we find what we’re looking for, I promise to tell you. OK?”

“I guess it has to be.” She pointed the remote at the television, bringing the volume back on louder than it had been before. Izzy took that as their cue to leave.

She crooked her finger at Max. “Follow me.”

The attic entrance was through a small door in the hallway ceiling. Max was able to reach it just by reaching up and stretching.

“One good thing about old houses with low ceilings,” he said.

A built-in ladder extended down from the door. Izzy looked up into the dark opening. “We need some light.” She opened the linen closet behind her and grabbed a flashlight from the bottom shelf.

“Do you want me to go up?” Max asked.

“I can do it. We wouldn’t want you to get your fancy suit dirty.”

He rolled his eyes at her joke. “Fine. Just be careful.”

She handed him the flashlight. “Hold this until I get up there.”

Izzy had never ventured into the attic. The ladder looked rickety, but if one of the men from church had climbed it without incident, it had to be strong enough to hold her. Putting her foot on the first rung, she grasped the sides and pulled herself up. The wood groaned and complained, but it held, so she continued. At the top she reached down and took the flashlight from Max.

Just as she put her head through the hole in the ceiling, Max called out to her. “Watch out for bats.”

“Excuse me?” Izzy ducked back down, dropping the flashlight. Thankfully, Max had quick reflexes and caught it.

“Sorry,” he laughed. “I couldn’t resist.”

She frowned as she took the flashlight back. “Smart aleck.”

Once her shoulders cleared the opening, she shone the light around the mostly unfinished attic space. The slanted peaks of the roof were puffy with pink insulation and the wooden plank floor was covered in a thin layer of dust. At first, Izzy thought the room was empty, but then she saw the trunk, pushed against the far wall.

“It’s here,” she called down. She climbed the rest of the way in and crawled across the floor.

“Izzy. What are you doing? I …”

The farther she went, the more muffled Max’s voice became until she no longer understood what he was saying. Sitting in front of the trunk, Izzy took a deep breath, which she instantly regretted. Her bout of coughing brought more muttering from below, then the creaking of the ladder.

Max’s head popped up through the floor. “Are you OK?”

She nodded and waved the flashlight at him. “I’m fine. I found the trunk.”

He shielded his eyes with one hand. “Point that thing in the other direction. I’m coming in.”

He’d left his suit jacket below, but Izzy was sure his pants would be ruined after he maneuvered himself through the cramped, dirty space. Still, she was glad he’d come to join her. They should be doing this together.

When he reached her, he took the flashlight and shone it on the front of the trunk. She put her hand on the cold brass latch, then looked at him.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

She pulled up the latch and pushed on the cracked leather lid. It swung back, coming to a stop when it hit the wall. Together, they leaned forward, hanging their heads over the side. It was mostly empty—except for one small package, wrapped in brown paper and tied with a piece of twine.

A gift from Gran.

Izzy’s hand shook just a bit as she removed the package from the trunk. “Do you think this is it?”

Max stared at it. “I don’t know. Open it and find out.”

There was no name on the package, no card to indicate who Gran had hoped would find it. But it stood to reason that since she left the house to Izzy, and the trunk was in the house, then the gift in the trunk was also meant for Izzy.

“Gran certainly was full of surprises,” she muttered as she tugged on the end of the twine bow.

Beneath the brown paper was a book-shaped object wrapped in tissue paper. On top of that was a folded piece of stationery. Izzy held it up. “Look familiar?”

Max nodded. “It’s the same as her other notes.”

Izzy unfolded the paper. Max leaned closer, training the light directly on Gran’s words.

My sweet Izzy,

I knew it was a risk hiding this in the attic, but I prayed the Lord would guide you. And here you are.

“How did she know you’d find it?” Max whispered.

“Why are you whispering?”

“I don’t know.” He cleared his throat, then spoke in his normal voice. “It seemed appropriate for the moment.”

Izzy smiled. “This is how she knew I’d be reading it.”

You are the only one in the family who would help Max in his search, so I’m sure you realize the documents he’s looking for were once in the very same trunk as the Wild Goose Chase quilt.

The light jiggled on the page, and Izzy looked at Max.

“Once?” It was hard to tell in the murkiness of the attic, but she thought he’d gone pale.

“There’s more.” She continued reading.

The diaries chronicling the history of the quilt, as well as our family, are too valuable to keep together in one place. This is why I’ve left only one volume here. I have faith that you will find the other two volumes and keep them safe.

“Three all together,” Max said. “She never told me how many there were.”

Remember what I’ve always told you: an object’s true value does not come from monetary worth. It comes from the emotions and memories the object evokes in your heart.

Love,

Gran

Izzy and Max looked at each other, neither wanting to spoil the moment with more words. Carefully, Izzy pulled back the tissue paper to reveal an old book. Its brown leather cover was dry and cracked. The edges of the pages had once been embossed, but most of the gold had worn away. Pinching the
corner of the cover gently between her fingers, Izzy opened the book. Immediately, a piece of the leather came off in her hand.

“I shouldn’t be doing this. You’re the museum guy. You do it.”

She held it out to Max. He took it gingerly in one hand, passing the flashlight to Izzy. But she was so flustered she didn’t realize what he was doing. It landed on the floor with a thud and a pop. The light when out, leaving them in darkness.

Izzy and Max both scrambled for the light. Somehow they knocked heads.

“Ouch!”

“Sorry. Are you OK?”

“I can’t find the flashlight.”

From down below, the bell began to ring. The dog began to bark. Mom’s voice, unable to be muffled by mere ceilings and floorboards, called out.

“What are you two doing up there?”

“Izzy.” Max commanded. “Stop moving.”

Izzy froze.

“Turn around.”

She looked behind her and saw the open door in the floor.

“Now crawl to the light.” Max said with a grin in his voice. “I’ll be right behind you.”

17

T
hat’s it?” Janice asked. “That’s what you were looking for?”

Max sat on the edge of the loveseat across from the couch, the diary balanced on his open palms. Beside him, Izzy looked from the book back to her mother. “It’s part of what we were looking for.”

After exiting the attic, Max and Izzy had stood in the hall and quickly discussed how much to tell Janice. They’d both decided the best thing was to be completely truthful. After all, the diary did contain family history, a history that concerned Janice as much as anybody else. But now, seeing the interest glowing in her mother’s eyes, Izzy wondered if maybe they’d made the wrong decision.

“It’s a diary that Mrs. Randolph left in a trunk in the attic,” Max said.

“She wrote a diary?” Janice’s eyes narrowed, as if concerned about what the book might contain.

Izzy shook her head. “No, it belonged to someone else in the family. Someone way back in the family tree.”

“Who?”

Max shrugged. “We don’t know yet. We haven’t read it.”

“And why are you interested in it, young man?” Janice pointed at him.

Max turned to Izzy. “Do you want to tell her?”

“No. You go ahead.”

“Mrs. Fontaine, your mother told me there was documentation left behind by the women who made the Wild Goose Chase quilt. It’s in these diaries.”

“Diaries? There’s more than one?”

“Yes, there are two others. We just don’t know where they are.”

Janice snorted. “I can tell you where one of them is.”

Izzy leaned so far forward, she almost fell off the loveseat. “You can? How?”

“Because I have one of them.”

Max stared at Janice Fontaine, tilting his head sideways as if he’d gain clarity from a different perspective. It didn’t work. “You have one? How could that be?”

“My mother sent it to me the week before she died.” Janice shrugged it off. “I didn’t know what it was. I thought it was one of those blank books, but then I saw writing on the pages and figured she had written something to me.”