One Sure Thing (Mamma Lou Matchmaker Series) (37 page)

She had absolutely no idea what she was going to say to Raymond when she saw him. The only thing she knew was that she needed to see and be with him. She wasn’t even sure if he’d welcome her back. But she was hopeful.

Hope slowed the car to check the street sign then made the appropriate turns leading her she hoped directly into Raymond’s waiting arms.

She traveled along the scenic parkway toward Connecticut. Hope drove through Bedford, Greenwich, Darien and Westport. Suddenly enjoying the beautiful scenery became secondary. She was too anxious to see Raymond.

The seemingly endless road narrowed to a single lane. Rural acreage seemed to go on forever broken up only by an occasional barn or farm. She passed a rundown shed by the side of the road. The once bright red paint had faded to a dull wash of memories with painted flecks of muted color. Impatiently, she looked at the dashboard’s digital clock and calculating that it would take just another half hour.

Ray shifted the lawn mower into gear and crisscrossed a simple pattern making sure that each blade of grass was properly cut. He adjusted the baseball cap lower on his head then turned the steering wheel to make a second pass. He glanced back, satisfied with what he had accomplished. It wasn’t the precise cutting, and meticulousness of his usual instrument, the scalpel, but it would do.

Although he employed a full time gardener and small staff to care for the grounds surrounding his property, he often enjoyed mindless chores like mowing the grass.

He removed his sunglasses and squinted against the low hanging sun. He speculated that he had at least another three hours of sunlight. So, he decided to make another pass around the west side before taking a much-needed shower.

After his last pass Raymond drove the mower into the shed and walked back to the main house.

He peeled off his clothes and jumped into a hot shower that quickly cooled as soon as his thoughts strayed to Hope. Barely dry he dressed and went back outside. He looked around at the pristine lawn and equally perfect landscape beyond. Like a magnet, the memories of this land would always draw him back.

Haven House was gently tucked between Stamford and New Haven. On fifty acres of rolling countryside set against the backdrop of Connecticut’s wealthy estates, it was secluded and surrounded by gently rolling hills and imposing manors. Known for its privacy, Haven House was Raymond’s sanctuary.

A nineteenth century station on the Underground Railroad, Haven Manor, as it was once called, was pivotal in the long journey from slavery to freedom. Isolated and remote, it provided sanctuary to hundreds of fugitive slaves fleeing the South.

Now, over one hundred and fifty years later, the main house had been rebuilt and renovated. The property had been bought and sold numerous times before Raymond finally acquired it, which had recently been granted landmark status.

The scent of freshly cut grass mixed with dogwood blooms filled the summer air. It was late evening and the sun hung low in the sky. The treetops were backlit with shades of red, orange and purple.

Raymond felt alone in the stillness of his surroundings.

He hadn’t heard from Hope in almost a week and a half. Although he’d let her know that the next move was hers, he was beginning to wonder if that was the right thing to do. It hadn’t occurred to him that she would completely cut off all communication.

Brandy, a Scottish Collie, walked up the porch steps slowly and stood by his side. Raymond reached down and stroked her soft coat. She turned her face to his and nuzzled him warmly. Together they sat on the west side and watched the sun slowly begin to dip behind the trees. Tomorrow would be filled with activity. At least he’d have his mind off of Hope for a while. Unfortunately, his thoughts strayed again as images and memories of Hope drifted with the warm breeze. The heartbreak of loss shadowed him.

Raymond turned, hearing his name called. He stood and walked back to the main house. Brandy followed. Madison stood on the porch and greeted him as he approached. “Hey,” he smiled broadly and hugged her. “When did you get here?” He spotted Kennedy walking up behind her carrying her overnight bag and computer. “Hey you,” he continued to smile. “Welcome.” He reached out and gave her an equally huge welcoming embrace.

“We drove up to keep you company before the big opening tomorrow night. Tony had to stop in the city. He and Dennis will be here in a few hours. Dennis is bringing his new lady,” Madison said as Raymond gathered both sisters to his sides and hugged them close.

“Well, I’m glad you came, I could use a little company. How was your drive up?”

“Traffic was heavy leaving the city.”

“It usually is on the weekend. I really appreciate your help this year. Having the awards ceremony in the city was a lot more difficult that I planned, particularly with the new building.”

“Oh, no problem. We’re delighted to help out,” Madison said.

“The foundation is truly a worthy cause. I sincerely hope you finally came up with a name.”

“I did.”

“What is it?”

“Sorry, you’ll have to wait for the unveiling.”

“So, when do the festivities begin?” Kennedy asked.

“Tomorrow evening. Typically, members of the foundation arrive early for a brief board meeting.”

“What time are Dennis and Tony getting here?” he asked.

“He said he’d be here around eight,” Madison said as she looked down to see Brandy slowly walking up the steps. Madison smiled as Brandy loped over to Raymond’s side.

“Oh my goodness, who is this?” Kennedy asked bending down to greet Brandy.

Raymond bent down also. “This is Brandy.” He stroked her long brown hair.

“She’s beautiful. A sheep dog?”

“Yes, a Scottish collie.”

“Look at her long hair, it’s beautiful.”

Brandy nuzzled her long narrow muzzle between the two, and then nuzzled at Raymond’s ear. They laughed as Brandy leaped upwards knocking Raymond to the ground.

“She’s excited. This is the most I’ve seen her jump around in a long time.”

Kennedy stepped down from the porch and looked out over the field. “Look at this view. This place is unbelievable.”

Madison followed her sister down the steps. “It is incredible, isn’t it?”

“It reminds me of home,” Kennedy said.

“Wait until you get the fifty-cent tour. You’ll never take the Underground Railroad for granted again.”

Kennedy continued to look around then spotted a cluster of old buildings. “Is that the cabins?” She pointed to a small group of dilapidated structures off in the distance.

Raymond turned to follow her line of vision. “Yes. But why don’t I get you settled, then we’ll take a walk over there before it gets too dark.”

“Are you kidding, no way! Between Mom, Dad, Madison, Tony, Dennis, and Mamma Lou, there’s no way I’m waiting another minute. Forget the bags, I want a tour now.”

Madison and Raymond laughed at her excitement. Kennedy grabbed Raymond’s arm and nearly dragged him toward the old structures. “We’ll be back,” Raymond tossed over his shoulder before Kennedy broke out in a full run threatening to beat him there.

Madison walked back up onto the porch and sat down in the rocking chair and watched as Raymond and Kennedy ran across the meadow. She shook her head enjoying her sister’s enjoyment at seeing the old structures. In all of Kennedy’s success as a curator at the Smithsonian African Arts Museum, she was still awed by simple historic relics.

Madison ran her hands gently over her stomach. Apparently the drive was a bit more strenuous than she’d anticipated. As Raymond and Kennedy disappeared over the last mound, she decided to rummage through the kitchen in search of food.

Madison walked around the side porch and through the French doors that lead to the rear of the house. She entered the mudroom, which was comprised mainly of old benches, an antique canning cupboard and storage cabinets.

A door off to the side led to a small lower level room. Used to secure Raymond’s wine collection, the small cellar, originally used to store perishables, was also a shortcut that led down a narrow passageway to a dry well that was once used to usher fugitive slaves to the fields and to freedom.

Madison passed through the butler’s pantry, a glass enclosed, temperature controlled shelf-lined, mini-market of every imaginable gourmet food. From smoked mussels, tuna and sardines to Beluga caviar and truffles, culinary delights were readily available to tempt the most ardent foodie.

The sidewall was completely devoted to Raymond’s ambitious library of cookbooks. Divided by a wall of Plexiglas blocks, the room led right into the main kitchen.

The size of most New York apartments, Raymond’s kitchen was a master chef’s dream. The design was influenced by a mix of Mediterranean and Tuscan styles. The traditional space had all the conveniences of a modern kitchen with commercial equipment used in restaurants.

The massive space was impressive. The room was brightly lit by open skylights and large windows along the outside wall that flooded the airy space with light and fresh air.

The centerpiece, filling an entire wall, was the original brick fireplace and cookery. Arching five feet across, the alcove offered a more rustic style of cooking.

Lining the room was a six-inch shelf that displayed a collection of vintage cooking utensils. The center island, circled with padded, high-back bar stools, was a bi-level counter of cherry wood cabinetry and marble. Hanging above the island were cast-iron circular hooks with an array of copper pots and pans.

Madison opened the refrigerator French doors and scanned the contents. It was packed with what Dennis referred to as must-haves for any well-stocked kitchen. Madison pulled out all the fixings and made a turkey and Swiss cheese sandwich with spicy mustard and a pickle. She chose bottled water then went back outside and sat down on the porch.

Amid the bucolic setting, Madison ate and rocked in the porch swing. She’d always loved visiting Raymond. His wit and charm and sense of humor was much like her husband’s. In the shadows of dusk, Madison relaxed while eating her sandwich and sipping the cool bottled water.

In the distance, the outline of an approaching car caught Madison’s attention. She stood and looked down the road. She’d expected to see Tony’s jeep coming down the extended drive. She squinted. It wasn’t Tony’s jeep. The unfamiliar car continued up the circular drive then pulled slowly around the front of the house. Curious, Madison walked the length of the wraparound porch to the front of the house. The car stopped just as she came down the porch steps.

Although it was late, the sun had not completely set. An aura of burnt orange and warm red hues it up the sky beyond a hedge of hundred-foot-tall sycamore trees that lined the side of the road. Hope had been driving for several miles before she noticed that she hadn’t passed another house or car in more than fifteen minutes.

She reduced her speed and glanced up at the GPS device. She decided that she had somehow taken a wrong turn and wound up on the wrong road. She was just about to make a U-turn when she spotted a large white sign a quarter of a mile ahead.

The sign read, Haven House Museum, and directed her a half mile down the road. She decided to continue to Haven House hoping that it was near Raymond’s Connecticut house. A few moments later she arrived at the entrance of Haven House Museum. The stone entrance had a chain across it with a small sign that indicated that it was closed for the next few days.

From the vantage point, Hope saw a series of small wooden buildings and behind them a large white building. As she drove away she spotted another road leading to the larger white building. She decided to drive to the building and ask for directions.

As she slowed her car and glanced up at the black iron gates, she put the car in reverse and drifted back, blocking the entrance. She looked down at the address she’d entered into the GPS, and then back at the gilded lettering on the address at the gate. They were the same. She shifted into drive and drove through the gates.