The Forever Stone (3 page)

Madeleine sank into a chair at the table and a moment later accepted a steaming cup that smelled of cinnamon. She bent over it, hoping the fragrance would revive her.

“I like your hair in that layered cut,” Aunt Lin said. “Shoulder-length is handy if you want to put it up. You’re fortunate to have the Dumont hair.”

Madeleine blinked. What a kind thing to say, when her hair must be hanging around her face like a string mop.

Aunt Lin gave her a thoughtful glance. “Here’s some honey if you want it. The rest of the house is a disaster. We’ll explore in the morning.”

She paused to massage the frown lines between her eyebrows. “I’m glad you could come, for several reasons. There might be something valuable here, and I shouldn’t leave it unoccupied.”

Madeleine did her best to look attentive, but the tea seemed to be making her drowsy. Perhaps she’d sleep tonight.

“Your mother,” Aunt Lin said. “Was she upset?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“She’s got those cousins and her bossy brother to console her,” Aunt Lin said. “Besides, we’re not so very far away.”

Madeleine smothered a yawn.

“I saw that.” Her aunt’s smile was understanding. “Off to bed—get a good night’s sleep.” She added a less-than-comforting prediction. “You’ll need it.”

A clatter of dishes fractured Madeleine’s dreams. With a groan, she rolled over to stare at the clock, and the muscles in her neck groaned too.

Still dark outside. Aunt Lin must be an early riser. She levered herself out of bed, pulled on some clothes, and caught sight of herself in the mirror. Do something about the face. Ponytail the hair.

Was it the nightmares or the midnight bout of journal therapy or that sleeping pill she’d finally taken? Whatever, her brain seemed dense and lumpy, like a sauce gone wrong. 

When she stumbled into the kitchen, Aunt Lin was standing with a cup in her hand, gazing out a large mullioned window that framed the pine forest. She wore a hooded green sweatshirt, and she was glowing, as if she’d just come in from a run. “Rough night? I know about those. There’s coffee, and toast if you want it.”

Madeleine started to nod, but splinters jabbed at the back of her neck. She leaned against the doorframe. Coffee.

Aunt Lin waved at the coffee pot. “Help yourself. Or there’s tea. I’ll make it for you.”

“Coffee is fine,” she said, trying not to mumble.

Don’t spill the coffee, she told herself. Sugar. Lots of cream. She found her way to a chair. Soon, maybe, she’d wake up.

Her aunt buttered a slice of toast and put it in front of her, along with a jar of jam. “We have peanut butter too. And juice.”

Madeleine took a sip of coffee and massaged the back of her neck.

“Stiff neck?” her aunt asked.

“Yes.” Madeleine told her about the accident, trying to sound matter-of-fact.

Aunt Lin’s eyes narrowed. “What a fright! What a
jerk
.” She put down her cup. “Men! I get so fed up with them sometimes—the whole thick-headed, overbearing tribe of them.”

“Me too,” Madeleine said. 

“And your little car—it’s all bent, isn’t it? I liked that car. I hate to even think about the damage. And your neck. On top of everything, just what you needed. You’ve probably got whiplash.”

“No doubt.” Her aunt’s tirade was the most satisfying thing she’d heard in a long time.

“But God kept you safe,” Aunt Lin said. “See? You were supposed to come. I’m thankful.”

An uncharacteristic remark from her aunt, but certainly welcome. “I’m glad to be here.” Madeleine massaged her neck again.  

“Are you sure your neck’s all right? We’ve got our very own doctor with a clinic and everything. You could get him to check it.”

Madeleine shook her head. She grimaced at the pain, mumbling, “No more doctors for me.”

Aunt Lin gave her a sympathetic glance and began talking about her magazine.

Madeleine finished her toast and a second cup of coffee while she listened.

“It’s about dogs,” her aunt said, “but we target the knowledgeable, educated reader, so we run in-depth articles tied to the theme of each issue. Plus plenty of good photos to pull it together. That’s my department.”

Her eyes shone, and Madeleine recognized the green fire that brightened her father’s eyes when he told her about the teens he worked with—his ruffians.

An ache, much too familiar, gnawed inside her.

Leave it behind, remember?

She asked, “Where’s your photo shoot?”

“Upstate New York. One of those fancy-poodle breeding places. We’ve been trying to get an interview for months.” She gave Madeleine an appraising glance. “I’ll only be gone a few days. I hope you don’t mind being alone. I think it’s safe.”

“Are you concerned about the people around here?”

“Not really.” Aunt Lin shrugged. “From what Kent says, some of them are deficient, but I’m not sure what to think. This close to New York, there might be a criminal or two. I’ve heard tales.”

“The old man at the store, is he local?”

“Timothy? I’m not sure.” Aunt Lin finished her toast while she thought about it. “But he’s quite the gentleman. He knew your father, from what he tells me.”

Madeleine refilled her cup. She’d keep her distance from the nice old gentleman, in case he wanted to talk about Dad. “And the other man?”

“Kent moved here last fall, but he grew up in the Barrens, so he must have relatives around somewhere.” She laughed. “He’s definitely not deficient.”

A minute later Aunt Lin was dispatching the breakfast dishes. “Now for the tour. I hope you’re not allergic to mold.”

Madeleine followed her through an arched doorway beside the kitchen pantry, and paused to stare. A long table in the center of the room was piled with china, glassware, vases, and candlesticks. Glass-fronted cabinets lined the walls, each one filled with sets of dishes.

“The dining room,” her aunt said. “But there’s no place for anyone to eat, even if they wanted to. What colors!”

The orange brocade draperies at the window had faded to a sickly brown, and the green walls reminded Madeleine of canned peas.

Aunt Lin paused beside a bevy of pink china ladies. “My cousin Henrietta had this thing about collections, and apparently she didn’t know when to stop. The house is full, and there’s another building, back in the trees, that’s probably stuffed to the ceiling.” Her voice was tolerant. “Most of this looks like junk, but you never know.”

A connecting door led to the next room. “One of the parlors,” Aunt Lin said. “That leaky roof caused a lot of water damage.”

“I see what you mean.” Madeleine eyed the peeling wallpaper, the gray-streaked green carpet, the dusty orange sofas.

Aunt Lin sneezed as she walked through the room. “Never did care for orange florals. I’m going to toss it all out.”

Across the hall, a second parlor held multiple chairs, sofas, and lamps, all done in shades of blue. A royal blue carpet and draperies extended the theme.

“Our Blue Room,” her aunt said, “as you can tell.” She paused beside a piano. “Ruined by mice, and I’m still trying to get rid of them.” She threaded her way to the back of the room. “Here’s our very grand fireplace.”

It was wide enough for a Yule log, and its tiled border of blue cabbage roses looked absurd.

Except for a rosewood table with graceful cabriole legs, the whole room could have come from a yard sale. “I feel like I’m standing in a used-furniture store,” Madeleine said.

Disappointment tightened her shoulder blades. Aunt Lin hadn’t said anything about antiques, but she’d let herself hope.  

“Henrietta just lived for this house—she wanted it to become a Victorian showpiece.” Aunt Lin clicked a fingernail against a blue lamp shaped like a flamingo. “All the clutter makes me crazy. Thank goodness she never got around to changing the outside. I like its simple lines.”

Madeleine tried for something positive. “I’m sure there’s plenty of potential here.”

Potential for scrubbing and dusting! Not much of a Great Adventure. Aunt Lin had hired her for research, and she’d do a good job, but this . . .

Aunt Lin handed her a Blue Willow plate from the fireplace mantel. “Doesn’t your mother collect this stuff?”

“Used to.” The plate had the requisite blue pagodas and flying birds, but it lacked the traditional border. Her mother would give it a disdainful squint, the same look she’d given Madeleine when she announced her decision to work for Aunt Lin.

“You won’t last! I can tell you that,” Mother said. “You’ll be back in a couple of weeks.”

Madeleine returned the plate to the mantel. Not a chance. First thing, she was going to sign up for her baking course—that certainly had possibilities for Adventure. Someday she’d have her own shop, earn some money, and be independent.

They left the Blue Room, and her aunt paused to look up the staircase. “It’s more of the same up there, plus boxes and trunks. Rooms and rooms full of stuff. I can’t even think about it right now.” She glanced at her watch. “Let’s get some groceries.”

On their way down the hall, she laid her hand on a Chippendale desk that stood outside the kitchen door. “This is one piece I’ll keep.”

“It’s lovely,” Madeleine said, tracing the shellwork on the drawers. “I wonder where your cousin got it.”

Aunt Lin laughed. “Who knows? Oh, I meant to tell you, one of the local girls is coming over this afternoon to help. Bria is good at just about everything. She has a younger brother too, if you want to make use of him.”

They bought a month’s worth of groceries in Hammonton, the nearest large town, returned by noon, and were finishing up their lunch when someone knocked at the back door. 

“Bria!” Aunt Lin said. “Come on in.” She introduced Madeleine and said, “We’re going to get a lot done this afternoon.”

The slim, dark-haired girl gave Madeleine a shy smile and began loading the dishwasher.

Aunt Lin ate the rest of her sandwich while she called someone on her cell phone and asked how soon they could send a truck over.

“The Truck Guys are coming,” she said. “Let’s get ready for them.”

She marched across the parlor. “These go—” The orange-flowered sofas and chairs. “And that rug, of course.” She waved a hand at the draperies. “Those too. Totally depressing.”

Bria had found an oak rocking chair on the other side of the room.

“What do you think, Bria?” Aunt Lin asked.

The girl tossed the worn cushion onto a sofa and sat down. “It’s plenty strong,” she said, rocking back and forth.

“It’s yours if you can use it. Why don’t you and Madeleine empty the glassware out of that bureau? I’ll clear a spot on the dining room table.”

They worked until a white truck rumbled past the window. The two brawny men knew their business, and an hour later, they’d emptied the room. “Good riddance,” Aunt Lin said. “I wish I could do that with the whole house. Bria, I’m going to let you keep pulling down wallpaper.”

She started for the door. “I still have a couple of errands to run. Madeleine, why don’t you see what you can find for supper?”

Her aunt left, and Madeleine returned to the parlor, where the girl stood on a chair, scraping at wallpaper. “Do you usually stay for supper, Bria?”

“Yes, and then I clean up the kitchen afterwards.”

“That’ll be a big help,” Madeleine said. “I’ll try not to make too much of a mess.” She paused. Bria was probably the one who had put the vase on her desk. “I like the bouquet you fixed for my room.”

Still scraping, Bria gave her a polite smile but said nothing, and Madeleine headed for the kitchen. The girl had an aloofness about her that was hard to read.

She opened the refrigerator, stared into it, and decided to make Beef Stroganoff with the steak and sour cream they’d bought. While she sliced onions, she thought about dessert. Should she use the Black Gilliflower apples? Not today. She’d seen blueberries in the freezer—they’d do for a cobbler.

And . . . and as soon as she got started on her baking course, she’d come up with something more interesting. Tonight she’d go online and start looking around.

Supper was ready and most of the wallpaper down by the time her aunt returned. They ate a leisurely meal while Aunt Lin explained the difference between teacup and toy poodles and Bria looked as if she were somewhere else.

Madeleine had just taken the blueberry cobbler out of the oven when Aunt Lin turned her head to listen. “Someone’s coming up the driveway.”

A green Ford Bronco cruised past the window. “I should have known by the way he drove in. Doesn’t like those bushes to scratch his shiny car.” Her aunt’s voice grew more animated. “Kent has come to pay us a visit.”