When the Curtain Rises (2 page)

Chloe's parents stayed with her while she checked her luggage and picked up her boarding pass. At the final security checkpoint, they said their goodbyes.

“Now don't forget. Your great-aunts' housekeeper, Abigail, will be waiting for you in Toronto,” said Chloe's father. “She'll have a sign with your name on it, so you won't be able to miss her.”

Chloe nodded, trying to hide her impatience. “I remember. I'll be fine, don't worry.”

“Use your calling card to call us when you get in,” said her mother.

“I will.”

“And give the old girls a hug for me,” said her father. “By the way,” he added, “I believe your great-aunts still have an old upright piano tucked away somewhere. Just in case you get the urge to play a few scales.”

“Sam!” said Chloe's mother, shaking her head sternly. “Give her a break!” She took her daughter's hand. “Your counselor said you need some time off. Even Mrs. Jann agreed.”

“I've got to go,” said Chloe, tugging her hand away. “They're calling my flight.”

“I love you, Chloe,” said her mother.

“Me too,” said her father.

“I love you too.” Chloe kissed her parents goodbye and broke away to join the line that led through the security checkpoint. She turned to wave at them one last time when she was on the other side of the metal detectors.

As she made her way to her departure gate, Chloe felt an unexpected rush of exhilaration sweep through her body. She was on her own, setting off on an adventure halfway across the country.

A stout woman with graying brown hair was waiting in the arrivals area at the Toronto airport, holding up a small handwritten sign that said
Chloe McBride
. The woman's eyes lit up behind her wire-rimmed glasses when she saw Chloe approaching.

“Chloe! You look just like your school pictures. I'm Abigail. I can't tell you how thrilled your aunts are that you're coming. Kitty's been counting down the days like a schoolgirl!”

The housekeeper's good humor was hard to resist. Chloe smiled back.

“Let me carry that for you,” said Abigail, reaching for Chloe's carry-on bag. Chloe started to protest, but the bag had already been snatched away. “Now let's track down the rest of your luggage—assuming the airline hasn't sent it to Paraguay.”

Abigail continued to chatter as she led Chloe to her tiny hatchback, parked in the bowels of the airport parkade. By the time they'd stopped for burgers and fries just off the freeway near London, Chloe had only managed to insert about a dozen words into the conversation.

It was almost eight o'clock when they finally reached the turnoff for Little Venice. As the hatchback left the highway and drove through the outskirts of the small town, Chloe felt goose bumps rise on her arms. The view outside her window was ordinary enough. Tall maples, oaks and chestnut trees formed shady tunnels along residential streets. Children played on trim front lawns and rode bikes and scooters up and down the wide sidewalks. It could have been an older neighborhood in almost any city, but somehow, even though Chloe had no memory of ever being here, it seemed strangely familiar.

The car turned and turned again, and they made their way through the center of town. Pretty, old-fashioned storefronts painted in bright colors lined the town's streets. Pedestrians spilled over the brick sidewalks.

“Everyone wants to be in Little Venice in the summertime,” Abigail said. “It's a magical town—there's no other place quite like it.”

Chloe nodded, drinking it all in. “My father called it that too. Magical.”

They drove over a long stone bridge that crossed a canal. “The Grand Canal,” said Abigail. “Little Venice was modeled after the original Venice in Italy. The town founders carved out the first canal, but they never got around to all the lesser ones. Cost too much, I guess. This one starts down at the lake and ends at St. Mark's Theatre.” She gestured toward a large domed building at the far end of the canal. “We're almost home now.”

Chloe drew in her breath. With a ribbon of shining water on one side of the street and a row of proud Victorian mansions on the other, it was almost as if Abigail were driving her through the setting of the dream she'd had the night before she received her invitation. As Chloe released her breath, Abigail pulled over to the curb and parked.

“This is it,” the housekeeper announced.

It was all just as she remembered from her dream: the wraparound veranda, the overflowing window boxes at the lower windows, the turrets and balconies and widow's walk above. But Chloe only had a moment to take in the house before two tiny elderly women appeared on the front steps.

“Chloe!” one of them called out, clapping in delight. “You made it!”

“I told you,” said Abigail. She nudged Chloe forward. “Kitty's been positively beside herself.”

Chloe was gathered into a soft lavender-scented hug the moment she reached the steps of the veranda. “Welcome to Little Venice, my dear,” said the old woman in whose slender arms Chloe was wrapped. “We're so happy you decided to come!”

“You're going to smother her, Kitty,” said the second old woman. “Well, let's have a look at you,” she continued. Her green eyes scanned Chloe's face. “You've got your mother's mouth, but there's still something of the McBrides up around your eyes.”

“And that hair,” said the first woman, reaching out to touch Chloe's brown curls.

The second woman nodded. “She definitely has Magdala's hair.”

“Oh, Bess!” The first old woman raised her hand to her mouth. “Where are our manners? We've been chattering like magpies without introducing ourselves. I'm Kitty and she's Bess,” she said to Chloe. “We're identical twins, but you shouldn't have too much trouble telling us apart. I'll give you a hint,” she added in a stage whisper. “I like wearing violet, and Bess favors blue.”

“Only one of us is chattering,” Bess remarked. She turned to Chloe. “Put that bag down and come have a seat on the veranda. I don't imagine you've had any decent food since you left home this morning.”

“I'm fine,” Chloe protested. “We stopped for burgers and fries on our way from the airport.”

Bess waved her hands in the air dismissively. “That's not real food.”

“We have strawberry shortcake,” said Kitty. “You don't want to pass up our shortcake, my dear. Abigail picked the strawberries and I whipped the cream myself,” she continued, steering Chloe toward a wicker chair on the veranda.

Abigail stepped inside the house and returned a moment later with a tray. “Don't worry,” the housekeeper whispered as she handed Chloe her shortcake and a tall glass of iced tea. “You'll get a chance to catch your breath eventually.”

C
hapter
T
wo

C
hloe had intended to get up early the next morning, but the clock on the bedside table said eight thirty when the knock on her door woke her up. “Wha'? Hello?” she said, momentarily disoriented.

“It's just me.” Abigail's voice came from the hallway. “I'm about to put breakfast on the table.”

“Thanks,” Chloe mumbled. She pushed herself out of bed, slipped on her bathrobe and followed her nose out to the kitchen.

“Did you sleep well?” Abigail asked as she removed two waffles from a waffle iron. Bacon and eggs sizzled behind her in a pan on the stove.

Chloe yawned and nodded. “That's the softest bed I've ever slept in. It was like sleeping on a cloud.”

“You can thank your great-aunts for that. They like everyone to be very comfortable,” said Abigail. “Speaking of your aunts, they're just through here having their morning tea. Be a dear and hold the door while I carry in this tray.”

“Good morning, Chloe,” Kitty said as Chloe entered the dining room behind the housekeeper.

Bess nodded from her place on the other side of the oval table.

“How did you sleep? Is your room all right?” asked Kitty. “It used to be a larder, but we had it converted into a bedroom years ago, for when your father visited. We liked to keep him on the same floor with us when he was small. Our bedrooms are just down the hall. But you're not a little girl—we could give you a room on one of the upper floors if you'd prefer more space or privacy.”

“I slept well. I like the room,” Chloe said as she spread her napkin across her lap. “It's cozy. And the view into the garden is nice.”

Bess snorted. “Our gardener's almost as old as we are. He can't keep up with it—it's a jungle.”

Abigail emerged from the kitchen again, this time with a plate piled high with sausages.

“I hope there's something you like,” Kitty said.

Chloe surveyed the full table. “I'm not sure where to begin.”

“Follow my example then,” said Bess. The old woman filled her plate with one of everything: a fried egg, a sausage, a piece of bacon and a waffle. She finished it off with a scoop of strawberry sauce and a generous dollop of whipped cream.

Chloe slid two waffles onto her own plate. “I'm not used to such big breakfasts. My mom is always counting carbs or grams of fat, and my dad has to watch his cholesterol.”

Abigail took her place in the fourth chair at the table. “Your great-aunts are watching their cholesterol as well,” she confided. “This morning's feast is in your honor.”

“
Abigail
is watching our cholesterol,” Bess corrected.

Kitty reached over to pat the housekeeper's hand. “Not that we're complaining. Abby takes good care of us. But this morning's spread does make a nice change from porridge and dry toast!”

As Chloe was accepting a cup of tea from Abigail, a large portrait on the far wall of the dining room caught her eye. Bess followed her gaze across the table. “What do you think?” she asked. “Quite an imposing figure, isn't he?”

“Who is it?” Chloe asked.

“The lord of the manor himself. Our father, your great-grandfather.”

Chloe studied her ancestor with interest. “He's very handsome. There's something almost—
mysterious
about him.”

Kitty laughed. “He would have been very pleased to hear you say that. But I'm sure your father has told you all the old stories.”

“He's mentioned him,” said Chloe. “He was in a circus or something, wasn't he?”

“That's all you know about the great Dante Magnus?” Kitty asked, looking distressed.

Chloe shrugged. “Sorry, I don't remember any more than that.”

“Not much more than that
to
remember,” Bess said dryly. “Pass the syrup, please.”

“Oh, no,” said Kitty. “There's so much more! Your great-grandfather was an amazing man, one of the most talented magicians who ever lived. You can read Dante's story for yourself if you'd like, Chloe. He wrote a memoir.”

“
Part
of a memoir,” said Bess. “He disappeared before it was finished.”

“Disappeared?” asked Chloe.

Kitty nodded slowly, her eyes wide. “A few months after that painting was commissioned, the entire carnival our father was with vanished. The police found a few things at the site where the carnival was last seen, including the painting that hangs on the first-floor landing. But that was it; there were no other clues.”

“Clues? But didn't any of them
ever
show up again?”

“None of them, ever,” said Kitty. “The police questioned people for months, for hundreds of miles in every direction. Our mother posted a large reward, but no one came forward. We never found out what happened. Some people say our father and his companions simply wandered north into the wilderness.” The old woman's voice dropped as she leaned forward over her plate. “
I
think something more sinister happened to them.”

“It's pointless to stir that all up now,” said Bess, an edge to her voice. “It was almost a century ago. Dante would be long dead anyway.”

“I'll find Dante's memoir for you,” Kitty said to Chloe, ignoring her sister. “You can read his story for yourself.”

Bess clucked her tongue in annoyance. “Don't force it on her, Kitty. I'm sure the last thing Chloe wants to do on her vacation is read a musty old memoir.”

“No,” Chloe protested. “I'd like to see it, really. I didn't know I had such an interesting ancestor.”

Chloe helped Abigail carry the dishes into the kitchen after breakfast. When she returned to the dining room, her great-aunts were just sweeping the last crumbs off the tablecloth. “I was wondering,” she began hesitantly. “I mean, my father said—would you mind if I explored the house after I got dressed?”

“Of course not. Explore to your heart's content,” said Kitty.

“Thanks,” said Chloe. “Also, I've been meaning to ask about the little key you sent with your invitation.”