Seaside Harmony Part 19

Gracie jerked up in bed. "Did I hear-"

"Sh," Caroline put her index finger to her lips. "Someone's upstairs."

Gracie sprang out of bed. She grabbed the mop that Caroline had forgotten to put away before getting ready for dinner and held it like a club, ready to use it on an intruder if necessary.

"Think we should call the police?" Caroline asked softly.

Gracie shook her head. "It could be a racc.o.o.n or fox, maybe a skunk, heaven forbid, or-"

"A thief," Caroline finished.

"Don't go getting me all nervous, okay? I'm trying to be the brave one, and that doesn't happen all that often."

"Are we going up to the attic?"

Again Gracie nodded. "Make Max stay here. There's no need of him getting hurt . . . or in the way."

It took some coaxing to get Max to stay put and to stay quiet behind the closed door while Gracie went into the kitchen for flashlights, but soon they were creeping up the back staircase, the one the servants had probably used when the inn was still called Montague House. They headed as cautiously as possible up to the attic.

Oh, dear Lord, Caroline prayed, and even her silent words trembled, keep us safe.

They climbed on and on. Someone was definitely rummaging around in the attic. Caroline's imagination began to run wild. Maybe a homeless person had been living up there, and they didn't even know it. Maybe they were intruding on someone's hiding place. Maybe- The attic door creaked open. Bright light shone in their eyes.

And suddenly, three people screamed.

Sam bolted up in bed. "Jamie," she whispered, but the room was silent, and Jamie's bed was empty. She swung her legs out of bed, and fear s.n.a.t.c.hed away her breath; her heart beat heavily. She could barely think, worrying about her daughter.

As best as she could, she dragged in a deep breath. If someone was in the house, if someone had Jamie, she had to move cautiously. She should probably call the police, but that could be an overreaction. Instead, she grabbed her cell phone, made sure it was on, and tucked it into the pocket of her pajamas before opening the door and slipping quietly out of the bedroom.

At the door to Caroline and Gracie's room, she heard scratching on the door. Her heart skipped a beat. Max was trying to get out. Suddenly Sam was afraid to open the door and look in. She wasn't usually the praying sort, but she found herself asking G.o.d for protection, not so much for her, but for her daughter and sisters.

She squeezed the door handle. The scratching grew wilder on the other side. Slowly she opened the door, and Max darted out, barking as if his life depended on it.

Sam peered into the bedroom and switched on the light. The beds were empty. Caroline and Gracie were gone.

"Max, stay!" she whispered, but he was already tearing up the back stairs, and Sam gave up trying to be quiet. She ran too, flipping on the lights so she wouldn't stumble in the dark. It didn't matter now if an intruder knew she was coming; Max was making enough noise to scare the dead out of their graves.

She only wished she had a weapon, a baseball bat, anything, but when she reached the top of the stairs, she threw caution to the wind and barged through the attic door.

Jamie, Caroline, and Gracie spun around.

They all screamed.

Max barked shrilly.

"What on earth are you doing up here? You nearly scared me out of my wits."

"It's my fault, Mom. I couldn't sleep and thought I'd look around up here. Never in my wildest dreams did I think anyone would hear me, or a.s.sume I was some intruder if they did, but Aunt Caroline and Aunt Gracie caught me."

"Actually, we caught each other," Caroline said, shrugging her shoulders. "She was coming out of the attic just as we were going in and we scared the living daylights out of each other."

Sam clasped a hand to her heart, hoping the heavy beating would slow. "I sure hope whatever you found up here was worth it."

Jamie grinned and held up yet another nineteenth-century doll, similar to the three Caroline had already found. This one wore a gown of lavender satin and velvet.

"She looks a bit bedraggled," Sam said, shaking her head. She wasn't much of an early bird, and three Am was really too early for anyone of sound mind to be awake.

"You'd look bedraggled too, if you'd been shut away in this attic behind several old chests for a good hundred years or more," Gracie said.

"This thing is kind of creepy," Jamie said. She handed the doll to her aunt. "But I knew you'd want to see it."

"Did you find anything else interesting?" Sam asked.

"How about Jedediah and Hettie Montague?" Caroline lifted an antique gilt picture frame that held a painting of pet.i.te, severe-looking Hettie and her even more severe-looking husband.

"How about Hannah?" Sam asked, only to see her daughter, Caroline, and Gracie shaking their heads.

"There's a painting of two boys-maybe the Montague sons, Fitzwalter and Lachlan-at different ages. There's no telling how many other paintings have been stored away up here."

"I found some old toys too," Jamie said. "A rocking horse, a doll cradle. Things you might want to put into the guest rooms for atmosphere. Alas"-Jamie shrugged her shoulders-"I didn't find what I came up here for."

"What's that?" Sam asked.

"A secret room-a concealed door."

"That doesn't mean they're not here," Caroline said, "It may simply mean that they don't stick out like a sore thumb."

As much as Sam wanted to believe there were secret pa.s.sages or hidden rooms in the Misty Harbor Inn, she was pretty sure they were myth and legend. But she was determined to include those myths-embellished, if necessary, in their promotion of the inn anyway.

"Can I see the doll?" Sam said, taking it out of Caroline's arms. "You know, I wouldn't be surprised if the dolls belonged to Hannah."

"What makes you think that?" Gracie asked. "We don't know anything at all about her."

"The message from her father inside the hymnal was rather telling. 'May you never disappoint our G.o.d.'" Sam cringed. "I'm sure it goes without saying that any G.o.d-fearing person wouldn't want to disappoint G.o.d, but it would take an awfully harsh man to write those words in a note to his ten-year-old daughter. I can't imagine her receiving much love growing up, from her father at least. It could be that the dolls were her only companions."

"Or they could have been gifts to her from Jedediah," Caroline said.

Gracie shook her head. "Unfortunately, I don't think we'll ever know."

Sam held the doll carefully. Just like the other three, she not only looked delicate, but felt fragile too, and the last thing she wanted to do was break her arm or rip her beautiful dress. "I once cross-st.i.tched a picture in which the book Little Women was opened wide on a lace-covered tablecloth, with a pair of old-fas.h.i.+oned reading gla.s.ses lying atop the pages. There was a doll not too much different from this one sitting beside it, leaning against a vase of flowers."

"I remember that," Jamie said. "Didn't you give it to Grandma?"

Sam nodded. "It must have gotten boxed up somewhere when we were cleaning out her house. Maybe we can find it, bring it here and-" Sam frowned, turning the doll over in her hands, feeling the weight of the dress. "What's this?"

"What do you mean?" Gracie asked.

"I think there's something sewn inside the gown. Look at the st.i.tching." Sam held the doll out for her sisters and Jamie to see the inside of the lavender velvet that was lined with a darker silk. "The st.i.tching doesn't match and the thread's not the same shade as was used on the rest of the gown."

"You aren't thinking of tearing it apart to have a look?" Caroline asked. "Wouldn't that hurt the value? I don't want to sell her, but you never know. Besides, she's Jamie's since she found her." Caroline winked at her niece.

"That's okay," Jamie said, waving her hands. "You guys should keep her."

"I'm not going to tear her apart," Sam said. "It has to be done carefully. I'll need to preserve the thread that was used, take photos, and make sure I duplicate everything when I st.i.tch it back up."

"You aren't thinking about doing that now, I hope?" Gracie yawned. "Every muscle in my body aches, and I am absolutely exhausted. Couldn't all of this wait?"

"It could," Sam said, "unless you're as excited as I am to see what's inside."

"I am," Caroline said. "We know so little about the inn. Maybe something's been hidden inside the doll that'll answer some questions. Maybe it'll tell us why Hannah Montague disappeared."

Sam saw Gracie roll her eyes. "Oh, all right, if we really must, let's go downstairs," Gracie said. "I'll make some cocoa, and Sam can take the poor doll's dress apart."

Sam smiled, hugging the pretty little doll against her chest as she made her way down the stairs. Her sisters and Max followed. She absolutely loved puzzles, and this one definitely intrigued her.

Gracie ladled cocoa into four tall ceramic mugs and topped each with a handful of minimarshmallows. It was the way she'd made it for Art, Brandon, and Paige. She wished they were with her now, watching the mystery of the antique doll unfold. She hated to see the beautiful gown taken apart, but she'd watched Sam at work, and she'd never seen a seamstress perform her task so meticulously.

"Just a few more st.i.tches," Sam said, "and I think I'll be able to get to whatever's inside."

"I don't know why I didn't do this before, but I've found a doll just like ours on an antique doll Web site." Caroline sat at the far end of the kitchen worktable, her laptop open, her reading gla.s.ses balanced on her nose. Gracie set a mug of cocoa next to Caroline, handed one to Jamie, and kept Sam's on the counter, not wanting it anywhere close to the doll. She sat next to Caroline and looked at the screen.

"That definitely looks like her," Gracie said, reading the description beneath the picture. "French bisque poupee in costume of l'Auvergne, France, circa 1865."

"What does poupee mean?" Jamie asked.

"It's 'doll' in French," Caroline answered.

"Well, stop looking at Web pages and look at this," Sam said. Gracie looked across the table in time to see Sam pull what looked like a postcard from inside the doll's gown. "Well, what do you know. There's an ink sketch of a church on the front."

Jamie leaned over her mother's shoulder. "It looks like the Unitarian church, the one with the clock tower-"

"And ninety-four very steep stairs," Caroline added.

"Someone did a beautiful sketch," Gracie said. "Is there anything written on the other side?"

Sam turned it over, handling the card as cautiously as she'd handled the doll. "The writing's just as beautiful as the sketch, so elaborate it's hard to read, but I can make it out. Just don't laugh. It says . . ." Sam squinted.

" 'My dearest Hannah, 'I long for the sound of your gaily ringing laughter. It is music to my soul. Though we are far apart at present, my heart reaches out to you. Until we see each other again. . . .

'Your loving and devoted William.'"

"William?" Caroline lifted her mug of cocoa. "Wait a minute. If the Hannah named on that postcard is our Hannah, what's she doing getting a card from a man named William? Her husband's name was Jedediah."

"It could be anyone," Gracie said, yawning. "Father. Uncle. Brother. Friend. Of course, from his words, it appears he might have been something more. A paramour, perhaps."

"Perhaps, my eye," Caroline said. "I'd definitely say there was something going on between Hannah and William. Otherwise, why would she hide the card?"

"You're a.s.suming that Hannah hid the card," Sam said.

"Who else would hide it?" Jamie asked. "And why?"

"Who knows?" Gracie said. "There could be other postcards hidden away inside the other three dolls."

Caroline's eyes widened. "You think?"

Sam patted her mouth, trying her hardest not to yawn. "That, my dears, is something we'll have to find out, but right now, I think we should call it a night."

Find any ghosts under there?"

Gracie laughed at Caroline's question. The sound reverberated off the bottom of the piano that she'd spent nearly the last hour cleaning. "Only cobwebs and a few dead spiders. No spirits, no treasure maps marked with an X, no architectural plans showing the whereabouts of a secret room, and no more hidden postcards."

Caroline snapped her fingers. "That's too bad. I was so disappointed when we didn't find postcards hidden inside the other three dolls. Of course, that makes the one hidden postcard that much more of a curiosity."

"As if we have the time to spend on figuring out the meaning of a hidden postcard."

"You're not the least bit curious?" Caroline asked. "Don't you want to know more about Hannah and William?"

"Yes. No. Maybe."

"You're being awfully indecisive today."

Gracie sighed inside. What she wanted to do was get the inn cleaned up. Maybe a year from now they could go on treasure hunts, but not right now. Why couldn't Caroline understand that?

Sliding out from under the piano, Gracie brushed her hands off on her already dirty shorts and then ran her fingers through her hair, hoping to give it some semblance of order or at least get rid of any spiderwebs that might have latched on. Looking at Caroline, however, made Gracie realize she wasn't the only one who'd let the inn's dust and dirt get the best of her.

"You're a mess. What on earth have you been doing?"

A look of guilt flitted across Caroline's face. It was a look Gracie had seen many times in the past.

"Actually, I've been doing a lot of things. Stripping wallpaper in the stairwell. Going onto the Internet to look at paint colors. I can't wait to show you what I've found. It's a rich, deep pumpkin. Not a garish orange, don't worry, Gracie, you'll love it."

Gracie could only stare at her sister in utter disbelief.

"And since Jamie's as interested in the mystery of the Misty Harbor Inn as I am, I thought it might be fun to spend some time with her searching the attic for more hidden postcards, or any other clues about Hannah Montague's life."

Gracie bit her tongue. She didn't want to make waves. It wasn't as if Caroline didn't work hard, it was just that she couldn't focus.

All her life Gracie had focused. On home. On her husband, her kids, and now her grandchildren. Staying on top of all that was important meant everything to her. Now she'd added the inn to her list of priorities. She was putting her whole heart into the Misty Harbor, yet Caroline . . . Gracie sighed heavily. Caroline cared; maybe she just didn't care enough. And that hurt, especially since this whole thing had been her idea.

Tossing the dirty dust cloth on top a pile of others she'd been using all morning, Gracie picked up a clean rag and went back to work on the piano's intricately carved legs. Be nice, she told herself. She took a deep breath. "And did you find anything interesting during your adventure with Jamie?"

Caroline grabbed a rag and started to clean another ornate piano leg. "Box after box of old clothes that should have been given to the Salvation Army years ago."

"You don't plan to give away anything really old, I hope. No nineteenth-century dresses or hats or beaded purses, things we can use when we're finally able to decorate?"

"Nothing like that has turned up yet, but Jamie's still-"

The front door flew open, and Max came bounding into the house. He ran into the parlor, hit the pile of dirty dust rags, and went sliding all the way across the room and behind a pair of wingback chairs. His head hung low, as if he was staring guiltily at his muddy paws; he then turned his big, brown pleading eyes toward Caroline and Gracie. Please, don't tell anyone where I am! they seemed to say.