Part 19 (1/2)
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.