“I know what you’re going to say…” Mia immediately went into stress mode. “And you’re right. I never should have interfered with you and William. I guess I thought I knew what was best for you.”
We stood alone in the ladies’ parlor. How appropriate, I thought ruefully. The place where drama has unraveled for nearly two centuries.
“You can’t do that, Mia. You can’t just apologize without hearing me out. You have to listen first. That’s how friendship is supposed to work.” She clamped her mouth shut and nodded as I continued. “I know I was a wreck in high school and even more of a wreck in college, but you have to stop. You can’t fix me. You don’t get to pick who I date. Besides, it seems to me you and William would make a better couple than he and I would—did.”
“Don’t you think I wanted that to happen? I was crazy about William, but all he wanted to talk about was you.” Mia’s eyes watered, and a tear slid down her powdered cheek. “I’ve liked him since freshman year, but he never so much as asked me out. We hooked up once, and that was just because he got drunk at Solomon’s at the Ren Wrap Party.”
“Mia…” was all I could say. I touched her arm and then dug in my pocket for a tissue. “Then why on earth would you try to get us together?”
“I wanted him to be happy. I wanted you to be happy. I don’t know.”
She started crying, and I hugged her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know, Mi. I wish you had told me so I could be there for you.”
After a minute, Mia wiped the tears away. She jutted her chin out slightly and said, “I have something to show you.” That was my friend, ever changeable. But I rarely saw her emotional.
“Sure, whatcha got?” I was happy to get off this heavy subject. I sensed that there were more feelings lurking under the surface of those pretty eyes and stylish clothes, that she still wasn’t happy with me, but I wasn’t sure. I was sure she would tell me if she wanted to talk about it.
I followed her back to the Blue Room, and she waved me over to her computer. I pulled up a chair and listened as she presented her findings on the mausoleum. “Did you know that there was once a garden here called the Moonlight Garden? Well, of course you do. You dreamed about it, right?” I made a gesture for her to lower her voice. She continued in a whisper, “Anyway, the mausoleum is located due north of the center statue of the Moonlight Garden. What’s interesting is the white crosses you found around the mausoleum are arranged in the exact formation of the statues in the garden.”
“So the crosses aren’t grave markers?” I asked, curious about the connection.
“Could be.” Mia shrugged. “But what are the odds that they would be in the exact alignment of the statues? I mean, exactly like the garden statues. Look. According to this old drawing a visiting author made here sometime at the end of the 1840s, this was the location of the Atlas statue, the god who was the father of the Pleiades. Just outside the garden was Pleione, the mother who protected the family. These crosses are all markers. I blew up the photos of the crosses you sent me. Did you notice the names engraved in them? Well, partial names. Most of the letters have been worn away.” Mia pointed at the screen. “See, this is Sterope. This one is Alcyone…”
I just stared at the screen. “How could I have missed that? What does it mean?” I could see the names, but I wasn’t convinced that it meant anything other than that the old Cottonwood family had an appreciation for Greek mythology.
“You’re the historian,” she said with a laugh. “I’m the anthropologist. You can’t figure that out? It’s obviously some sort of map… or something.”
“I don’t doubt you found something significant here, but I don’t see a map yet. Tell you what, you keep working on this. Maybe later this afternoon, we can walk back to the mausoleum and take pictures of all the markers. At the very least, it would make a neat tidbit to share with visitors.”
“Sure, sounds great.” I could tell Mia was disappointed at my lack of excitement, but I had so much to do. Getting sidetracked by a hunch wasn’t something I wanted to get mired in. I patted her on the shoulder and left her to work on her research, happy that at least we had a truce of sorts. I printed the layout proposals and went in search of TD. We needed to get on the same page with our remodel priorities. I had certain ideas and plans for the opening ceremony, which was scheduled to take place in six months. We had to make sure that at least these opening exhibits were ready to go.
The handsome contractor had been working on the ground floor earlier, but I couldn’t find him. I went upstairs and saw only Rachel K., who was cataloging the contents of some of the boxes in one of the guest rooms. I waved at her and walked back toward the spiral staircase to continue my search outside, but I paused in front of Calpurnia’s room.
The door was ajar and swung open easily with a gentle push of my fingertip. I stepped into the empty room and stared at the bare fireplace with the missing mantelpiece. I missed the elegant furnishings, including the armoire and mirror. I walked to the window that overlooked the driveway. In Calpurnia’s day, it would have given her a lovely view of the carriageway. I touched the cool painted wall. TD had chosen a light peach for this room, which was close to the original color. The room had been an even lighter shade of pink. It was small in comparison to the others on this floor, but I loved it. I touched the window and felt the urge to sit in the wide windowsill. I closed my eyes and imagined Calpurnia sitting here, looking for some sign of David Garrett or Uncle Louis traveling up the driveway to see her.
I stayed still, half hoping I could conjure up images of the past, to see without dreaming here in this room, but it didn’t happen. The chainsaws in the yard and the voices of the excited interns downstairs all traveled into the room, preventing my ears from finding the quiet they needed to truly hear. Suddenly, I could hear Rachel and James talking, and the conversation was amplified as if they were in the room with me. Rachel was excited that Professor Cooper was giving her four weeks of class credit for landing a spot on the Seven Sisters Project. James bemoaned the fact that no such courtesy had been extended to him. According to his professor, it was business as usual. And as a matter of fact, he was expected to deliver a report on his work at the mansion at the end of the semester if he wanted extra credit. I left my leather portfolio on the windowsill and crawled on the floor to the nearby cast-iron grate. It was like listening in on a telephone. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and used it as a flashlight, shining it into the dark vent. Something caught the light and glinted, but I couldn’t reach it with my fingers. I made a mental note to come back with a screwdriver later. It was probably just a screw from the grate, I figured.
I wondered if this phenomenon worked in all the rooms. Rachel and James must be below me… I wandered from room to room, checking for sound from the grates. I heard music playing from the ladies’ parlor, maybe Tori Amos. Chip was talking to someone on the phone in the men’s parlor; it sounded like his mother again. Poor Chip. No wonder he was always leaving the room to talk on the phone. I could hear Mia and Matthews having a heated discussion from the grate in the Blue Room.
“Have some patience. If what you say is true, that she’s dreaming already, then there’s no reason to hurry. Let’s wait and see what happens.” I knew that angry voice; it was Matthews. The next voice was inaudible, but I could tell that he was talking to a woman. “What does that matter?” Matthews sounded aggravated. “Who cares what he thinks? Listen, stick to the plan and stop improvising and scheming. Just do your job and keep your mouth shut. Too many people know about it already.”
“Don’t think….because…I’m not one to…play with me and you’ll be surprised.” I was sure that was Mia’s voice. My heart pounded in my chest. Somehow, some way, I was being betrayed.
“Carrie Jo, what about this?” Rachel K. was standing in the doorway, probably wondering what I was doing lying on the floor. She held up the music box that had played its strange solo the day before. “Looks like we need a key to play it. It wasn’t in the box.”
I got off the floor and dusted myself off. I faked a smile and took the box from her, giving it a cursory glance. “I’m not sure what to do with this stuff. Looks kind of modern. Thanks, Rachel. I’ll figure it out.”
“Okay. Are you all right?”
“Yes, I was just…yes, I’m fine. Thanks. Listen, don’t forget to copy me on the list, okay?”
The perky intern bopped down the hall, her dark ponytail swinging. I decided to play it cool. Nobody knew that I knew anything. Let’s keep it that way. Put your game face on, Carrie Jo.
I went back to Calpurnia’s room to get my portfolio from the windowsill, but it wasn’t there anymore. It was lying on the floor. The pictures had slid out of the unzipped book and now lay in an unorganized pile. I set the box down and squatted to pick up the papers, restacking them neatly.
From this angle, I could see into the vent. That was no screw from the grate—it was the key! The tiny silver key for the music box. How had it gotten in there? With a rush of emotions, I crawled to the grate and tested it by pulling on the edges. Nope, it wasn’t going to budge. I felt in my pocket and found my small utility blade. I used it like a screwdriver. The screws came up more easily than I thought they would. In just a minute, I lifted the grate and reached for the tiny key. I shoved it into my pocket and replaced the grate, racing to get the screws in as I heard TD calling for me. I met him in the hallway, and we took our scheduled tour. I deposited the music box Rachel gave me on my desk and left Mia in the Blue Room without saying a word. I had a lot to think about and an endlessly growing list of mysteries to solve. To top it all off, I had a date with Ashland Stuart in just a few hours.
Like the girl from long ago who intrigued me so, I could feel the events of life swelling up around me. Destiny was unfolding its complicated pattern, and I was a mere thread in the tapestry.