THE TRIBUNE-DEMOCRAT
—
An autumn wind was blowing as Sherri McMinn tried to rake leaves in the back yard before her husband, Sean, returned home from work.
It was a beautiful Monday afternoon and Sherri was thinking about the perfect weekend she and her family had experienced.
From visiting craft festivals to watching her son’s midget-league football game, things don’t get much better in this neck of the woods.
That was about to change as an old pickup truck pulled into her driveway.
A rugged looking man about 65 years old came walking toward her carrying what looked like a briefcase.
She smiled and gave a friendly wave, but he didn’t respond.
And then ...
Chapter 1
BY SUSAN C. BRANDAU
Sherri’s welcoming smile turned into a frown that matched the stranger’s somber expression.
“Sherri Travers?”
Sherri pulled the rake in front of her like a weapon.
“It’s McMinn now,” she corrected.
The man produced a business card from his inside jacket pocket and handed it to her.
Sherri scanned it quickly.
“The name’s Nicodemus,” he said. “I work for Danvers, Davis and Balfour, attorneys at law.
“Is there somewhere we can talk?”
Sherri looked through the patio doors where her son, Danny, was sprawled on his stomach on the family room floor, watching television.
She anxiously looked past the house for any sign of Sean coming home as she pointed to an umbrella-less round glass table ringed by beat-up metal chairs.
“That’ll do,” Nicodemus said. He waited for Sherri to precede him.
Sherri gently propped her rake against the table and watched the stranger’s reflection in the glass of the patio door as he trudged behind her with a weariness she felt as much as saw. Sherri pulled out a chair facing the house and driveway and invited Nicodemus to sit in one opposite her.
She could see the dancing reflections from the television in the patio door glass.
“Um … can I get you anything?” Sherri asked politely.
“No, thank you just the same, Mrs. McMinn,” he said. “I’m fine.”
Sherri settled into her chair and folded her arms on the table in front of her, waiting.
“I’ll come straight to the point, Mrs. McMinn,” Nicodemus said as he lifted his briefcase to his lap and opened it. He peered inside and withdrew a sheaf of papers. He rifled through them to make sure they were in order and then spoke.
“You’ve come into an inheritance.”
Sherri looked bewildered.
“An inheritance? How is that possible?” she queried.
“I don’t have relatives in this area.
“Most live out in California and they’re just cousins. And nobody’s rich …”
“Well, now, Mrs. McMinn, I didn’t say anything about money, did I?” Nicodemus said.
The hint of a smile flickered across his face at some private joke and then vanished.
“No, you didn’t, Mr. Nicodemus,” she said.
“Please continue.”
Nicodemus looked at the papers in his hands and laid them on the cold surface of the glass.
“Unbeknownst to you … and as she wished it … your Great Aunt Penelope kept a watchful eye on you over the years,” he said. “She followed your progress in life, your marriage, rejoiced at the birth of your son, Daniel, and even helped you and your family secure this, er, rental home, such as it is,” he continued.
“She passed on just over a month ago and her attorneys at D, D & B have settled the estate. The money she left went to pay off her debts. There’s only a little of that left, but there is the house, and that’s yours. All you have to do is sign this paper,” he said.
“A house?” Sherri stared in shock at the papers Nicodemus pushed across the table.
The words danced in jumbled bits in front of her eyes.
Penelope Anne Travers, being of sound mind … does hereby bequeath to Sherri Beth Travers McMinn … property at 300 Mulberry Lane … house on 10 acres … contents include paintings, silver services … appraised value … $1 million … disposal of said property to be made at the discretion of …
“Sherri, what’s wrong?”
Sherri felt Sean’s steadying hand press against her back as he leaned over to examine the papers she held in her shaking hand. She had no idea when he’d arrived; she only felt relief that he was there.
Sherri looked up into his concerned face.
“We have a house,” she whispered.
“What?”
“From my aunt …”
“What aunt?” Sean interrupted. “You don’t have an aunt!”
Sean took the papers from Sherri’s hand and started to read.
Nicodemus stood.
“The paper is legitimate; I can assure you of that, sir. All that is needed is your wife’s signature and Rose Hill is hers.”
Chapter 2
BY DONNA STAWARZ
Picking up his briefcase, he quipped, “Look ’em over. You have the law firm’s number. I wouldn’t take too long to sign those papers ... seems like it’ll be a life-change for you folks.”
Scanning the rental property, he mumbled, “For the better, I’m sure.”
“There’s the sign for Rosterburg, 11 more miles,” Sherri announced.
Danny piped up, “Are we gonna have our very own house, for real?”
“Sweetie, we’re just going to look, Sherri said.
“We have no idea what this house even looks like.”
“Those directions that Nicodemus guy gave us seem accurate so far,” Sean said.
“I wonder what most people do for a living around here?”
“Honey, I still can’t believe that my father had an aunt who I don’t even know,” Sherri said.
“I’ve never even heard of any Aunt Penelope.”
The road took a few twists and turns for a few more miles before Sean eased the car onto a dirt road.
The street sign indicated Mulberry Lane. Sean slowed the car to avoid stirring up the dust.
About a half mile up the lane, they approached an old, white, two-story house. The weathered numerals on the rusty mailbox confirmed that this was, indeed, 300 Mulberry Lane. Danny was the first to express what all three of them were thinking.
“Is this the house? Yuck.”
“Danny, just hold on,” Sean responded.
“Honey, this can’t be it. It’s so rundown.”
“Somebody’s made a mistake,” Sherri said, her voice echoing the disappointment she was feeling.
The next thing Sherri knew, Sean had the back door unlocked. The key had been found under an old brick just where they had been told.
Once inside, the dusty, musty smell threatened to choke them if they breathed in too deeply.
“No, Aunt Penelope could have been living here for quite some time, that’s for sure,” Sherri said.
As the couple briefly inspected the empty rooms, the disappointment between the two was evident, though unspoken.
Finally, Sherri voiced what she couldn’t hold in any longer, “Where are all the furnishings, the silver, the furniture, ... anything? There’s nothing here.”
Climbing the stairs to the second floor, she watched as her husband opened a door to what he assumed was an attic.
Sean was curious as to whether the attic might hold any “treasures.” The rest of the house certainly did not. Danny climbed the stairs behind his daddy.
Sherri felt disappointment and anger.
Someone had obviously deceived them.
She walked to the end of the hall, discovering a room where a hint of sunlight escaped from under a closed door.
Deciding to investigate, Sherri reached for the doorknob, but the door didn’t budge.
“Sean?” she called, “come here.”
Feeling a bit apprehensive, but hearing no response from the attic, she leaned her side against the door and pushed. The door flew open, causing her to stumble inside.
The next few minutes seemed to transport her into another world.
The room was lined with bookshelves, floor to ceiling, with row after row of books.
A huge marble fireplace lined one wall. A large oil painting above the massive mantel caught her eye.
She felt herself magically drawn toward the painting. A young girl sat in a rocker reading a book by a fireplace.
It was much like the room Sherri found herself standing in. A ray of sunlight from a window directed itself onto the flames in the painting, making them appear real.
The painting was amazingly warm and inviting, yet intriguing.
Reaching out, Sherri gently ran her fingers over the child’s face. Then she noticed a signature in the lower right corner, P. Travers.
“Sean, down here,” she yelled.
Listening for the sound of her husband’s footsteps in the hall, her mind went in a thousand directions. What is this room? Why the books? There’s not a speck of dust anywhere. And that girl in the painting?
Suddenly, Sherri’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a vehicle outside the window.
Pulling back a corner of a green velvet drape, she noticed a truck in the driveway. The sun was reflecting a shiny object on the dashboard through the truck’s front windshield.
A handgun?
Sherri stood frozen as she noticed the driver glance up in her direction before abruptly backing into the dirt road, kicking up a cloud of dust in the air.
She thought the truck looked vaguely familiar.
The driver, too, though just a shadow ... then Sherri shivered.
“Nicodemus?”
Chapter 3
BY KATHLEEN SAMAY
Sherri bit her lip and then exhaled uneasily. She turned from the window and faced the hallway as hurried steps rattled down the third-floor stairs and Sean and Danny emerged from the attic door.
“Hey, Mom ...” Danny’s report was cut short by his sudden awareness of the beckoning adventure down the hall.
Sean slowed Danny’s rush into the sunlit room with a firm grasp on his son’s shoulder as they both tried to quickly enter the unexpected scene.
Sean’s eyes stung from the attic dust and the adjustment from the dusky gloominess upstairs to the brilliance of this pristine chamber.
Behind his wife were partially opened drapes, framing a 6-foot high window. He squinted, then snorted and shook his head – even the windowpane in here was clean, on the inside and the outside.
“What is a museum gallery doing in an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere?” Sean asked.
“Are there dinosaur bones in the next room?”
Sean grabbed Danny as the boy took off to try a closed door on the wall opposite the fireplace.
“Hey, illegal move! Five-yard penalty! Go back five steps!” Sean exclaimed.
Danny complied, then arched his body to follow his eyes as he tried to take in the shelves and shelves of books.
He liked his hometown library. Maybe he would look at a book. As he was reaching for a large, red-leather volume with glittering letters on the binding his mother intercepted him.
“I’m sorry, Danny, but your hands are too dirty to touch a book – or anything else in here,” Sherri said.
Sherri suddenly noticed the dusty footprints tracked all over the polished wooden floor.
“Danny, just sit on the floor and don’t move for a minute while Mommy & Daddy talk,” Sherri said.
Danny was about to protest that he wasn’t a little kid anymore, but as Sherri turned back to her husband, her son decided that he would sit down – for a minute.
“Honey, I don’t understand what’s going on here,” Sherri said.
“Let’s go home now.
“When we lock up the house, we’ll take the key with us and … and … I don’t know.”
Lowering her voice, she added, “I need to tell you what I think I saw outside – but not in front of Danny.”
A creaking, a clatter and a thud interrupted Sherri’s hurried whispers.
“Oops, I didn’t mean to.”
Danny stood beside the open door and in front of a small rocking chair that was slowing to a halt.
A short wooden slat and pieces of an old book lay on the floor behind the rocker.
“I didn’t want to sit on the hard floor, so when I saw the rocking chair behind the door, I wanted to try it out – like that kid,” Danny blurted as he pointed to the painting.
“I just rocked for two seconds and then something broke and I jumped off and I saw that stuff on the floor.”
“Oh … I didn’t notice that chair,” Sherri murmured while she examined Danny for any injury.
“Are you alright?”
Danny nodded.
Reassured that Danny was unhurt, his parents moved quickly to the chair.
“Look, Sherri, there’s a wooden drawer under the seat,” Sean observed as he tried to fit the slat back into place on the rear of the chair.
Sherri’s only focus was on the ornate, gilded book cover. It had broken away from pages that lay scattered in sections across the floor.
Wordlessly, she lifted the binding and carried it across the room.
She held it to the painting and gazed intently and almost obsessively, back and forth, from the front cover in her hand to the one in the painting.
The gilded front, although worn, matched the pattern in the portrait – exactly.
“Honey … Sherri!”
Sherri jumped as Sean broke her concentration by gently taking the cover out of her hand.
She watched as he realized that what he was holding was portrayed with such intricate detail in the painting.
“Sean?”
They stared at each other.
“Mom, Mom, Mom!”
Sherri turned toward Danny’s voice and almost ran into an ivory-colored envelope being waved in her face.
“Look at this letter. It was in the pages you left on the floor. It’s for you, Mom. It’s for you!”
Chapter 4
BY GEORGE HANCOCK
Sherri stared at the ivory-colored envelope. “What now,” she thought.
Sean smiled and clapped his hands.
“At last, great-aunt Penelope Travers explains the Rose Hill mystery,”
Sean said.
“Open the envelope, Sherri.”
Danny was still waving the envelope. He was wearing an amused smile.
“Yes, Mom,” Danny said.
“Here, open the envelope.”
Sherri reached out and took the sealed envelope from Danny’s hand.
Was this from Penelope Travers?
Sherri’s name was written on the outside. The envelope seemed to have something inside.
Sherri frowned. This new development almost made her forget what she saw outside the window.
Sherri spoke in a hushed tone.
“Sean, Danny, before you both came in, I heard a noise. I looked out the window. I saw Nicodemus in his truck. He looked right at me. Then he drove away.
“Sean, Nicodemus had a gun. Why would he come here with a gun?”
Sean shrugged his shoulders.
“I have no idea, Sherri.
“This place is just one mystery after another. Maybe there’s an answer inside that envelope.”
Sherri studied the simple envelope again.
She held it up to the light. It had a folded paper inside.
The envelope was not old. She turned it over in her hand. A Sharpie or felt pen had been used to write her name.
Sherri spoke to Sean and Danny.
“OK, let’s see what is inside.”
Sherri used her car key to open the envelope. She slid the key underneath the flap, cut in a straight line and pulled out white paper.
“Guys, there are two sheets of paper here,” Sherri said.
Danny and Sean stepped closer.
“What do the papers say?” Danny asked.
Sherri unfolded the first paper.
Then she gasped.
“Why didn’t I see this coming?” Sean asked.
Sherri turned each paper over.
They were two blank sheets.
Sherri looked at Sean. She was puzzled. No, she was mad.
“Is that it?” Danny asked.
Sean held the papers up to the bright light. The papers were blank, empty.
The McMinns were again clueless.
“Sean, this is just not right,” Sherri said.
“What’s going on? What is this room all about?”
But before Sean could respond, Sherri’s cell phone rang.
“Hello,” Sherri said.
Sherri immediately glanced at Sean. She quietly mouthed “Nicodemus.”
“Nicodemus, both Sean and Danny are here with me. May I put you on speaker phone?”
“Mrs. McMinn, I’m sorry if I startled you before,” Nicodemus said.
“Danvers, Davis and Balfour had a special arrangement with Penelope Travers. Our firm maintained Rose Hill. We cleaned two rooms for decades. We monitored the property.”
A puzzled Sherri asked several questions.
“But, Nicodemus, what is this all about?” Sherri asked.
“Why are all these books still here in this old house?”
“Mrs. McMinn, Mr. McMinn,” Nicodemus said, “at our last meeting we discussed the terms of the will. Rose Hill consists of 10 acres. Your inheritance also includes paintings, a silver service and books with an appraised value of $1 million.”
“Yes, I remember, but why did Aunt Penelope preserve these two rooms?” Sherri asked.
“Mrs. McMinn, Penelope Travers was quite eccentric,” Nicodemus said.
“But, she was a valued and trusted client. Our instructions included what to do at Rose Hill, but never why.”
“So, Nicodemus, your firm has no idea what this room means?” Sherri said.
“That is correct,” Nicodemus responded.
“We can only speculate on the possibilities.”
Sean then spoke up. He was busy checking the various books on the dust-free shelves.
“Nicodemus, Sean here.
“Sherri saw you with a gun. Why did you have a gun?”
Sherri shot Sean a surprised look.
Sean merely shrugged his shoulders.
“That’s a good question,” Nicodemus said.
“The scrap dealers and junk collectors have created several issues in this region. That bunch is stealing, taking everything of salvageable value. We do what is necessary to protect our client’s property.”
Sean turned to Sherri.
“That does make sense,” Sean said.
But, the exasperated Sherri exclaimed to no one in particular: “I do not understand any of this.
“An old house with a room filled with books. We have 10 acres of what? We have a beautiful painting and two blank pieces of paper. Who is this Penelope Travers?”
Finally, Danny spoke up.
“Mr. Nicodemus, what is in the room across from the fireplace?”
“Young man, open the door and take a look,” Nicodemus said.
“There are several paintings in there, too.”
Danny opened the door. He walked in.
“Mom, Dad, come here, quick!”
Chapter 5
BY DONNA NEMETH
Sherri and Sean quickly crossed the room past the fireplace. Danny was jumping up and down in the middle of a large, decorated room.
The walls were covered in rich velvet tones of gold with each of the eight large windows draped in white silk curtains. A beautiful crystal chandelier hung with grandeur, illuminating the paintings in the room with a soft glowing light.
Sherri stopped in her tracks.
“It’s you, Mom!” Danny exclaimed as he was pointing to the center of the room where a large easel stood with a hand-painted portrait of a young girl, about 10 years old.
“It’s me,” Sherri whispered.
“But, how did she ...”
Sherri slowly scanned the room.
Several portraits of her family were displayed in beautiful arrangements on the walls.
“Mom,” Sherri tearfully said as she slowly walked to the painting of a beautiful young woman in a flowing red gown, sitting in a chair by the fireplace.
She had deep blue eyes and brown hair. She was holding a baby in her arms.
“That’s me,” she whispered.
“I remember the photograph that Mom would show me so many times before her passing.”
“Sherri, who is this?” Sean asked.
“This must be my Aunt Penelope,” Sherri said with a giggle as she viewed the picture of a peculiar-looking woman in a large feathered hat, wearing baggy pants and a ruffled blouse.
The woman had one eye closed and the other was looking through a camera as she focused on taking a photograph of a bright yellow flower.
Maybe it was too painful after my mother’s death for her to come and see me, Sherri thought.
A noise in the hall frightened them.
Turning, they saw Nicodemus.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Nicodemus said. “But I have the key for you from your Aunt Penelope.
“It’s to open the safe she carefully hid behind the painting of the world in the corner of the room.
“Sherri, you were loved by your aunt greatly, but your father forbid her to see you after your mother passed away,” Nicodemus said. “He thought she would pass on her ideals and take you traveling with her and never return.
“He was protective of you and loved you very much.”
“Yes, he did,” Sherri said.
“I love and miss them all.”
Nicodemus handed her a small gold key and pointed to the painting.
“What’s inside is yours, Sherri,” he said.
She walked over and removed the painting from the wall, revealing a large safe.
She inserted the key, and it opened with one click.
Stacks of money and bonds were inside with an envelope addressed to her. She felt like a new life was about to be revealed for her.
The note was handwritten by her Aunt Penelope.
Sherri began to read out loud:
“My dearest Sherri, the blank pages are for you to write your own story.
“Your mother and I were ever so close, and I was devastated by her early passing. I wanted to keep you close to me, but I guess I scared your father into keeping me away from you. But I was always with you, my dear.
“Every chance I got, in disguise, I photographed you in hiding. I was the clown making the balloons, the caterer at your parties and the school crossing guard. I just wanted to be there for you.
“When I traveled all over the world, you were with me in the photographs that I took of you. I loved you as my own child. Everything that I have is yours.
“I only have one last request. When you see the world as I have, take me with you in your heart.”
Sherri lifted a photograph from the envelope.
It was of her as a child, looking up into the face of her mother, and dear Aunt Penelope smiling down at them.
“Thank you, Aunt Penelope,” Sherri whispered.
“I love you, too.”
