Aunt Dimity Goes West Page 5

The pièce de résistance was the open archway in the rear wall that led to an enormous playroom. The playroom’s cupboards were filled with toys and board games, and a freestanding tent stood in the back corner, but the main attraction was the log fort with its rope ladder, slide, and tower. Annelise and I agreed that the fort would be a godsend if summer blizzards kept the twins cooped up indoors. The playroom also had a large picture window, but, thankfully, no porch, deck, or balcony from which my adventurous offspring could tumble.

  Annelise, too, would have objected to any suggestion that she move from the room James Blackwell had selected for her, for practical as well as aesthetic reasons. Her bedroom was conveniently located directly across the hall from the twins’ and next door to a splendid family bathroom, but it was also charmingly furnished and had its own little balcony.

  The master suite, at the end of the same corridor, was sparely but beautifully furnished with simple pine furniture. White curtains hung at the windows, fluffy white rugs covered the polished plank floor, and the king-sized bed was draped with a crocheted white coverlet over a white duvet. A pair of white-upholstered armchairs sat before a corner fireplace made of smooth river stones, and the bathroom was a spacious oasis of comfort, with a cedar-clad Jacuzzi tub, a glass-walled shower stall, and double sinks set into an antique sideboard. A set of French doors in the bedroom led to a deck that overlooked the clearing in front of the Aerie. I had no desire whatsoever to exchange the master suite for another room.

  “It’s just a bit strange,” I said, turning to Toby. “I mean, there are clothes hanging in the closets. I feel as if we’re intruding.”

  “You’re not,” he assured me. “James Blackwell was supposed to ship the Auerbachs’ stuff to them, but I guess he never got around to it. I’ll take care of it tomorrow. But if you want to move to one of the guest suites—”

  “No, thanks,” I said firmly. “James Blackwell made the right call. I like being near my sons and Annelise. How many children does Danny Auerbach have?”

  “Three,” he replied. “Two young sons and a teenaged daughter.”

  I looked around the great room and sighed. “They must be the happiest kids on earth.”

  The great room was the A-frame structure at the center of the Aerie, a vast open space divided by furniture into three distinct zones. The ultramodern kitchen and the dining area took up the back half of the room, separated by a granite-topped breakfast bar, and the living room filled the front half—and I do mean filled.

  The living room was jammed with leather sofas and chairs, wooden benches, pine tables, Indian rugs, carved chests, and a gaily painted upright piano that looked as though it had once seen action in a bordello. Rustic, glass-fronted cabinets held family photographs, rocks, feathers, bones, old spoons, antlers, and interesting bits of wood. Indian baskets, kerosene lamps, old cowboy hats, and tin plates filled shelves that had been mounted at various heights on the log walls, and quilts lay across the backs of chairs and on ottomans, as if to provide an extra source of warmth on chilly evenings. Some of the furniture was clustered before the enormous plate-glass windows, and some sat before the magnificent stone hearth, but none of it was formally arranged, and all of it looked well used.

  The great room was cluttered beyond belief, and I fell in love with it at first sight. The Aerie wasn’t a model home decorated by a fashionable designer. It was a real home where real people really lived, exuberant people who found the world fascinating and surrounded themselves with its colors and textures and their happy memories.

  “It’s wonderful,” I murmured. “Just wonderful.”

  “I think so, too,” Toby said agreeably. “Were you able to reach your husband?”

  “Yes,” I said. “He wanted me to use a laptop to do videoconferencing while we’re here, but I’m not very good with computers. Fortunately, my mobile, er, my cell phone is working just fine. I know how to use a telephone.”

  “What time was it in England when you spoke with him?” asked Toby.

  “Half past five in the morning,” I said with a guilty wince. “Bill was pretty groggy, so we didn’t have a long conversation.”

  “I’m surprised you aren’t groggy,” Toby commented.

  “I will be, but I need to wind down a bit first.” I raised my mug to salute him. “Hot chocolate always does the trick. Thanks for making it.” I took a sip, then asked, “Do your grandparents still live in Bluebird?”

  “No, but they’re buried in the cemetery,” said Toby, and when I looked distressed, he continued, “It’s what they always wanted. They loved Bluebird. Granddad was the town doctor. He hoped Dad would take up the practice after him, but Dad went to school back east and decided to stay there. I grew up in Connecticut, but I came back here every summer. I love it here. I don’t ever want to leave.”

  The double doors to the foyer opened, and we both looked over the back of the sofa as Annelise appeared, dressed in her robe and nightgown, with her luxuriant auburn hair streaming down her back.

  “Lori?” she said. “May I have a word?”

  “I’ll refill your mug,” Toby offered, and busied himself in the kitchen while I crossed to speak with Annelise.

  “How’s your shoulder?” she asked quietly.

  I glanced toward the kitchen, to make sure Toby wasn’t listening. My gunshot wound was a private matter. I didn’t want him or anyone else I met on holiday to know about it.

  “My shoulder’s stiff,” I said, lowering my voice, “but so’s the rest of me. I feel as though we crossed the plains in a covered wagon instead of a wide-bodied jet.”

  “I recommend a hot bath.” She stepped closer to me and went on very softly, “If you have any…bad dreams…you know where to find me.”

  I bristled slightly, but kept my voice low. “Did Bill ask you to look after me as well as the boys while we’re here? He shouldn’t have. I’ll be fine.”

  “You weren’t fine on the plane,” she reminded me.

  “But I was fine in the van,” I countered. “I napped and I woke up, just like a normal person. I intend to do the same from now on.”

  “Of course you do,” said Annelise, “but if you have any trouble—”

  “Thanks, but I won’t,” I snapped, straightening. “Good night, Annelise.”

  “Good night, Lori.” She called good night to Toby, closed the double doors, and went to her room.

  As I returned to the sofa I made a mental note to tell Bill that I was in no more need of a nanny than I was of a babysitter.

  “Do your parents fuss over you?” I asked Toby as he returned from the kitchen.

  “Sure.” He handed the refilled mug to me and resumed his place on the sofa. “It’s what parents do. That’s why I loved staying with Granddad. He always treated me as if I were a grown-up. I used to chop firewood when I was eight or nine, with a real axe.” Toby’s blue eyes twinkled delightfully as the old memories came back to him. “Granddad would have been charged with child neglect back east, but no one in Bluebird even noticed. It was the best place imaginable to be a kid.”

  “I wish I could have met your grandfather.” I turned to stare sullenly into the fire. “It would be nice to be treated like a grown-up.”

  “It was great,” said Toby. “I had the run of the valley. The only place I couldn’t go was up here.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “The Aerie was built on the site of the old Lord Stuart Mine,” he explained. “Until two years ago, the clearing was filled with half-ruined buildings and rusty machinery. Mr. Auerbach used some of the timber from the old mine buildings when he built the Aerie, but when I was a kid, the place was a death trap. Granddad made it clear that if he ever caught me up here, I wouldn’t be allowed to visit him again. He was afraid I’d fall down a mine shaft.”

  “Mine shaft?” I echoed hollowly. “Are there mine shafts up here?”

  “Hundreds of them,” said Toby, “but most of them are fenced off, and when Mr. Auerbach built the Aerie, he had a whole t
eam of engineers seal the entrance to the Lord Stuart Mine. It’s tight as a drum, Lori, so you don’t have to worry about Will or Rob getting into it. Mr. Auerbach has children, too,” he reminded me gently.

  Chastened, I took a calming swig of hot chocolate. “How often do the Auerbachs use the Aerie?”

  “They haven’t been here since Christmas,” Toby replied. “Mr. Auerbach is a busy man.”

  “If he’s too busy to use the cabin,” I said, “why did he build it in the first place?”

  Toby grinned. “He told Granddad that his parents wouldn’t allow him to have a tree house when he was a child. The cabin’s his tree house.”

  “Some tree house,” I said admiringly. I pointed to a door beside the hearth. “What’s through there?”

  “The library,” said Toby.

  “There’s a library?” I heard the squeak of disbelief in my voice and smiled wryly at my own foolishness. “To be perfectly honest, Toby, I thought the cabin would be sort of…primitive. I wasn’t sure it would have indoor plumbing, let alone a library.”

  Toby rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t catch Mrs. Auerbach using an outhouse. She likes her comfort. She added the outdoor spa and the home theater to Mr. Auerbach’s building plans, and the library was her idea, too. She collects books. Would you like to take a tour?”

  “Let’s save it for tomorrow,” I suggested, and we lapsed into a comfortable silence.

  Several moments passed before I realized that I was staring fixedly at a lock of Toby’s pale blond hair gleaming in the firelight and decided that it was time to go to bed. I quickly drained my mug, but before I could carry it into the kitchen, Toby took it from my hand.

  “I’ll do the dishes,” he said. “You’ve had a tough day. Don’t worry about the lights, either. I’ll turn them off after you’ve gone.”

  “Do we have plans for tomorrow?” I asked, getting to my feet.

  “If I were you, I’d take it easy for a few days,” he advised, rising. “Let yourself adjust to the altitude before you attempt anything strenuous. Slow and steady wins the race.”

  “Slow and steady it is, then,” I said. “Why don’t you join us for breakfast? We should be up by eight,” I added, though I knew I’d be up much earlier, “and we’ll have breakfast on the table by nine. You can give us a tour of the Aerie afterward.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Toby took a ring of keys from his pocket and handed them to me, saying, “They open every door in the Aerie. I have a duplicate set, so don’t worry about losing them. My apartment’s through there.” He pointed to a passageway at the end of the kitchen. “If you need anything, come and get me.” His eyes crinkled adorably as he smiled down at me. “I’m glad you’re here, Lori. The Aerie’s too big for just one person. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Good night,” I said. “And thanks, Toby. I’ve never met James Blackwell, but he couldn’t be better than you.”

  “Aw, shucks, ma’am.” Toby let his silky blond hair fall forward to hide his face. “You’re making me blush.”

  I peered at him suspiciously. “Have you ever said ‘Aw, shucks’ before in your life?”

  “Never,” he said, raising his head and grinning playfully, “but it seemed appropriate.”

  I smiled, punched him lightly in the shoulder, and headed for the master suite. It was very late, so I settled for a hot shower instead of a bath, pulled on a flannel nightie, lit a fire in the corner fireplace, and sat in the armchair before the hearth, with Reginald in the crook of my arm and the blue journal in my lap. Aunt Dimity’s old-fashioned copperplate began to spin across the page as soon as I opened the journal.

  Is there a dirt floor? Does the roof leak? Is the loo out of doors?

  “No, no, and definitely not,” I replied. “It’s wonderful, Dimity. The valley is wonderful, the cabin is wonderful, our rooms are wonderful, and Toby is wonderful. Everything is absolutely wonderful.”

  You seem giddy, my dear. Have you been drinking?

  “Yes, but only hot chocolate,” I told her. “I’m not drunk, Dimity. I’m ecstatic, euphoric, incredibly relieved that the cabin is so wonderful….” I paused to get a grip on myself, then added, “Or maybe it’s the altitude.”

  Rapture of the heights? Perhaps. Who, may I ask, is Toby?

  “Toby Cooper,” I replied. “He’s the last-minute replacement for the original caretaker.”

  And he’s wonderful, is he? Am I to assume that he’s also good-looking?

  I shifted uncomfortably in the armchair. Aunt Dimity knew all too well that my track record with attractive men who were not my husband wasn’t as spotless as it should have been. I’d never actually forgotten my wedding vows, but my memory had grown hazy from time to time. If I told Dimity that Toby Cooper was as cute as a cocker spaniel—a tall, broad-shouldered, manly cocker spaniel—she would get the wrong impression, so I elected to downplay his good looks.

  “He’s a child, Dimity,” I said airily. “A nice kid. He’s twenty-one years old and still in college.”

  Good. You’ve never shown much interest in younger men. What happened to the original caretaker?

  “James Blackwell?” I said. “He quit two days ago. I don’t know why. According to Danny Auerbach, he left unexpectedly.”

  Perhaps he grew tired of dealing with the crackpot neighbor.

  “There isn’t one,” I said happily. “We have the whole mountainside to ourselves.”

  Perhaps Mr. Blackwell was overworked.

  “Are you kidding?” I said. “No one’s been here since Christmas.”

  He might have been lonely.

  “The cabin’s awfully big for just one person,” I agreed, recalling Toby’s words. “But it’s splendid, Dimity. It has every luxury, but it still feels like a family home. I don’t know why the Auerbachs don’t use it more often. They left so much stuff behind that they wouldn’t have to pack much more than an overnight bag.”

  What did the Auerbachs leave behind?

  “This and that,” I said. “A blouse and two pairs of trousers in my closet, a few T-shirts and a pair of sneakers in the boys’ room.”

  It sounds like an abandoned ship. Why didn’t the family take their clothes with them after their Christmas visit?

  “They’re rich,” I said. “They probably have multiple wardrobes for multiple residences.”

  Did they leave entire wardrobes behind?

  “No,” I said. “Just odds and ends.”

  They left odds and ends, here and there. It suggests to me that they packed hastily. How very interesting.

  “Is it?” I said vaguely. It was past midnight and the long day was catching up with me. I was suddenly too tired to follow Aunt Dimity’s train of thought.

  It’s extremely interesting. If the Auerbachs packed in a rush, then we’re dealing with two abrupt departures—the family’s and James Blackwell’s. If the cabin is as wonderful as you claim, why did they leave it in such a hurry?

  “Don’t know,” I said.

  You might ask Bill to look into it. He might know of some family emergency the Auerbachs experienced at Christmastime. And Mr. Auerbach may have told him why James Blackwell quit.

  “I will,” I said, suppressing a yawn. “I’ll ask Bill tomorrow. Or today. I can’t keep track anymore.”

  Of course you can’t. Forgive me for prattling on, my dear. You must be exhausted. We’ll continue our discussion after you’ve had a good rest. But don’t forget to speak to Bill about it. I don’t like abrupt departures, especially when they’re unexplained.

  “I’ll remember, Dimity,” I promised.

  Sleep well, my dear.

  “I think I might manage it tonight,” I said to Reginald as the lines of royal-blue ink slowly faded from the page.

  I placed the journal on the bedside table and brought Reginald to bed with me, to ward off my recurring nightmare. I lay awake for a short time, watching the firelight dance on the beamed ceiling and wondering why anyone would abandon such a lovely shi
p, but Toby’s image kept swimming through my mind, distracting me.

  “Like a cocker spaniel,” I murmured, and smiling drowsily, I drifted into sleep.

  Six

  I awoke from a confused dream involving heroic dogs and sinking ships to find bright sunlight streaming through the French doors and the windows. A glance at the bedside clock told me that it was half past eight. I pushed the duvet aside, rolled out of bed with Reginald in my arms, and walked slowly toward the French doors, unable to believe my eyes. I hadn’t slept past sunrise since I’d been shot.

  Cold air rushed in as I threw open the doors, but the view made me forget that I was barefoot and wearing only a nightgown. My deck was no more than two feet off the ground, but I could see the entire valley from it: the glittering lake, the deep green forest, the snow-streaked peaks against a sky so dazzlingly blue that I couldn’t look at it without squinting. The landscape was grandiose, extreme, almost frightening in its immensity. Nothing was tame or understated.

  “Reginald,” I said, under my breath, “I don’t think we’re in Finch anymore.”

  I shivered and wrapped my arms more tightly around myself and my pink rabbit, then realized with a start what the bedside clock had been trying to tell me.

  “Eight-thirty!” I yelped. “Toby’ll be here at nine!”

  I hightailed it back into the suite, sped through my morning routine, and pulled on jeans, a T-shirt, a warm woolen sweater, and sneakers. I tried to run to the great room, but gave up halfway down the corridor. Once I’d stopped seeing pinpoints of light dance before my eyes, I continued at a more sedate pace and opened the double doors to the mouthwatering scent of frying bacon. The twins were perched on stools at the breakfast bar, Annelise hovered over several frying pans on the stove, and Toby stood across the granite-topped bar from the twins, filling their glasses with orange juice. I’d arrived just in time to hear him laying down the law to Will and Rob.

  “First rule of the Aerie,” Toby was saying. “Don’t leave food lying around outside—not a peanut, not a hot dog, not a potato chip, nothing.”