doubted
that they would be holding Danny in there; it was too small to even walk in,
much less contain a man as large and powerful as he was.
That left the wine cellar and the dank
old rooms that were what Gregory gleefully called the horror chamber when they
had been kids. After he had locked her in there that summer she had been
relieved to be allowed to stay away from the house during the summers. Being
alone in the city had not been as difficult for her as her family would have
thought it was for her.
The oldest section of the house it
contained long shelves that were filled with the literal fruits of her
grandmother’s labor. Having weathered a Depression and two husbands her
grandmother Ellie was not one to waste money or turn her back on traditions.
She had often grown huge gardens filled with fruits and vegetables, canning
quite a lot of them as well. She had retired from the city completely in the
years before her death and the section of cellar that she had used to store
those tightly sealed jars had never been cleaned out. In other families that
would have been due to sentiment, in the Lowry’s case the room simply sat there
unremarked and mostly forgotten because nothing about their plain beauty held
appeal.
Meghan hated the cellar but she knew if
she was going to help Danny she had to go down there, it was the only place
that they could hope to hide him and keep him hidden. It was not yet the season
but there were locals who lived nearby and many of them worked for the people
who owned the large waterfront homes, if any of them saw something suspicious
at any house they would report it.
The room she stood in had been her
bedroom when she had been allowed to spend time at the house. She cast a glance
around it, there was nothing of her personality imprinted upon it, the curtains
were the same spotless white voile, the floors were gleaming hardwood, and the
bed lay under smoothed straight linens. The same bland seascapes dotted the
walls and as she passed the armoire she caught sight of a glimmer of lace.
Curious she eased the door open and found herself staring at her forgotten
confirmation dress. She had been drinking an orange soda, she remembered, and
she had gotten a spot on it and her mother had been furious, the dress and the
day had both been ruined by that spot. The dress had somehow managed to escape
the trash barrel or being given away to charity and as she looked at it Meghan
found herself wanting to weep with frustration and sorrow.
“Why did you hate me so much? It couldn’t
have just been money,” she whispered and then she softly closed the door as she
realized that she was wasting precious time.
The hallway was lined with old-fashioned
sconces. Her grandmother had loved them and she had refused to have them
removed. Meghan put her back to the wall and clung to the shadows as she neared
the landing, her ears straining to hear any noise that would tell her if there
were other people in the house. She had seen her father’s jaguar parked in the
garage when she had peeked inside, parked cheek and jowl to the low black car.
Her nerves were stretched to the breaking point by the time she had cleared the
graceful staircase and stood in the low ceilinged kitchen. The door to the
cellar was firmly closed but a bottle of brandy stood on the granite countertop
with a lipstick-imprinted glass next to it. Meghan knew that color all too
well; it was a deep plummy red shot through with gold undertones. It was her
mother’s signature color and had been for years, it was made specifically for
her.
The wave of anger that crested inside her
at the sight of that lipstick shocked her. She had often feared her mother, and
there had been many days when she had wished for her approval but she had never
felt anger, and she was not sure how to deal with that emotion.
She was still standing there, too caught
up in the unexpected feeling to pay attention to her surroundings when she
caught the musky spice of her
that they would be holding Danny in there; it was too small to even walk in,
much less contain a man as large and powerful as he was.
That left the wine cellar and the dank
old rooms that were what Gregory gleefully called the horror chamber when they
had been kids. After he had locked her in there that summer she had been
relieved to be allowed to stay away from the house during the summers. Being
alone in the city had not been as difficult for her as her family would have
thought it was for her.
The oldest section of the house it
contained long shelves that were filled with the literal fruits of her
grandmother’s labor. Having weathered a Depression and two husbands her
grandmother Ellie was not one to waste money or turn her back on traditions.
She had often grown huge gardens filled with fruits and vegetables, canning
quite a lot of them as well. She had retired from the city completely in the
years before her death and the section of cellar that she had used to store
those tightly sealed jars had never been cleaned out. In other families that
would have been due to sentiment, in the Lowry’s case the room simply sat there
unremarked and mostly forgotten because nothing about their plain beauty held
appeal.
Meghan hated the cellar but she knew if
she was going to help Danny she had to go down there, it was the only place
that they could hope to hide him and keep him hidden. It was not yet the season
but there were locals who lived nearby and many of them worked for the people
who owned the large waterfront homes, if any of them saw something suspicious
at any house they would report it.
The room she stood in had been her
bedroom when she had been allowed to spend time at the house. She cast a glance
around it, there was nothing of her personality imprinted upon it, the curtains
were the same spotless white voile, the floors were gleaming hardwood, and the
bed lay under smoothed straight linens. The same bland seascapes dotted the
walls and as she passed the armoire she caught sight of a glimmer of lace.
Curious she eased the door open and found herself staring at her forgotten
confirmation dress. She had been drinking an orange soda, she remembered, and
she had gotten a spot on it and her mother had been furious, the dress and the
day had both been ruined by that spot. The dress had somehow managed to escape
the trash barrel or being given away to charity and as she looked at it Meghan
found herself wanting to weep with frustration and sorrow.
“Why did you hate me so much? It couldn’t
have just been money,” she whispered and then she softly closed the door as she
realized that she was wasting precious time.
The hallway was lined with old-fashioned
sconces. Her grandmother had loved them and she had refused to have them
removed. Meghan put her back to the wall and clung to the shadows as she neared
the landing, her ears straining to hear any noise that would tell her if there
were other people in the house. She had seen her father’s jaguar parked in the
garage when she had peeked inside, parked cheek and jowl to the low black car.
Her nerves were stretched to the breaking point by the time she had cleared the
graceful staircase and stood in the low ceilinged kitchen. The door to the
cellar was firmly closed but a bottle of brandy stood on the granite countertop
with a lipstick-imprinted glass next to it. Meghan knew that color all too
well; it was a deep plummy red shot through with gold undertones. It was her
mother’s signature color and had been for years, it was made specifically for
her.
The wave of anger that crested inside her
at the sight of that lipstick shocked her. She had often feared her mother, and
there had been many days when she had wished for her approval but she had never
felt anger, and she was not sure how to deal with that emotion.
She was still standing there, too caught
up in the unexpected feeling to pay attention to her surroundings when she
caught the musky spice of her
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