Chapter 34
Something warm shook Lesley’s arm. Groggily, she opened her eyes. Matthew’s bright blue irises stared back at her from the side of the bed, his tiny hands on her biceps.
“Merry Christmas, sweetie.” She wrapped the boy in a hug.
“Merry Christmas, Momma Lesley.”
The children titled her with the nickname after John proposed. She gladly accepted the endearment, and the second chance at life.
She wiped the sleep from her eyes with one hand then shook John awake, leaning over to kiss him. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” he said through a yawn. “What time is it?”
Lesley glanced at her phone. “Six.”
“Five more minutes.” He threw a pillow over his head.
“I would be okay with that, but I don’t think the children will.” She glanced at Matthew who had moved to join Rachel in the hallway outside their bedroom; both bounced, anxiously waiting to see the booty Santa brought. She and John had stayed up until one putting together their toys.
He sat up as the kids ran back into their room, pulling his hands until he stood. “Fine.”
“Santa came,” Matthew squealed as they all rounded into the living room.
The giant Christmas tree filled the corner of the room as gifts poured from underneath, giving Rosalyn a warm and cozy impression, like an image from a Norman Rockwell painting.
“Sit down, you guys,” John said. “I’ll pass out presents.”
Bea and Leo walked downstairs from their room and joined everyone by the tree; the kids practically plowed into them to offer hugs. Even Angel joined in on the festivities.
Lesley’s heart swelled as she eyed her adopted family. Once her father, Emma, and Milton arrived for lunch, her home would be full and complete.
A pain shot through her heart for Myrtle. How many Christmases had her aunt sat in this room alone, never experiencing the love and joy Lesley felt now?
Love and joy that never could have happened had her aunt not gifted her the manor.
John placed a package in her lap and cupped her cheek. “What’s got you so down, babe?”
“Nothing.” She smiled. “Everything is perfect.” She picked up the box and shook it. “What’s this?”
“Careful. It’s breakable.”
Curiosity had her ripping the paper from the box, and she used her fingernail to tear the tape off the lid. Inside sat a ceramic dove. “It’s beautiful.”
“There’s a long story behind it, but just know that anytime I see a dove, I think of you, and everything I’ve gone through to get to this point in my life. To a point of pure joy.” He kissed her hand. “To me, this dove means love.”
“Then, I know just the place for it.”
After the kids tore into each of their gifts, Lesley took the dove and headed for the library. The oak cabinet sat in the corner by itself. If this dove represented love, then it belonged inside the old oak, where love began. She opened the heavy doors and placed the bird on the top shelf. Sunlight shown through the window and glinted off the bird’s wing, lighting up a small, tarnished brass hole that peeked at her from the top corner of the chest.
Carefully, she took the dove back out and set it on a bookshelf then ran her finger over the hole. Could it be? Excitement swelled in her as she pulled the key from around her neck and poked its teeth into the opening. She turned her wrist and heard a snap. The top third of the back panel opened.
Her fingers shook. She’d finally found the lock!
“John,” she hollered. “John!”
“What?” He ran into the library. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Look.” She pointed to the secret door. “I found the keyhole.”
He drew closer and stared inside the cabinet. “Well, I’ll be damned. I’ll bet Leo knew where this thing was the whole time, since he built it.”
“You’re right.” She placed her hands on her hips. “I bet he did.” Before she could call the older gentleman to the library, an oversized envelope plopped out of the opening and onto the shelf.
“What’s that?” John asked.
“I don’t know.”
Lesley pulled out a manila envelope. The package was thin in her hands, and she pulled the teeth up and tore the seal. Inside was a letter in beautiful script addressed to her aunt along with a folded piece of paper.
Carefully, she walked over to the table in the middle of the room and laid out the contents. Her fingers shook as she unfolded the page.
“Oh my God. Lesley, is that what I think that is?”
A picture of a young girl stared back at them. Her hair pulled up on one side, while the other side curled around her face, and a smile shone bright and genuine. The smile of a young woman in love…and the artist captured it perfectly.
“An original Samuel William Thomas of my great aunt.”
“I told you she had more money than she knew what to do with,” Bea said from the doorway.
Her and John both turned. “You knew this was here?”
“I did.” The older lady smiled. “Leo tried to convince the miss to lock her picture up somewhere safe, but she wouldn’t listen.”
Leo joined Bea in the doorway. “That picture is worth at least a million if not more,” the old man said.
“But…if you knew this was here, why didn’t you say something?” Lesley asked.
“I told you, ma’am, Miss Myrtle’s story wasn’t ours to tell. She had her reasons for doing what she did. If you stuck around and found the picture, it meant you were going to stay a while. If you didn’t and threw the oak chest out, well then, she didn’t want you to have the picture.”
“What about you two? Wouldn’t you have wanted this picture if I had thrown the chest out?”
“We don’t need that picture.” Leo shrugged and placed a gentle hand on his wife’s shoulder. “We’re old. What would we do with all of that money? The only reason we’d ‘a thought to save it would be for the history of it, but even still, Miz Myrtle wanted you to find it, so we would have left it alone.”
Left it alone? And would have let a million dollars go to waste. She couldn’t wrap her mind around the number.
“Well, you found it, so what does she expect you to do with it?” John asked her.
“I…I have no idea.” Lesley stared at the picture, feeling dumbfounded.
Milton entered the library. “I know exactly what you are supposed to do.”
****
Milton keyed into his office building and stepped back, letting Lesley and John walk over the threshold. The lawyer’s office reception was warm and inviting. Masculine, deep brown leather couches sat in the waiting area. Donna Malone’s nameplate sat on the equally dark receptionist’s desk. From what Lesley gathered, the two had become pretty hot and heavy over the past few months.
Good for them. When she and John married in the spring, she wouldn’t be surprised if she gained an uncle and an aunt. Her family had grown larger than she ever could have imagined.
“What’s so important we had to come here on Christmas?” John asked.
His uncle walked them into his office and pointed to the deep blue, wingback chairs. “Have a seat.”
She took her seat beside John, as they stared at each other. He shrugged his shoulders, telling her he didn’t have the faintest clue why they were both here.
Milton unlocked his desk and pulled out a folder from inside. “Now that you’ve solved the key’s purpose, Myrtle has strict instructions.” He held up the folder.
“She does? What are they?” Lesley asked and studied her soon-to-be uncle as he placed his glasses on and folded his hands in front of him.
“I’ll need to speak with you individually.”
“Individually?” She stared back at John, his eyebrow raised, mirroring her own thoughts.
“Yes.” The man nodded. “Unless you don’t mind the other hearing Myrtle’s last wishes for each of you.”
“Each of us?” John asked. “Why me?”
“It’s all in here.” Milton tapped the folder. “Shall we begin together then?”
Lesley reached for John’s hand. “I’m fine with that.”
“Yeah, me, too.” He squeezed hers back, his firm grip grounding her as her curiosity caused her head to spin.
Milton flipped open the folder and began reading. “If John Hambrice completes the renovations on the manor, despite who the lawful owner is, all of his debt is to be cleared.”
“Wait, what?” He held up his free hand to stop his uncle, his other hand becoming clammy in hers.
John’s debts: the one issue in his life that still haunted him. Lesley couldn’t help but be grateful on his behalf.
“Why do you think I pushed for you to get the job?” Milton replied. “Legally, I couldn’t tell you why taking on the project was so important, but once Lesley let me in on the fact she planned to keep the place, I knew she would need a contractor.”
“But Myrtle didn’t leave me enough money to renovate the place,” she reminded him. “How did she know John would do it?”
“She figured he had a good heart,” Milton said. “Which is why she has ordered that any and all medical bills for Sandra be paid in full. I’ll send the checks off first thing tomorrow. Congratulations, John. Your debts are covered.”
“Wait.” He closed his eyes and held up his hand again, before he refocused on his uncle. “How did she know about my debt?”
“She asked a few questions here and there about Sandra. She put two and two together. It’s a small town. People thought she was odd, and she liked to keep it that way, but Myrtle was a very shrewd and savvy businesswoman. Now,” Milton continued and stared back at the paper. “For Lesley, Myrtle’s wishes were that if you were to complete renovations on the manor and decide to use it as your final home, every dime that she owned would go to you.”
Every dime? Now it was Lesley’s turn to be confused.
“But…I thought I did get every dime. The one hundred thousand dollars.”
Milton smiled. “No, dear. Your aunt was worth quite a bit more.”
John squeezed her hand tight; her heart raced as her mind spun trying to process everything. “How much more?”
“For starters, there is the picture. You can keep it or sell it. The choice is yours.”
“Sell it?” Her heart did a deep whomp-whomp in her chest. “That’s at least a million dollars, if not more.” Her voice rose above normal speaking levels. “My aunt is giving me a million dollars?”
Milton slid the folder across the desk to her. “More or less.” He shrugged a shoulder and gave a half-crooked grin.
Lesley’s hands shook as she reached for the file and opened the cover. An accounting sheet stared back at her. In the top right corner, a balance stood out in bold, black numbers. She swallowed and closed her eyes, taking in slow, deep breaths to control her dizzy mind and insanely fast beating heart.
When she opened her eyes again, the numbers hadn’t changed.
“Lesley.” John placed a hand on her back. “Are you okay? You’re looking a bit pale.”
His words sounded garbled around the pounding pulse of disbelief in her ears. “What did you say?”
“Are you okay? Is it more or less than you expected?” he asked, even as he leaned over to get a better look at the sheet.
“More, honey.” She pointed to the number. “A lot more.” She reached over and grabbed his hand. John’s eyes bulged, his facial expression mirroring her thoughts.
****
Later that night, Lesley and John sat together on the porch swing, snuggled with warm cups of decaf coffee, staring at the Christmas stars in the night sky. They’d both tucked the children in bed and finally had a quiet moment to absorb all the information of the day.
His scruffy chin tickled her cheek. “I love you,” he murmured into her ear.
“I love you more,” she whispered.
“Not possible.” He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close.
She took in a big whiff of his woodsy scent, allowing him to wrap her in comfort. “I guess it makes sense why Aunt Myrtle placed her picture in the Bible and left the empty frame on the wall.”
“Why?”
“To make me notice the journal.”
“I guess that does make sense.” He nodded. “What are you going to do with the picture?”
“I have no idea, but I guess we now also know why she stayed here at this house.”
“Again, I have to ask why?”
“Love.” She grabbed John’s hand. “This place is where she met Samuel. If she stayed here, then in a way, their memory stayed alive.”
He held up his mug. “To love.”
“To love. And, to Myrtle and Samuel. May they always be together.” She clicked her glass with John’s before she leaned over and sealed the toast with a kiss.
Bakersville, Georgia and Rosalyn had given Lesley more than she had ever expected. More home, more community, more family, and more love than she’d ever dreamed she’d have in her life. And all of it was thanks to her Aunt Myrtle, and to a lonely artist who, if only for a short time, made her his world.