Page 52 of The Guests on South Battery
“No. She just said that she had a schoolgirl crush on him when shewas in high school. And that she and Sumter were in New York at the same time and that he was kind to her. But that would have been after Hasell’s death and his divorce. My cousin Rebecca intimated that there was more, but I should know better than to believe her.”
Amelia was thoughtful for a moment. “Yes, well, Anna was very possessive. I’m not even sure why she tolerated me. She seemed to believe that every woman was competition for the affection of her daughter and husband and therefore couldn’t be trusted. I think she only tolerated her sister-in-law because Button was so kind and gentle, and a good friend to all who knew her.”
Amelia began leading us up the stairs. As I put my foot on the bottom step, I felt a quiver in the air around me, the way I imagined a bear opening its eyes after a long hibernation. I shivered, not sure if it was because the temperature had dropped or because we were heading upstairs toward the attic.
Amelia paused on the landing and rubbed her hands over her arms. “I suppose the air-conditioning must be on up here, because it’s definitely colder than downstairs.”
“Probably,” I said, remembering the window unit in Button’s room and praying that was what it was. I turned to look at Jayne and saw her chilled breath rising from her opened mouth.
Amelia resumed climbing. “I never really blamed Anna for being the way she was. She was an only child, left behind with staff so her parents could travel the world without her. Her father owned an architecture and construction company, so they were very wealthy, and they made sure she had the best of everything, except themselves. She was always starving for affection. I think that’s why she was never really one of our crowd. Button, Ginette, and I were good friends and would have welcomed her into our circle, but Anna didn’t know how to share her affections.”
I paused on the landing, feeling the warring between two separate and distinct entities, the push and pull that I had quickly begun to associate with being in this house. I slowly climbed each step, feeling like a woman being led to the scaffold, Jayne close behind me.
I half expected to see that doll again by the attic door, but I hadn’t received a panicked phone call from Sophie, so I was hoping it was still locked up in the safe in her friend’s office. Behind a pile of bricks. And a Catholic priest with holy water.
A door shut behind us, and I jumped. “That’s Button’s room,” I said. “It must be the air conditioner,” I added hopefully, praying that my companions wouldn’t point out that the door would have been blown open, not closed.
“Good,” Amelia said. “Leave it closed and let’s give the upstairs a few minutes to warm up.” She headed toward the attic door, seemingly unaware of the pulsating air that shimmered around us, or the putrid smell of rotting flesh.
She turned the doorknob and I held my breath in the split second after I realized that I didn’t need to. The curtain had come down again inside my head with an almost audiblepop. The air had settled, the smell gone, leaving only the fresh scent of sawdust and new plaster.
I drew in a deep breath as she pushed the door open. I glanced back at Jayne, who seemed completely unaware that something had just happened. I was relieved, not wanting to relive the scene of her being pushed down the stairs.
We began to climb another set of steps to the attic, well lit from the window at the top.
“Why would they put a sickly child up in the attic?” Jayne asked.
Amelia reached the top of the stairs and turned to look at us. “It was Hasell’s choice. She always wanted to travel the world but couldn’t. So she satisfied her longing by being able to see the water and the boats and ships passing by. She would make up stories of the great adventures she imagined the passengers were having, and a lot of other really creative stories of her own imaginary world. She actually wrote them down in a large notebook, always saying that one day she’d like to have them published. Not that she ever had the chance, of course. I actually looked for the notebook earlier, but it must have been removed at some point.”
Jayne was humming something to herself as we both stepped intothe attic, the sound immediately stopping as we took it all in. Despite the peaked ceiling and an exposed rafter bisecting the middle, it would not have been apparent that this room was an attic. There was water damage evident on one entire wall, but the rest of the room, although musty, was mostly unscathed.
The four walls had been painted a bright, azure blue, with vivid depictions of sea and sky and foreign lands. In one small section a replica of the house had been painted on a spit of land next to what was labeled the Ashley River, and there were other bits of land throughout the mural showing the Eiffel Tower and the British houses of Parliament and other known landmarks from around the world.
“This is amazing,” Jayne said with awe in her voice. “Who painted this?”
“Her father—Sumter,” Amelia said. “He was very artistic—although you’d never guess it from his choice of profession. And he loved his daughter. Button once told me that he was glad they had this huge house so that he would have room for the dozen or so children he planned to have.”
I walked toward the bed, a hulking ghost beneath white sheets draped over four posts, one edge having slipped to reveal a delicate white eyelet nightgown draped at the foot of the bed, its color faded yellow with age. “Could Anna not have any more children after Hasell?”
Amelia turned on the ceiling fan, stirring up dust but moving the still, heavy air. “She didn’t want to. Hasell needed all her attention, and Anna didn’t think it would be fair to any siblings not to give them the attention they deserved. I don’t think it ever occurred to her or to Sumter that Hasell might not live to adulthood.”
Jayne gasped and I turned around in time to see the black cat running down the steps, then disappearing into the hallway.
“What’s wrong?” Amelia asked.
“That cat,” I said. “We have no idea how it gets inside the house. I hate to think there’s a hole somewhere—who knows what else might be crawling inside?”
Amelia frowned. “I do hope you find out where it’s gaining access. Maybe when the security people come to wire the house they’ll find it.”
I was only half listening. A reflection of sunlight had refocused my attention on a corner étagère that had been covered by a dust sheet that must have come loose and slipped to the floor. It had to have been recently, because there was very little dust on the shelves or on what appeared to be hundreds of snow globes in all sizes covering all the available surfaces.
“Oh, yes, Hasell’s snow globe collection,” Amelia said as she approached. “Whenever Sumter had to travel on business, he’d bring one back for Hasell. But a lot of these places he visited only because Hasell wanted to go there. I think that sometimes he went out of his way to make a stopover just to pick up a snow globe.” She picked up one that had a giant sun wearing sunglasses floating in water tinted blue by the painted background, the word “MIAMI” spelled out in bright orange on the base. Amelia gave it a shake and we watched specks of sparkling sand erupt from the bottom like a sudden typhoon and rain on the sun, blocking its smile for a moment.
Amelia replaced the snow globe. “That’s why I wanted you to see all this. Of course you can decide to donate it all to Goodwill or some other worthy organization. Or keep it here, or even store it somewhere. I just didn’t think it was something that should be left up to somebody else. You didn’t know Button, but she entrusted you with the care of this house and everything in it.”
Jayne had gone very pale, her skin and lips appearing almost bloodless. “I need to be alone for a moment—do you mind? I’ll meet you downstairs.”
“You don’t look well at all,” Amelia said kindly, approaching with her hand outstretched.
