Chapter 17
T he early morning silence of The Lakeview Café wrapped around Kathleen like a familiar embrace.
She’d been awake since four-thirty, her mind too restless for sleep, too full of thoughts about Florence Buckley and the hidden room beneath her house.
By six o’clock, she was in the café, baking delicious food for her customers.
Two days had passed since Percy’s visit, two days of careful planning and phone calls with Chloe about the next steps for preserving the documents they’d discovered.
The responsibility of looking after everything weighed heavily on her mind.
The fragile papers and faded records weren’t just historical artifacts—they were the stories of women who had nowhere else to turn, women whose courage had been quietly documented and then hidden away for over a century.
Kathleen pulled flour and sugar from the pantry, then reached for the eggs and butter from the refrigerator.
Today she’d planned to make her grandmother’s lemon muffins and a batch of chocolate chip cookies for the afternoon crowd.
The rhythmic motions of measuring and mixing had always been therapeutic, but today they felt almost meditative.
As she creamed butter and sugar together, Kathleen thought about the women Florence had helped.
Young, frightened, and desperate, they’d found sanctuary in what was now her home.
The hidden room had been their refuge, and Florence had given them something even more precious than shelter—new identities, new beginnings, and new hope.
The familiar chime of the café door surprised her. She glanced at the clock on the wall and frowned. It was only seven o’clock. There was still another half hour before opening time.
“Mom?”
Kathleen relaxed as Natalie pushed through the door, her dark hair pulled back in a messy bun, paint still visible under her fingernails. She looked tired, as though she’d been working through the night again.
“Honey, what are you doing here so early?” Kathleen set down her wooden spoon and studied her daughter’s face. There were shadows under Natalie’s eyes and, if Kathleen wasn’t mistaken, Natalie had some news to share.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Natalie said, sliding onto one of the stools at the counter. “I’ve been painting since three this morning. The exhibition pieces are finally coming together, but...” She trailed off, running her hands through her hair.
“But?” Kathleen prompted gently, reaching for a clean mug and the coffeepot.
“I feel like I’ve been living in a bubble for the past few weeks.
I’ve been completely absorbed in my work while the world kept spinning around me.
” Natalie accepted the steaming cup gratefully.
“Gabe’s been incredible, looking after Eddie and everything else while I’ve been lost in my studio.
I barely know what day it is half the time. ”
Kathleen smiled, remembering her own periods of intense focus when she’d been younger. “That’s what happens when you’re creating something important. How many paintings do you have left to finish?”
“Just two more, and some final touches on a couple of others.” Natalie took a sip of coffee and sighed. “Lorenzo’s been calling almost daily, making sure everything will be ready for shipping. The exhibition opens in six weeks.”
“You’ll make it,” Kathleen said with confidence, returning to her muffin batter. “You always do.”
Natalie watched Kathleen fold lemon zest into the mixture. “Have you found more information about Florence Buckley and what she was doing?”
Kathleen paused in her stirring. She’d given Natalie only the basic details when she’d called to share the discovery, not wanting to worry her while she was so focused on her paintings.
“Percy thinks Florence helped at least forty women over nearly two decades. She documented everything from medical care during pregnancy to the new identities she created for them afterward.”
“New identities?”
“Florence created false documents that made them widows instead of unmarried mothers,” Kathleen told her. “It meant they could find work, rent rooms, support themselves and their children without the social stigma that would have destroyed their lives.”
Natalie was quiet for a moment. “Does Chloe think the documents are authentic?”
Kathleen spooned muffin batter into paper-lined tins. “She’s looked at everything, and she’s confident they are. The team she worked with at the Smithsonian is analyzing one of the documents to see if it matches the paper and ink that was used in the late 1800s.”
Natalie swirled the coffee in her mug, watching the liquid create tiny whirlpools. “What does that mean for you and for the house?”
“For me, not much. But for the house, it means we have to be very careful with the renovations,” Kathleen replied.
“Chloe suggested asking a team of specialists to preserve and catalog everything properly. The Smithsonian has a digital archive of historical collections. She thinks what we found would fit with the other items they’ve recorded. ”
Kathleen slid the muffin pans into the oven, then started mixing cookie dough.
“Percy’s worried about word getting out before we’re ready to share everything with the rest of the world.
If people learn about what we’ve found, we could have treasure hunters and curiosity seekers descending on the house. ”
“That’s the last thing you need while you’re trying to finish the foundation work.”
“Exactly.” Kathleen measured vanilla extract into the bowl.
“Patrick’s construction crew is happy to adjust their timeline to accommodate the preservation work.
They understand how important this discovery is.
” She caught the subtle change in Natalie’s expression.
Her daughter had been matchmaking from a distance, gently encouraging the friendship that had been growing between Kathleen and the contractor from Manhattan.
“How is Patrick?” Natalie asked with studied casualness.
“He’s fine,” Kathleen replied, then caught herself frowning. “I just wish he was still here.”
Natalie frowned. “When is he coming back?”
“Soon, I hope. But he warned me it could take months to sort out the issues at Noah’s business.”
Natalie gave her a knowing look. “You miss him more than you thought you would, don’t you?”
Kathleen nodded. “But we’re still only friends, Natalie. Good friends.”
“Who happen to be spending a lot of time together working on your house, sharing incredible discoveries, and clearly enjoying each other’s company.”
Before Kathleen could respond, the chime above the door announced another early arrival. She looked up to see Chloe walking inside, her laptop bag slung over her shoulder and an excited expression on her face.
“I had to come into work early,” Chloe said, slightly breathless. “I have some exciting news.”
“What’s happened?” Kathleen asked, setting down her mixing spoon.
“My friend at the Smithsonian called me.” Chloe’s eyes were bright with excitement.
“The preliminary analysis of the document I sent them is complete and everything checks out! The paper, the ink, and the handwriting are consistent with the time period. We’re looking at genuine documents from the 1880s and 1890s. ”
Natalie straightened on her stool. “That’s wonderful.”
“It gets better,” Chloe continued. “I’ve been in touch with colleagues at universities across the country. What Florence was doing was almost unprecedented. When pregnant women were helped in other areas of the country, it was informal and undocumented. But Florence kept meticulous records.”
Kathleen felt goosebumps rise on her arms. “What does that mean?”
“It means your house may have been part of one of the first organized underground networks to help women in the American West. Look at this.”
Chloe pulled her laptop out of her bag and angled the screen so Kathleen and Natalie could see it.
The image showed the document Chloe had sent to the Smithsonian, now professionally photographed and much easier to read.
“My friend did a little research on some of the women mentioned in this document. This woman”—she pointed to a name on the list—“started her own dressmaking business, and this one became a teacher. Florence gave them the tools they needed to build meaningful futures.”
The timer beeped, announcing that a batch of muffins was ready.
Kathleen moved to the oven, grateful for the distraction while she processed what Chloe had shared.
It must have been difficult to start a new life, especially if the women were worried someone would recognize them from their previous lives.
After the golden-brown muffins were sitting on the counter, Kathleen refilled Chloe and Natalie’s coffee cups. “What will happen with the documents after they’ve been digitally catalogued?”
Chloe took a bite of muffin and smiled appreciatively. “If you’re still happy for us to upload them onto one of the Smithsonian’s database, we’ll do that. It’ll make the information accessible to anyone who wants to learn more about Florence and what she did.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Natalie said.
Chloe nodded. “It gets even better. The Smithsonian would love to create a joint exhibition featuring the items Kathleen and Patrick found, alongside the letter that Penny and her sisters discovered in the dresser at the Lakeside Inn. They represent two very different but equally important pieces of American history.”
Kathleen nearly dropped her coffee mug. “An exhibition?”
“At the Smithsonian,” Chloe confirmed. “Your discovery deserves that level of recognition. Florence Buckley’s work represents a crucial piece of women’s history that’s been lost for over a century.”
Natalie reached across the counter and squeezed her mother’s hand. “Mom, that’s incredible.”
“I... I don’t know what to say,” Kathleen admitted.
“You don’t have to decide anything right now,” Chloe assured her. “But it would be great to showcase the real American West and not the Hollywood version.”
Natalie walked across to the sink and washed her hands. “That all sounds fabulous, but if we don’t get ready, there’ll be a line of people waiting to come into the café. I’ll give you a hand to bake the cookies, Mom.”
Chloe closed her laptop. “And I’ll set the tables and get everything ready for our early-bird customers.”
Natalie cleared her throat, looking more nervous by the second. “Before you leave the kitchen, Chloe, there’s something I want to share with you and Mom.”
“What is it, honey?” Kathleen asked gently.
Natalie took a deep breath. “Gabe and I... we’re having another baby.”
The words hung in the air for a moment before Kathleen let out a delighted gasp. “Oh, Natalie!” She rushed around the counter to embrace her daughter. “That’s wonderful news!”
“Congratulations,” Chloe added warmly. “How far along are you?”
“Only three months,” Natalie said, her face glowing despite her obvious nervousness. “It’s still early, but I thought you’d like to know.”
Tears filled Kathleen’s eyes. “I’m so happy for you both. How is Gabe handling the news?”
“He’s over the moon. We both are.” Natalie’s smile was radiant. “We’ve been talking about how much our lives will change with another baby, but in the best possible way.”
“Eddie will be so excited to have a baby brother or sister,” Kathleen murmured, still absorbing the news.
“The timing isn’t great,” Natalie said. “I have my exhibition paintings to finish and another two commissions to start. And with all your renovations and the discovery at your house?—”
“Honey, there’s never a perfect time for wonderful news,” Kathleen interrupted. “This is a blessing, and I couldn’t be happier.”
Chloe hugged Natalie. “I’ll leave you to enjoy the news with your mom. If you need me, I’ll be out front.”
After Chloe left, Natalie smiled. “I thought living in Sapphire Bay would be quiet and uneventful, but look at what’s happened.”
Kathleen thought of everything that had happened in their lives. “It’s been an eventful few years,” she told Natalie. “But I wouldn’t change a thing.”