17. Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Seventeen
Old Vicky and Chaplin
RAFA
An Hour Earlier
Rafa thought of Sal as he arrived at Vicky’s home with Kimmy and Hana.
He wondered what Sal was up to. It must be midday in the Philippines about now, he thought.
He pulled up his phone and thumbed a message: “Guess what? Found out new stuff about Cedarthorne, and you won’t believe Auden’s family history.
” He grinned as he typed. He finished with, “I’ll call you before you go to sleep.
I love you.” Rafa checked on the cats. “We’re visiting a new house, girls.
But don’t worry, just stay in the carrier if you don’t feel safe,” he said.
The cats meowed and moved around their carrier as he walked to Vicky’s from the car.
The evenings were livelier in this part of town, unlike Sal’s.
The sound of children laughing and dogs barking replaced the quiet hum of the surrounding wildlife at Sal's cottage.
This was a more populated part of town, where generations lived, died, and passed on their stories.
He would pass by this neighborhood sometimes on the way to Town Square.
Whenever he did, he imagined this could be a great place to raise a family.
Vicky’s house was a typical St. Stephenshire home. The Tudor-style house had large chimneys, steep roofs, arched doorways, and prominent cross gables with an abundance of greenery at the front porch.
Vicky had been waiting for him by the front door.
“Come in,” she said as she turned on the lights.
Rafa looked around and noticed that her home direly needed some cleaning; some shelves needed dusting, and the carpets and sofas had cat hair on them.
Vicky struggled to light a match at the fireplace with her frail old hands.
Rafa put the cat carrier on the living room carpet and walked over to her.
“Here, let me help you.” He took the match and lit the fireplace. “Why don’t you take a seat?” he said as he started the fire
She didn’t, of course. She merely folded her sleeves up and announced, “I don’t have many guests over, so this calls for a celebration. I better cook you up something yummy.” She moved over to the kitchen and put on an apron. “Let your cats out of their carrier when you’re done.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When Rafa was done with the fire, he let Hana and Kimmy out, washed his hands, and helped in the kitchen as best he could.
He chopped some greens and onions, then cleaned the unwashed dishes.
After that, he endeavored to clean whatever he could while Vicky was busy cooking.
He chanced upon a dusty shelf, and while wiping it, he found small framed photographs of loved ones and a cat.
Half an hour later, at Vicky’s instruction, he prepared some tea and hot water, while she served him a big bowl of hot soup swimming with potatoes, carrots, ground beef, and spinach leaves.
“Smells good!” Rafa enthused as he ladled the soup into two bowls.
Vicky led him to the back patio, where a small table and two chairs sat facing the back garden, illuminated with garden lights.
Vicky offered Rafa a densely woven blanket, which he accepted.
When they sat in the night’s silence, with nothing but the garden lights and the moon above to light their view, calm fell upon their evening.
He slurped his soup in silence, watching the rivulets of oil dance in the beef stock and the steam rise into the cool air.
The welcome sight of Kimmy and Hana lounging in the garden helped him savor the moment.
Sitting there with a hearty bowl of soup, the sound of nature, and quiet company made his worries melt away.
“Looks like you needed this time in the quiet,” Vicky said as she helped herself to the hearty broth.
“Yes,” he breathed. “Thank you for letting me borrow the books and for the soup.”
Vicky waved a hand generously. “You’re welcome,” she said and leaned back. “But I have to warn you, whatever you’re trying to dig up, best leave it alone.”
He smirked. “Come on, you’re not afraid I’ll find something, will you?”
Vicky didn’t smile; she just looked at him for a moment, then clicked her tongue. “Do you know my name, Rafa?”
“Yes. It’s Vicky Toke. It says so on your librarian’s ID,” Rafa replied with a confused grin.
“That’s my married name,” Vicky said. “My full name is Victoria Spencer-Toke.”
It took a moment, but then it dawned on him, and his smile fell flat.
“Yes…” Her blue eyes seemed to sparkle at his surprised expression. “I’m the last living Spencer from old St. Stephenshire.” It was her turn to smile now. “Tell me, kid. Why are you interested in my great grandparents’ old house, eh?”
The Spencers of St. Stephenshire were just as infamous as the alleged ghosts that lurked in the halls of Cedarthorne Estate.
There were rumors that they had been part of a shady underground cult, and that the patriarch, Josiah Spencer, grew mad in his old age.
He peered into Vicky’s taunting blue eyes and sensed that he had stumbled upon something he shouldn’t have.
He paused, questioning whether to go ahead with it.
The image of Sal emerged from his memory, like a coaxing ghost enabling him to push through.
And then, as though possessed by a feverish pull of candor, he remembered why he was doing this.
“I need to learn all I can about Autumn Town. Somehow, everything traces back to Cedarthorne.” If old Vicky was ever to share her secrets, he would have to share his too.
“Someone is threatening to take Autumn Town, and I’m determined to find a loophole somewhere to stop them. ”
Vicky calmly looked at the garden. “History likes to repeat itself, doesn’t it?
” She sighed. “I can’t tell you much, kid, because all the old farts back in my day never told me much about it.
They were scared they’d tempt fate. Ha!” She took another slurp of her soup.
“But that didn’t stop me from finding out the truth…
or at least part of it.” She wiped her lips with a handkerchief and poured herself some tea as she spoke, looking as though she was measuring what to tell him.
“St. Stephenshire wasn’t always cloaked in never-ending fall.
My old folks came, and then it started—”
“You mean the season?”
“The spell.” She nearly hissed as she said the word.
Rafa couldn’t believe what he was hearing. But he remained silent and let her continue.
“Oh…” She shook her head, and Rafa worried she wasn’t as clear-headed as he thought.
“I know you think I’m this crazy old bat.
But there’s something in Cedarthorne that points to this town’s origins.
My great-grandfather Josiah lost his damn mind because of it.
They said there was no one sharper, more cloaked in luck than him.
But when he built that house, he stumbled upon something so unfathomable he packed up his things and took his family away, deserting the damn place, and that’s when stuff went south for us. ”
“What do you mean?”
“You never heard? Great-grandpa’s luck ran out.
We lost all the money, all our poor business deals and shady partners sucking us dry.
” She huffed, speaking wildly in a voice that was so unlike her.
“No one ever dared to live in that old Greek-revival of a home after they left it. My grandparents tried to sell it, but no one would buy it. The taxes went up so damn high, we ended up donating the land to the town.”
“But so far no one’s bought it?”
“Well, I heard some crazy kid your age wanted to live there! No doubt to hunt for whatever’s mucking up this town.” She took a sip of her hot tea. “I dunno about you, but you live long enough, and even this place gets old. I miss seeing snow without having to travel.”
“Do you think anything there would be valuable?”
“I’m sure.” Vicky took one more sip and closed her eyes, as though trying to calm herself. “If you had something that could explain this never-ending weather, wouldn’t you want to get your hands on it?”
I bet it's something an art curator like Harmon would like, Rafa thought, then gasped.
That was it! There must be something in Cedarthorne so valuable that it would be an important discovery, and where did discoveries become public knowledge—in museums that debuted collections at art shows.
He sat up straight and leaned forward. His mind raced and his heart pounded as he thought, This, this is what I can do to help Sal.
“And as for your precious Autumn Town… My forefather used to own the land, but when scary things started happening, we gave it to the Campbells, and they put up a medical center and ran that place for generations until it burned down. And I guess that’s where you come in, kid.
I’m sorry, but I don’t think there’s more to it than that. ”
Rafa took a moment to collect himself so he could plan clearly what he had to do next. But then a persistent curiosity came over him about Cedarthorne. He turned to Vicky and asked, “You said something about a spell?”
“That’s a long story.” Vicky rose to her feet.
Her face screwed up as she stretched her back.
“But you could read about it in those books.” She pointed to the two black books she had placed on the living room couch.
“You can stay as long as you want, just don’t forget to turn off the lights before you go, kid. ”
A faint meow that wasn’t Kimmy’s or Hana’s caught his attention just then.
Shortly after, a huge, scruffy-looking tuxedo-patterned cat emerged from the doorway that led to the garden.
The cat’s fur looked matted, and an ear had gone limp, but its eyes were as yellow and bright as freshly bloomed marigolds.
“Oh, there you are, Chaplin.” Vicky cooed as the cat rubbed against her ankles.
Kimmy and Hana came closer to survey the new cat.
They apprehensively sniffed at Chaplin and then licked him.
Vicky let out a faint chortle. “I brought you some company, dear,” she murmured to Chaplin as she gently scratched the back of his good ear.
She turned to Hana and Kimmy. Both cats were looking wide-eyed at her, like little children talking to a large granny.
Vicky bent over. “This old coot gets lonely sometimes,” she said, still scratching his ear.
Rafa watched as Vicky fawned over the three cats.
What must it be like to live alone in one’s old age?
He imagined it could get lonely. Vicky’s home had noticeable signs of a vivid and adventurous life immortalized in memory with photographs, shelves cramped with trophies, and obscure little trinkets gathering dust that were maybe from her travels.
Pictures hung on the wall of people he didn’t recognize, along with several photos depicting Chaplin from kittenhood to his elder years.
He wondered how long Vicky had been living alone like this.
A fondness formed in him when he took everything into view; so after finishing his soup and helping Vicky with clean up that night, he took the two black books, tucked them underneath an arm, and told himself he’d return with the cats to keep her company.
***
Later that evening, a new message pinged on Rafa’s phone while he was in the shower.
There was still some soap in his eyes when it sounded.
He opened the shower curtain and reached for it; keeping his phone near even while in the shower was a habit he developed as a business owner always on call.
The soap bubbles were still running past his face and down his abs as he blinked to read the message.
It was from Sal. It said, “That’s all really great, just busy now. Talk later.”
He didn’t know what to reply to that message.
Kimmy was already lying in bed after his shower. When he sat on the edge of the bed, the little cat purred. “Maybe I should just leave a voice note, Kimmy. What do you think?” he asked.
Kimmy blinked twice, which Rafa learned in cat body language was a ‘sure-whatever-you-say-human’ response. He chortled and softly scratched the back of her ears.
After a pregnant pause, he resolved to do so.
If he sent her a voice note, she would probably send one too, so at least he could hear her voice.
Tomorrow is the beginning of the work week.
He had a business problem to fix and a new mystery to crack in St. Stephenshire, so he wouldn’t be able to message as frequently.
He sighed as he hit the record button, recorded the voice message, and hit send.