Chapter Ten
The Wester House contained things that, for all Bailey knew, existed only here and nowhere else in the world.
There were chipped saltcellars and cracked butter bells and tarnished cloches.
There was also an unused butler’s pantry, and not just a regular piano, but a grand piano, jet-black and so polished it gave off its own light.
They were things that her dad said were never used and should have been thrown out years ago, but Mim kept them because she didn’t want the neighbors to go through the trash and see her business.
This made Bailey wonder about the habits of said neighbors.
But after that first day, Bailey didn’t see the owner of all these magical things again.
Over the course of the summer, Mim communicated solely by notes on ivory-colored paper.
She placed them under a silver cloche dome on the dining room table.
It always felt thrillingly formal to eat there, even though it was just takeout from the many touristy, hen-themed restaurants downtown—grilled cheese sandwiches from Scratch Grains, or waffles stuffed with strawberry sauce from Scrambled.
Tug would lift the cloche to find the note from Mim.
Sometimes he would read the note to himself without comment, but sometimes he would tell Bailey what it said.
It was usually things like, yes, he could hang new curtains in her bedroom.
Or that Mim was expecting a UPS delivery.
Bailey began to suspect that their daily walk downtown wasn’t just for Bailey to get tea ice cream.
It was to give Mim some time alone in the house, like a feral cat who would only come out when no one was around.
At this rate, Bailey feared she would forget what Mim looked like.
What if she ran into her in the hallway one day, and didn’t know who she was?
She might even walk right by, as if a random woman in the house would be less surprising than seeing her grandmother.
This was perhaps Mim’s intent, to make Bailey forget her.
But her actions had the opposite effect.
Mim became the candy in the upper cabinet, put there so Bailey couldn’t reach it.
She was the Christmas gift hidden in the closet.
She was the secret being whispered just out of earshot.
It made Bailey even more curious about what delight she might find, if only she could get to know her.
Every night after dinner, Tug brought out a photo album with Bailey’s mother’s name, Maria, on the pink cover.
He made Bailey sit with him to go over the photos, clearly a way of trying to keep her from forgetting.
But that night Bailey finally asked what she’d been dying to ask for weeks: “Do you have photos of Mim?”
He looked at her curiously, then said, “There aren’t many of those, I’m afraid.
” He set aside the album and then went to an antique rolltop desk in the corner to rifle through the drawers.
He finally brought out a black photo album, an older one, the pages bound with a metal spiral down the side.
“Before my dad died, he made me this so I would remember him, like that one of your mother’s I made for you. ”
He sat down and opened it. The first few pages were black-and-white photos of Tug’s father, Terrence Sr., as a child, showing him at family Christmases and graduations.
Then came photos of Tug as a baby, with Terrence Sr. holding him.
Tug looked just like his father, the same blond hair and blue eyes, the same funny smile that revealed only his bottom teeth.
Thrillingly, photos of Mim began to appear, and Bailey stopped her dad from turning the page so she could stare.
There was Mim with a faraway look on the Wester lawn.
And there she was, next to Tug as he blew out candles for his eighth birthday in the dining room.
“Has Mim always been old?”
Tug smiled. “I remember asking my dad the same question. It’s like she came into the world exactly as she is today.
Apparently, she burned all the photos of herself as a child that her grandmother took.
She told my dad she didn’t want to be haunted by them anymore.
My dad took all these of me, and the few your grandmother allowed of herself. ”
Bailey pointed to the photo of the three of them on the same velvet gold couch where she and Tug were now sitting.
Young Tug was between his mother and father, and the timed photo had caught him with his eyes closed.
Terrence Sr. had his arm over Tug’s shoulder, laughing, as if he’d just made it to the couch before the camera clicked. Mim was trying to smile.
“They don’t look together.”
“No, they don’t. Her grandmother decided who she should marry, and it was the only way she could inherit this house. But he was an easy man. She was the one to make it hard.”
Bailey turned to him seriously. “Why don’t you like her?”
“I love your grandmother, sweetheart. And I know she loves me, in her own way. But she only doles out small portions of herself, and then she seems surprised when it’s not enough.
She’s not a demonstrative person, not like my dad was.
When I lost him, I lost my only real parent.
But one of the last things he ever told me was to go easy on her, because she had a story I knew nothing about.
” He closed the album and handed both albums to her.
“Here, take these to your room. They’re yours now.
You can look at them any time you want.”
She took them and ran out of the room.
Once she was on the staircase, Tug called, “Bailey?”
She stopped and turned.
“No matter what, you can always count on me to love you, okay?”
She nodded quickly, then ran the rest of the way to her room, where she spent hours memorizing Mim. But it still didn’t alleviate her frustration over not being able to see her in real life.
Her big chance finally came when Tug had to take a call on the following Friday from his boss at the financial firm, to go over the logistics of working remotely after Bailey started kindergarten on Monday.
He sat Bailey down at one end of the dining room table with her coloring books, and then he took a seat at the other end.
Once he was distracted with his phone to his ear and his laptop in front of him, she slid off her chair in what she thought was an astounding feat of stealth, because her dad didn’t even look up.
She crawled to the foyer, then stood and looked down the hallway to Mim’s quarters.
She squeezed her eyes shut, willing Mim to come out. When she didn’t, she went to the living room and circled the grand piano twice. She stopped at the keys and slowly reached out, letting one finger hover. If she touched it, maybe that would get Mim’s attention.
Reluctantly, she took her hand away. She was told not to.
She went back to the foyer and took one step down the dark hallway. Then another, and another, until she was in front of the sunroom. She put her ear to the door. There was a television on in there. Whatever program it was, Bailey was sure she would love it. She lifted her hand to knock.
That’s when a single note chimed from the piano in the living room.
Bailey turned her head quickly, then ran back down the hallway.
To her astonishment, there was now a handsome young man standing next to the piano.
He looked like someone from decades ago, with his dark hair touching his shoulders and shaggy mustache shaped like a horseshoe.
His jeans had bell bottoms so long they touched the floor, and the snaps of his shirt were undone nearly to low-rise at his hips.
There was a yellow rose pinned to the wide collar.
He seemed so happy to see her that he didn’t know what to say.
Or maybe he was just happy for her to finally see him.
“You’re not supposed to touch your grandmother’s piano,” Tug said from behind her.
Bailey spun around. “I didn’t.”
“I know it’s not easy, sweetheart.”
“I wasn’t me. It was the man.” She turned back around, pointing.
But he was gone.
That evening, Tug lifted the cloche per usual and took Mim’s note. He read it, then sat back and said, “Huh.”
Bailey was shoveling Hen Fries from the Hen House Café into her mouth, waiting to see if he was going to read it to her.
He looked at her curiously and said, “Did anything else happen today while I was on my call?”
Bailey hesitated. He didn’t believe her about seeing the man, any more than he believed she saw her mother after the crash. So she just shrugged.
“Your grandmother wants you to have tea with her tomorrow.”
“Tea ice cream?” Bailey asked excitedly.
“No, just regular tea. She has it every afternoon in her sunroom.”
“Mim drinks?” Mim not only watched television in there, she had refreshments!
Tug tried not to smile. “Just tea. That’s an important distinction. If anyone asks, don’t say she drinks. Say she drinks tea. Otherwise, people will assume you mean alcohol, and your grandmother hates alcohol.”
“Will you be there?”
“I’m not invited. Girls only.” He put the note card down and said again, “Huh.”
That night, it rained for the first time since they’d moved to Hen Town, sheets and sheets of it.
It seemed to fill the house like a flood, rising all the way to the third floor with a watery slosh, though the house remained bone dry.
It made shadows come alive, floating through Bailey’s bedroom like items from a shipwreck floating at sea—a guitar, a rose, an umbrella.
She stared at the ceiling after her dad tucked her into bed. She sensed that the man she’d seen earlier was hiding in the attic above her, as far away from the lower floors as possible. He didn’t like rain, not at all.
It seemed to remind him of something he didn’t want to remember.
Saturday morning dawned bright and humid, fogging all the windows. The man remained in the attic despite the rain being long gone, but Bailey flew out of bed still half tangled in sheets.
Today was the day.