Chapter 24
A nita took a step back to admire the charcuterie board she had ordered from Pete’s Bistro.
The long wooden rectangle took center stage on a display cabinet.
The arrangement featured cured meats, sliced and cubed cheeses, mixed nuts, dried fruits, and an assortment of crackers, artfully placed along its length.
A wheel of baked brie rose on a pedestal stand, flanked by small bowls of honey and jam.
Bottles of both alcoholic and nonalcoholic champagne stood in buckets of ice on the counter next to the cash register, along with a silver tray of fluted glasses.
Gordon came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “It looks beautiful, sweetheart.”
She nodded in agreement and glanced at her watch. “People will arrive any minute. I can’t wait to thank them for believing in my vision.”
“You’ve got a remarkable group of friends, that’s for sure,” he replied. “But that’s how you roll here in Westbury.”
She swiveled in his arms and planted a kiss on his cheek. “I haveyouto thank most of all for this,” Anita said. “I wouldn’t have thought of opening a museum if you hadn’t suggested it.”
“Pfft,” he said, brushing off the compliment. “I don’t know about that.”
She glanced up at the overhead pendant lighting. “Thank goodness they still work. It’d be too dark for people to roam around in here without them. It’s awfully chilly, though—the old heater isn’t keeping up.”
“It definitely needs to be replaced,” Gordon said.
“Should we run over to Archer’s Bridal and borrow the space heater we use in the workroom?” she asked.
“If people leave their coats on, they’ll be fine,” Gordon said. “I’d be hesitant to plug in that heater. It might blow a fuse.”
“Hadn’t thought of that,” Anita said.
“Besides, once a few more people are here, it’ll warm up. Are you excited to open those crates?” he asked. “I certainly am.”
“Andhow,” Anita replied. “I thought about suggesting the two of us take a peek when you arrived yesterday, but, since I’ve asked people to a ‘great reveal’ party today, I thought that would be cheating.”
Gordon chuckled. “I admire your self-restraint.”
Motion outside the shop window drew their attention.
“That’ll be your guests,” Gordon said, stepping forward to open the door.
Tim and Nancy were the first to arrive. Close behind were Joan and Sam, followed by Judy and Jeff. The women hugged Anita and greeted Gordon warmly.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Anita said to her friends. “The renovations are just getting started, but already things feel so much better in here. Having the mold remediated and the walls repaired goes a long way toward making me comfortable in the space.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Sam said, “but we’re ahead of schedule. The roofers are coming back tomorrow to finish up. They said they’ll be done before noon.”
“That’s wonderful news,” Tim said. “They’re predicting heavy snow and record cold by the end of the week. I’m sure they want to finish before that hits.”
The door opened again, and Sunday and Josh joined them. Anita and Sunday hugged like old friends.
“So, this is the site for Westbury’s newest museum?” Sunday asked, stepping back and surveying the space, her eyes wide. She turned to Anita. “This could not be more perfect. I’m so excited for you.”
“You’re too sweet,” Anita said, blushing. She turned to Gordon. “Will you open the champagnes and pass out glasses?”
“I was about to suggest that,” Gordon said, moving toward the beverages.
“While we’re waiting for Maggie and John to arrive,” Anita said to the group, “please help yourselves.” She pointed at the food. “It’s happy hour, and I’m sure everyone’s hungry. We don’t know what we’ll find in those crates in the basement, so I suggest everyone fortify themselves first.”
“This looks so pretty,” Sunday said, admiring the spread.
“It’s from Pete’s,” Anita replied.
“That’s who’s catering our wedding reception,” Josh supplied.
Everyone took an appetizer plate and began filling it. Gordon passed out drinks, and soon conversation hummed as everyone nibbled. The offerings on the board began disappearing.
Anita glanced toward the door. “It’s not like Maggie to be late,” she said to Josh. “Do you know if something came up at the college?”
“I don’t think so,” he replied. “We talked about coming here tonight. She and John are?—”
The door opened, and a gust of wind pushed Maggie and John inside.
“Sorry we’re late, everyone,” John said, holding up his hands. “It’s all my fault—I got tied up at the animal hospital.”
“It’s not a problem,” Anita said. “We’re glad you’re here now.”
“You’re more understanding than my wife has been,” John said, winking at Maggie. “She’s so eager to get into those crates, I thought she was going to explode.”
Maggie cuffed him playfully on the shoulder. “I am looking forward to seeing what’s inside. I kept texting, asking when you’d be home because I didn’t want to delay everyone else.” She smiled at the group. “If we were going to be much longer, I was going to tell Anita to proceed without us.”
Anita threw her arms wide and hugged them both at once. “I’m so glad you’re here. We would’ve waited. The reveal wouldn’t be the same without you.”
Gordon took their drink orders, and Anita insisted they help themselves to food. She then walked to the far end of the room. “I have a few words to say before we go downstairs.”
The group quieted as she spoke.
“I want to thank each of you for your friendship and encouragement.” She turned to Gordon, her smile landing on him like a spotlight. “I’m especially grateful to Gordon for suggesting this museum and insisting I could pull it off. I’m so happy that each of you could join me tonight.”
She raised her glass. “Here’s to all of you.”
“Hear, hear,” Gordon said, raising his glass and tapping it against hers.
Her friends raised their glasses. Everyone took a sip.
“And now,” Anita said, eyes shining, “I think it’s high time we found out what’s in those crates in my basement!”
Anita walked to the door leading to the basement and flung it open. The battery-operated lanterns Gordon had placed on the steps and hung from hooks in the ceiling illuminated their path. Sam and Jeff brought up the rear.
Each person gasped in astonishment as they stepped off the bottom step and into the basement for the first time. They lined up along the far wall, facing the unmarked, rough-sawn oak crates.
Maggie leaned into John, bringing her lips close to his ear. “I feel like I did the first time I stepped into Rosemont’s attic. This is so exciting.”
John nodded.
“You’ve remembered something, haven’t you?” she whispered, studying his face.
John shrugged, raising his hands, palms up.
Sam and Jeff crossed the room to stand beside Anita.
“This is exactly what we saw when we came down here—twelve identical crates, six across and stacked two high.” She opened her arms wide to encompass the crates behind her.
“They were nailed shut, and the seller refused to let us open them before the building’s purchase.
We tried to see inside using flashlights, but there are no openings to give us even a glimpse.
” She looked at Sam and then Jeff. “Believe me—we tried.”
A titter of laughter passed around the room.
“So, without further ado,” Anita said, “Sam and Jeff will now open the crates.”
She stepped aside as each man approached a crate, wielding a hammer and crowbar. They got busy loosening nails. Jeff’s crate came open first. He waited until Sam loosened his lid. They looked at each other, nodded, and lifted the lids.
Anita peered into Jeff’s crate. A thick layer of sawdust covered the contents. Jeff pulled a pair of work gloves from the back pocket of his jeans and handed them to her. She slipped them on and sculpted a divot in the sawdust.
“My hand’s connected with something,” she said over her shoulder.
“It feels like a wooden divider.” She continued digging, her brow furrowed in concentration.
Her hand hit another object, and she used both hands to feel along its outline.
Slowly, she pulled it an inch from its perch, shielding it from view with her body.
Holding it with her left hand, she brushed away more sawdust with her right.
Anita stared at the object, then threw her head back in delighted laughter.
Her friends leaned in like stalks of wheat bent by a strong wind.
Anita looked over her shoulder. “The history of this place just got a whole lot more interesting,” she said.
She pulled an amber glass bottle from the crate.
Shaped like an oversized flask and made of ornate pressed glass, it featured a capitalWoutlined by a circle in its center.
Wax sealed the corked bottle. “I believe this place was home to moonshiners—back in the day,” she said.
Maggie spun toward John. “Is that what you remembered?”
He nodded. “I knew I remembered somethingsalaciousabout this place. But I couldn’t recall what until we stepped down here and saw those crates. They’d be the perfect way to store and transport moonshine.”
“Is there still booze in them?” Judy asked.
Anita nodded as she held up the bottle. “It appears to be full.” She handed it to Judy.
“It’s a beautiful old bottle,” Judy said, passing it to Josh.
“It’s definitely full,” Josh confirmed, turning it upside down. “The seal has held all these years—nothing’s leaking.” He handed it to Sunday.
Anita moved to the next compartment and confirmed it contained an identical bottle.
She felt across the top of the open crate.
“There are twelve bottles in this row.” She removed one and held it against the side of the crate.
“They could fit two rows per crate, so that’s 24 bottles times 12 crates … ” Her voice trailed off.
“Two hundred eighty-eight bottles of hooch,” John supplied the mathematical answer.
“Wow,” Anita said with a laugh. “I guess we could havequitea party with this stuff.”
Sunday handed the bottle to Maggie. “You won’t want to drink this,” she said.
“Not until we test it. Unopened whiskey from a commercial manufacturer might be fine, but moonshine? That’s risky.
Moonshiners often added toxic additives such as methanol or industrial alcohols to increase their output.
These toxins can cause blindness—or worse, even death. ”
The bottle made its way back around to Anita, who gently returned it to its slot.
“Let’s see if the next crate contains the same,” she said. She moved to Sam’s crate and found another bottle. Newspaper wrapped this bottle, but its contents appeared identical to the first.
“Well,” Anita said, “this is … interesting.” She looked at Tim. “Since I’m not going to do anything with these, should we ask the seller to haul them away?”
“Just because you won’t drink the whiskey,” Sunday said, “doesn’t mean it isn’t valuable.
These bottles are beautiful. They may be worth something.
Another option is to display them on shelves down here.
Save the newspaper that the bottles are wrapped in, too.
It’ll provide contextual historical clues.
This room could become part of your museum—a nod to a thriving bootleg business in the 1930s. ”
“That’s a fun idea,” Judy said. “Some of your sewing machines are from that era. It fits.”
Anita tapped her lip with one finger. “I’ll have to think about it.” She turned toward the stairs. “I guess the mystery’s been solved.”
“Not so fast,” Maggie said. “Aren’t we going to openthe rest of the crates?”
“They probably have the same thing in them,” Anita said.
“I think we need to find out,” Maggie insisted. “Sam and Jeff can open them, and we can each search a crate to verify the contents. That would save you time, wouldn’t it?”
“Sure,” Anita admitted. “But you don’t have to?—”
Maggie turned to the others. “What do you say? Do we want to open these crates and see what’s in them?”
“Yes!” came the resounding reply.
Sam and Jeff opened the remaining crates, and everyone dug in. As expected, 24 bottles of whiskey were nestled inside each one.
“That’s a lot of inventory to leave abandoned,” Tim said. “I wonder why it got left behind. This must’ve been worth a fortune back in the day.”
“They might have been interrupted,” John said.
“Maybe the sheriff found out and arrested them,” Judy offered.
“If that were the case,” Gordon said, “why wouldn’t the officers have removed the inventory?”
“The bootlegger could have been gunned down by the mob,” Nancy suggested.
“This story is getting more interesting by the minute,” Anita said. “I hope Icanfind out what really happened.”
“I’ll look in the college archives,” Sunday said. “We have a comprehensive collection detailing Westbury’s history.”
Gordon snapped his fingers. “If Maggie and John will permit me, I’d like to go through that filing cabinet in Rosemont’s attic—the one I mentioned on New Year’s Day.”
“And I’ll poke around the attic at the Olsson House,” Judy said. “There are stacks of old newspapers up there I haven’t touched.”
“That’s a lot of work,” Anita said. “Are you sure you want to do that?”
“Yes,” Sunday, Gordon, and Judy replied in unison.
“There’s nothing better than a historical mystery,” Judy said, grinning, “especially when we’ve got connections to people from the past.”
“You are the best,” Anita said, beaming. “Who knew this place would bring its own mystery to my project? Perhaps I should rename this place the Westbury Sewing Machine and Moonshine Museum!”