Chapter Twenty-One
“So what’s on your mind today, Kit?” Banks asked.
“You’re kidding, right? Over the past several days, I’ve found the remains of a baby in the house I now own, my husband is getting ready to tramp across Europe without me but I suspect he will not be without female company, and I still don’t know anything more about this feud between my aunt and my mother.
Otherwise, not much on my mind. How ’bout you? ”
“Well, yes, I suppose you do have your hands full but—”
“Was that baby Maxine’s?”
He seemed surprised by the question. “I can’t—”
“Oh, come on, Banks. You were her closest confidant.”
He nodded. “I believe I was. The first I heard about this found baby was from my daughter, who heard it at Ruthie’s yesterday when she went to pick up lunch.” Was he being cagey? It seemed to Kit he was.
He met her gaze and asked, “Who do you think the mother is?”
“It wouldn’t make sense for it to be anyone’s other than hers. Maxine’s.”
“I guess we’ll have to wait for the DNA reports to get a hint.”
Kit thought for a moment. “Do you have Maxine’s ashes?”
“I do. They’re in the back room.”
“I wonder if it’s possible to extract DNA from ashes.”
Banks shook his head. “I’m afraid the heat required for cremation is at a level that would destroy DNA.”
“It was just a thought.”
“I’m sure if any one of the law enforcement officers had thought it possible, it would have been done.” Banks cleared his throat. “So have you found anything else of interest at the camp?”
“I found some letters that had been sent to Maxine and to her parents before her. People who’d been to the camp and who loved the experience and who couldn’t wait to come back.
And I heard a lot of voicemails on the house phone out there.
Same thing. People calling about reservations and talking to Maxine like they were the best of friends. ”
“What are you going to do about them?”
“Oh, I already called a dozen of the callers and told them about Maxine’s death. Some people actually cried when I told them.”
“I’m not surprised. She was much loved by her regulars. Did you tell them that you were going to sell the camp?”
“No.” She recoiled as if she’d been shot. “No, of course not.”
“Why not?” He nodded slowly. “Oh, of course. You were afraid to be the one to break the bad news.”
“Because—because I don’t know what’s going to happen to it.” Her shoulders slumped a little. “And you’re right. I didn’t have the nerve to tell them it would probably never open again.”
“Well, you hold on to those names and numbers. If we can find a buyer who wants to keep the camp and reopen it next year, the new owners can contact those folks and let them know. Maybe they’ll have a grand reopening.
It wouldn’t be the same, of course, as when your family owned it.
You can’t duplicate how people felt about your family and the camp, but I’m sure whoever buys it will do okay. ”
Kit stared at him. Was he deliberately trying to make her feel worse than she already did?
“There are any number of good Realtors in Augusta who’d be happy to take on the sale of such a property.
You know that lakefront property is worth a lot of money these days.
I heard there are some rich people from away who are always looking for a teardown with water views so they can build a modern mansion. You could make a killing.”
“Don’t think I don’t see through you, Banks.”
“Just telling you what to expect. That camp is on more than one deeded parcel, so you could bank a fortune.” He chuckled. “No pun intended.”
“No one in my family has any experience running a camp. We wouldn’t know what to do with it.”
“Well, fortunately for you—or for whomever buys it to run it as a camp—there are more than enough people in town who worked there before Maxine had her stroke and finally had to shut it down. I can give you—or whomever—a list of names and numbers right off the top of my head.”
“Maxine’s stroke was two years ago. So the last time the camp would have been actively taking guests would have been the year before.”
“She was starting to wind down even then. Operated the camp at a reduced capacity, repeat campers only, and only those who contacted her directly or who had reserved and paid for their cabins at the end of the previous season.”
Kit frowned. “I started going through her desk, but I didn’t see anything that indicated there were reservations made. Maybe there was an electronic record. I haven’t found a laptop, but—”
Banks laughed softly, reminding her, “But Maxine didn’t like electronics.”
“Right. You did mention that. I can’t even imagine going back to that world again.”
“Your aunt couldn’t imagine any other way.”
“How did people find the camp? Did she advertise in magazines or newspapers?”
“It was strictly word of mouth,” he told her.
“And that alone was enough to fill the camp for all those summers? Enough for her to live on and pay taxes and pay her employees and maintain the camp?”
“Well, as I may have mentioned before, Maxine did inherit some money from her grandmother, and some from her parents, which I suspect your mother did as well. And of course, there was—” He cut off whatever comment he’d been about to make, as if having thought better of saying anything more.
Kit grew thoughtful. “Mom never mentioned it if she did. Maybe that’s the money they used for the Poconos house. They sold that years ago, though, and I guess that made up some of the money Beth and I inherited after Mom died.”
Banks appeared lost in thought for a moment. “Hmm. Well.” He cleared his throat. “Can we finish this conversation at Ruthie’s? I haven’t eaten and it’s closing in on three o’clock. I’m hungry as a bear.”
“I haven’t had lunch yet, either,” she acknowledged. “And I skipped breakfast, so sure. Let’s do it.”
Kit had worn her heaviest coat, but the temperatures had remained moderate, and by the time they reached the restaurant, she was ready to take it off.
Mary Gail greeted them with a hug for Kit and a smack on the back for Banks and a couple of paper menus in her hand.
She led them to the table Kit usually took, near the back wall.
“This used to be Banks’s table, but now we refer to it as Kit’s,” Mary Gail told Kit. “We missed you at breakfast this morning. Everything okay?”
Kit nodded. “Everything’s fine. I just wanted to get an early start on the day. It was before seven, so you weren’t open yet.”
“We’re always open for you. Next time, you just stroll around to the back door. Come in through the kitchen. We’re here by five thirty most mornings to get set up for the day.” Mary Gail lowered her voice and stage-whispered, “Just don’t tell—” She tilted her head in Banks’s direction.
Kit laughed. “My lips are sealed.”
“Oh, for crying out loud,” Banks said. “I’ve been coming in the back way when this place was supposedly closed since before you owned it.”
“So you say.” Mary Gail rolled her eyes. “So what can I get you today?”
“The usual for me,” Banks said.
“The usual being chicken salad and a cup of chowder? I’m in.”
Mary Gail laughed and tucked the paper menus back into her apron. “I’m guessing you’ve no use for these. I’ll put your orders in.”
Kit looked around the room, smiling at whoever she locked eyes with, but noticed a few people quickly looked away.
“Banks,” she whispered. “Do you think people think that maybe that baby was mine?”
“Why would they think that?” Sometimes his facial expressions might be hard to read, but not this time. He was clearly puzzled.
“Because as soon as I showed up, it was found. And I was there when it was discovered.”
“You think when someone said remains, they envisioned an intact newborn baby?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m way too old to have recently had an infant. I meant, do they think I brought it with me and put it in the blanket chest?”
“No telling what people are thinking. Seriously, the truth will come out once the reports are filed, so if I were you, I wouldn’t give it a second thought.”
Mary Gail served Banks’s coffee.
“You decide what you want to drink yet, Kit?” she asked.
“Diet Pepsi would be fine, thank you.”
Kit and Banks sat in silence while Banks fixed his coffee to his liking and Kit waited for her soda. After it arrived and she’d taken a few sips, she asked Banks, “Do you know what happened to Maxine’s wedding dress? I’m assuming she’d bought one.”
“Oh, yes, she did. She was quite excited about it. She told me it was beautiful but she wouldn’t describe it beyond saying it was white.”
Kit thought back to what she’d found in Maxine’s closet. “I didn’t see anything like that in her closet, and believe me, I looked.”
“I doubt she held on to it. She might have given it away.”
“Or she might have put it in the cabin before she torched it.”
Banks coughed. “That’s never been proven one way or the other. I prefer to think she had no hand in the fire.”
“It doesn’t make sense to me if she had, but that’s one more part of the story we’ll never know.”
Kit had been leaning her forearms on the table, but when Mary Gail approached with their meals, she sat up.
“It smells amazing,” she said once she’d been served.
“It is amazing. You don’t see people standing in line every night for dinner, you know.” He nodded his head toward the entry door, where a line had indeed formed.
Later, Kit sat at the window in her room at the inn and tried calling first Ned, then Abby, then Beth, and finally, even Russ. She’d had to leave voicemails everywhere. Finally, she gave up, changed into her pajamas, and climbed into bed, Miles’s book tucked under her arm.
The next morning found her back at the camp, phone in hand, making calls to more of the names on her list. Few things were as depressing as giving sad news to people who wanted to hear something positive.
“Oh my God, I had no idea . . . oh, poor Maxine. My husband’s going to be so upset when he hears this.
He had such a crush on her. He always said he was sure she was a real babe when she was younger.
And she was so kind, and so much fun with the kids.
Oh, this is just the worst news. Just the other day, we were thinking about the camp and wondering if it would be open this year.
” Tess Patton sighed deeply. “I hope she’s resting in peace.
I always thought she looked so lonely at the end of the summer.
And condolences to you.” There was a pause. “Were you with her at the end?”
“Ahh, no. It was very sudden.”
“Well, we’re sorry for your loss. I’m sure you miss her terribly.”
“Everyone does,” Kit replied.
Only seven more to go today, Kit told herself as she hung up.
But she’d found several calls were unanswered, and while she’d hated leaving voicemails, in those cases she had to.
There were still seven names on the list for tomorrow, and she figured what the heck, might as well get it over with.
Tomorrow would have its own issues. By the time she finished those last calls, she’d consoled all the former campers she’d managed to reach.
Everyone had had the same reaction to her call, and if nothing else, she was reminded of how loved her aunt had been.
The sound of car doors slamming drew her attention to the front of the house.
Greta, she assumed, or Hal, or possibly the state police detective, back out with a fresh set of questions.
Though how could there be anything left to ask?
Hadn’t they exhausted every credible possibility?
“You must have been something else for so many people to have cared so deeply about you, Maxine. I just wish I’d known you as well as some of your campers had. ”
Before she got to the front door, it burst open.
“Nana!”