Page 57 of Stay Buried

“Very cool!” Malcolm said. “And these are the names and dates, here on the cards taped underneath the dolls?” He picked up a doll with a baseball cap and flannel shirt. The card under it read:Jules Benoit, 1959–2009.

“Yes, dear. To help me keep track.”

“Did the clothespins come from the factory in town?” Ashley asked.

“Why, yes, of course!” Josephine chirped. “My husband, Leo, worked at the factory. He used to bring them to me. Ones with little flaws, the ones they weren’t supposed to sell. At first I made Christmas ornaments with them: little angels with crepe paper wings. Then I started making them as sympathy gifts. I did them for friends and family, then I had the idea to create a doll for every Boone’s Ferry resident who has departed this world for the next. The children love it! They come to look all the time. Their favorite thing is always to try to find their grandparents, great-grandparents. It’s a way to keep the past alive to them, to help them see where they come from.

“After my dear Leo passed, some of the men, they started putting clothespins aside for me. I get plenty. More than I can actually use these days.” She rubbed her hands. “The arthritis bothers me, and I’ve already gone back several generations, back to the founding of the town. And thankfully, we don’t have all that many deaths each year.”

Mal smiled at her. “They’re exquisite,” he said. “A wonderful tribute.”

“I have ones of your great-grandfather and great-grandmother here somewhere,” she said. “I’ll show you before you leave.”

“We’d love that,” Ash said with a smile.

The old woman’s eyes went back to Malcolm. Then she leaned forward and patted him on the knee. “I can’t believe it. It’s so wonderful to meet you.”

“It’s good to meet you too,” Mal said.

“So what brings you out all this way to visit?” Josephine asked.

“Mrs. Banks, I’m afraid we have bad news,” Malcolm said.

“Is that so?”

He leaned toward her, said in a soft voice, “I’m so sorry to tell you, but our grandmother has passed away.”

The woman seemed to jolt a bit. “Oh no,” she said. “Oh dear.”

“I want to assure you that there won’t be any trouble with you staying on in the house as our grandmother arranged,” Ashley said quickly. “The ownership has passed on to Malcolm and me, but everything else will stay just as it is.” She shot a warning look at her brother in case he was thinking of jumping in with any mention of a bed-and-breakfast.

“Poor Charlie. Was she ill?”

“No,” Ash said. “It was quite sudden. She died at home one night, after we’d had a nice family dinner.”

Josephine nodded. “The way we all want to go out in the end, isn’t it?”

“Were you two… were you close?” Ashley asked.

Josephine shook her head, looked away from them both. “No, not really.” She was quiet a moment. “Our mothers knew each other. My mother took care of the house when Margaret and Charlotte were in Boston. I grew up here. Then, after Leo and I were married, we kept on living here. We raised our family here.”

Ashley nodded. Gram’s arrangement made a little more sense now. She wouldn’t want the house left empty, and letting someone who knew the place, who had grown up there, the daughter of her mother’s close friend, stay and take care of the house seemed a reasonable solution.

There was so much she wanted to know, so much she wanted to understand. She imagined Josephine must know things about Thomasand Margaret Endicott if her mother had been a close friend of Margaret’s. But one question moved to the forefront, shadowing all the others.

“Mrs. Banks,” Ashley said. “Did our mother ever come visit you?”

The old woman squinted at Ashley. “Your mother?”

“Charlotte’s daughter, Louise.” Ashley pulled the photo out of her purse and showed it to Josephine.

“No. I’m afraid not. I heard Charlie had had a daughter, but I never had the chance to meet her.”

“You’re sure?”

“Quite sure, dear.” She smiled. “My memory isn’t that bad!”

Surely if their mother had come to Boone’s Ferry in search of family history, a visit to the old family homestead would’ve been her first stop. Ashley’s head was pounding. She needed to get some air and think. To leave this stuffy room with the strange bitter, medicinal smell.