Authors: Mariah Stewart
Sophie reached the block where the old town square began. The magnolias and azaleas, which were yet to bloom, lined the brick walkways leading to the square’s center. From her grandfather, she’d learned that the townspeople had gathered here for centuries to discuss whatever currently concerned them, from preparing a strategy against the British to escape destruction during the War of 1812 to hearing the local candidates for town council square off.
Across the street from the square, a modest sign identified the handsome red brick building on the corner as the offices of Enright & Enright, Attorneys at Law. Sophie had heard but lost track of how many generations of her family had practiced law beneath the slate roof. If she were to take Jesse up on his offer, she’d be part of that chain that stretched back many years. She paused on the sidewalk out front, contemplating the possibility. She’d been dreaming of leaving her current situation, of a life that offered something new and different. Joining Jesse at the firm would be a compromise that she wasn’t sure she wanted to make. Was only half the dream worth pursuing?
Still, it would put distance between her and the source of her heartache, and that could only be a good thing, right?
The front door opened and an elderly woman stepped onto the porch. She held a grocery bag in one arm and her handbag in the other, and she appeared
to be struggling with the door. Sophie hurried up the walk to offer a hand.
“Here, let me help with that.”
The woman turned sharply, a guarded expression on her face.
“Oh, Sophie!” she exclaimed, her expression softening. “You startled me.”
“I’m sorry, Violet. I should have called out to you. May I take that bag for you?” Sophie reached for the groceries.
“That’s very kind, dear.” Violet Finneran handed the bag over without protest. “I don’t know what possessed me to load up that bag the way I did. I left the car at home this morning because it was such a nice day—I just love a warm day in January, don’t you? I stopped here to bring in the mail and of course one thing led to another, and here it is, the afternoon passing …”
“It happens to the best of us.” Sophie waited while Violet successfully locked the door. “Did you say you left your car at home?”
“I did.” She hoisted her shoulder bag a little higher and reached for the bag of groceries.
“I have them,” Sophie told her. “I’ll walk with you. You’re just a few blocks down and one street over, is that right?”
“What an excellent memory you have!” Violet nodded. “But I don’t want to take you out of your way …”
Sophie shook her head and slowed her pace so that the older woman could keep up. “I’m going to visit my grandfather’s, so I’m going your way.”
“Well, then, I’d love for you to keep me company,”
Violet said. “Are you in town for the weekend? Jesse hadn’t mentioned you were coming.”
“I just decided on the spur of the moment to come for the week. It’s been a while since I’ve had time to spend with Jesse, and with his wedding coming up, this might be my last opportunity to see him for a while.”
“It’s nice that you’re so close, dear. I’m sure he’s delighted to have you visit. Just don’t let him put you to work unless he puts you on the payroll. That poor boy is working his behind off, now that your uncle Mike has left the firm and turned over all his files. It’s too much for one person to handle.”
“Is there really that much work here?”
“Oh, yes. Enright and Enright handles legal matters for most of the people in town—has for years. Now that Curtis and Mike have retired, it’s all falling on Jesse. I keep telling him he should advertise for another lawyer, but he’s reluctant to do that.”
Sophie walked along in silence. Her brother wouldn’t bring in someone outside the family to the firm, because it would no longer be Enright & Enright. She was beginning to feel the weight of his offer with each step she took.
On a whim, she asked, “Violet, do you know who owns that boarded-up restaurant over on River Road?”
“Yes, of course. It belongs to Enid Walsh, poor soul.”
“Why ‘poor soul’?”
“Enid’s family owned that restaurant for more years than I can remember. It may not look like much now, but in its day, it was quite nice. They did a respectable business before the new highway was put in and directed traffic into the center of town. Her father died
when Enid and her twin brother, Leon, were toddlers. They worked in that place alongside their mother from the time they were able to stand, till Ida—that’s the mother—passed about eight years ago. Then Enid and Leon ran the place—ran it into the ground, some might say, but I try not to judge. When Leon died a few years back, Enid boarded up the place and hasn’t set foot in it since.”
“How many years are ‘a few’?”
“Oh, let’s see now. Might have been five or six. I hear she’s had offers to sell it, but so far she hasn’t been inclined to let it go. Don’t know why she’s holding on to it. I saw her at church a couple of weeks ago and if you ask me, she isn’t long for this world.”
“Maybe she just hasn’t gotten the right offer.” What, Sophie wondered, might be the right offer?
“What are you thinking, child?” Violet slowed her already snail-like pace.
Sophie shrugged. “It just looks like a place that could be really special in the right hands, that’s all.”
They walked in silence for an entire block. When they arrived at Violet’s corner, they paused.
“I had an aunt and uncle who owned a restaurant up in Chestertown,” Violet said. “It’s terribly hard work.”
“It is a tough way to make a living,” Sophie agreed. “I spent seven summers working in a diner. It was hard, but I enjoyed it.”
Violet started down the street and Sophie fell in step until they reached their destination, the third house from the corner. It was a handsome American four-square that sat back a bit from the street, had a
wide front porch, and was shaded by an enormous red oak in the middle of the front lawn.
“I should call Enid and see if she needs a ride to church in the morning,” Violet said somewhat absently as she searched in her bag for her house keys. “She hasn’t been getting around too well lately.”
“If you do see her, would you ask her if she’s interested in selling the place?” Sophie tried to sound nonchalant, but she could tell by the look on Violet’s face that she wasn’t fooling anyone.
“I’ll try to remember to do that.”
“I’d appreciate it. I’d even be happy if she just let me have a key to wander around inside a bit.”
“Oh, she doesn’t have the key anymore.” Violet pushed open her front door. “We have the key.”
“We? Who’s ‘we’?”
“We at the office. Curtis—your grandfather, that is—handled all the legal work for the Walsh family. Enid gave us a key so that Mike could check it from time to time, you know. Keep an eye on the place. Said since her whole family was gone she couldn’t bear to go inside herself.”
“So Uncle Mike has the key?”
Violet shook her head. “No, no. Mike brought all the files back to the office. Jesse might have the key …”
Jesse has the key?
Sophie’s stride lengthened and her pace picked up with every step.
Jesse has the key?
Walking briskly, her feet keeping time with her growing annoyance, she dug out her phone from her bag and speed-dialed her brother. The call went to voice mail.
“Call me, bro. You’ve got some ’splaining to do.”
She dropped the phone into her pocket and kept up the pace all the way to her grandfather’s home. But once there, she slowed her step, stretching out the trip to the front door, the better to take in the beauty of the old structure. Built of brick in the 1850s, styled after a Carolina manor house, it had been purchased by Sophie’s great-great-grandfather after the Civil War, and for almost 150 years, Enrights had called it home. It was the largest and grandest house in St. Dennis, and its inclusion in the previous year’s Christmas House Tour had had the town buzzing for weeks. Curtis Enright, her grandfather, hadn’t entertained since his wife, Rose, died almost twenty years ago. People had lined up to buy tickets once it was announced
that the Enright mansion, as the locals referred to it, would be on the tour.
It was an imposing sight, and it never failed to impress Sophie. Both the grounds and the house itself were beautifully maintained, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it might have been like to grow up here. She could, of course, ask her father. If she were speaking to him, which she was not. Having managed to screw up almost every area of his life, Craig Enright was reportedly now on his fourth wife. It had been years since he’d made any effort to contact any of his children from his previous marriages.
How could someone grow up with all this—not just the grand home, but the love and support, which from all accounts had always been there for Craig and his brother, Mike—and still have his life go so far off the rails? Sophie shook her head as she rang the doorbell.
“Well, well. Look who’s here!” Curtis Enright opened the door, a huge smile on his face when he recognized his granddaughter. “I didn’t know you were in town, Sophie. Please, come in.”
“Hi, Pop.” She stepped into the cavernous front hall and his embrace at the same time. She hugged him once, then once more before closing the door behind her. Did he seem just slightly thinner, perhaps a little more fragile than she’d noticed when she was here in December? “How are you feeling these days?”
“Fine, fine. Never better. Here, now, let me take that jacket.”
She slid off her peacoat and handed it over, then followed him toward the living room off to the left.
“Now, what can I offer you? Coffee? Some tea, perhaps?”
He paused in the doorway, her jacket still over his arm.
“Nothing, thank you.” She paused to look around, then smiled. “I like that nothing ever changes in this room.” She pointed to the wall of family portraits. “I like that they all seem to be watching out for you.”
Her grandfather laughed as he hung the jacket on the coatrack, then gestured for her to take a seat on the sofa. “As long as your grandmother is looking out for me, I don’t need the likes of them. They’re a nosy bunch. They keep an eye on everything, like they must know what’s happening at all times.”
“Think Gramma Rose is still hanging around?”
“Now what do you think?” Curtis’s smile was indulgent. It was obvious what he thought.
Sophie, not so much.
“Oh, Pop, you know I have a problem believing in things I can’t see.”
“You hear that, Rose? Sophie can’t see you, so she doesn’t think you’re here.” He took a seat next to her on the sofa and turned toward the windows as if addressing someone. “What do you have to say to that?”
Rose Enright had been gone for decades, but to hear Curtis tell it, his wife had never really left, her presence made manifest by the occasional whiff of gardenia that had been her favorite fragrance when she was alive. Sophie had never believed in ghosts, though she had to admit that from time to time, she did, in fact, catch a sudden floral scent when she was in the house.
Like now.
“How did you do that?” Sophie’s eyes narrowed
and scanned the room, searching for a vase of flowers but finding none.
Curtis laughed. “You know it isn’t anything I’ve done. You just don’t want to accept what your senses are telling you.”
“I don’t know what my senses are telling me, Pop.” She dismissed what he considered the obvious.
“Well, let’s just say I know what I know, and we’ll leave it at that. Now, when did you arrive in St. Dennis and why didn’t I know you were coming?”
“It was pretty much spur of the moment. Jesse’s wedding is in a few months, and I got to thinking about how little I’ve seen him since he moved to St. Dennis, so I thought I’d take a week off and spend some time with him. I just arrived a few hours ago.”
“Nice that your boss let you take a whole week off with such short notice.”
“I have a lot of time accrued, and I was between trials,” she explained. “I wouldn’t have asked for the time if there was something going on next week.”
“Well, then.” Curtis leaned back into the sofa cushions. “Tell me about the most interesting case you tried in the past six months …”
An attorney who’d practiced for more than sixty years, Curtis had retired with some reluctance. He loved the law and made no effort to hide the fact that he missed his work terribly. Sophie was more than happy to share her courtroom experiences with him. For more than an hour, they discussed first one, then another case, him commenting from time to time (“Hmmm. Doesn’t seem the defendant was very well prepared for your cross. Good for you, keeping one step ahead of ’em.” Or, “Had a case like that one
time …”) and her occasionally stopping to ask him what he’d have done with the same case and set of facts.
“I’m certainly proud of you and the way you’ve taken to the law, Sophie. It’s a shame you’re tied to the DA’s office back in Ohio. We could use you down here in St. Dennis.” He eyed her carefully. “Any chance you’d be willing to think about joining Jess at Enright and Enright?” Before she could respond, he noted, “You know, with your uncle Mike and I both retiring last year, the firm is really only
Enright
now.”