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  "Hi. I just moved in," she gestured in the direction she had come from. "I've been meaning to come by almost since day one," she looked past the woman before her, her attention drawn to the building's interior. "It's wonderful," the words escaped on a short breath. And it was, she thought as she looked around. Parts of it looked just as it had all those years ago.

  Grace held the hand offered with a firm grasp. "Grace Delaney." She took measure of the woman before her. She was a bit older than her and despite the worn jeans and simple white blouse she easily epitomized the definition of class. She'd bet her next sale it was probably without any strenuous effort on her part of the result. She'd probably look just as good in rags. "I own the place so I can't tell you how much that initial reaction means to me." And it had been classic, she thought to herself. She'd seen many come in and react the same way, but they were from Burlington, long time residents who walked in and remembered how it had been, surprised at how she had brought the old run down building back to its former glory. That she would.

  "Mary Lane," she still couldn't pull her eyes away as she took in everything. For so long she sometimes wondered if she really remembered it this way or if she was remembering through the memories of her older brothers. Now she knew. The memories belonged to her. "This is really wonderful."

  From the high ceilings with its ornate tin tiles that had seemed even higher when she was little to the extravaganza of molding and pillars that ran the length of the walls, it simply stunned her. "Oh!" As she turned to address the store's owner she saw the glass encased counter behind her in the exact same place it had been all those years ago. It ran from the doorway almost to the back of the store, filled with candies of every kind. "Oh...Wow!" She stepped past the woman who was quietly watching her. Mary ran her hand along the counter. Tears seeped into her eyes as memories of an older man standing beside her kindly helping her to make her choices, were so clear for that moment she could almost see him standing there, hear his voice chiding her about the time she took to decide. But never rushing, never judging.

  "Mr. Joe used to slip extra candy into my bag, almost as if he knew what I'd wanted but didn't have the money to buy. He had the most wonderful smile." She looked around again, still trying to come to grips with how much it all looked the same. "Sometimes we had barely gotten out of the car and in the house to see Nanno before we raced up here to see Mr. Joe."

  Grace was putting the information together. She hadn't before. "Charlotte Ludwig," she said as she studied the woman before her. "You're related to Charlotte Ludwig."

  Mary turned from her study of the back of the store to the woman beside her and nodded. "She was my grandmother, my mother's mother," she added almost automatically in way of explanation since both her parents had grown up here.

  Grace wondered if the woman standing beside her knew just how influential her grandmother as well as her grandfather before his early death had been to her own family. "Joe was my grandfather."

  Mary reacted without thinking. Before she realized her own intentions she had the woman in a heartfelt hug. Pulling back, she took her hands even as she rushed to apologize. "I'm sorry, but this is wonderful. Walking in to see the store so like it was and then to find this out," she paused, knew she was close to babbling, even closer to tears and didn't care. "You have his smile. When I walked in...seeing yours was almost like seeing him again." She looked around again, seeing the same store but through a different perspective. "Did you inherit it?" Assuming the store had been kept as it was and in the family through the years.

  Grace laughed. In contrast to her calm appearance and easy demeanor it was a hard and bitter sound. "No." Taking a deep breath, easing her way past the hurt and resentment, "I bought it a couple of years ago." She looked around much as Mary had. "This," she waved her hands encompassing the store, "is a result of almost two years of steady work, not to mention back breaking labor." She looked back to Mary. "Your reaction just reminded me it was worth every minute."

  Mary heard the veiled emotions behind the soft spoken words. "You've done a wonderful job." And as she saw all that had been accomplished in this huge store, easily three if not more times the size of her grandmother's small house, her task seemed menial compared to what this woman had taken on for what seemed like much the same reason. Sentiment. Simple emotional heartfelt sentiment for family and all it meant. Nothing more and little less. "I'm almost ashamed to ask you over for coffee, cookies, or some such thing. Not after what I've seen that you've done here and the little I've done or have to do at the house," she admitted.

  This time Grace's laughter was filled with joy and a lightness of spirit. "If you have me over for coffee and whatever I'll clue you in to what drove me." At Mary's questioning look, she just shook her head. "I'd always wanted to buy back Grandpa's place but that I did and when I finally did was brought on almost completely by outside forces." She was past being grim about it. After finding what she'd wanted all along and the happiness that came hand-in-hand with it, she'd also found the ability to be gracious. "And all this," she waved her hands as she had before. "This ended up being my own personal form of self-analysis and the resulting self-treatment." Comfortable with the understanding she saw in the other woman's eyes she looped her arm through Mary's and led her to the back of the store as if they had known each other for years. "Let me show you some of my war stories."

  

  Mary closed the store's door behind her feeling much better than she had when she'd first walked through them. For the first time in a long time she felt a kinship with someone other than a family member. The get-together she and Grace planned for the next day was one she was looking forward to despite the disordered state of her house. Normally she dreaded such gatherings and spent much of the time wondering how much longer they'd go on and how to get out of the next one.

  She paused as she walked onto the sidewalk. Then, without questioning the significance of what she was suddenly feeling or allowing herself the time it would take to change her mind, she changed direction and walked the opposite way from the corner than where she had come from. Halfway down the block she stopped in front of the big Victorian house. The hand in her pocket fingered the key she'd kept with her since Pete had dropped it off the week before. She always intended to stop by, walk through, or something. The "or something" was what always stopped her. In her entire being, even now, she knew that buying this place was somehow meant, despite the good natured teasing from her family and especially her husband that had followed. She still didn't have a clue what to do with it. She'd come here with the intent, the very focused intent to buy the house on Cedar Street. Never ever had she even considered this house, the house her mother had always referred to as home. Not once had she even looked to see if it was even for sale. It had simply never been a priority in her scheme of things. But, she had to admit as she slid the key in the lock, it had been forever in her mothers. It had never strayed far from her mother's heart and memory and that more than any one thing had been the clincher in the decision to buy it.

  Letting out the breath she'd been unconsciously holding, she walked through the heavily ornate and glassed front doorway into what would be considered an entry way yet was big enough to be anyone else's living room. Closing her eyes as she shut the door behind her, Mary struggled for any memory from her mother's stories, anything that would guide her through this house. And silently lambasted herself for paying little to no attention to the details of those stories, which was easier to deal with than the sad thought she simply hadn't paid enough attention to her mother and what was important to her...period.

  Don't go there, just don't go there, she told herself. Nothing to be had in that direction other than guilt and grief and nothing could be gained from that. Not now. Not ever again. She walked straight back, passing by the huge double doorways on each side of the passageway and found herself walking into the kitchen. Nice, a little too modern in a house that had stood for over a hundred years, but that was just her
opinion. Considering the way her own personal tastes in decorating had changed over the years she wasn't going to criticize anyone else's. She looked around for one of the few things she remembered her mother talking about. The back stairway that had been the means of late night visits to the kitchen. "That's odd," she mumbled to herself then made her way back to the front stairway. Upstairs she took the time to walk through each of the rooms, wondering where everyone had slept, wished again she had listened better, wished she'd gotten smarter a lot sooner than she had in her life about what mattered and what didn't.

  In the back corner bedroom the huge tree that filled the view outside the window brought a sudden deluge of memories and one that stood out beyond them all. "I loved lying in bed just watching that huge tree, it was so big and I was so small." Mary could almost hear her mother's voice as she stood there. This was her mother's room, she could feel it. She knew it. No other room had this view. Sighing deep, pushing back the grief that seemed to always brim just below the surface, she continued her search for a back stairway she knew...simply knew there was no way she'd only imagined hearing about.

  She looked in every obvious place, in every closet and room and saw nothing. She started back down the stairs intent on searching through the kitchen more carefully. Instead she sat down on the top step. Stupid, she thought, why make it so hard when the information is so easy to get. Pulling out the cell phone she always carried and rarely used, she flipped through the directory of names until she found the one she wanted. Listened to it ring, once, twice...listened to the sounds of a receiver being picked up, dropped, then all the noises involved in picking it back up again. It was the usual routine which otherwise would have worried her. But when it came to her Aunt Charlie nothing changed.

  "Aunt Charlie." She spoke loudly into the phone having no clue where the other end was in regards to her aunt's ear. "Are you okay?"

  "Mary, honey, is that you? Just give me a minute to get back in my place."

  Mary listened to the movements on the other end, grateful when the blasting sounds of the television were either muted or turned off.

  "Okay, I'm set." Mary listened to more movements that were clearly the sounds of her aunt getting herself more comfortable. "Where are you honey? Are you still in Burlington?"

  "I am and I'm sorry I didn't call sooner. I meant to," and kicked herself mentally for not thinking of her aunt's feelings about this. "I've been cleaning up the place." She listened to the silence. Of all the family and their reactions to her plans to come back here and buy the Cedar Street house her mother's youngest sister had been the most understanding. "I'm actually calling about the Marshall Street house," she paused again. There was simply no way to anticipate how this would go over. "I bought it too." She heard the slight gasp and waited. "Aunt Charlie?"

  "I'm just thinking honey," came the quiet reply.

  "Are you okay with this?"

  "Honey, I'm fine. I'm old but fine. I was just thinking about how to get myself up there."

  Mary laughed softly to herself. "So you'll come up for this one but not the other." It was more of a statement of fact than a serious question. Both knew the answer. While the Cedar Street house had been the home of her dreams so had this one been for her aunt. "You're welcome anytime, all the time." She spoke gently wondering as she did how she could get her mother's younger sister into town. Always spry of mind, her body didn't always keep up as it once had.

  "How did you do this, honey? I had no idea you were thinking about anything other than the little house."

  "It was for sale, unexpectedly, and I bought it." Sensing the rush of questions, she forestalled them. "It's a long story and I can get back to you about all that later tonight, but right now I really wanted to ask a question about the house." She glanced back over her shoulder, wondering if she had imagined her mother's memories of a dark, scary back stairway that led to the kitchen for late night snacks and quiet getaways. "Where is the door upstairs for the back staircase?"

  "Why honey, it's right next to the bathroom."

  Mary stood up, hearing in her aunt's tone that it was obvious and how could she miss it. That alone told her it wasn't hidden away and had her looking closer but she still saw nothing obvious or otherwise. "Okay, got it." She didn't want to get into major structural changes that had been made to the house with her aunt until she knew what she was dealing with. "Thanks Aunt Charlie. I don't know what I was thinking."

  "You call me tonight, honey, I want to know everything. Wait...can you send me some pictures?"

  "I don't have internet." She listened to the silence, heard the quiet disappointment. Her aunt was unbelievably savvy on the internet and getting pictures that way would be an easy thing for her. "But I know someone who does." She finished the conversation with promises of getting photos off to her aunt in the next day or so and turned her phone back off before returning it to the depths of her purse.

  She looked closer at the walls on each side of the bathroom door. Any door once there had to have been covered up somewhere along the way. With a better sense of location, she went back down to the kitchen wishing her aunt had mentioned what side of the bathroom it had been on. Back in the kitchen she quickly determined the area of the room that was located almost directly below the bathroom. There was a door but it went down into the basement. She walked over to look again having only glanced down there before. This time she took a closer look, cautiously moving down the first couple of steps before realizing that the wall to the right of her didn't go straight out as it should but leveled up as it would along a staircase. A staircase going in the opposite direction. Up.

  Moving back up the steps into the kitchen and closing the door behind her she pondered the huge china cabinet that spanned much of that same wall. Looking closer she realized what had appeared at first glance to be a built-in wasn't. It was just so huge, spanning almost half the wall, she'd simply assumed it was. Putting her purse down, Mary put her back into pushing it away from the wall enough to see if there was anything behind it.

  Expecting to barely be able to move it an inch or two she was pleasantly surprised when it moved with reasonable ease, not easily, but enough to where she could begin to see the door it had hidden away from view. Bingo, she thought. At least there wouldn't be a bunch of walls knocked out needlessly down here.

  Pushing at the cabinet a bit more, she edged in between it and the wall to where the door knob should be. She felt nothing more than a flat surface. Figures, she thought. Determined, she wedged in closer and felt around where the doorknob had been for the mechanism inside. She didn't know much about the inner workings of doorknobs and such but had changed enough of them in her life to know that with the right tool and a bit of luck some could be opened even without the knob in place.

  She edged back out from the tight space and pushed the cabinet even further away from the wall to where it practically sat in the middle of the kitchen on an angle. Satisfied there was enough room to do what she needed she proceeded to dig through her purse. Oh yes, she thought as she pulled out her hair brush. Moving back to the door, she stuck the thin end of the handle into the hole, wiggled it in tight and slowly turned the brush, holding her breath as she felt something move with it. She almost dropped the brush as the door swung slightly towards her, creaking as it opened on long-unused and un-oiled hinges.

  "Okay, okay," talking to herself even as she tried to stay calm. She pushed the door open even as she carefully nudged the huge cabinet with her backside just enough to where she could swing the door completely open and against the opposite wall. She moved out, grabbed her weighty purse and plopped it down in front of the door to keep it in place. The last thing she wanted was to get stuck on a dark and dank staircase. There was just enough light from the kitchen for her to see the steps and an old fashioned light fixture with a string hanging down from it. Wondering how long light bulbs could last she pulled on the string without any expectation and was shocked when a low, orange light flickered on and cas
t a muted glow through the dark and narrow space. Taking a deep breath, uncertain how long her luck would hold, she made her way slowly and carefully up the steps which seemed to run almost exactly parallel to the front steps before reaching a very small landing where the steps turned and continued to the door at the top. As she had below she felt around carefully with her hands and found the same empty space where the door knob should have been. After a little more poking and prodding she concluded there was no mechanism inside. As she thought about it she realized it wouldn't matter one way or another if the door was covered up and walled over on the other side.

  Mary carefully made her way back down the stairs which were almost pitch black until she reached the small landing midway and realized the light from the bulb at the bottom of the stairs provided little to no light beyond where she now stood. Back in the kitchen, standing in the center of the room she thought about what needed to be done and how. And quickly. If Aunt Charlie was bent on visiting she would...and soon. Before retrieving her purse she pushed the far side of the huge china cabinet back enough to prevent the stairway door from closing again.

  She took a deep breath and looked around again. She could picture her mother sneaking down here in the night completely fearless of the dark and gloomy stairs. Mama had feared little and dared much. She knew she needed to get that upper doorway opened up and somehow get some decent lighting at both ends of the stairway. And she wanted the kitchen to have the cheery feel her mother had remembered it as. She wanted this room as it was when a little girl crept down for a late night snack. And with a sense of regret she wished for the impossible. She wished she had done this years earlier with her mother at her side.

  Locking the front door behind her, Mary looked back at the house from the end of the front walkway. She still didn't know what she was going to do with it but the sense of uncertainty that had plagued her over the last couple of weeks was gone. As she walked away she couldn't shake the sense she was still missing something. But had no idea what.