"Isn't that a grand idea, Robyn? A birthday party for a
one-hundred-year-old house?"
Robyn Valcourt searched her sixty-five-year-old
grandmother's expression. She had to be kidding! "A
birthday party, for a house?"
"Why not?" Lynette answered readily. "Houses take on the
spirit of the people who live in them. I think it would be
fascinating to honor lives that were lived under the same
roof."
Robyn wasn't so sure, maybe because she didn't share her
grandmother's feelings about Stoneview. Robin hadn't found
anything warm and appealing about the old mansion when
she'd come to live with her widowed grandmother as a
teenager. As a child of parents in the foreign service,
Robyn had bounced all over the world, living in one
embassy after another. After her parents were killed in a
plane crash in southern France, she'd gratefully accepted
her grandmother's invitation to come and live with her at
Stoneview for her last two years of high school.
The estate encompassed thickly wooded areas and a wide
expanse of shoreline along Lake Chataqua, Maine.
Historians speculated that an ancient glacier was
responsible for digging out the lake bed and scattering
enormous boulders near the estate, giving Stoneview its
name. In the shadow of tall red oak trees, the mansion
stood rather aloof in the center of landscaped grounds
sloping down to the water.
From the moment Robyn had stepped through the front door
of the house she'd fought a foreboding sense of
uneasiness. Large rooms on the main floor were somber and
dark, with heavy stone fireplaces and thick-beamed
ceilings. A warren of shadowy halls and stairways
connected the main floor with the basement, the second
floor bedrooms and the attic.
When she was a girl, unseen presences had seemed to lurk
in the shadows as Robyn passed through echoing rooms and
halls. She imagined muffled, threatening whispers
following her as she hurried down the stairs from her
bedroom to the warmth of the kitchen and adjoining
breakfast room at the back of the house.
Her grandmother's excitement about bringing back the
people who had lived there off and on for the last hundred
years failed to strike a positive note with Robyn. She
pretended an interest in the weird idea that she didn't
feel.
Robyn was on spring break from her teaching duties at a
private women's college in Portland, Maine. They were
sitting on the terrace of her grandmother's winter home in
Florida, and Robyn was enjoying the brush of warm, tanning
sun upon her winter-pale skin. Hot-pink shorts were a
delightful change from her professional wardrobe of
tailored suits in subdued shades of green and beige, which
toned down the fiery shades of her chestnut hair. They'd
been talking about the family mansion, Stoneview, when her
grandmother excitedly revealed her latest brainstorm.
"We'll invite members of the families who have lived in
the mansion since it was built in 1905. I've already begun
the process of tracking down addresses."
Robyn silently sighed. Lynette Valcourt's years as the
wife of a foreign diplomat had trained her well. When
Robyn's grandfather died shortly after they had retired to
Stoneview, Lynette's social life had been sharply
curtailed. The vibrant, vivacious woman had been put out
to pasture much too early, and it was clear to Robyn that
her grandmother had already eagerly begun organizing the
whole affair. Her silver-white hair, professionally
styled, enhanced her strong features and highlighted dark
blue eyes. Lynette's energy level was that of a much
younger person, and her tendency to dominate everyone and
everything had not faltered during the years.
"We'll try to contact a living descendent of each family,
and send out invitations for a centennial birthday
celebration," she told Robyn.
"Do you think there will be enough guests to make it all
worthwhile?" Robyn asked, playing devil's advocate.
Lynette gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "We'll include
special people in the area who have been connected with
the estate through the years. Stoneview has been the
setting for a good many community projects, you know.
People can wander around the place and see what changes
have been made to the house and grounds. We can have the
affair catered, and arrange for something special like a
fireworks display on the lake for the evening.
"We'll ask everyone to bring memorabilia, photos and
stories to share," she continued. "Maybe we could even
think about writing a history of Stoneview Estate."
The use of the pronoun "we" made it clear Lynette expected
her granddaughter to devote time and energy in carrying
out the preparations for the affair.
Robyn felt as if she'd been thrust on a runaway train with
no way to stop it — or get off! A chill touched her body
despite the warm Florida sunshine. Maybe stirring up the
past wasn't such a great idea. She remembered how the
malicious murmuring of high school classmates had ruined
the newly decorated bedroom her grandmother had prepared
for her arrival.
Her first day, she'd been sitting in the cafeteria with
three other girls.
"Really, Robyn, I don't know how you can live in that
place after what happened," one of them said with a
grimace.
"Doesn't it give you the shivers?" asked another.
"You couldn't pay me enough to have a sleepover there,"
one girl agreed.
Robyn had looked blankly at the three of them. "What are
you talking about?"
Instead of answering, they'd just groaned and rolled their
eyes.
When Robyn repeated what they had said to her grandmother,
Lynette dismissed the matter in her usual dogmatic manner.
"This lovely house had four families living in it before
your grandfather and I bought it. I'm sure lots of
happenings have taken place under this roof, good and bad.
The past is past," she had said firmly. "I don't want to
hear any more nonsense about it."
Lynette didn't know her granddaughter if she thought that
put an end to the matter. As soon as Robyn had the chance,
she went to the Chataqua town library. As she scanned the
computers of the local Chataqua Sentinel, her search paid
off. She found what she was looking for.
"Kidnapping and Murder at Stoneview Mansion." Robyn's
breath caught as the headline leaped out at her from the
front page. Her heartbeat quickened as she read the
account. An adopted infant girl of Darrel and Sybil
Sheldon had been snatched from the nursery on the second
floor of the Stoneview mansion.After a large ransom had
been paid, the baby was left on the doorstep of a local
doctor, James Donovan, but that same night, Heather Fox,
the nursemaid of the baby, was found murdered on the lawn
of the estate. She'd been strangled.
Robyn stared at the photo of a fair-haired young woman,
Heather Fox, smiling as she held up a baby for the camera.
Robyn could tell from the background that the nursemaid
had been standing in front of the garden gazebo, not far
from where her body had been discovered. Robyn had
shivered as if a cold draft had touched her skin, and
wondered if she'd ever be able to pass by that spot again
without being reminded of a strangled woman lying there.
"The tragedy has nothing to do with you," Lynette had
lectured when Robyn confronted her with the newspaper
account. "It's over and done with!"
Robyn had wanted to believe her grandmother, but when
they'd stripped the old wallpaper from her bedroom and
discovered her room had once been the nursery, the
nightmares began. She'd jerk awake in the middle of the
night, hearing sounds of a baby crying. Robyn would stare
into the shadows, every nerve ending vibrating with an
awareness that danger still lurked there. Once, she'd run
from the room, trembling, but her grandmother had
dismissed her behavior as childish. As a result, Robyn
suffered her torment in silence. More than anything she
wanted to please her grandmother.
Robyn knew her grandmother's habitual strong
Scotch "nightcap" insured her an uneventful, peaceful
night's sleep. Although Robin wasn't into drinking as a
teenager, one time she'd secretly fixed herself a similar
bedtime drink. Her hopes that the liquor would knock her
out were foiled even before she consumed half of the
glassful. Terribly sick, she'd spent the night in the
bathroom, and the next morning had to lie to Lynette about
her bedraggled appearance.
Later, when Robyn went away to college and eventually
became a professor of romance languages, she was too
embarrassed to tell her grandmother that she'd like to
change bedrooms when she came back for visits.
Even now, a twenty-six-year-old adult, she hesitated to
express any disapproval of her grandmother's ideas.
Appearing to be anything but a confident woman in charge
of her own life was out of the question for Robyn. Her
parents had expected it — her grandmother demanded it!
"We need to get the invitations sent as soon as possible,"
Lynette declared, either unaware or totally ignoring her
granddaughter's lack of enthusiasm. "By the time I return
to Stoneview in June, we should know which families will
be staying in the mansion. We can arrange for lodging in
Chataqua for the remainder of the guests." She paused. "I
think the first week in July would be a perfect time for
the celebration, don't you?"
Robyn knew the question was purely rhetorical. As far as
her grandmother was concerned the matter was settled. The
possibility that she might not be ready and willing to
drop all her summer plans and help carry out the
festivities wasn't worthy of consideration.
Robyn silently sighed. No wonder I don't have a life of my
own, she thought. During the school year, the
responsibilities of her teaching position demanded total
dedication. Every romantic relationship she'd hoped to
nurture had died in the bud, smothered by too many other
obligations. Several eligible men had shown some interest
in dating her, but about the third time she broke a date,
it was bye-bye.
"We'll need to mail the invitations as soon as possible,"
Lynette said as she laid out a timetable for all the
preparations.
"Getting current addresses may not be all that easy,"
Robyn protested once again. "What about the descendants of
Hugo Koleski, who built the house?"
"Well, several branches of the family lived on the estate
until the lumber mill closed in about 1955. I believe that
when the property was sold, all the Koleski family moved
away."
"Maybe they went back to Poland?"
"We'll have to find out."
"What about the other three owners of Stoneview, before
you and Grandpa bought it? How will you track them down?"
"Don't worry. I have friends in high places who have
access to public records. I'll make some calls," Lynette
assured her, as if that took care of the matter. "After I
locate someone in each family, I'll send you the
addresses. In the meantime you arrange to have the
invitations printed, and be ready to send them out."
"Are you sure about this, Grandmother?" Robyn could not
stifle a growing apprehension that such a reunion might
dredge up dangerous and conflicting emotions. She didn't
know how to explain to her grandmother that on some deep
level she sensed there were remaining energies in the
house that should be left untouched. Even if she tried to
verbalize such intuitive feelings, Robyn knew her
grandmother would dismiss them with open disgust.
Sitting there in the warmth of the Florida sun, Robyn
sought to deny an insidious warning rippling through her
consciousness like the far-off rumble of a deadly storm.