The Inn at Holiday Bay: Answers in the Attic Read online

  The Inn at Holiday Bay

  Answers in the Attic

  by

  Kathi Daley

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 by Katherine Daley

  Version 1.0

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  I want to thank the very talented Jessica Fischer for the cover art.

  I so appreciate Bruce Curran, who is always ready and willing to answer my cyber questions; Jayme Maness for helping out with the book clubs; and Peggy Hyndman for helping sleuth out those pesky typos.

  And, of course, thanks to the readers and bloggers in my life, who make doing what I do possible.

  Thank you to Randy Ladenheim-Gil for the editing.

  And finally, I want to thank my husband Ken for allowing me time to write by taking care of everything else.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  UP NEXT FROM KATHI DALEY BOOKS

  Preview:

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  Whales and Tails Cozy Mystery:

  Romeow and Juliet

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  Much Ado About Felines

  Legend of Tabby Hollow

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  Frankencat

  The Cat of Christmas Future

  Farewell to Felines

  A Whisker in Time

  The Catsgiving Feast

  A Whale of a Tail – Summer 2019

  Writers’ Retreat Southern Seashore Mystery:

  First Case

  Second Look

  Third Strike

  Fourth Victim

  Fifth Night

  Sixth Cabin

  Seventh Chapter

  Eighth Witness

  Ninth Grave

  Rescue Alaska Paranormal Mystery:

  Finding Justice

  Finding Answers

  Finding Courage

  Finding Christmas

  Finding Shelter – Fall 2019

  A Tess and Tilly Mystery:

  The Christmas Letter

  The Valentine Mystery

  The Mother’s Day Mishap

  The Halloween House

  The Thanksgiving Trip

  The Saint Paddy’s Promise

  The Halloween Haunting – Fall 2019

  The Inn at Holiday Bay:

  Boxes in the Basement

  Letters in the Library

  Message in the Mantel

  Answers in the Attic

  Haunting in the Hallway – Fall 2019

  The Hathaway Sisters:

  Harper

  Harlow

  Hayden – Summer 2019

  Haunting by the Sea:

  Homecoming by the Sea

  Secrets by the Sea

  Missing by the Sea

  Betrayal by the Sea

  Christmas by the Sea – Winter 2019

  Sand and Sea Hawaiian Mystery:

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  Murder at Sunrise Beach

  Murder at the Witching Hour

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  The Curse

  The Relic

  The Conspiracy

  The Grudge

  The Shadow

  The Haunting

  Road to Christmas Romance:

  Road to Christmas Past

  Chapter 1

  I looked out my window and smiled as the bountiful days of spring pushed out the last breath of winter, bringing rebirth and renewal to the rocky seashore and dense forest. After months of short days, long nights, and frigid temperatures, the sun shone brightly, causing flowers to bloom, birds to sing, and wildlife to venture from their winter homes. In the forest, rivers spilled over their banks as the annual runoff found its way to the sea.

  As I set about tidying my room, I decided that today was the day I was absolutely going to start cleaning out the attic in the mansion I’d been refurbishing to operate as a country inn. My contractor, Lonnie Parker, had been bugging my roommate, Georgia Carter, and me to get it done so that he could start ripping out walls and adding plumbing to create the last of the six suites we planned to rent to our guests. The suites on the three main floors of the mansion were just about completed and ready to be furnished. Lonnie thought the attic, once we got it cleaned out, would take six to eight weeks to complete, depending on the plumbing and electrical situation, which he couldn’t confirm until he was able to open up the walls. At this point, we were looking for a completion date for the inn in mid-June. That actually worked out, because we’d all but decided to hold a grand opening celebration in July. We didn’t have overnight guests booked until August, but we wanted to do a couple of outdoor events first, to ease into the whole 24-7 scenario.

  I pulled up the top quilt on my four-poster bed after straightening the lower layers and was smoothing away the wrinkles when my Maine Coon cat, Rufus, attacked the pillows, messing up the quilt in the process. “Get down, you silly cat. I’ll never get this done with your help.”

  “Meow.”

  “Yes, I know that you want to play, and normally, I’d be happy to play with you, but I have a very busy day planned. Let’s finish making this bed and then go have some breakfast.” I picked up the orange cat and then took a deep breath. “I smell coffee as well as something baking in the oven. Maybe Georgia made muffins today.”

  I’d already dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, so I grabbed a pair of flip-flops and slipped them on my feet. While my main goal today was to get started on the attic, I also had a crew coming by this afternoon to put the finishing touches on the float for this weekend’s Easter parade. In addition to my need to tackle the attic and finish the float, I was itching to get outside in the garden, which my landscaper and I were planting if the opportunity presented itself. The landscape architect had drawn up a lush and colorful setting that would take years to grow in completely, but I figured it should be downright gorgeous right off the bat once the flower beds and planter boxes were added.

  “Abby.” Georgia knocked on my bedroom door just as I was tossing my overnight clothes into my laundry hamper.

  “Come on in,” I called out as I set Rufus on the floor.

  Georgia opened the door and stepped inside. “There is a woman at the door asking to see you. She said that she went to the main house first, but Lonnie sent her over here.”

  I frowned as I tried to imagine who could be looking for me so early in the morning. I had workmen coming and going all the time, many of whom had a multitude of questions, so I figured maybe it was one of the subcontractors who had come to the door. “Okay. I’ll be righ
t out.”

  “I’ll go ahead and ask her to have a seat while she waits,” Georgia offered.

  When I entered the living area of the two-bedroom cottage I shared with Georgia, Rufus, and Georgia’s Newfoundland, Ramos, I found Georgia speaking to a petite woman with long red hair that fell almost to her waist. I smiled in greeting as I crossed the room. “I’m Abby Sullivan.”

  The woman stood and offered her hand. “My name is Trish Roswell.” She bent down to scratch Rufus under the chin before she continued. “I’m here on a fact-finding mission of a sort. I recently had my ancestry charted as the first step in writing a family memoir and it seems that my great-great-great-aunt was Abagail Chesterton, the wife of Chamberlain Westminster, the man who built your house in 1895. I was hoping that you might know more about Abagail and would be willing to share it. I find I am very interested in the woman who won the heart of such a fascinating man.”

  Okay, I wasn’t expecting that. I wasn’t certain what I was expecting, but it wasn’t someone working on a family tree. “Really?” My tone mimicked my surprise. “Abagail had a niece? I guess I should have assumed that she had family, perhaps even siblings. I know that she never had children, but I guess I never stopped to look at the situation beyond that.”

  Trish nodded. “My great-great-grandmother was Celeste Chesterton, Abagail’s sister. Their father, William Chesterton, married Isabelle Portman in 1864. They had three daughters, Elizabeth, Abagail, and Celeste, and lived in a small coastal settlement just west of modern-day Holiday Bay. Elizabeth died when she was just twenty-four. As far as I can tell, she never married or had children, although my investigation into the Chesterton family is sketchy at best. I know that Abagail married Chamberlain Westminster when she was twenty-two. They likewise never had children. Celeste married a man named Reginald Gram in 1902. They had two sons and a daughter. The daughter, Maria, was my great-grandmother.”

  “And do you have children?” I wondered.

  The woman nodded. “I married a wonderful man ten years ago and we have two daughters. The girls are spending some time with their grandparents over spring break, so I decided to use the time to try to fill in some blanks in my family history.”

  “That is so awesome.” Georgia grinned. “It sounds like you have done quite a bit of work already.”

  “I have.” The woman’s bright blue eyes shone with enthusiasm. “I’ve been looking up distant cousins on both sides of my family and visiting the gravesites and birthplaces of those ancestors whose whereabouts I have been able to track down. When I started this journey, I tried listing everyone, including cousins and their spouses and offspring, and then I realized how many people you can collect in just a couple of generations. After the first two generations, I decided to concentrate on direct descendants, such as grandparents and their parents and siblings. I have run across a few who I found particularly interesting, including Abagail. I know that she died while living in the house on this property, although I don’t know for certain where she was buried. I hoped you might know.”

  “Actually, I don’t, but there might be folks in town who do. My contractor, Lonnie Parker, might even be aware of the details of Abagail’s final burial place. We can go ask him. He knows a lot about the history of the house and its past residents.”

  “That would be great. If Abagail is buried close by, I’d like to pay my respects and maybe see if I can pick up any additional information for my family memoir.”

  “There may also be items in the attic of the main house that could answer some of your questions. Georgia and I planned to start cleaning it out today. I’d be happy to take down your contact information and call or email if we find anything we think you might be interested in.”

  Trish smiled. “I’d like that very much. Do you think there is anything in the attic that could have belonged to Abagail?”

  I shrugged. “I have no idea. The house had six owners before me. As you already know, Chamberlain Westminster had the home built in 1895. After Abagail died, he returned to England and the house sat empty until he passed away and his brother, Simon, inherited the estate and sold it to the Joneses in 1932. To be honest, I don’t know what they might have done with any personal possessions Chamberlain might have left behind. They may have sold whatever they didn’t want, but I suppose it is possible they stored more personal items in the attic.”

  “I hope that is true,” Trish said.

  “When I moved in, the place was mostly cleared out, except for a few random pieces of furniture, although the attic was packed from top to bottom and front to back with boxes and furniture. Going through everything is going to be a big job, that is for certain. Georgia and I have been meaning to get to it for the past month, but spring in Holiday Bay is a busy time, with the return of tourists and local celebrations to ring in Easter, so we’ve managed to push back the task several times.” I looked at Georgia. “Today, however, is the day. Right?”

  “Right,” Georgia answered.

  “Like I said, I’m happy to call you if we find anything I think you might be interested in,” I continued.

  “I would appreciate that very much. I am in town until tomorrow, and then I’m heading to Lewiston, where a cousin of my grandfather on my father’s side lives. I’ll be there for several days, but if you find anything that belonged to Abagail, I’d be happy to come back here when I am done there to take a look.”

  “That sounds like a good plan,” I responded. “In the meantime, let’s go talk to Lonnie. There is a good chance he knows where Abagail is buried.”

  When we arrived at the main house, Lonnie was on the phone with the electrician, so I offered to give Trish a tour. I had to admit I was very proud of the way things were coming together. Everything looked so fresh and new, and the floors, as well as the countertops and new windows, glistened. The addition of the wall of windows to the back of the house where it overlooked the sea had made such a huge difference in the overall feel of the place.

  “So, you have named every suite and have given each one a different color palette?” Trish commented as we walked through the five suites that were finished or mostly so.

  I nodded. “Pretty much. The same dark hardwood flooring runs throughout the house. My thought was that the flooring would pull everything together in a seamless manner, despite the color variations.”

  “I think it does. I really like it.”

  “While the suites are decorated differently, they are all laid out in a similar manner. Each one has a sleeping area with a king-size bed, a bathroom with a jetted tub, and a sitting area with a fireplace and a private balcony or patio. And they all have an exceptional view of the sea.”

  “I noticed that the place had the feel of the sea from the moment I walked in through the back door into that fabulous kitchen,” Trish said. “And I love that each suite has a name, but with a name like The Inn at Holiday Bay, I sort of thought you would give holiday names to the suites.”

  “Georgia and I talked about having a Halloween Suite, a Christmas Suite, an Easter Suite, and so on, but then we realized that there might not be a huge demand for guests wanting to stay in a Christmas-themed suite in July. Besides, the town of Holiday Bay seems to cover the year-round, holiday theme pretty well. We do plan to hold seasonal and holiday events, but the theme of the suites has more to do with the color scheme of the forest and sea.”

  “Well, I think what you have done is truly spectacular.”

  By the time I had given Trish the grand tour, Lonnie had finished his conversation. I asked him if he knew where Abagail was buried and, as I suspected, he did. He also knew quite a bit about the Chesterton family, including that when Abagail passed away, she was laid to rest in a family cemetery that was located on land owned by her family. It was still there, although no one had been buried in the cemetery for quite some time. It was only about twenty miles west of Holiday Bay, so when Trish said she was going to make the trip, Georgia and I decided to go along, even if that meant putting off the attic for one more day.

  I offered to drive because I pretty much knew where we were going and Trish had never been in the area before. Georgia sat in the back so that Trish could enjoy an unobstructed view.

  “The Maine coastline is stunning,” Trish said as we headed west. “I wish now that I had more time to spend exploring, but I have a pretty tight schedule that will need to be adhered to if I want to have the opportunity to speak to everyone on my list.”