Kate Hoffmann – The Mighty Quinns: Devin (страница 2)
The grand finale of the party would be the gift-giving, the part that Dev hated most of all. Frederick Winchester would present each of the children with an extravagant gift and then would wait for each of his employees to express their deepest gratitude to Winchester for giving them the job that fed their families and put a roof over their heads.
Of course, there were tears and long descriptions of the kindness that the Winchesters showed their inferiors. Dev had to wonder how his mother did it, year after year, never questioning her place in their world, never quibbling over her meager pay or her long work hours.
Dev wondered how much longer
He’d taken the gift out to the garage the day after Christmas and smashed it to pieces with a hammer. And when his mother had asked where it was, he’d told her that he’d donated it to the toy drive at school.
Dev hated having to bow and scrape to the Winchesters just because they were rich. But this job was important to his mother, and for her, Dev would do anything. It was the only thing that stood between them and poverty. Someday, he’d have an important job that paid well and they’d be able to walk away from Winchesters and their money.
“Psst.”
Dev looked up from his plate and noticed a small opening in the door to the butler’s pantry. The door opened a bit farther and he recognized Elodie’s face.
“What?” Dev asked.
“You want to see something?” she asked.
He glanced around, but no one was paying any attention to him sitting alone in the corner of the room. “What?”
The door opened a little farther. “Come, I’ll show you,” she said.
Dev set his plate down on a nearby table, then quietly slipped from the room. When he got inside the dark butler’s pantry, her hand gripped his, and he followed after her as they ran through the kitchen to the servants’ stairway. He’d been in the house a number of times over the years with his mother, but he’d never ventured upstairs.
“Are you sure we should be up here?” he asked.
“Of course, silly. This is my house. I can go anywhere I want.”
They seemed to climb stairs forever, the last flight narrow and twisting. Finally, Elodie threw open a door and turned on the lights.
“Where are we?” he asked.
“A secret room,” she said. “In the attic.”
“What’s up here?”
“Come and see,” she said, drawing him inside.
The wide room was dominated by a huge table, but it was impossible to distinguish what was on top, as the contents were covered with a sheet. And then, suddenly, Elodie ripped off the sheet and flipped a switch. The table lit up and toy trains began to circle a series of winding tracks.
Dev stepped closer, fascinated by the sight. There had to be at least ten trains, all winding their way through a number of trestles and tunnels and passing through towns with tiny houses all lit up from the inside. Miniature cars sat at the crossings, waiting for the gates to rise when the trains passed.
“Holy shit,” Dev muttered.
“Yeah. Holy shit,” Elodie repeated.
He glanced over at her and laughed. “Is this yours?”
She shook her head. “No, it belonged to my grandfather. When he was alive, he used to let us play with it every Christmas, but now my father keeps the door locked.”
“How did you get in?”
“I know where the key is,” she said. “I sneak up here all the time. I just have to remember exactly where the trains were when I started and I put them back before I leave.”
“Why won’t your father let you play with it?”
“He hates these trains. He and my grandfather never really got along. I miss him.”
“Where is he?”
“He died when I was seven,” she said. “He was living in California with my aunt Charlotte.”
“I’m sorry,” Dev said, surprised to see tears in her eyes. He reached out and took her hand, giving it a squeeze.
“Me, too,” she said. “I’m sure my grandfather would want me to play with the trains, though. It always made him laugh.”
Elodie showed him the controls and watched as he operated the trains by himself. She walked around the table, pointing out all her favorite train cars and buildings. He set the controls down and followed her, listening to her voice, caught up in the magic of the moment.
And then, it was over. She glanced at her watch and cried out. “It’s time for the gifts,” she said, hurrying to the door. “Come on, we have to get back.”
“Don’t you have to fix the trains?”
“I’ll sneak up later,” she said, flinging the sheet over the table.
They rushed down the three flights, then hurried through the kitchen to the butler’s pantry. Elodie peeked through the door. “You go first. If they ask where you were, just tell them that I helped you find the bathroom.”
Dev turned to face her, then, taking a chance, he leaned toward her and kissed her cheek. He’d never kissed a girl before and was surprised at how easy—and enjoyable—it was. “Thanks,” he said. “I had fun.”
Elodie smiled. “Me, too.”
As he stepped back into the dining room, Dev realized that he’d never think of the Winchesters’ Christmas party the same way again. He’d always remember this night and the moment he kissed Elodie Winchester on the cheek.
When it came time for the gifts, she was the one who handed him his elaborately wrapped present.
“I picked it out especially for you,” she whispered.
Dev smiled.
He watched her for the rest of the night as she mingled among the guests. If he could have kissed her again, he would have. But he knew the dangers of crossing that invisible line. As much as he might enjoy Elodie’s company, this was just one night.
It all would begin and end right here.
DEV CASSIDY PULLED the police cruiser up to the curb in front of Zelda’s Café and turned off the ignition. The sun had come up over an hour ago and the sleepy town of Winchester was just beginning to move.
When the mill had been operating, the town’s days had begun much earlier, the blare of the first-shift whistle splitting the morning silence at precisely 6:00 a.m. But everything had changed since the Winchester family’s flagship business had failed. A secure future had disappeared for so many of the town’s residents. Stores had closed, people had moved out, more businesses had closed, and within three years Winchester was nothing but a shell filled with empty buildings and broken lives.
Most everyone blamed Frederick Winchester, but Dev knew it had been a confluence of events. The Winchester textile mill had been one of the last independently owned family mills in the state. Competing with the newer, more state-of-the-art corporate mills had been an impossible task. The national financial collapse of 2008 hadn’t helped.
Still, the whole thing had left behind a bitter taste for the residents of Winchester. A few weeks after closing the mill, the family had packed up and moved out of town. Then the truth had come out. The Winchesters were bankrupt, the mill mortgaged to the hilt, and there was nothing left to do but close and liquidate. Pensions had disappeared and hopes and dreams of a bright future had been dashed.
It might not have been so bad if it hadn’t been for the way Frederick had handled the situation. With no interest in trying to salvage the business, he’d held a fire sale. Within a week, they’d buried their father and left with the last pennies of the family fortune. All that remained was the mansion that sat on the hill overlooking what was left of Winchester.
As Dev got out of the car, he glanced up at the freshly painted sign above the café’s door. Zelda’s Café had opened last month, spurred on by the town council’s attempt to rejuvenate the downtown. The owner, Joan Fitzgerald, had been a manager at the mill and was now baking her prize-winning cinnamon rolls and serving up fancy coffee drinks with exotic Italian names.
The bell above the door jingled as he stepped inside the cool interior. Air-conditioning was always a pleasant relief from the hot, humid weather that was typical for early July in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Dev took a spot at the counter and grabbed a menu, checking out the specials before settling on his usual.
Joanie approached with a mug and the coffeepot. “Gonna be a hot one today. You sure I can’t get you a sweet tea instead of coffee?”
“Hit me with the caffeine,” he said, nodding to the mug. “And I’ll have my usual.”
“Grannie’s Granola with yogurt and berries,” she said. “Raspberries today. I picked them fresh yesterday.”
He watched her prepare the dish, layering her homemade granola with fresh vanilla yogurt in a parfait glass. She topped it with a handful of berries and set it in front of him.
The place was still quiet, so Joanie pulled up a stool and sat across from him, sipping at a glass of orange juice. “That break-in down at Feller’s filling station? You might want to talk to Jimmy Joe Babcock about that. His brother was in here yesterday and mentioned a brand-new set of tires he received from Jimmy Joe for his birthday.”