Page 27 of Winterset
Repair water damage on western wall
Remove wall papers in the drawing room
Water damage?Whatwater damage? The man must be senile. And he most certainly wouldnotreplace the wall papers; I’d spent months hand-painting the plain papers, and I was proud of the outcome. He should consider himself lucky to sit in such a beautiful room.
Repair window casement
Replace mattresses
Repair curtain rods
Remove wall papers in eastern wing bedchambers
Repurpose the gallery into a billiard hall
Turn the white room into a hat room
I sucked in a breath. The white room wasmybedchamber. I understood why Mr. Jennings might think it would make a good dressing room; it was large and bright and conveniently connected to the master’s bedchamber. But why would he wish to cannibalize the best room in the house for a few hats?
It was difficult to ascertain much of anything about Mr. Jennings’s character from reading his checklist, so I searched his desk drawers. The top drawer was full of folded papers. Letters, I realized. Dozens and dozens of them, filed neatly in a row.
I pulled one out, intending to read it, but it was still sealed, so I put the letter back in the drawer and retrieved another. But that one was also sealed. As waseveryletter in that drawer.
How peculiar.
Why would Mr. Jennings keep these letters if he did not read them? And in his top desk drawer, no less. They must be important to him to keep them so close, but why had he not read them? I glanced at the back of one of the letters, hoping to identify the senders, but I did not recognize any of the seals. There appeared to be three different seals, but they seemed to all be written on the same creamy white paper.
Curiosity consumed me, and before I could think better of it, I cracked one of the seals and unfolded the letter.
It was wrong. Iknewit was wrong. But also necessary. I needed to know more about this man to protect myself and, more importantly, my servants.
The letter was dated two years earlier, and it started simply:
Oliver,
What a pleasant name for such anunpleasant man. I continued reading.
It has been three weeks since I stood on the steps of Summerhaven and watched you leave on your Grand Tour. How I longed to run after you that day, brother, to convince you to stay, but you were decided, and I could do nothing to stop you.
Father died a few days after your departure.
Did you know? Do you care?
You missed his funeral.
On that day, Mother, Hannah, and I sat in our family’s pew, waiting for you. Both women anxiously watched the door, hoping you would appear, but I knew you wouldn’t. I understand why; Father was cruel and cold to you your entire life. But funerals aren’t for the dead, Ollie; they are for the living. And we wanted you there. We needed you. I know you have not heard that enough; I am sorry for that.
But I am also angry at you.
You might not think that fair, but I am. I am angry and sad and guilty and grief-stricken because of what hasbecome of us, because you aren’t here to help me fix the family that Father has broken.
Come home, Ollie. We miss you terribly.
Your brother, first and forever.
xDamon
I would have givenanythingto attend my papa’s funeral.
