The Mystery in the Old Attic

  The Aldens were very busy. Henry and Benny unloaded the car and brought in all the bags. Jessie and Violet found sheets and towels in the big closet near the kitchen and began to make the beds.

  When all the beds were made, Grandfather took his grandchildren out to eat at a local diner. “We can shop for groceries tomorrow,” he told Jessie.

  “Yes, I’m starving,” said Benny as the Aldens all piled into the car. “You know, I didn’t have much lunch.”

  Jessie laughed. “Yes, Benny. I know.”

  “Look how dark it is,” said Violet as Grandfather started the car. She looked at her watch. “It’s only six o’clock.”

  “It gets dark early here in the fall and winter,” Grandfather explained. “We’re farther north than in Greenfield, so the sun sets earlier.”

  “Oh,” said Violet.

  The moon was rising as Grandfather drove down Aunt Sophie’s long, winding driveway. None of them noticed the blond girl in the tower window who was watching everything they did.

  CHAPTER 3

  A Nosy Waitress

  Violet was the first one awake the next morning. She put on her fuzzy slippers and tiptoed out of the room she shared with Jessie. It was so quiet in the hallway, Violet could hear the floorboards creak. She walked toward the ballroom and stepped inside. As she looked around the large, airy room, she imagined couples from long ago dancing in the night.

  “Boo!” someone shouted behind her. Violet jumped.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you.” Benny was laughing. He walked over to Violet in his fuzzy slippers. “Isn’t this room huge?”

  Violet nodded. “I wonder what it was like to live here when people used this room for dances,” said Violet, looking up at the high chandeliers that each held twelve candles. Folding chairs and small tables were stacked in one corner of the room. In another were some old chairs covered with a sheet.

  “Do you think Great-aunt Sophie gave balls in here?” asked Benny.

  “Well, yes,” answered Violet. “But this room does not seem as if it’s been used in a while. Look how dusty everything is. We’ve got some work to do.”

  “Oh, Violet, Benny, there you are,” said Jessie, who stood by the door. “Grandfather is taking us all out to breakfast.”

  “Oh, goody,” said Benny.

  Half an hour later, the Aldens were seated at a booth in the Jarvi Bakery in downtown Brockton.

  “Boy, these pancakes are delicious,” said Benny as he poured more raspberry syrup over them.

  “They’re called pan-nu-kak-ku,” said Grandfather. He pronounced each syllable slowly. “They’re Finnish pancakes.”

  “They taste better than regular pancakes,” said Henry. “They’re like a combination of a pancake, an omelet, and custard.”

  Benny nodded. His mouth was full.

  “I couldn’t help overhearing how much you like the pannukakku,” said the waitress when she came over to refill Grandfather’s coffee. “You know, there is a Finnish special on the menu every day.”

  “Are all the specials as good as these pancakes?” asked Benny after he had swallowed his food.

  “Oh, yes,” answered the waitress, who was young and blond. “At least I think so. You’re staying in the old Taylor mansion, aren’t you?”

  “How did you know that?” Benny looked very surprised.

  “I saw you from my window,” the waitress answered. “I rent an apartment on the third floor.”

  “For heaven’s sake,” said Grandfather. “So you’re the other tenant. I am James Alden, and these are my grandchildren: Henry, Jessie, Violet, and Benny.”

  “Yes, I know,” said the waitress, extending her hand to Grandfather. “I’m pleased to meet you. My name is Kimberly Watson. I just moved here a couple months ago from California. I used to talk to your aunt all the time. She was really nice.”

  “How do you know about us?” asked Benny.

  “Your great-aunt Sophie told me all about her family in Greenfield. Even though she never met you, she felt she knew you through your grandfather’s letters.”

  “Oh,” said Benny, looking pleased.

  “How do you like living in Brockton?” asked Grandfather.

  Kimberly shrugged. “Well, it’s really different up here. I’m not used to this cold weather, or …” Kimberly paused and twirled her long hair. Violet noticed she wore a ring on every finger, except her thumb.

  “Or what?” Henry asked, when it seemed as though Kimberly was not going to finish her sentence.

  “Uh, never mind,” said Kimberly. “So, I hear you’re selling the old house.” She seemed eager to change the subject.

  “Yes,” answered Grandfather. “We’ll be going through my aunt Sophie’s papers and belongings. I plan to sell the house complete with the furniture. Unless there are any pieces my grandchildren want,” he added, smiling at them.

  “Well, let me know if you need any help,” said Kimberly. “I know all about your aunt Sophie’s things. We spent quite a bit of time together.”

  “Really?” said Grandfather.

  “Oh, yes,” said Kimberly importantly. She looked as if she wanted to keep talking to the Aldens, but more customers were coming into the bakery. She rushed off to take their orders.

  * * *

  On the way home, the Aldens stopped off at the grocery store, then the hardware store, where they bought brooms, mops, pails, rags, and other cleaning supplies.

  “Brockton sure is pretty,” said Violet as the Aldens walked to their car. Old sandstone buildings lined Brockton’s Main Street. In the distance, the Aldens could see rolling hills covered with pine trees and Victorian-style houses.

  “Wow, all these houses look about one hundred years old,” said Benny.

  “Some of them are,” Grandfather answered. “Many of them were built at the same time as Aunt Sophie’s.”

  When the Aldens returned to Aunt Sophie’s house, they were very busy. First they unloaded the car and put away all their groceries and supplies. Then Grandfather went upstairs to his aunt Sophie’s study to begin sorting out all her papers. Henry, Jessie, Violet, and Benny swept the ballroom and moved all the broken furniture to the woodpile outside.

  “We can sell the pieces that are in pretty good shape with the house,” said Henry. “The rest we can use as firewood.”

  By lunchtime the ballroom sparkled. “It looks good enough to give a party in here,” said Jessie proudly as she shook out her broom.

  The others nodded. “I think we should eat after all this hard work,” said Henry.

  “Good idea,” said Violet. Benny was already on his way to the kitchen.

  “I’ll make tuna salad for sandwiches,” said Violet as she took out a big bowl and mixed together tuna, mayonnaise, lemon juice, salt, and pepper. Henry sliced some bread. Jessie and Benny set the table with Aunt Sophie’s blue-and-white dishes. They also made lemonade, mixed a green salad, and put potato chips on every plate.

  “My, this looks like a good lunch,” said Grandfather when he came downstairs.

  It began raining right after lunch.

  “Oh, I wish it would snow,” said Benny, sighing. “Now we can’t even go outside.”

  “No, but there is a lot to explore inside this house,” Henry reminded his brother.

  “That’s true,” said Benny, beaming as he remembered the old wooden rocking horse in the kitchen closet.

  When the Aldens finished drying the dishes, Benny rushed over to the secret closet. Grandfather returned to sorting Aunt Sophie’s papers. Violet decided to look in the library for something to read.

  “That’s a good idea,” said Jessie, following her.

  The library was lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that held rows and rows of leather-bound books.

  “We shouldn’t have a problem finding something to read in here,” said Jessie as she started reading the book titles on the shelf nearest to her. “Look, here are some fairy tales with gorgeous illustrations.”

  “R
eally?” said Violet. Her eyes shone. Violet loved to draw. “Oh, let me see.”

  Carefully, Jessie handed Violet a big book covered in red leather. Violet sat right down in one of the many armchairs in the library and began to look at it. Jessie kept exploring. She saw books written by Charles Dickens, Washington Irving, and Robert Louis Stevenson. She also found books about trees, wildflowers, and rocks and minerals. “Hmm,” she said. “I wish I could find a good mystery.”

  Violet looked up from her book for just a moment. “There are more books on that shelf over there,” she said, pointing.

  Jessie went over to the dusty shelf. It seemed as though the oldest books in the library lay on it. There was a book of Irish poems and riddles and next to it a book of maps that was so old, the yellowed paper tore as soon as Jessie touched it.

  “This was not what I had in mind,” said Jessie as she put down the maps. That was when she noticed another book, a small book with a dark cover, wedged behind the others. Carefully she pulled the little book out and blew the dust off it. The title MY BOOK was engraved in gold letters across the cover. Inside, written in blue ink, were the words: The Diary of Emily Rebecca Taylor, 1900.

  CHAPTER 4

  The Diary

  “Oh, Violet, come here. Look what I found!” cried Jessie.

  “What?” Violet seemed very reluctant to leave her book, but looked up when Jessie came toward her.

  “A diary.” Jessie was already flipping through the pages. Though they were yellow with age, they did not fall apart when Jessie touched them. Violet bent over the book, as excited as Jessie. The handwriting belonged to a young girl who wrote in script. Some of the words were crossed out or smudged from the fountain pen, which made the diary hard to read.

  Brockton, Michigan

  8 November 1900

  This diary was a present from Father for my twelfth birthday. I am going to write in it every week.

  “Oh, she’s just my age,” said Jessie. She could not believe that a girl who had sat in this library, perhaps in the very chair Violet had just been sitting in, was writing in her diary almost one hundred years ago.

  Today, Father gave me a lovely tea party. All my dolls came, including Samantha, who is very old. I dressed her in a long pink dress with a lace collar.

  Betsy and Ann, my best friends from school, came to the party, too. So did Mother, who felt well enough to come downstairs. That made the party extra special.

  We ate cream cakes and gingerbread and drank real tea with lemon in it. Because it was my birthday, Mother gave us permission to use Grandmother’s special blue-and-white china.

  “I wonder if that’s the china we used at lunchtime,” said Jessie. “Emily can tell us so much about this house.”

  Violet nodded as she wrapped her arms around her shoulders. “I can’t believe you found this. Let’s show the others.”

  When Grandfather saw the diary, he held it in his hands and just stared at it. “You know, Emily is the daughter of the couple whose portraits are in the dining room.”

  “Oh, no, not of the woman who died,” Violet said.

  Grandfather nodded.

  Soon all five Aldens were seated around the kitchen table listening while Jessie read the diary aloud.

  17 November 1900

  Mother is still very weak, so weak there are days she does not leave her bed. I visit her when I come home from school. We still laugh and talk, but I can tell she is very tired. She has been teaching me to write sonnets and riddles. Mother loves poetry. Today we wrote a riddle together about a clock. Here it is:

  I run around in circles, yet my path is always straight.

  I can be quiet or noisy; sometimes I am late.

  Of size and shape, I have many. I come in circles or squares.

  And some, seeing me sit so calmly, think I have no cares.

  If I run slower or faster, things do not work as smoothly.

  So I try to be on time not to upset things unduly.

  Can you guess what I am?

  “Wow,” said Benny. “I wouldn’t be able to guess that was a clock.”

  “She does give us lots of clues, though,” Jessie said. “Like here when she’s talking about being late, running slower or faster, and being on time.” Jessie pointed out the words to Benny as she talked.

  Benny nodded. “Oh, now I understand.”

  Jessie continued reading:

  24 November 1900

  I can tell Father is very worried about Mother. He has been ever since she fell from her horse last month. The doctor now comes to the house to visit her almost every other day.

  There wasn’t another entry until December 15:

  I have not been able to write in my diary in a long time. Mother died on December first.

  “How sad,” said Jessie.

  “She was awfully young to lose her mother,” said Grandfather. The children nodded.

  21 December 1900

  Mother left me her diamond engagement ring, and many other things like her linens and lace. Father says the ring is very valuable, and I should keep it in a safe place. It is a beautiful ring with a pearl and a diamond on a high setting. Here is a picture of it:

  3 January 1901

  I have put the ring in a little box with some of Mother’s lace handkerchiefs. I have hidden it in a special place that meant a lot to Mother and me, and I have not told anyone where it is, not even Father.

  “I wish she would tell her diary where it is,” said Benny.

  “Maybe she does,” said Jessie as she turned the page.

  “The ring may no longer be in the house,” said Grandfather. “No doubt Emily took it with her when she grew up and moved away.”

  “Here is a long entry about a sleigh ride Emily took with Betsy and Ann,” said Jessie.

  “I want to hear more about the ring,” said Benny.

  “Oh, I found something,” said Jessie. “Here Emily says she’s practicing her riddle writing. And she’s written a riddle about where the ring is hidden.”

  “Oh, Jessie, please read it!” Benny was so impatient, he wiggled in his chair.

  Jessie cleared her throat. “A riddle by Emily Rebecca Taylor,” she began:

  My ring lies near the waiter who brings me up my tea.

  As I hear his creaking sounds,

  I hope my ring will not be found — by anyone but me.

  When Jessie finished, the others looked at one another. “What does she mean?” asked Benny. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “We need to think about it,” said Henry. “Maybe there are more clues in the diary.” He bent over the little book while Jessie flipped the pages. There were more entries about Emily’s mother, her family, her friends, her riding lessons, and her parties, but no other clue about the ring.

  “Skip to the end,” Benny suggested.

  Jessie nodded. “Oh, here’s something,” she said.

  19 September 1906

  Tomorrow I will be leaving to go study in England. How I will miss Father and this house where I have so many memories of Mother! I do hope Father will not be too lonely, but he travels so much with his work.

  I am taking many of Mother’s dresses with me to England. Most of her clothes fit me now, but I have decided not to take the ring. It is too valuable and I do not want to risk losing it overseas. I am leaving it in this house, where it will always be safe in its hiding place.

  “Is that it?” asked Benny. “That’s the last page?”

  Jessie nodded and held out the book to show Benny.

  “That’s means the ring might still be here — right in this house. Maybe even in the library.” Benny got up and looked around the room, wondering where there might be a good hiding place.

  Jessie closed the diary. “Grandfather, do you know if Emily ever came back to this house?” she asked.

  Grandfather did not answer right away. “I don’t believe so,” he finally said.

  “That means the ring could very well still be in this house,”
said Jessie.

  Benny hopped up and down. “I knew it. I knew it!” he exclaimed. “We should start looking right now.”

  The others laughed. “Benny, it’s been here all these years. It’s not likely to disappear overnight,” Henry pointed out.

  “Oh, Benny, look out the window,” said Violet. “It’s snowing.”

  CHAPTER 5

  A Little Door

  “It’s snowing really hard,” said Benny, beaming. He pressed his nose against the windowpane in the library. Already snow was piling on the ledge outside and on the tree branches. “It never snows in Greenfield this early in the year.”

  “No,” agreed Grandfather. “Not usually.”

  “So, Benny, what are we waiting for?” said Henry. “Let’s go outside and play.”

  “But what about the riddle?” said Benny. “We need to find the ring before we leave.”

  “We have time,” said Violet. “Besides, maybe we can think better when we’re outside.”

  “You know,” said Henry, “I saw lots of skis and snowshoes in the kitchen closet. Do you think we could try them?”

  “Certainly,” said Grandfather. “See if they’re your size. By the time you’re all ready, there may be enough snow on the ground for a practice run.”

  Grandfather followed his grandchildren as they raced toward the kitchen closet. Henry reached the closet first. He pulled open the door and started to take out ski poles, skis, even ski boots.

  “There are enough for all of us, and they’re all sorts of sizes.” Henry sounded pleased. “Even small ones for Benny.”

  “Ah, some old cross-country skis,” said Grandfather, smiling.

  “How are they different from regular skis?” asked Violet.

  “Cross-country skis allow you to glide even on flat ground. That way you can ski in the backyard, in the woods, almost anywhere there’s snow,” explained Grandfather.

  “With the other kind of skis, you need mountains,” added Henry.

  “Right,” said Grandfather. “And since there are no high mountains in Brockton, most people go cross-country skiing. It’s a very popular sport around here. Most of the ski trails were laid out by the Finnish settlers.”