invited her to come and spend the holidays with us. But when she said she couldn’t, Mom decided we would bring the festivities to her.”
“That so. And what did she say to that?”
Norah traced a drop of condensation as it slid down the window beside her. “She said she had a big house and had never been known to turn anyone away.” Which was not exactly what you could call an invitation. When Norah had pointed that out to her mother, Ginny had only laughed. “It’ll be perfect, Norah. You’ll see. Wonderful fun.” Everything always was, for Ginny. As far as Norah was concerned, nothing was turning out the way it was supposed to.
Ever since Ginny had learned that she and Norah would be leaving Victoria and moving east to Toronto, she had been going on about living closer to her brother Richard and his wife and two children. “For the first time in years, Norah, our family can spend the holidays together,” Ginny had crowed.
When Ginny discovered that her late husband’s aunt was still living in Ontario, she came up with the idea of inviting her too. It didn’t matter that the old lady was no relation to Uncle Richard, Auntie Gwen or the cousins.
Then, at the last minute, still surrounded by packing crates in their new apartment, Ginny had been called back out west. Some urgent problem the person who was taking over was having, and only Ginny could fix it. Now what? Christmas was only a week away.
“It’s really no problem, sweetie,” Ginny promised. “I’ll just call Aunt Caroline and see if you can go on up there ahead of me. And I’ll join you the minute I get back.”
“I’ll go with you, Mom,” Norah decided. “I know I could stay at Ashley’s.”
“No, it’ll be much quicker if I just do what has to be done and fly right back.”
“Let me stay here then,” Norah pleaded. “I could have all the unpacking done by the time you get back.”
Ginny shook her head. “I don’t know a soul in this city I could ask to stay with you, darling. No, this way is best. I’ll get you a ticket for the train. And here’s an idea! Why don’t we call Richard and see if the kids can go on ahead too? You three could be all together for a while.”
“I bet Andrew and Becca are looking forward to this holiday about as much as I am,” grumbled Norah.
When she’d called her brother in Guelph, Ginny had learned that school for the cousins was not yet out for the Christmas break. The only reason Norah was already on holiday was that she would be starting Grade Eight in a new school after the New Year.
“I guess you’ll just have to go on ahead by yourself,” Ginny announced, setting the phone back down on the floor beside the couch where she and Norah were unwrapping dishes. She picked up another package, smiling brightly. “But that’s okay. I’m sure your Great-aunt Caroline will spoil you rotten.”
By this time, the taxi had turned off the highway between two stone pillars and into a lane overhung with dripping trees. A large house of grey stone loomed ahead in the cold rain. The cab pulled up at the front of the house and stopped.
This place was not what Norah had imagined when her mother had promised Christmas in the country. She had pictured a rambling house of white clapboard, a wide, welcoming verandah, coloured lights strung from gingerbread trim, a wreath in every lighted window. And snow, of course.
“Well, this is it,” the cabbie announced, opening the back door of the car.
Norah emerged from the taxi an inch at a time, looking up at the gloomy house, its chimneys wrapped in fog.
There was no verandah, no front porch of any kind, and no lights beckoned from the unfriendly windows. In fact, the place looked deserted. In the trees to the left, Norah spotted a detached garage with old-fashioned, wooden doors.
After depositing the suitcase on the stone step, the driver got back into the cab and splashed away again down the lane, without even waiting to see if anyone answered the door.
Norah had just about decided that no one was home and was half-hoping that they weren’t, when the big front door swung suddenly inward.
“Come inside,” an icy voice commanded. “Don’t just stand there. You’re letting in the rain.”
Two
At first, Norah thought the woman who answered the door of the dreary, stone house was very tall. Later, she realized that was due to the straightness of her posture. She wore a long, black skirt, polished shoes of the same colour and a grey blouse with a high throat, buttoned to the top. Her white hair was pulled back in a severe style behind her head. A pair of rimless spectacles perched halfway down a long, narrow nose.
Norah wiped her hand on her jeans and extended it towards the woman. “I’m Norah,” she announced with a smile. The door closed behind her.
“Of course you are.” The woman stepped back and took a long look at Norah’s wet shoes. “You may hang your things there,” she said, indicating a hallstand, the kind with a seat that opened and a place for umbrellas.
Norah dropped her hand. “Is my Aunt Caroline home?” she asked.
“I am Caroline Stoppard,” declared the woman, unsmiling.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Norah exclaimed. “It’s just, you know, with a house as big as this, I thought you might be...”
“The maid?” Cold, blue eyes peered at Norah over the spectacles. “Perfectly understandable. How could you be expected to know me, when we have never met?”
Feeling it was better to say nothing at all, Norah hung her jacket over one of the hooks on the hallstand and stepped out of her shoes.
Once that was properly done, Caroline Stoppard walked briskly across the hall to the foot of the stairs. “Come along now,” she said. “There are no servants in this house. I will show you to your room.”
Lugging the suitcase, Norah followed the erect figure up the stairs, sneaking a look at her surroundings as she climbed. The stairs were painted black, uncarpeted, and they swept in a wide arc to a landing, halfway to the second floor. A circular window of red and blue glass spilled a watery stain onto the hardwood at their feet. There were no paintings, no family portraits on the grey walls as Norah might have expected. The house appeared as cold and unadorned as its owner.
“Your mother is coming when, exactly?” Aunt Caroline asked, waiting for Norah to catch up.
“The day after tomorrow,” Norah puffed. “She was called away on business.”
“Well, I suppose that can’t be helped,” was the comment.
At the top of the stairs, they turned into a dark hallway. Aunt Caroline opened a door to a room at the front of the house and stepped aside to allow Norah to enter first. It was cold as a tomb inside.
“This will be your room,” the woman announced. “I’ve put some towels in here for you to use. The bathroom is down the hall, on the left. You may put your clothes in the bureau over there.”
Wheeling the suitcase to a spot inside the door, Norah scanned the room. There was one, curtainless window in the opposite wall. A massive oak dresser
