“Why are you making a big deal out of this? I had a long journey and I simply wanted to get settled in at the cottage and acclimatize myself to this”—she flapped her hands to encompass the room and everyone in it—“situation.”
“Maggie’s right, it wouldn’t have hurt you to pop in and say hello,” Star butted in.
“Yes, well, I had a feeling you might be there, and I wasn’t in the mood for playing ‘happy families.’？”
“When do you ever play ‘happy families’？” Star retorted.
Maggie was seated between Simone and Star in her usual capacity as the bland filling in the sister sandwich, caught between slices of sourdough Simone and brioche Star. In this analogy Maggie imagined herself to be something neutral, poached chicken breast or mild cheddar maybe.
Already she was getting a tension headache. She’d left Joe and Patrick to run the grocer’s, but there were still at least twenty things that needed doing today rolling around in her head. Hovering on the periphery of every conscious and unconscious thought was her eviction notice, squatting in her mind like a spider in the corner of a room. She looked up and saw her friend’s expression. She nudged Star and Simone, nodding toward Vanessa, and the three fell silent.
Vanessa smiled calmly and began. “First of all, I know we spoke at Augustus’s funeral, but I would like to offer my condolences to you in my official capacity as your father’s solicitor. Secondly, thank you for attending this meeting.”
“Did we have a choice?” Simone asked.
“There is always a choice.” Vanessa smiled. “And your decision to be here will make this process easier and faster.”
“What process are we talking about exactly?” Maggie asked.
“Have any of you been into your father’s shop recently?” Vanessa inquired.
“I stayed at the flat last night, but I didn’t venture into the shop,” said Star. “Wasn’t quite brave enough to go in by myself; all that taxidermy gives me the heebie-jeebies.”
“You slept at Dad’s?” Simone asked with something like surprise on her face. “I thought you would have stayed at Maggie’s.”
“I offered, but she would have had to share a room with Verity.”
“I didn’t mind that. But if I’m going to be staying for a while, it makes sense for me to not be under your feet.”
“By that, I take it you’re unemployed and homeless again?” Simone drawled.
“It’s really quite something how you manage to sound both weary and scathing,” snapped Star.
“What can I say? You make it easy.”
Star threw her arms in the air and flopped back in her chair dramatically. Maggie gave Vanessa what she hoped was an apologetic smile.
Vanessa cleared her throat and continued. “Well, as you know, Augustus was a collector . . .”
“A human magpie, more like,” said Simone.
“Yes. Well. Over the years, your father had an agreement with us that he would send artifacts from his travels to us, and we would store them in the shop.”
“The shop that was never open because he was never in the country,” added Maggie.
“Quite,” Vanessa agreed. “He continued to do this right up to his death. The last items we received arrived just three days before we learned of his passing.”
“What kind of items?” asked Simone.
“To be honest, I don’t know. We merely took delivery of the crates, and your father would sort through them when he returned. Of course, this last time he never did.”
“So, five years’ worth of deliveries are still boxed in the shop?” asked Maggie.
“That is correct.” Vanessa nodded.
“But why do it?” asked Star. “I never understood it. Why collect all those pieces when he was never around to sell any of them?”
“Maybe he was actually a magpie in human form,” joked Maggie.
“Maggie, you could romanticize a turd,” said Simone. “The man was a hoarder, and the only way he got away with it was under the guise of being a shopkeeper.”
“I think,” Vanessa interrupted, “although nobody can be sure, that he was building you a nest egg.”
“Of junk,” added Simone.
“I am assuming that Augustus believed at least some of his collection had a market value, because he instructed us to employ the services of an appraiser from Sotheby’s to catalog the shop for you. The appraiser ought to be arriving today.”
Maggie gasped. “Sotheby’s? How much is that going to cost us? I more imagined us all chipping in for a man with a van.”
“The appraiser’s services have been paid for in advance by your father and there are adequate funds put aside to cover the duration of his stay. The appraiser is working on your behalf, so please feel free to be as involved or not as you wish in the process.”
“I’m getting the feeling that Dad wanted us to be involved,” said Maggie.
“I would have to agree with you,” Vanessa replied. “As you probably know, reading a will out like this is highly unusual; in fact, this is the first one I’ve ever had to do. It was much more common in my grandfather’s day.”
“Typical Augustus, ever the showman,” said Simone dryly.
The blinds at the large windows were pulled down low, presumably to prevent prying eyes, as if that would stop the Rowan Thorp hotline from buzzing. The winter sun shone through the fabric, bathing the office in a pale primrose haze. In her own way, each sister steeled herself for what their father planned to pull out of his hat next.
Vanessa cleared her throat. “Before we begin, I should warn you that your father wrote certain caveats into his will, which are nonnegotiable.”
Maggie felt Simone stiffen, while her own shoulders sagged, and Star perked up.
“Caveats?” Simone asked, rather more sharply than was necessary in Maggie’s opinion.
“Yes.” Vanessa remained unflustered. “They are . . . somewhat unusual.”
“Classic Dad.” Star sounded delighted.
With another look at each of the sisters, Vanessa unfolded a sheet of thick cartridge paper and began to read.
To my three daughters, if you are reading this, then I am dead. I don’t believe in regret, but if I had one, it is that we were not perhaps as close as we might have been. The blame lies solely with me. It is my greatest wish that you—Marguerite, Simone, and Heavenly-Stargazer—forge the relationship with one another that I was unable to have. Together you are a force to be reckoned with. Each of you has a gift that brings strength to your sisters, and I hope in death to do what I was unable to in life: to rally your hearts and spirits and rekindle the sisterly harmony you enjoyed as children.
To you, my three daughters, I bequeath all my worldly goods and my estate in its entirety on the understanding that you complete two quests. For the first, you will be furnished with instructions by the good solicitors of Steele & Brannigan. It’s just a bit of fun to get you working as a team in order to be ready for the second quest, which is to reinstate the traditional winter solstice celebration to the village of Rowan Thorp. I mean for this to be done properly. The whole village must be invited and encouraged to join. You will find much of what you need to know by speaking with those who remember the old ways. As for the finer details, well, those are to be found by completing the first task. Should you, for whatever reason, be unable to accomplish this task, my estate will be divided up and donated to various listed charities in an alternative codicil. Should any one of you decide not to partake of the quest, the above codicil will be activated. The only way to claim your prize is to work together.