A/N: This chapter overlaps slightly with Raphael's Dragon by Silbrith. I'll keep spoilers to a minimum in case you haven't read it yet. In our timeline, we're approaching Mother's Day, 2005, and that's when most of this story takes place. It's an emotional time for Neal, as it has been many years since he has celebrated a Mother's Day, and you'll find that Neal is often quiet, taking in the events around him.
New York Presbyterian Hospital. Tuesday evening. May 3, 2005.
Neal Caffrey was grumpy.
He tried reminding himself that he was a valued member of the FBI's White Collar team, a graduate student at an exclusive university, a skilled artist and musician, a bon vivant. Being grumpy didn't fit his image.
But the fact remained that after being poisoned a few days ago, he was stuck in a hospital, and even though it was only early evening it seemed that he was expected to go to sleep. As if he hadn't been sleeping for nearly a full day. Grumpiness seemed warranted.
The room was dim, because the poison temporarily made his eyes overly sensitive to light. A book light cast a small pool of brightness where Neal's cousin Henry Winslow was reading a bright yellow hardcover book. And scowling at it.
Neal couldn't even read the title. Grump, grump.
And the soup he'd had for a ridiculously early dinner wasn't nearly satisfying. He might starve to death here. Grump, grump.
Suddenly Henry chuckled.
Grump, grump. Grr.
"Did you growl?" Henry asked.
"No," Neal said. The last thing he wanted was to remind Henry that their grandmother had nicknamed Neal Baby Bear because of the way he'd growled as a baby when unhappy. "What are you reading?"
Henry looked like he wanted to evade, but took in Neal's expression and said, "The Clue of the Broken Locket, by Carolyn Keene."
Neal had a feeling that he should recognize the name, but it didn't sound familiar. "A mystery?" he asked. Henry came from a long line of detectives. Solving mysteries was his job, and therefore he wasn't one to read them for pleasure.
"Tell you what. Let's order snacks, and I'll read it to you."
Yeah, Henry was being evasive. Interesting. That meant this wasn't simply a random book the hospital kept on hand for bored visitors. "Sure," Neal said. Hearing the story would break the boredom, and once he knew what it was about perhaps he could guess why Henry had selected it.
After Henry called in the order for food, he turned back to the first page of the book and started reading aloud.
He didn't finish the first sentence before Neal interrupted, "A Nancy Drew mystery?"
"Hush," Henry said, and he kept reading. In high school he'd participated in a school play and discovered a love of drama. Now he made up voices for the different characters and even stood up and gestured as if he were playing all of the parts in a one-man performance of the story.
Only a few pages into it, Neal interrupted again. "Henry Winch, the cowardly boat purveyor from Maryland. No way." The coincidence of the book being read by Henry Winslow, avid sailor from Baltimore was too wild.
Henry lowered the book. "Not my favorite aspect, but just you wait. I'm told there's a Neal in this story, too. And it's even spelled right, N-E-A-L." He returned to his dramatic reading of the story, pausing only briefly when the snacks arrived. You could tell Henry was really into something when it caused him to ignore food.
Neal found himself drawn into the story and it was several chapters later when he interrupted again, laughing this time. "No way! There's a pop singer in this story? And he's being cheated out of his money? That's not really a Nancy Drew mystery, is it? You're making this story up, tossing in our names and references to the Masterson Music case from last year."
Putting the book aside, Henry sat down again. "That's what I thought when I started reading it — that it was a joke. But it's the real deal."
"Where did you get this book?"
Henry checked his watch. "That's a story for another day. Any minute now a nurse is going to stop by to check on you and to tell us it's quiet time. No way you'll be quiet for the tale of how I got the book."
Neal smiled. His earlier grumpiness had faded away, and he was willing to wait to get the truth out of Henry. "Fine. Then keep reading to me, quietly."
Staying seated and keeping his voice low, Henry kept reading. Neal let himself drift to sleep.
Neal's loft. Thursday afternoon. May 5, 2005.
Neal Caffrey was home. He'd actually been released from the hospital yesterday, but the last twenty-four hours had been filled with so many visitors and revelations about cases that he was just now starting to feel normal. There was something about being home that let him put down his guard and relax.
He picked up the yellow book Henry had left on the sofa, and paged through it. As hard as it was to believe, the story really did include a singer seeking justice, and characters named Henry and Neal, as well as a mysterious young woman seeking the home of her ancestors. The reading aloud had continued during the rare slow moments on Wednesday, and they'd reached the midpoint of the novel. Being read to had been kind of nice, but Neal was relieved to find that his eyes had recovered to the point that he could read the words himself.
Footsteps pounded on the stairs — Henry running up with the lunch they'd ordered. "The city's best fish and chips," he announced as he entered the loft. Then he paused to catch his breath. "Have I mentioned how happy I am that my new apartment building has an elevator?"
"It means I'll always be in better shape than you." Neal took the takeout box and carried it to the table. He waited until they'd each eaten a piece of the fish and then said, "Time for the truth about why you were reading that book."
Henry reached for more of the chips. "We're on a mission, and that book is supposed to inspire us."
"Should I get my sword?" Neal asked, because they'd been discussing The Three Musketeers earlier.
"Not that kind of mission." Henry took a swig from a canned soft drink and then added, "A Mother's Day mission."
Neal blinked. In all the chaos, he'd forgotten that Mother's Day was this weekend. He and Henry were supposed to drive down to Baltimore Friday evening, to spend the weekend with Noelle and her new husband, Joe. This was the first Mother's Day since Neal had learned that Noelle had acted as a surrogate for her twin sister. So while Meredith had officially and legally been his mother and had raised him, Noelle was listed as the mother on his birth certificate.
"Listen, if you're not up to this, she'll understand," Henry said. "You just got out of the hospital, and if a road trip sounds like too much —"
"Shut up and tell me about the mission," Neal interrupted.
"Joe learned that Mom's favorite stories as a young girl were the Nancy Drew mysteries. Since they're overcrowded living in her townhouse, the best Mother's Day gift would be something they don't have to find space for. He thought she might enjoy solving a mystery, instead. He's got the core of an idea, but he's an amateur."
Neal nodded. He and Henry solved mysteries for a living, working for the FBI and for private investigation firm Winston-Winslow. Joe Burke was an architect.
"Joe called Elizabeth," Henry continued. "He asked if she could suggest a mystery for us to read, to get us into the right mindset. We're supposed to help him plant clues."
Neal glanced at the book on the sofa. "And that's the one El suggested."
"She said it had been forever since she'd read the stories, but she found the synopsis online and thought we'd relate to this one the most. I have to hand it to her. Characters with our names. A case involving music. She couldn't have picked better." He explained Joe's intended surprise and his ideas for turning it into a mystery.
Soon they were lobbing ideas back and forth to expand the mystery, until finally Henry grabbed a sheet of paper and started writing them down. Neal became energized and realized how much the worry about coursework and recent White Collar cases had been getting to him. He needed to take breaks for fun, he reminded himself. And as he was on medical leave for the rest of the week, he asked, "Would it be easier to implement this plan if we left now?"
"An extra day? Sure. If you think you're up to an adventure, pack a bag and we'll stop by my place on our way out of town. We can call Joe from the car to let him know what we have in mind."
Neal waited until he was mostly packed to say, "You realize this makes you Bess, right?"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Noelle is Nancy Drew. That's the point of all this. George and Bess are her accomplices. They're cousins, like us. George is taller, with dark hair, and more athletic. And besides that, George is my middle name. Bess has lighter hair, loves food and is a little more…" He patted his midsection. "A little heavier than George. That makes you Bess." He picked up his bag and walked out.
Henry followed him down the stairs, protesting, "No, that isn't how it works. George and Bess help solve the mystery. We're the culprits in this, Joe's accomplices. There's a Henry and a Neal in the story. I'm willing to bet Henry Winch is the mastermind. That scaredy-cat bit of his is an act."
"Total red herring," Neal countered. "Anyone can tell Neal Raskin is behind everything. You know, I kinda like that name. Maybe I can use it as an alias someday."
Noelle's office. Friday afternoon. May 6, 2005.
Her final lecture of the week completed, Noelle returned to her university office. Time to pack up and go home, where she'd prepare for the arrival of… "Henry!"
He was sitting at her desk. He closed the textbook he was perusing and said, "Hi, Mom. The sign says you don't have office hours this afternoon, but I thought you might make an exception for me."
"Of course." She put down her notes from the lecture and gave Henry a mild shove. He took the hint and vacated her chair. "I didn't expect you until tonight." She hugged her son and then glanced around before sitting. "Did Neal stay in New York?" She'd told herself all day she wouldn't be surprised if he decided to stay home this weekend. He'd just gotten out of the hospital, after all. But she couldn't shake a sense of disappointment.
Henry settled into one of the guest chairs. "Neal had the day off, so we left early. He's hanging out with Joe, and I wanted to talk to you about something before we kick off the weekend." He took a breath before continuing. "Over the last few days, I've been thinking about home, you know? Neal wanting to go home from the hospital. Me establishing a new home with the move to New York. Coming here this weekend to my hometown. Neal doesn't have that, you know? With WITSEC and everything, if someone asks what his hometown is, he can't tell them it's St. Louis. It's not like he has great memories from there, anyway. Even now, with the loft… Don't get me wrong. It's a great loft. I know he loves living there, and June is like family. But there's almost nothing there that's his. The furniture came with the loft. The suits belonged to Byron." He ran his hands through his hair. "I just wish, when this weekend is over and I drive him back home, that he really understands what it means to have a home."
"All that, in one weekend?"
"You've got the fancy PhD in psychology."
She nodded. "Maybe it's time…" She'd been putting this off too long, she reminded herself. She'd planned to tell Henry about it this weekend, anyway. "Time to talk about The House."
Noelle's townhouse.
"The House?" Neal repeated.
"Yeah, you can hear the capital letters," Joe Burke told him. "That's always how Noelle refers to the place where she and Robert lived when they were married. She hasn't been back since the divorce, and neither has Henry as far as I can tell."
Neal did the math. "Thirteen years."
"Robert kept the house in the divorce, but when he died last summer, ownership transferred to her. His parents sorted through his belongings, and then she hired a service to take care of the lawn and maintain the interior. She has some ideas for remodeling, but each time we're supposed to go there, something comes up and I end up going alone. It's obvious she's avoiding going back."
"Why remodel it?"
Joe glanced around the townhouse but simply said, "That's Noelle's announcement to make. She's been working her way up to telling Henry, and I've been encouraging her to talk to him about it this weekend."
Neal nodded. It wasn't hard to guess. Joe had moved here from Albany when the couple married, because in his job he could be more flexible with his location. The townhouse Noelle bought during the divorce had two bedrooms, one for her and one for Henry. Now the second bedroom served as Joe's office, and his desk and file cabinets loomed large in the small space. The couple didn't have a room for guests, although they'd made it clear that they wanted Neal and Henry and Joe's daughters to visit. Robert's house was larger and more practical for their needs.
Noelle's office.
Henry stared at his mother across her desk. He hadn't expected her to mention The House. He hadn't been there in ages. Even though he'd lived in Noelle's townhouse only one year before leaving for college, that was what he thought of as home, he realized. Home wasn't a place. Or it was more than a place. It was love and safety, and for as long as he could remember, that meant his mother.
He considered the surprise they had planned for her this weekend… Had Joe selected The House as the setting for the first clue because he knew she'd been thinking about it? "What do we need to discuss about The House?" he asked.
"Not yet. I'd rather wait until we're with Neal and Joe, so you all hear it together. It will help, I think, with your plan. We can open up to Neal about the concept of home, and hear his thoughts." She paused and then added, "I'm glad to help you with that, but I wonder, could you also help me with something, while you're here?"
"Anything. Just name it."
"There's something Joe's keeping from me."
Henry raised a brow. "He's not the type to cheat."
"No, nothing like that. It's something he wants to tell me, but he keeps shying away. For whatever reason, he's nervous about it."
"You want me to find out what it is?"
She shook her head. "No, I don't want to learn it behind his back. I thought you might convince him to tell me."
Well, this was interesting. It seemed Nancy Drew had already noticed that there was a mystery to solve. That should make this weekend's plans easier, unless she went and solved the mystery too soon.
"That's a devious smile. Should I be worried?"
Henry stood up. "Not at all. You've just made this weekend even more fun than I expected. Let's go catch up with Joe and Neal. Who knows what kind of mischief they're up to."
Noelle rose and picked up her purse. "You think you can convince Joe to tell me his secret?"
Putting his arm around her, Henry strolled down the hall with her and said, "You'll know it before the weekend is over. I promise."
The House.
"So this is where you grew up?" Neal looked around the house, and it didn't seem ominous enough to merit capital letters. The exterior was colonial in style, and he would guess that had been Robert's choice. He'd been the type to go for an old-money look. It was much larger than the townhouse, certainly more space than the newlywed Robert and Noelle could have afforded on his salary as a cop and hers as a teaching assistant when she was earning her PhD. Robert's parents had made a generous down payment as a wedding gift to the couple. The interior was dark, more so than he would have expected given Noelle's tastes. If he had to guess, he'd say Robert picked the carpet and paint colors, and some of the lighter, more playful accessories were Noelle's choices.
"Yeah." Henry stood in the living room, studying the space intently. "It seemed massive then. I'm still remembering how it felt when I was a little kid. Does it jog any memories for you?"
Neal shook his head. He knew he'd been here when he was three years old, but nothing looked familiar.
Noelle wandered through rooms, occasionally running her hand fondly over a piece of furniture. Then she stopped in one room and sighed.
"Is this where you kept it?" Joe asked.
She nodded. "Robert might have moved it, or even gotten rid of it. But I'd hoped it would still be here."
"What are you looking for?" Neal asked.
"A dark oak roll-top desk. I bought it when I finished my degree, and it was the one piece of furniture that was all mine. When I moved out I knew it was too big to fit into the townhouse, and I was in a hurry to leave, anyway. But I thought maybe now I could get it back."
"I'll check the other rooms," Neal volunteered. He wouldn't mind escaping the emotions spilling over from Noelle and Henry. He simply didn't get being so wrought over a house. It was just a building. He strode through the rooms, starting with the bedrooms and ending in the kitchen. There were no roll-top desks to be seen, but he did stop short when he saw the kitchen cabinets. He opened a door next to the oven and pulled out a pot. He turned it over and saw the Revere Ware stamp on the copper bottom. This…
"I remember this," said Henry, who'd followed when Neal didn't return from the kitchen. "On your last visit here, we pulled these out of the cabinet."
"You pulled them out," Neal corrected.
"Every last one I owned," Noelle added with a smile as she entered the room.
"And I showed you how to play them." Henry pulled another pot out of the cabinet, and set it upside down on the floor. "These made great drums." He started beating a rhythm on the two pots.
"Henry, really," his mother protested. "You're not five anymore."
"Yeah, play them on the countertop like an adult," Neal suggested.
Noelle huffed in an attempt not to laugh. "Enough. Put them away. I brought you here to talk about something."
Henry complied, but with a put upon expression that Neal suspected was a ruse to keep Noelle laughing. She'd seemed too sad once they'd entered this house. Both of them were sad, and they were making Joe glum, too.
Once they were seated in the living room, Noelle looked at them and said, "I have a confession to make. A couple of confessions, in fact. The first is that the townhouse simply isn't right for Joe and me. We need more space. I'd thought the answer was to remodel this house, to give us each a home office and still have space for guests. I talked to Joe about the layout, and how I thought we might update this space to seem more open, but — and here comes the second confession — I could never make myself come here with him to review the plans." She sighed. "I thought that by coming here today, I'd be able to stare down the ghosts of my first marriage and make peace with this place, but I'm sorry, Joe." She looked at her husband. "I know a remodel would do wonders, but I don't want to live here again."
"I suspected as much," Joe said. "When a client actively avoids a space, that's never a good sign. I still want to do some updating here. I think it would sell quickly if we made a few of the changes we discussed."
Noelle nodded. "I'd like that. It can be a good home for another family."
"What about," Henry gestured broadly, "all of Dad's stuff?"
"A massive garage sale is in my future, I suspect. Some of it I may give away. Was there anything you wanted to keep, sweetheart?"
Neal spoke up. "Looks like Robert didn't change much after the divorce. One of the bedrooms definitely belongs to a teenager."
"He believed we'd come back one day," Henry said. "He always thought Mom would regret the divorce. I can't think of anything I'd want that I didn't take with me, but I'll look around." He stood up and took a couple of steps but then stopped. "I remember the desk Mom described. Did you find it?"
Neal shook his head. "No sign of it."
"Well, one sign," Joe corrected. "You can see where it used to be. The cleaning crew comes in once a month and they vacuum the whole house, but the carpet is still matted down from a heavy desk sitting on it. It hasn't been gone very long."
"That's odd," said Noelle. "Other than the maid service, no one's been here but Robert's parents. I said they could take anything they wanted, but they each already have desks. Why would they want it? And if they wanted to give it away, why not take other furniture, too?"
"Maybe it had been damaged?" Neal guessed.
"Not that desk," Henry insisted. "It survived my childhood. I crawled up and over every table and desk in this house, and I think it's the only one that didn't have to be replaced. That thing was solid."
Noelle smiled. "It had lots of little drawers and slots. I loved them, and I understood Henry's fascination with them. I always made sure to close the top and lock it when I was done working, so he wouldn't make a mess."
Henry grinned. "When I got older, I learned how to pick the lock. The key was more an ornament than a security device. Man, was I disappointed the drawers only held paperclips and office supplies."
"I hate to imagine what you thought I stored in there. Truth be told, both the desk and I were showing wear by the time I left. I went blonde, and if I'd taken the desk with me, I'd have refinished…" she trailed off. "My in-laws know how much I loved that desk. I even mentioned it before they went through the house last fall. What if they decided to refinish it?"
"As a birthday gift?" Neal suggested. "Did they know that you and Joe want to move into a bigger space?"
"Yes! I told Julia that I hoped we'd be out of the townhouse by the end of the year, and that's near my birthday."
"You want me to ask Pops?" Henry offered.
"No," Noelle said. "Don't bother him. If it's meant to be a birthday surprise, I don't want to spoil their fun. If they did something else with it, it's their right. I told them to take anything they wanted."
Henry agreed and then dashed off to his old bedroom to see if there was anything he wanted to claim.
"You hate the house?" Neal asked.
"No, not hate. It makes me… sad. Yes, I think that's right. I have some lovely memories here, including you and Henry using my pots as drums — but don't tell him I said that! But there was so much potential that went wasted, so much disappointment that led to the divorce. Too many memories of Robert. It wouldn't be fair to Joe to move in here."
"Thanks," said Joe. "I wasn't looking forward to living here, not when it became clear it was still haunted by your divorce."
"What about the townhouse? I mean, will you be sad to leave?"
Noelle shook her head at Neal. "I'll take happy memories with me, but those are my past. Moving forward in my life with Joe is even happier." She clasped her husband's hand. "What about you, Joe? Any regrets about leaving the house where you raised your girls?"
"I like the way you put it. It was a good house and I enjoyed living there, but I took the memories with me when I left." Joe put an arm around Noelle. "And I get how you're feeling about the desk. It was easier saying goodbye to my home in Albany because I could bring some of my stuff with me. There's a comfort in that. You make a place a home by making it your own." He chuckled. "But the townhouse is bursting at the seams with both of us nesting there. I'm glad you're ready to move on."
Before Noelle could reply, Henry returned with a lumpy pillowcase slung over one shoulder and a newspaper in his other arm.
"Santa Claus?" Neal asked.
"Found a couple of things I want to take. A book, a toy, and an awesome pair of sneakers I somehow missed packing when we left. And can you believe the newspaper I was reading the day we left was still in my room? Time for that to go in the recycle bin. Are we ready to go?"
"Yes," Noelle said. "I've spent all the time I need."
They followed Henry out through the garage, where he opened the recycle bin and tossed the newspaper at it. Most of the newspaper went in, but several flyers fluttered down to the floor. Neal and Noelle both leaned down to pick them up. Neal grabbed the grocery flyers, and let Noelle take the one for an open house.
Her eyes locked on the picture of the house. "How beautiful," she said.
"Hmm?" Joe moved to look over her shoulder. "I see some Frank Lloyd Wright influence. Arts and Crafts style, also known as Craftsman."
"My favorite," she said. "Colonial was Robert's preference."
Henry sidled over to take a look. "That neighborhood's near the university, isn't it?"
"That's right. Several professors live there."
"Maybe that's where you should look for your next place," Henry suggested.
"Oh, I'd love to, but it's rare to find a home for sale there. People tend to settle into that area for the long haul, and when you do see a for sale sign, it's usually turned into a sold sign a few days later."
"We can look for this style in another neighborhood," Joe said.
Noelle tossed the flier into the bin. "We'll find someplace perfect for us. We just have to be patient."
Noelle's townhouse.
As everyone traipsed into the townhouse, Henry stopped in the entryway to pull a key from the key hanger. "You still have my old apartment key."
"Hey, you're blocking the path," Neal complained. It was true, and he thought Henry was rushing things.
Henry carried the key with him and plopped down on the sofa. Noelle asked if they wanted anything to drink, and Joe carried cans of cola for himself and Henry, while Noelle brought water for herself and Neal.
To keep the topic away from the key a while longer, Neal said, "Joe, your parents moved to their current house when you were what, fourteen?"
"Early teens," Joe confirmed. "Let me guess. You want to know if I missed my old home?" He took a swig of the cola. "What I missed most about the old place was the neighborhood. I had a lot of good friends there, and I wasn't thrilled about leaving them behind, even if I was still going to see them at school. One thing that helped was my folks let me customize my room. I picked the paint color, and Mom dragged me along to shop for bedding. And I had my stuff, you know, posters of my favorite actors and singers, books and whatnot."
Neal laughed. "You just described what I saw in Henry's old room. Weird paint color, covered by posters and books and whatnot. You've got more in common than I thought."
Henry reached forward to give Joe a fist bump. Then he leaned back and said, "And your room in your teens was any different?"
He hadn't thought about his childhood bedroom in ages, but Neal brought back the image in his mind. "My posters mostly featured famous art, and Mom wasn't…" He looked askance at Noelle. He was here for Mother's Day with her, but he'd spent a lifetime thinking of Meredith as his mother.
"Oh, sweetie." Noelle put an arm around him for a quick hug. "Meredith will always be your mother. Don't be afraid to call her your mom. You know lots of kids out there have more than one mom. Just think, Henry has a second father now with Joe."
Neal cleared his throat. "Yeah. Thanks." He took a sip of his water. "Anyway, all the walls in the house were beige for as long as I remember."
"No wonder you turned to art," Henry said. "You had to get some color in your life."
"Good point," Neal said with a chuckle. Now he deemed it safe to turn the conversation in the direction his cousin wanted. "I can't say your apartment here in Baltimore screamed Henry."
"True enough. I went to a furniture store and said I wanted modern stuff that went together. Over time I added things that were more personal, but you're right. What I actually brought to New York was only what fit in my car. The rest I sold and barely remember."
"Are you taking the same approach this time?" Noelle asked.
"Nah. I'm making a home this time. It takes forever to pick out the perfect pieces, but it all feels more mine, for lack of a better word. And I invested in a large painting by an up-and-coming new artist."
Neal was almost sure he didn't blush. "He insisted on being the first person to purchase a Neal Caffrey original."
Noelle had attended the event at Columbia where the graduate art students displayed their work, and she correctly guessed which painting had caught Henry's eye.
"Speaking of catching my eye…" Henry tossed the key in the air and caught it. "Why did you keep the key to a place where I no longer live?"
"We're not the only ones thinking of moving," Noelle explained. "Your Winslow grandparents decided that their house is too big for them now that they're getting older. They want something smaller, and all on one level."
"But a one-bedroom apartment?" Henry protested. "They'd never make that adjustment."
"No," Joe agreed, "but a two-bedroom condo with a den and expansive kitchen might do the trick."
"The building's going condo, right," Henry said. "That announcement was one of the things that spurred me on to make the move to New York."
"Knowing that your unit was vacant, Graham and Julia bought it and the one next to it. They asked me to consult with a construction crew first," Joe explained. "I drew up two options for what the combined apartments could look like, and they decided to go with the second option. Construction begins next month."
"I thought you did mostly commercial architecture," Neal commented.
"My first love is old civic buildings, especially museums, and I've done a lot with art galleries. I'm seeing more combined spaces, where artists can live and work. When Graham and Julia asked me to recommend an architect for their condo, I thought it would be good practice for me to work on a residence again, so I volunteered to do the initial renderings and then got them in touch with a firm who could work out all the details for them."
"That's why you have the key?" Henry asked.
"Right. I volunteered to check in on the project occasionally. I'm sure Graham will, too, but I think Julia wanted a professional looking in."
Neal decided it was time to lead Noelle to the next clue. "So it's just sitting empty now?"
"Mostly," Joe said. "They mentioned they were going to keep some things there until construction started."
"Why would they move something there, only to move it out again when the construction begins?" Noelle wondered. "Unless… Unless it was something they didn't want visitors to their house to see."
"You think you've solved the desk mystery?" Joe asked.
"Possibly. If they wanted to refinish it for a December birthday, there isn't any rush. They might have wanted to store it someplace out of sight until an expert had the time to start the project."
"What do you say we check it out tomorrow?" Henry suggested. "After breakfast, of course."
Henry's old apartment. Saturday afternoon. May 7, 2005.
"Whoa," said Henry when he opened the door to his former apartment. The flooring had been pulled up, with a stack of hardwood planks in a corner probably being saved for reuse later. The kitchen had been torn out, and the wall between the two apartments was demolished. The effect was almost disorienting. They'd spent the morning giving Neal a tour of the university where Noelle taught, and had stopped for lunch on their way here. He'd taken the opportunity to stuff himself with Maryland's famous blue crab, but now Henry's stomach was churning.
He walked to the windows. "If not for the view, I wouldn't recognize this place."
Noelle followed and glanced at Joe. "I thought you said the construction didn't start until next month?"
"That was the original schedule. Graham said he wanted to push that up if he could. Looks like he got his wish."
"Why the rush?" Neal asked.
Henry was wondering the same thing. It was weird to think of his grandparents living anywhere but the home they'd owned since before he was born. They were so active and vibrant that he'd been taken aback last night about the comment that they were getting older. Did one of them have a serious health issue?
The extra day to plan this con — mystery, he corrected himself. The extra day hadn't been enough. There was too much background information that Joe hadn't shared. If this was only a con of some stranger maybe it wouldn't matter, but these were people he loved, and he was too much in the dark. If they ever planned another mystery, he'd take over and run it himself.
Noelle placed a comforting hand on his back, which meant he'd slipped and let his feelings show. "Is something wrong, sweetheart?"
He shrugged as he struggled for something to say. "I honestly can't imagine them living here."
She smiled at him. "When you see them moved in with their furniture, it will feel more natural. Looking at it now, it's hard to imagine anyone living here. I hope your place in New York was more finished when you moved in."
"It had good bones. At least that's what Eric said," Henry explained, referring to the architect Joe had recommended. "There's still work going on, but nothing this extreme. The big project is the new office space I leased for Win-Win." He turned his attention to Joe, "Getting back to Neal's question, why the rush here?"
"Two factors, I think. First is Julia's involvement. You know she took the lead in the design of their sailboat?"
Henry nodded.
"Once she reviewed the details of what I was proposing here, she dove in headfirst. Her love of math took over and she was calculating the ideal layout for the kitchen, the exact sizes of the rooms to best fit their furniture, and so on. She was developing some kind of mathematical theory behind it all, and the more she got into it, the more eager she was to see her formulas translated into the physical space. And then there's your grandfather." Now Joe looked a little sheepish.
"What about Pops?"
"A few weeks ago I introduced him to a couple I'd met through another of my projects. Recent transplants to Baltimore, they're living in an apartment while they look for the perfect house. They have kids and need a big space. Your grandparents' home would be perfect for them, but they're under a time crunch. They need to move into their new home in less than six months. After he met them, Graham asked me if this project could be finished by then."
"Can it?" Noelle asked.
"In theory, if the crew doesn't split their time on other projects, I could see it being done in five months. Honestly, I introduced the couple to Graham because I thought he might know of another house in his neighborhood that was for sale or going on the market soon. I met Graham at the wedding, but most of what I knew about him came from Peter's descriptions of interactions between Win-Win and the FBI. He called Graham shrewd, smart, hard-nosed, and an expert negotiator. I didn't expect your ex-father-in-law to turn into a marshmallow when he met this couple."
That made Henry grin. "That's Pops. Did he offer to move out of the house and live in the sailboat if this condo isn't ready before the family needs to move?"
"Not yet," Joe said. Then he grinned back. "Maybe your grandparents will want to stay at your place instead. How would you like some houseguests for a few weeks? Or months? Construction projects are notorious for delays."
"Right. Can I lend a hand here this weekend, to help the crew stay on schedule?"
Joe patted Henry on the back. "I'll let you know if they fall behind."
It was a nice moment of bonding, but Henry couldn't help noticing how quiet Neal had been. "You okay, kiddo?"
"I don't see the desk anywhere, but there's an area where the floor is less dusty than everywhere else," he said.
Neal was sticking to the script, and Henry couldn't count how many times he'd wished for Neal to do that during schemes over the years. Now that he was finally following the plan, it was worrying.
Noelle walked over to take a look. "That's the size I remember the desk being." She turned around, studying the floor. "Those tracks look like they were made by wheels. Something was here, and then recently was picked up and loaded onto a cart." She followed the tracks, until they disappeared beneath the footprints they'd left when they entered. "Rolled out and taken away." She returned to where Neal was standing and crouched to lift a beige piece of cloth that was crumpled on the floor. "This looks like a dust cover that might have been over the desk when it was stored here. Oh, look!" She picked up an ornamental brass key that had been hidden by the cloth. She stood and handed it to Neal.
"Do you recognize it?" he asked.
"Yes. It looks exactly like the key to my desk. I'm certain itwas here. The key was probably in the lock and fell out when they moved it."
"We're on the right track, then," Joe said. "You're right about your in-laws storing the desk here recently to keep it out of sight. With the construction starting they needed to move it out of the way. It could be in a storage facility or with whoever they hired to refinish it."
"If we were in New York we could take the key to the FBI to run the fingerprints." Neal shrugged. "We've kind of contaminated the evidence, though."
"We could run the prints at Win-Win," Henry suggested, going off script to see what Neal would do.
"You can do that?" Joe asked, clearly surprised.
"Win-Win is a law unto itself sometimes," Noelle said, "and I've been trying to convince Henry that isn't normal or good. We are definitely not using company resources to answer a question of personal curiosity."
"You sound a little like Peter right now," Neal said.
"He has a good head on his shoulders," Noelle said. "Now, enough of this nonsense. I'll learn the truth about the desk when Graham and Julia intended for me to learn it. Let's get started on normal Mother's Day weekend activities. I want flowers."
Henry decided that was the perfect excuse to spend time with Joe, getting more information and strategizing. "We'll drop you and Neal at your place. Joe and I'll go shopping."
Noelle's townhouse.
When they were dropped off at the townhouse, Noelle led Neal to the back porch, where there were several pots filled with dirt. "These are the remnants of last Mother's Day. Henry always brings me flowers to brighten my porch through the spring and summer. We need to dump out this dirt. They'll bring potting soil with them."
Glad he was wearing jeans, Neal sat on the ground and upended a planter.
Noelle sat beside him, using a spade to empty another planter. "Did you hide that key under the dust cover?" she asked.
She didn't look angry about it. Neal decided his best bet was to give a partial confession and figure how much she knew. "How did you guess?"
"I kept thinking about that desk last night. It simply didn't make sense for Graham and Julia to move it to Henry's apartment. If they wanted it out of the way, why not leave it in The House? I hadn't been there for years."
"Until yesterday. There was always the risk you'd drop in. You were thinking about moving back."
"Hmm. Yes, but I hadn't told them about that plan. The chances of me showing up there were slim. If they were concerned about it, though, they could have moved it to a storage unit. That would have been much more practical."
Was his first Mother's Day with Noelle going to be a bust? It seemed like their plan to amuse her had turned into an annoyance instead. "I see your point."
"Are all three of you in on it?" She didn't wait for an answer, but nodded. "Yes, you are. What are Joe and Henry up to now?"
"I think they're negotiating some kind of truce, because they both like to be in charge and they're kind of stepping on each other's toes. I can tell them to put an end to this if you want, but I promise, it's not a con. They… I mean, we thought you'd enjoy a mystery."
"Will this all be wrapped up before you leave?"
"We're nearly at the end. You'll solve it tomorrow." He made a point of looking around to make sure no one was listening. "We even read a Nancy Drew novel to get into the spirit of it. Well, we read most of it. Henry and I kinda got off track a few times arguing about who was the culprit. We plan to finish it on the drive back to New York."
She gave him a goofy grin. "You did that for me?"
"Well, yeah." He saw a brightness in her eyes that might be tears and he decided to change the subject. "Yesterday when we were talking about childhood bedrooms, we didn't ask about yours."
"Which one? We moved so many times. Dad's assignments in the diplomatic corps usually lasted one or two years at most. The house in D.C. was meant to be our home base, but we didn't really live there much until I started high school. Mom worked some magic to get us based there for a few years, and then she stayed with us our senior year when Dad was sent overseas again. You know, my older brother got tired of the moving before we did. He decided to attend a boarding school in D.C. from the time he started junior high, and he joined us abroad for summers and holidays."
"So you don't think of D.C. as home?"
"Oddly enough, I do. Mostly because Mom and Dad are there, I suppose. And do you think of St. Louis as home?"
"I did, growing up. But not anymore. Mom left after I ran away, and even Ellen's moved away now. I don't see much point in going back, so no, it doesn't feel like home anymore."
"What about the Burke's home?"
Neal thought about it. "Kind of. I feel at home there, if you know what I mean. It was the same way spending last Thanksgiving at Peter's parents' house. I felt like I belonged." He smiled. "And the Burke family cabin, too. Is that weird?"
"I think it's good. I hope once Joe and I get settled someplace, you'll feel at home there, too."
"Yeah, and there's Henry's new apartment. He's made it clear he expects me to hang out with him sometimes. It'll probably start to feel homey, too."
"What about your loft?"
"Can I borrow that?" Neal took the spade to remove the dirt that was stuck inside the planter. "It does, and it doesn't. The loft, I mean. I like being there, and it feels like my escape when I want to be alone. I don't feel like I need to ask permission to have anyone over. But it's part of June's house. It's her furniture. So in some ways I feel like a guest."
"I remember you thought you'd be disinvited when Byron died. June said she considered the loft yours as long as you wanted."
"Yeah, that helped."
"Have you thought about what would make it seem more like your own place?"
"No, not really. I mean, I've thought about changing some things, but like I said, it's June's furniture." When Noelle simply looked at him expectantly he elaborated, "The TV is a monster from the 1990s. If I could get rid of it and bring in a flat screen, that would leave more space for guests."
"That sounds like a perfectly reasonable change to make, especially if you plan to live there for several years. Why not talk to June about it?"
"Yeah, I will."
"Good for you! Now I have a question I've been dying to ask. Do you know what's in that pillowcase Henry brought from The House?"
Neal shook his head. "No idea, and as far as I know it's not related to the mystery you're supposed to solve."
"Good! He left it here last night, and I wanted to peek. Let's hurry before they get back."
As Henry had told them, there were shoes, a book and an extremely odd looking toy. It seemed to be a plastic rendition of a rolled up newspaper. The headline read Man Bites Dog, and when Noelle squeezed it, it squeaked. She gave Neal a watery smile and said, "This was Lulu's favorite."
"Oh, right. Henry's dog. What happened to her?"
"She died about a year before the divorce. Every once in a while I'd ask if Henry wanted to get another dog, but he always said no. I didn't realize he kept her toy."
"You think he wants to get a dog now? He travels so much for his job, it doesn't seem like a good idea."
"Eventually he'll have a team there in New York and they can share the travel. I think it would be a great idea for Henry to have a dog again. Talk about making his new place into a home, a pet to welcome him home would be the perfect touch." She put the toy back in the pillowcase. "What book did he bring?"
"A Hardy Boys mystery." Neal held it up for her to see. "Looks new."
"He never read it. I gave it to him, oh, it must have been his twelfth birthday. I'd been such a fan of Nancy Drew, I was certain he'd love the Hardy Boys. But his father was already working hard to turn him into a miniature detective, and he simply couldn't bring himself to read a mystery for pleasure. I think leaving it behind when we left was symbolic of leaving behind everything his father represented."
"You think he'll read it now?"
"Who knows? I'd guess the story will pale in comparison to the adventures the two of you had over the years."
They heard the overhead garage door open, and hastily put the pillowcase back where Henry had left it.
Joe and Henry entered with their arms full of purple flowers. "Larkspurs!" Noelle said. "You remembered."
"Told you she'd call them larkspurs," Henry said. "Joe kept saying they were delphiniums."
"That's what the sign said," Joe protested.
"Let's get these outside," Noelle said, putting the men to work transplanting the flowers into the now empty planters. Since the larkspurs were a Mother's Day gift, she sat on one of the outdoor chairs to watch.
"Mom always wanted larkspurs, if we could find them," Henry said as he showed Neal how much potting soil to pour into the planters. "She had a book about them and she was obsessed with it." He looked up at Noelle. "Do you still have the book?"
"Yes. Remind me to show it to you. I think you'll find it enlightening." She winked at Neal.
"You wouldn't let me touch it when I was a kid," Henry complained.
"I was concerned you and Lulu would tear it apart. You were a little ruffian, in case you've forgotten. Now I think you're grown up enough to appreciate it."
Henry gave her a sideways look. "Wait. This isn't some kind of erotic —"
Noelle laughed. "Far from it. I've had that book since I was nine, as I recall."
"You were a ruffian, too," Henry muttered. "I've heard the stories."
"Books can typically survive one ruffian. Two is too many. Now get back to work on my flowers."
Noelle's townhouse. Sunday morning. May 8, 2005.
Neal had taken over Noelle's kitchen, preparing a Mother's Day brunch for everyone. Henry was "helping," which mainly consisted of tasting things, setting the table, and making coffee.
On their way back to the hotel last night, Henry admitted that he hadn't gotten much more information out of Joe. Their partner in crime had insisted that Henry needed to learn to trust him, and that keeping them in the dark about parts of the mystery added to the realism when Neal and Henry were legitimately surprised by some of the twists and turns in the case. Henry had complained that Joe was almost as stubborn as Neal, but he said it with a grudging admiration. Stepfather and stepson were forging a friendship. Noelle would be pleased.
Given that positive step, Neal decided not to tell Henry or Joe that Noelle knew they were behind the mystery. They'd all enjoy it more if it played out to the end as planned. It was odd not knowing the end that Joe had in mind, though. Neal's experience working cases in the FBI and in cons and thefts before that had one thing in common: he always knew the ultimate goal. Joe was throwing both cousins for a loop with the secrets he was keeping.
Noelle had thrown him for a loop, too, with the conversation about homes. Even though he felt welcomed and comfortable in many homes, he wasn't convinced he had the same sense of home that she did. To him, it felt more like an emotional version of Mozzie's safe houses. If there were such a thing a safe house for your soul, then the Burkes' home might qualify.
Late last night he'd started to wonder if he really felt at home anywhere. Was a former con artist who was used to being on the run capable of settling down into a home, or did he simply adapt to the locations where he spent the most time? In recent months he'd thought of himself as a shapeshifter, fitting into any environment. If that were true, then was thinking he had a home only a matter of conning himself into believing that he belonged in the places where he had the most practice fitting in?
He'd soon tired of those questions and told his overactive imagination to shut up. It was too depressing to think he'd never truly have a home.
When Neal and Henry arrived at the townhouse this morning, Joe was out. Noelle said he'd had an errand to run. She didn't know what it was, but he'd promised to return by noon. His timing was impeccable, arriving just as Neal was ready to serve the quiche. Noelle had been reading while "her boys" cooked, and she brought the book to the table with her. She slapped Henry's hand away when he tried to grab it, saying they should eat, first.
"That's it, though, isn't it?" Henry insisted. "It's the larkspur book."
Noelle confirmed his suspicion, and Henry managed to behave until Neal rose to get the coffee cake he'd made for dessert. That distracted Noelle enough that he got the book away from her. "No way!" Henry said when he finally saw the title. "Another Nancy Drew mystery. The Password to Larkspur Lane."
Neal gave everyone a slice of the coffee cake before saying, "I'm sure there's a story behind that book if you've kept it since you were nine."
"Thank you for not doing the math and reminding us how many years ago that was," Noelle said. "The story goes back to something I mentioned to you yesterday. When he was twelve, my brother David decided to stay in D.C. and go to a boarding school. I'm sure he had no idea how much turmoil he was causing Meredith and me. There we were, nine years old, and for the first time questioning what home meant because our brother felt like he was staying home, but I'd always thought home was being with Mom and Dad. When it came time to move for Dad's next assignment, my sister and I put up a big fuss."
Joe refilled her coffee and asked, "Did your parents have a house in D.C. during the time you were traveling?"
"Yes. They'd purchased their current house a few years before that big fuss I mentioned. Dad always wanted us to have a home base to return to, and that house fulfilled his vision of what a family home should be. You should have seen our bedroom. Frilly and princess pink. Dad said it suited us because we were sweet princesses when we slept, and little devils when we woke up and left the room."
"You were identical twins?" Joe asked.
"Yes, identical in many ways, but opposites in others. I remember when I was ten someone asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, and I said I wanted to be a sleuth."
"Like Nancy Drew," said Neal.
"Exactly like her. And when they asked Meredith, she said she wanted to be a knight errant."
Neal nodded, remembering her love of Camelot and stories about the Round Table. She'd probably dreamed of a knight or wizard who would rescue her from her humdrum life and take her on adventures, but she'd never met anyone like that in St. Louis. Or if she had, she'd decided she needed to stay home with her son, instead.
"Well, when we were nine and insisting we wanted the whole family to stay home in D.C. with David, Mom said that we could take home with us. She told us each to pick something small enough that we could carry it ourselves, and she'd make sure it went with us each time we moved. It would always stay in our new home, and be waiting for us to return when we went on vacations. I picked one of my Nancy Drew mysteries, and Meredith selected one of her books: The Story of King Arthur and His Knights, by Howard Pyle."
"Those books were your anchors," Henry said.
"Yes, you could say that. The quarters for diplomats were typically already furnished, or we rented what we needed. It simply wasn't practical to take much more than our clothing on international moves. Our books were among our few constants as we grew up. Each time we moved, Mom and Dad would read to us from those books our first night in our new home." She patted Henry's hand. "Our first night in this townhouse, I stayed up and reread the whole book. It helped settle my fears about taking you from your father and disrupting your life." Then she patted Neal's hand. "I also reread it the night the Marshals took you and Meredith away, hoping you'd both settle into a new home as happily as possible."
As Noelle wiped away a tear, Joe cleared his throat. "I'd like to propose that we put aside the reminiscences for a few hours. Can I interest you all in a tour of Baltimore's architectural highlights — by which I mean the parts of town where I have projects?"
He drove them past civic and commercial buildings. Then he surprised Noelle by driving through a neighborhood filled with Arts and Crafts style homes. He pulled to a stop in front of one of the houses, and she gasped. "It's the house from the flyer!"
Everyone got out of Joe's truck to stand on the sidewalk. Signs in the yard mentioned that the home was a project for a local construction company and Joe's architecture firm.
"Larkspurs," Noelle said with a sigh. She walked up to the front of the house, where the flowers were growing. They looked recently planted, with dark potting soil still surrounding them. "When did you plant them?"
"This morning. After your reaction to the larkspurs yesterday, I knew they were exactly what this house needed."
"And if we were to go inside, would we find a roll-top desk?"
Joe nodded. "I think that's very likely. Want to find out?" He led the way inside. While the exterior of the house was classic Arts and Crafts, the interior was a work in progress. "The previous owners remodeled in the 1980s, and it was a nightmare. Mauve and dusty blue everywhere, and they'd painted over or even removed most of the Craftsman touches. The new owners asked if I could map out a plan to restore it."
"But how…" Noelle looked at him with eyes still wide with surprise. "You said you haven't done residential work in ages. I thought Graham and Julia's condo was the only exception."
"Turns out you're my best advertising. You bragged about me to your fellow professors, and word spread. A professor of history who joined the staff this semester contacted me after he and his wife bought this place. They planned to move in with their daughter after the remodel, but then circumstances changed. First they learned they were expecting another baby. Then a few weeks ago they learned they're expecting triplets. They need a bigger place."
"They're the family you introduced to Pops," Henry said.
"It's turned into a musical chairs of housing options. Your old apartment is turning into your grandparents' condo, their house is going to be home to four children — and your grandfather is tickled pink about that — and that leaves this house in need of a new owner." Joe grinned at them. "They were so grateful that I connected them with Graham, the current owners said they wouldn't put this house on the market until my wife had a chance to see it. I told them I had a feeling it would be love at first sight."
Noelle hugged him. "Yes! Yes, this is perfect."
Henry glanced at Neal and said, "I should have warned you. Mother's Day with Mom always gets mushy."
Neal was smiling. He'd already added this house to the list of places that felt like an emotional safe house. "I don't mind."
June Ellington's mansion, Manhattan, NY. Sunday evening. May 8, 2005.
Peter and Elizabeth Burke and June Ellington were in the living room, where the Burkes' labrador, Satchmo, played with June's pug, Bugsy. The last several days Bugsy had stayed with the Burkes while June was away visiting one of her daughters. She'd returned home an hour ago and they'd brought her puppy back.
The trio were quietly chatting when they heard the front door open, followed by two familiar voices.
"No, I didn't change the ending. I read you exactly what she wrote," Neal said. "It's there in black-and-white. Neal was behind everything."
Henry vehemently disagreed. "No way. Henry was obviously the criminal mastermind. He was such a genius that even at the end no one suspected a thing."
"You mean he was such a non-entity that everyone forgot about him. I'm telling you, Neal was the genius."
"Sounded useless, to me."
"That was all part of the con. Of course he pretended to be bumbling around, so everyone would underestimate —" Neal stopped when he noticed everyone staring at him. "Umm. That wasn't what it sounded like."
Peter shook his head. "I'm glad to say I'm no longer worried when the two of you argue about who's the better criminal. I know you too well to believe you'd go back to that life."
"But we do want to know what you were talking about," said El.
"Coffee?" June offered. "Or perhaps a glass of wine?"
"Wine sounds perfect," Neal said. "It's a long story."
"Take a seat, then," June said. "And welcome home."
Peter thought the trip must have gone well. He'd worried a bit about Neal's first Mother's Day with Noelle and all the opportunities for angst that could come from spending this weekend with an aunt who had only recently been revealed to be Neal's biological mother, but the kid looked perfectly relaxed. El had an I-told-you-so expression, because she'd insisted the trip to Baltimore would be good for Neal. Peter suspected that she'd been conspiring with Joe on plans to keep Neal from getting too lost in his head during the trip. When they got home he'd try to get more information out of her. Or maybe he should simply call Joe to get the full story.
Neal shared a contented smile with all of them. "I'm glad I went to Baltimore, but it's good to be home."
"Hey, wanna read another mystery next weekend?" Henry asked. "I packed that Hardy Boys book. We can take bets on which one of us guesses whodunnit first."
It looked like Neal was about to decline, not surprising given the amount of assigned reading he had as a grad student, but then he seemed to remember that summer break would soon offer more time for pleasure reading. "Once I finish my classes this semester, I'll wipe the floor with you."
Henry snorted. "Yeah, right."
"Hardy Boys, huh?" Peter said. "I remember reading those. Are you a fan?"
"Never tried 'em," Henry said, "but Mom always thought I'd like them. I'm finally going to give one a try."
"Did you have a favorite book as a child, Neal?" Elizabeth asked.
Neal shook his head. "I don't think I had a favorite, but if I could reread any of my old books now, I'd want Harold and the Purple Crayon."
El nodded. "The perfect book for a young artist." She gave Peter a look he knew well. The next time there was an occasion that called for a gift to Neal, they would be buying that book.
A/N: My thanks to Silbrith for being an extraordinarily sweet and kind person, and also for the Nancy Drew inspiration. I reread a few of the Nancy Drew books recently to prepare for this vignette, indulging in some happy grade school memories. One of the stories I picked more-or-less at random was The Clue of the Broken Locket; the pop music piracy plot line, along with characters named Henry and Neal, was too good to pass up. I had to mention the book in this vignette.
In addition to all the coincidences Neal & Henry pointed out, the Nancy Drew mystery they read also included a group called The Flying Dutchmen. You may recall that in canon Curtis Hagen was called The Dutchman. I didn't explore that link in this vignette, but you'll read more about Hagen in Silbrith's stories, including Witches' Sabbath.
The next story in the Caffrey Conversation series is the Magic Trick chapter here in the Caffrey Vignettes.