The Visitor(45)
“Of course.”
“See, Auntie? I told you she wouldn’t forget.”
My gaze darted around the shop, but I still didn’t notice anyone until the woman came out from behind one of the display cases. Her dark attire and diminutive stature had rendered her almost invisible in the shadows.
I was so taken aback by her sudden appearance that it took me a moment to recognize her. Then I exclaimed, “Miss Toombs!”
“Lovely to see you again, Miss Gray...Amelia.”
I turned to Owen accusingly. “So you did recognize the inscription when I was in here before. Why didn’t you say so?”
He put up a hand in protest. “I swear to you, I wasn’t familiar with those names. I’ve never heard my aunt called by anything other than her given name. I had no idea she was the Neddy in the inscription.”
“He’s right,” Nelda said. “Neither of those nicknames has been used in decades. No one in Owen’s generation would have recognized them. Still,” she turned to give him a gentle rebuke. “You might have told her who she was coming to see when you phoned her. I’m afraid I gave our visitor a shock.”
“How was I to know that the two of you had already met? It seems I’m the one in the dark here.” He removed a feather duster from a nearby hook and swept it along a row of antique dolls. The slight rustle of their taffeta skirts sounded like rain. “Go ahead and have your talk,” he said peevishly. “I’ll just be over here dusting.”
Nelda’s dark eyes glittered mischievously as she slipped her fingers through his suspenders and gave them a playful snap. “Don’t scowl so, nephew. It’ll give you wrinkles.”
“Heaven forbid,” he said in mock horror as he sidestepped away from her.
She turned to me with an encouraging smile. “Let’s go back to the office, shall we? We’ll be more comfortable there, and I’ve made tea.”
I followed her through the curtains into a large storage room of neatly arranged boxes and crates. The office was tucked away in a corner at the back of the building. An antique writing desk faced the door, but Nelda led me past the workspace to a small sitting area furnished with a striped settee and two Queen Anne chairs. The upholstery and rugs were in soothing shades of blue and green—sea colors—that complemented the lush courtyard I could glimpse through French doors. It was all very vintage and feminine. Very old Charleston.
“What a charming office,” I said.
“It was similarly furnished when I inherited the shop from a distant relative. I always liked the quaintness, but I expect Owen will redo everything once he takes over. That’ll be hard for me. I’m old and I don’t like change, but it’s only fitting the shop be returned to the Dowling side of the family. Owen isn’t really my nephew, you see, more like a cousin several times removed. But he’s always thought of me as his great-aunt and I’ve never been one to stand on ceremony.”
“I understand Dowling Curiosities has been at this location for a very long time,” I said.
“Well over fifty years. I was surprised to find myself in my cousin’s will, but our family is nothing if not eccentric and more than a little complex. You’ve no doubt noticed that I have a different last name than Ezra’s.” She motioned to one of the chairs and she took the settee, propping her walking cane nearby and smoothing wrinkles from the smock she wore over her dress. “William Kroll was Louvenia and Ezra’s father. After he died, my mother married Harold Toombs, a weak opportunist who left her shortly after Mott and I were born. It was a difficult delivery and our poor mother had many months of recovery. Harold couldn’t or wouldn’t accept the responsibility for our care so he packed his bags and took off.”
“That must have been hard on everyone.”
“Mother never got over his abandonment. When she died a few years later, Louvenia swore it was from nursing a broken heart for so long. In truth, she succumbed to pneumonia. Tea?”
“Yes, thank you.”
While Nelda busied herself with the teapot and cups, I removed the stereoscope from my bag and placed it on the coffee table.
She paused, eyes filling with emotion before she reached for it. “May I?”
“Of course.”
She turned the stereoscope over, searching for the inscription. “Ah, there it is.” She ran a finger over the tiny metal plate. “I gave this viewer to Mott on our thirteenth birthday. My cousin found it on one of her excursions and engraved it in this very shop. And now here it is back, after having been lost for so many years.”
“I’m happy to return it to its rightful place,” I said.
“That’s very generous of you. The shop will reimburse you for your troubles, of course.”
“No need. The viewer belongs here with you. But I do wonder how it came to be in the cellar of a house on Rutledge Avenue.”
A frown flitted across Nelda’s wizened brow. “I’ve no idea. It just disappeared one day. I never knew what happened to it.”
“And this, as well?” I laid the stereogram on the table facing her.
She picked up the card and studied the dual photographs for the longest time before pressing the images to her heart. “I remember the day these were taken. Ezra had just come from the Colony where he’d been working in one of the gardens and Mott and I begged him to have his picture made with us. We adored him so. But he was always camera shy, especially after he returned from the war.”