Dark Corner

Chapter 19

June Loblolly

The newest of the ladies’ homes, the Loblolly house was Mrs. Loblolly’s own version of San Simeon, built by her preserve empire. Reminiscent of her Viking ancestors, the brick fortress was surrounded by a wrought iron fence. At the top of the four-story home was a tower with a 360-degree viewing room designed to watch the sunset over the Blue Ridge Mountains. Mrs. Loblolly greeted us at the door, painted blue with yellow accents, a nod to her Swedish heritage. We walked in, wafting in the fragrance of the peonies, gardenias, and orchids that she had scattered around in her collection of crystal vases.

She was dressed simply in jeans and a cotton T-shirt. Around her neck, her gold necklace, a gift from her distant relative the Norse goddess Freya. We came for guidance. Freya guided Vikings to Valhalla; Mrs. Loblolly would guide us in a different direction.

“June, thank you for having us over,” Mrs. Twiggs said.

Abigail, Charlotte, Pixel, and Tracker all settled in the great room. As of late, Abigail and Charlotte were attached at the hip as the humans say. Whatever mischief they had gotten into on the motorcycle had bound them as fast friends. Pixel left the circle to smell the flowers. I could hear him sneezing from across the vast room. Mrs. Twiggs and I spoke in private with Mrs. Loblolly.

“June, I’ll get right to the point. Why did you recommend Mrs. Lund to the Biltmore?” Mrs. Twiggs asked.

“She contacted me a month or so ago about my great-great-grandfather, the colonel. She knew a lot about my family history and the Civil War. She told me she was a professor at the university and that she could help with the upcoming exhibit.” Mrs. Loblolly settled onto her white leather couch, crossing one leg over another.

“And she told you that she would prominently display your family heirlooms in the exhibit?” Mrs. Twiggs asked.

“Yes, she did. She had heard about the exhibit, and that’s what prompted her to call me. Obviously with my family being prominent Ashevillians. Beatrice, she had me fooled.”

I knew that feeling well. We all believe what we want to believe. I had believed that my dear Prudence was my friend, but she betrayed my sisters and me.

“I’ll be right back.” Mrs. Loblolly stepped out of the room and came back carrying the cinnamon buns we had been smelling since we walked in the door and placed them on the coffee table. From another room, we heard a vase smash, shattering onto the hardwood floor. Pixel scampered back into the room, jumping onto the table and toward the cinnamon buns.

“Me sorry,” Pixel said.

Abigail and Charlotte joined us. We ate in silence until the silence was broken.

“Charlotte, have you decided what you’re going to do with Emma’s estate?” Mrs. Loblolly asked.

“It’s not my decision,” Charlotte said.

“Have you consulted with the family’s attorney?” Mrs. Loblolly asked.

“Yes, all of my aunt’s estate except for a few personal items is being donated to the Biltmore Foundation.”

“What about you?”

“When she tracked me down, Miss Hartwell told me Aunt Emma left me a small inheritance. She also told me that my aunt had been looking for me for years ever since my folks died,” Charlotte said.

“Bless her heart,” Mrs. Twiggs said. “What a shame that you didn’t find each other.”

“How much longer will you be in town?” Mrs. Loblolly asked.

Charlotte glanced at Abigail, who smiled. “I don’t know. I like it here. I think I’ll stay for a while and see what happens. This place is pretty awesome.”

“Where are my manners? I should give you a tour.” Mrs. Loblolly stood up again.

Abigail jumped up. “I can show you around.”

I knew where Abigail would lead her, up to the viewing tower that was her favorite place when we visited Mrs. Loblolly. A tower made of glass with its 360-degree view. To the east were the Blue Ridge Mountains, then downtown Asheville, the Biltmore Estate, and the French Broad River. I was concerned that Abigail would tell our secret. I followed them up the spiral wood-and-steel staircase and listened in.

“You should definitely stay, Char. I think you’ll really like this place. People are cool, the music, the food,” Abigail said.

“Yeah, Abigail. I don’t have much to go back to. What about your folks? You never said,” Char said leaning against the window.

Abigail was silent. “They’re dead.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Well, Mrs. Twiggs, Beatrice, has taken me in, and really all the ladies have become family to me,” Abigail said.

“What’s the deal with the Ladies of the Biltmore Society? They look ancient, but they act like teenagers.”

“Their clubs keep them young. They stay busy reading books, planning events, and gardening.”

“When I was staying with Mrs. Twiggs, I happened to notice her stocking some books on the top shelf. She carried with one arm this heavy box up the ladder to the very top. I mean, I would have trouble carrying it, and she climbed a ladder holding it? Something is off, you know?”

“I…”

I meowed as loud as I could, interrupting Abigail’s next sentence. Both girls turned.

“I think your cat missed you, Abigail.” Charlotte picked me up by my scruff. I did not take kindly to her familiarity, so I unleashed my claws and dug into her arm. She dropped me. “What the?” She raised her hand to strike me. Abigail stopped her.

“Sorry, Char, she’s temperamental.”

“Where do you go when you’re not at Mrs. Twiggs’s? I’ve stopped by a couple of times, and you weren’t there,” Charlotte said.

Abigail glanced at me. I was busy cleaning my fur, getting Char’s scent off me. “Mrs. Twiggs has a cabin on Black Mountain. She lets me crash there as long as I take care of her garden,” Abigail said.

“Mrs. Twiggs is great. I appreciate her letting me stay there. I don’t feel comfortable at my aunt’s house. It’s too big and kind of creepy. I’d love to see the cabin, get out of town a while, you know?”

Abigail smiled. “We better go back downstairs.”

Mrs. Loblolly was clearing the plates when we came back downstairs. Pixel was cleaning his whiskers, purring loudly. “Me full.” He rolled over so his white fluffy belly was facing up and ready for a good rub.

Mrs. Twiggs said, “Abigail, why don’t you show Charlotte the garden? I want to speak to Mrs. Loblolly in private.”

After they had left, I spoke first. “Mrs. Loblolly, we need your help to find out who Mrs. Lund really was and who killed her.”

“I thought it was an accident. The mannequin fell over.”

“You don’t really believe that, do you?”

“No, I don’t think I do. I think I feel responsible for her coming here, so I also feel responsible for her death. How can I help?”

“We need you to use your powers to guide us down a path to answers.”

“How do I do that, Terra?”

“The spells you’ve been working on. The TM spells.”

Mrs. Twiggs looked at me.

“Transcendental meditation.” I turned back to Mrs. Loblolly. “I want you to think about Mrs. Lund while you hold your necklace.”

As Mrs. Loblolly closed her eyes, all the lights in the estate went out. The large fireplace blazed to life. She clasped the gold chain with its drops of amber. The floor shook. Mrs. Loblolly opened her sapphire-blue eyes. For a moment she was not Mrs. Loblolly, she was the goddess Freya. She hunched over. I heard bones cracking as the black Valkyrie wings burst out of her back. She levitated off the ground, her wings flapping slowly. Pixel ran behind the couch. She reached out her hand and pointed. We all turned to stare in the direction she pointed.

Mrs. Twiggs said, “She is pointing south.”