not removed one item. Instead, he had covered all the equipment with white sheets to protect against dust.
With a tug, she removed a sheet from a developing machine that dated back to the 1970s. It had been her favorite during the summer her mother died. She had spent many hours in the darkroom, creating pictures that she now would consider not particularly artistic. But then, art had not been the goal that summer. It had been to take her mind off her mother.
She crossed to a file cabinet and opened the top drawer. It was filled with black-and-white images. The top ones were of her dad’s dog, Buddy. He had been a German shepherd–mutt mix who had ridden into town each day with her father when he had gone to work. The dog had had a keen sense of time, always knowing on Fridays the two went through the drive-through on the way home, and he would get a hamburger.
She sifted through the images of her backyard, the town, trees, clouds, and lots of nothing that had been of such great interest to her that summer.
At the very bottom was her collection of pictures she had taken of her mother with an old Canon One Shot her dad had given her for her twelfth birthday. It had been spring break, and to cheer her mother up, Libby had taken her to Woodmont for Historic Garden Week.
She had almost forgotten about that last visit to Woodmont when she was thirteen. There were pictures of her mother in front of the main house, wearing dark slacks and a white shirt, her salt-and-pepper hair pinned up into a neat twist. She was wearing bright lipstick that Libby remembered had been a vibrant red.
The next series of pictures featured her mother in the very side garden where Libby had just had dinner this evening. She stood next to a vibrant bush of white roses, and there was a bright grin on her face.
Two weeks later, her mother had taken a handful of pills. Her father had come home from work and found her lying on her bed.
She smoothed her fingers over her mother’s face. Carefully closing the drawer, she held on to the image and carried it back into the house with her. She attached it to the side of the refrigerator with a magnet, knowing tomorrow she would find a frame. “It’s good to be home, Mom.”
She filled a glass with water from the tap and stood over the sink as she drank it. Catching her breath, Libby carefully set the glass down and tightly closed her eyes. “I miss you, Mom.”
She had said the words often during her years at boarding school. And as she had done then, she stood in complete silence, listening for a response that never came.
Tonight, it was just the hum of the air-conditioning. Just as she had as a kid, she felt alone and lost.
She walked upstairs and opened the door to her father’s office. Her mother may not have answers, but her father would.
“Okay, Daddy, let’s see what else you left behind for me.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
LIBBY
Sunday, June 14, 2020
Bluestone, Virginia
Libby sat at her father’s desk, smoothing her palms over the polished wood surface. The overhead fixture did not emit enough light to fully illuminate the room, so she switched on the floor lamp she had bought for her father a couple of years ago. The extra light boosted visibility and chased away the shadows.
She tapped her finger against the neat desktop. Finally, she opened the file drawer and saw only two files. She knew immediately they were there for a reason. The first file read Important Papers in her father’s customary Sharpie scrawl on the tab. The second folder was not marked.
She removed both and carried them into the kitchen, where she set a pot of coffee to brew. Already resigned to insomnia, she pried off the lid of the plastic tub containing the lemon cake. Fork in hand, she took several bites as she stared at the two folders. A wall clock ticked in the house in chorus with the sound of the coffeepot gurgling.
She poured herself a cup and opened the Important Papers file first. As advertised, it held a list of items that needed to happen after his death. Her father had given a duplicate to his attorney, and so far, his attorney had dutifully ticked off the items on the list. Taxes. Utilities paid. Stock sales. Lou Ann. Even lawn care was covered.