The House Of Secrets. Elizabeth Blackwell
I might have enough for renovations. I could get fabric and furniture from some of the firm’s suppliers at cost, so I’d be saving a ton of money there….”
“Hang on. You took one tour of the house and now you’re selling your condo?” Brad asked. He didn’t bother to hide his disbelief.
“I said if,” Alissa protested. But in her heart, she had already let go of the downtown loft, with its exposed-brick walls and stainless-steel kitchen. She saw herself at the Brewster house, stripping the paint off the elaborate crown molding in that beautiful parlor, or washing the streaked windows so the sun could shine in once again.
“The commute would be awful,” Brad said.
“I know.” Already, Alissa dreaded going to the office each day; a long drive would only give her more time to be miserable. Maureen, her boss, hovered over her as if she were still an intern, even though she had been a licensed designer for nearly three years. Now that clients had started specifically requesting Alissa, Maureen had become even more competitive and distrusting. If Alissa moved out to Oak Hill, maybe she could arrange to go to the office only part-time.
Or better yet, not go in at all. For years, Alissa had dreamed of running her own business. Finally working the way she wanted to, without the distraction of a temperamental boss. It was impossible, of course—there was no way she could buy a massive house and quit her job. It would be crazy. And yet, Alissa felt a stirring of excitement at the prospect. The Brewster house, which had captured her imagination despite its neglected condition, now seemed like the key to a whole new life.
Brad laughed sarcastically. “I can’t believe you were seriously thinking of buying that place,” he said.
I still am, Alissa thought. But she remained silent.
They drove on, the sound of the humming wheels mesmerizing them until they drifted into their own thoughts. In the end, it was Brad who spoke first. His ability to cut to the truth was one quality she still admired about him.
“So this is it, huh?” he said, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
Alissa started to ask him what he meant, then stopped herself. What was the point? Their passion for each other—once so exciting, so all-consuming—had fizzled in the face of their ultimate incompatibility. Brad was a good-time guy who wanted to keep the party going even as he passed thirty; Alissa was happiest cocooning at home and getting to bed before midnight. Brad liked hot summer nights and tropical beaches; Alissa preferred cool fall afternoons and vacations at mountaintop lodges. It was no one’s fault. They should be able to say goodbye without regret. Still, Alissa didn’t want to make the final decision.
“Are you calling it quits?” Alissa asked.
“Don’t put this on me,” said Brad, still gazing at the darkening road. “You’ve wanted out for a long time. Why else do you think you got so worked up about that old house?”
As their conversation continued, reaching its unavoidable conclusion, they both remained calm and detached. Later, thinking back on that drive, Alissa was amazed by how effortlessly her future with Brad slipped away.
“I’ll come by after work tomorrow to pick up my things,” Brad said as he pulled the car up in front of her building. “If that’s all right with you.”
“Sure,” said Alissa. There was nothing left to say, so she got out, closed the door and walked inside without looking back.
Once inside, she walked around the condo, looking for evidence of Brad that would have to be cleared out. Considering how long they had dated, he hadn’t left much of a mark. A few framed pictures on a bookshelf. His college sweatshirt lying over the arm of the couch. The extra toothbrush she had bought for him, lying next to hers on the side of her bathroom sink. Erasing him from her life would only take a few minutes. It wasn’t supposed to be so easy, was it?
Logically, Alissa knew they had done the right thing. But she couldn’t relax, couldn’t concentrate. The stark, gleaming metals and thickly varnished wood surrounding her felt cold and unwelcoming. She had been inspired by contemporary design when she’d decorated her home, determined to make it feel clean and modern. But after touring the Brewster house, the space felt soulless.
Alissa flashed back to the day she started at design school. How she had rushed home that night to call her parents, giddily describing the projects she would be working on that semester. She had tried to recapture that joy many times in the following years, etching that love of her work into her brain so it wouldn’t be forgotten among the day-to-day frustrations of Maureen’s disapproval. But now, thinking about the Brewster house, Alissa felt a flash of excitement that echoed that first day of class. She let the feeling wash over her. I’ll buy it, she decided, and I will be happy there.
CHAPTER TWO
1904
EVELYN O’KEEFE’S wedding day passed in a blur. For years afterward, only one image remained clear: the sight of Will Brewster pulling up in front of the church in his lurching, dirt-spattered motorcar, exuding such vitality that everyone else seemed to fade into the background. Evelyn had never believed in love at first sight. The idea of losing her heart to someone she had just met—on her wedding day, no less—had always struck her as absurd. But from the moment Will arrived, she couldn’t stop watching him. He stepped easily from the car and greeted the guests mingling around him. His smile dazzled her as he pulled up his goggles and caught her eye. The attraction was instantaneous.
Until that point, the wedding and reception had progressed as smoothly as any other social event held at the Brewster estate. Alma Brewster, her new mother-in-law, had made all the arrangements. It was never suggested that Evelyn be involved in the planning. Alma knew what food was appropriate for the sit-down dinner and which flowers would be in season. Since Alma was paying for everything and hosting the reception in her home, Evelyn acquiesced immediately. It was a relief to be spared potential social disaster.
The only decision Evelyn made was the style of her wedding dress, which was sewn by her mother, Katherine. Evelyn’s earliest memories were of Katherine holding a needle, with a pincushion and scissors tucked into a white apron wrapped around her waist. Even when Evelyn’s father, Thomas, was alive and Katherine spent most days helping him at the family’s general store, she’d always had fabric and needles tucked behind the counter, waiting for a lull. When Thomas died and they were forced to sell the store to cover unexpected bills and debts, Katherine refused to despair. “We’ll get by,” she told Evelyn. “I always have my sewing.”
And so, Katherine had transformed herself from meek assistant to breadwinner, eventually becoming the dressmaker to many of Chesapeake County’s richest families. And it had all begun with a wedding. Evelyn could still remember the day Katherine had flung open the front door and shouted for her.
“What is it? What’s happened?” Evelyn asked breathlessly as she raced down the stairs, bracing herself for bad news. Though only sixteen, she had none of the naive hopefulness common among girls her age. Already, life had taught her to be wary of change.
“Lavinia Brewster’s getting married,” Katherine announced. “Mabel Goodridge and two other ladies have already asked me to make dresses for them, and I’m sure there will be more to come. If they like my work, they’ll hire me again, I just know it. Thank heavens for the Brewsters!”
The Brewsters. The richest family in Oak Hill. The ones who set the tone for everyone else to follow. If Alma Brewster, the matriarch, wore purple ostrich plumes in her hat at church, the rest of the women in town scrambled to find purple feathers for the next week. The lives of her three children were tracked and discussed as if they were royalty. William, the eldest, known as the family ne’er-do-well, had been shipped off to boarding school at a young age and was now reportedly doing his best to squander his allowance in Europe. Charles, the middle child, was the heir apparent. After graduating from Harvard University and spending a year in London, he was being groomed as the future leader of Brewster Shipping. Their younger sister, Lavinia, had been given a lavish coming-out ball in Baltimore and had dazzled her way through cotillions