CHAPTER NINE

Today marks two weeks that I have been in the Greenwoods' employ. That milestone means nothing, but I take note of it anyway. It's long enough that my first impressions can coalesce into more thorough impressions of the family. Perhaps not quite understandings yet but more than suspicions.

I take inventory of those impressions as I clean the family's bedrooms. That is normally Leah's responsibility, but she has taken the week off to visit her family in Maine, so I am handling more of the housekeeping duties in the meantime.

I straighten Christopher's room. It requires very little work. The oldest Greenwood child is very organized, and his room is sparsely decorated.

That is a rather excellent way to describe his character, I think. Efficient, organized, and free of embellishment. What you see with him is what you get. To be fair, I haven't interacted much with him, so perhaps there is more to him than the career-minded young man he appears to be.

Annabelle, on the other hand, is close to the opposite of her brother. Her room is messy, almost like that of a teenager's. The mess appears to be calculated, much like the air of ennui and sarcasm she tries to project. She is angry at her parents, and by treating things as unimportant, she rebels against them. It reminds me a lot of my sister growing up, but Annabelle is already a grown adult.

She mentions expectations. I wonder if those expectations have repressed her somehow, as though she sees maturing as surrendering to the role her parents have created for her.

I move to the parent's room, and it occurs to me that James is almost as much of a blank slate as Christopher. He and I rarely interact, and when we do, he is polite and even cordial, but it's clear that I am his employee and not his friend. I can tell that he is heavily invested in his work and brings little of himself home. This is where he eats and sleeps and not much more. Perhaps that is why Elizabeth resents him.

And she does resent him. The dinner we share the night before demonstrates that. She resents him, and she resents her mother as well.

Actually, I think it's more complex when it comes to her mother. She resents her, but I can't tell if it's her illness she resents or if there's something more behind it.

And then there are her excursions to her garden, her whispers to people who aren't there. She seems perfectly well-adjusted at home, but few who succumb to insanity do so visibly. Perhaps James' stoic denial, Christopher's withdrawal and Annabelle's rebellion are their way of preparing for that event.

And then there's Violet. I've only seen her once, so I have only the first impression she gives and Annabelle's claim of dementia to go off of. I don't see anything to indicate that she isn't senile, so I have no trouble taking them at their word.

Certainly what I saw is not enough to suggest that either Violet's or Elizabeth's mental health is failing, but considering my own brush with insanity, it's a possibility I can't ignore.

I have no memory of my stay in the mental hospital, but I have checked the record several times, and it is indisputably there. For three months beginning from the day after the police close my sister's case, I was involuntarily committed for—according to the records—paranoid delusions, severe emotional instability, dissociation and…

And more that I don't wish to talk about. The point is that I can't be sure that what I've seen or remembered about the family is entirely real.

But I also have Clara's tale of mystery and murder. Why do I dismiss that so easily out of hand? At the time, I think the mystery is too old and the perpetrator too senile to be worth my time, but those seem like arbitrary reasons to avoid looking into the old woman's past. Is it my dislike of Clara that leads me to dismiss her claims out of hand, or is there some other reason I refrain from digging further into this mystery?

Well, the past is the past. I can't change what I've done, only what I do going forward. I think it's time I got to the truth behind Clara's rumors. In a worst-case scenario, I'll only discover I was right to dismiss them all along. In a best-case scenario, I might finally find the answers I seek.

"What are you doing in here?"

I shriek and spin around. Violet is standing in the doorway of the room, frowning darkly at me. "This isn't any of your business. Who said you could snoop into our family?"

For a horrifying moment, I wonder if I've been speaking my thoughts out loud. "Snooping?"

"This isn't your room. This is Elizabeth's room. You shouldn't be snooping through the mistress's bedroom."

Oh. That's what she's talking about. I sigh with relief and explain, "I'm tidying up the bedroom while Leah's away."

"Leah's gone? Why is Leah gone?"

"She's not gone. She's only away for the week to visit family."

"Hmph." Violet frowns at me for a moment before her eyes shift to take in the room. "This room is messy."

I didn't think the room was in particularly poor shape, but I feel it's best to humor the old woman. "Yes, I suppose it is. Don't worry though, ma'am. I'll have it tidied up in no time."

She scoffs. "You think you can sweep all of their messes under the rug?"

The way she phrases that intrigues me. I want her to talk more about that, but I don't know how to probe a woman who's not right in the head. Then again, if she's not right in the head, how can I trust anything she says?

I have to say something, though, so I say, "I don't plan on sweeping anything under the rug. I plan on cleaning the room."

She scoffs again. "Can't clean every stain. Some of ‘em linger. Best to throw out the article in that case."

She's wandering. My hope to learn something useful is fading. "Well, I'll make sure to dispose of any stained articles properly. Would you like me to help you to your room first? Or perhaps you'd like some iced tea on the porch? I could sit with you for a while and return to cleaning later."

She shakes her head, a rapid, darting side-to-side flick. "It's sitting that's the problem. Burying it, planting flowers over it, and then ignoring it for years that causes it to fester."

Now I'm very intrigued. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that Elizabeth and James need to face facts," Violet explains. "They made a mistake. A bad one. It's time for them to own up to it. The longer you wait, the longer they rot."

"Who? Who rots?"

I'm no longer concerned with subtlety. Violet's mind may be failing her, but some memories remain longer than others. If she knows something about the secrets this family is hiding, then I want to hear them before her mind wanders away. I have no way of knowing if it will ever wander back.

She mutters something under her breath, and I ask, "What? What are you trying to tell me, Violet? Who's rotting?"

Her eyes snap back to me and wander up and down. "Who are you? Where's Leah?"

"Grandma!"

Annabelle rushes into the room and puts her arm around Violet. "Grandma, let's get you outside for some fresh air. Then I think it'll be time for your nap, all right?"

Violet looks at Annebelle and grimaces. "You looked better before you put on weight, Deirdre."

Annabelle sighs and gives me an exasperated smile. I return a hesitant one of my own and try to hide my disappointment at the interruption.

"Come on, Grandma," Annabelle says.

She leads Violet from the room. The old woman casts a shrewd look back at me just before she disappears from view, and I am left to wonder if she is simply unsure what happened to Leah, or if there's more behind those eyes than she chooses to show.

Oh, what a fool I am. Thinking about this with any sort of rationality should make it clear to me that she's not well. Best to forget everything she said. It's probably all nonsense.

But she spoke of burying things and planting flowers on top of them. Stains that couldn't be washed away.

It could be nothing. Or it could be symbolic. It could refer to Violet's own alleged scandal with Deirdre.

Or perhaps Lila Benson lies buried underneath Elizabeth's geraniums, and it's her that the mistress of the house pleads with on her daily excursions.

I know you know where they are.

I wonder what Lila found that frightened her so much she fled this house never to be seen again. Or maybe the question I should ask is, what did she find that frightened the Greenwoods so much they made sure she was never seen again?