Another sobering thought occurred to her. “If the seller—that is, Mrs. Erickson’s heirs—didn’t know about that lower level, then those items might not be a legal part of the sale.”
Shelly made a face.
“Still, if I can sell some of the pieces—if they’re what I think they are—that could pay for the taxes and maybe exterior painting. And your landscaping plan. Maybe some new appliances.”
Shelly shot a look at the turquoise refrigerators. “Nah. I kind of like Gert and Gertie. Why retire them?”
Ivy burst out laughing. “You’ve named the refrigerators?”
“They’re like kitchen staff. Look at them standing guard over us. Gertie’s the one doing all the work right now. Gert’s the one on the left. We should see if he works as hard as his spouse, too. Why should Gertie have all the fun?”
“Because he might be high maintenance, as some men can be.” Ivy glanced back at the second refrigerator. “But we should test him. Maybe he’ll be useful when we have a full house.” She smiled and reached across for her sister’s hand. “We’re going to get through this, aren’t we?”
“You better believe it.” Shelly gave her one of her quirky grins. “More water? Hydration is important.” She pushed off the stool to get more water from the refrigerator now known as Gertie.
Ivy rested her chin in her hand. “You know, it feels good to take control of our own destiny.”
“I’ll say,” Shelly said. “Even though I sort of miss Ezzra.” She stuck out her lower lip in a pout.
“Don’t you dare.” Ivy crumpled a piece of paper and threw it at her sister. “That means you’re not busy enough. Besides, we just had an extraordinary day, from our family pitching in to help us, to finding Aladdin’s cave down there.”
“Long day,” Shelly said, tossing Ivy another bottle of water.
“We have to get one of those water purification thingies.” Ivy gathered several empty bottles and tucked them into a bag they’d designated for recycling. “Too many plastics.”
As exhilarating as the lower level discovery was, Ivy couldn’t get Bennett’s eyes out of her mind. He’d been different tonight, racing in like a hero when he thought she was in danger. Being so helpful—though she didn’t really need his help, he didn’t need to offer, either. More than that, he understood what this discovery meant.
Most of all, when her headlamp had illuminated his eyes, she saw a flicker of recognition and interest. She felt equally drawn to him and shocked at her feelings.
Ivy shifted back onto the stool. Was she ready for that? Passing a hand over her forehead, she decided she was just tired.
So tired that she imagined a connection with Bennett Dylan, which was completely out of the realm of possibilities.
She still hadn’t forgotten what had happened between them that summer so long ago.
Chapter 15
“FOUND THE SILVERWARE,” Shelly called out, waving a soup ladle.
Ivy made her way through the furniture, rugs, and books and knelt beside her sister. “What an unusual pattern.” Ivy turned over an ornate cake server and studied the hallmark. “It’s not silver plated either. This is sterling silver.”
“I’m more of an Ikea person. What’s the difference?”
“Cost and quality.” During the early years of her marriage to Jeremy, Ivy had enjoyed visiting antique shops and finding unusual pieces for their brownstone condominium. With her artist’s training, she had developed her eye for quality craftsmanship. Everything she saw here was so far beyond what she’d ever been able to afford.
Idly, she wondered if the paintings Amelia Erickson had lost sleep over were tucked away here.
As near as Ivy could tell, the former owner had virtually emptied her home at one point and moved practically everything to the lower level. Even what was remaining in the house—in the two bedrooms she and Shelly were now occupying—was modest in comparison.
“Bennett told us that the Ericksons had closed the house after the bombing of Pearl Harbor,” Ivy said. “Many people feared attacks on the military bases in San Diego.”
Shelly handled the silver pieces that were wrapped in dark felt cloth with care. “He said they had lived through the Great War in Europe. That’s what we know as the First World War, right?”
“That’s right.” Ivy gazed around the vast room. “They must have moved everything down here and concealed the entry. It was unusual for a home to be built like this then. Could be they commissioned it and made special design requests, like hiding places, based on what they’d lived through.” A shudder coursed through Ivy. What had this house witnessed, and what secrets did it hold?
While Shelly returned items to the carton and shifted to inspect another box, Ivy wedged a path through the furnishings to the rear of the room. She and Shelly hadn’t made their way back here yet. Ivy spied several rough crates that looked like they might hold artwork.
Thinking about the Swiss physician’s letter that had dropped out of the old file Bennett had given them, Ivy reached out to a crate.
As she touched it, a feeling of wonderment shot through her.
“This is odd,” Ivy said.
“What?”
“The Erickson’s donated their entire art collection, right?”
“That’s what the letter said,” Shelly called out, knee deep in boxes.
If that were so, this didn’t make sense, Ivy thought, unless this artwork was of a lesser quality work. But why would the Erickson’s even bother with inferior art? They’d had the money to acquire the best.
Sliding out a covered painting, Ivy held her breath. Were these the artworks that Amelia Erickson had lost sleep over?
Using extreme care, Ivy unwrapped the first painting and leaned it upright to inspect it.
Vibrant hues of manganese violet, emerald green, cerulean blue, and cobalt yellow leapt from the canvas, even in the dim light.
When she stepped back to view the painting, a chill spiraled down her spine, and she grew light-headed. Blinking, she rubbed her eyes, as if to clear
