Memory Lane

  Dedication

  To Judy—my sister and my friend

  Prologue

  Kim Revis had just stepped into her office when the phone rang. Her mind had been on two things: lunch and cleaning off her desk, in that order. The hollowed sound of a long-distance call instantly drew her thoughts in a new direction.

  “Ms. Revis? This is Stephan Jarvis. I assume your boss mentioned I would be getting in touch with you.”

  Although the director of the Golden Gate Museum technically wasn’t Kim’s boss, Kim didn’t bother to correct the man. Stephan Jarvis? The name sounded familiar, but it wasn’t until she connected it with the fact that this was a long-distance call that the pieces fell into place. “Carlton said someone from the museum in Camp Oro had been trying to reach me. This doesn’t have anything to do with my grandmother does it?”

  “Your grandmother? Oh, Margaret Revis. Only indirectly in that the museum owes Mrs. Revis a debt we’ll never be able to repay. Actually, from what Carlton told me, I’d be contacting you even if you weren’t related to Mrs. Revis.”

  Kim stifled a smile. Her grandmother hated being called Mrs. Revis. “What has Carlton been saying about me?”

  “That you know more about museum security systems than anyone else he has on staff. As much as anyone on the West Coast, in fact.”

  Kim whistled, but so softly that she didn’t think the sound would carry over the phone to California’s mother lode country. “I try to keep abreast of the latest developments.”

  “That’s what I’m calling about, Ms. Revis. I’m chairman of the board for the Comstock Museum. We need you here.”

  “In Camp Oro? I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  “I didn’t mention the specifics to Carlton because, well, I suppose it’s no more complicated than pride.”

  “Pride?”

  “Ms. Revis, I must be frank. We have a diamond in the rough with the Comstock Museum. Through the efforts of volunteers and staff members, we’ve acquired a collection that could rival some of the largest metropolitan museums. However, security has not kept pace with the collection. We’ve come to regret that.” Stephan cleared his throat. “Actually, regret is understating the problem.” His voice seemed to catch on the last word.

  “And you want me to recommend a security system?”

  “We’d like to hire you to come here as soon as possible, assess the situation and oversee the installation. If I may be frank, there’s no one locally with the necessary expertise. No one we can trust.”

  “Trust?”

  “I really don’t want to say more than that over the phone. Ms. Revis, we need help. Your help.”

  This time Kim didn’t attempt to hide her whistle. “That’s a tall order, Mr. Jarvis. I don’t see how I can—”

  “How you can take the time? I already talked to your boss about that. I’m sorry if I was out of line, but I had to do something.” The man rushed his words. “Time is of— If you’re willing, he would agree to a leave of absence while we have you on retainer. I understand this isn’t the first time you’ve entered into that kind of arrangement.”

  “No.” Kim was intrigued by the sense of urgency in the man’s voice. But her interest went beyond that. Several weeks ago she had promised her grandmother that she’d get the family home ready to sell. Until this moment she hadn’t known how she was going to accomplish that. But—was it possible for her to combine consultant work with the promise she’d made to the woman who was more mother than grandmother? She’d have to try. “It sounds as if you’ve already started the wheels in motion.”

  “I had to, Ms. Revis. What I didn’t tell Carlton is that we simply cannot continue to function without an effective security system. It’s either make some major changes, or close the doors.”

  “You’ve had some losses,” Kim guessed.

  “Serious losses.”

  Kim tapped short nails on her scarred, durable desk. She felt charged, charged and challenged. “Do you have any idea how it’s happening?”

  “Not really. Ms. Revis, I’m a volunteer. So are the other board members. And Camp Oro has only two police officers. So far they haven’t been able to come up with much. Their recommendation is for us to update our security as soon as possible. Is there anything to prevent you from coming?”

  “If you’ve talked to Carlton and gotten his approval, then we should be able to work something out. Give me a few days to wind things up here. I’ll call you later in the week.” She paused and then said what had to be said. “Mr. Jarvis? If there has been a series of thefts, we may uncover things no one connected with the museum wants to think about.”

  The somber tone from the other end of the line matched hers. “You don’t have to spell it out, Ms. Revis. I feel as if my back’s against a wall. There’s been so much blaming and suspicion. No one trusts anyone these days.”

  Chapter One

  Kim Revis took a deep, exploratory breath. There was no scent of disinfectant, nothing to give Cobblestone Manor the air of a nursing home. After a moment, Kim walked over to the middle-aged woman at the reception desk. “I’m here to see Margaret Revis,” Kim explained. “I’m not sure which apartment is hers.”

  The woman flattened her lips. “Do you have an appointment? Mrs. Revis usually rests in the afternoon.”

  “She’s my grandmother,” Kim offered.

  An amazing transformation turned stern disapproval into something much more human. “Oh. You must be Kimberly. Margaret talks about you all the time. She’s so proud of you. You don’t know how delighted we are to have her living here. I don’t know how Camp Oro is going to be the same without her, but of course she can’t stay in her home alone anymore. She’s a delightful woman. So committed. So interested in everything that goes on. And, thanks to her friends, she still gets over to Camp Oro every few days.”

  Kim held up a hand in an effort to restrain the woman’s enthusiasm. “My father and I think it’s wonderful that the county named that walkway after her. As I understand, she had a great deal to do with the area being left in its natural state.” Kim shook her head, tousling shoulder-length auburn hair that was overdue for a trim. “I’ll never be able to accomplish half what she has. Could you please tell me how to get to her apartment?”

  “I’ll do better than that, my dear. Much better. If you’ll follow me—”

  The animated woman led Kim down a long corridor that started at the rear of the dayroom. As they walked, Kim took note of the plush carpet under her feet, the fresh paint and healthy plants. When Kim was growing up, the manor had been an empty house on a barren hill, overlooking the town of Grass Valley. Now, obviously, it was where the county’s well-to-do settled when they no longer could or wanted to live in their own homes.

  Before the woman could reach for the brass knocker, Kim stopped her. She needed a moment to prepare to face the changes in the woman who became her mother when her own mother died. “Tell me. How is she doing?”

  “Oh, marvelous!” the woman enthused. “Of course it’s harder for her to get around now, but she still goes to all her committee meetings. We try to make sure your grandmother paces herself. But it hasn’t been easy.”

  “I don’t imagine it has,” Kim said, and knocked.

  Five weeks had changed Margaret Revis, but the changes were all for the better. Gone was the hospital gown and too-pale complexion. Margaret had recently had her hair done and her flowing lounging gown was a bold splash of blue and green. But the smile, free of pain, was what made Kim’s trip from San Francisco worth every mile.

  “You’re right on time, my dear.” Margaret smiled as she wrapped her arms around Kim and pulled her inside. Once Kim was in her arms, Margaret’s smile faded. For a moment she gnawed on her lower lip, fighting her emotions. T
hen she took a deep breath, held her granddaughter tightly and put the smile back into place.

  “My goodness. All those bones are still there aren’t they?” Margaret said. “Thank you so much for bringing her here, Sandra.” It wasn’t until Margaret closed the door that she let out the full-bodied laugh reserved for family members and intimate friends. No matter what fears might attack Margaret Revis, she wouldn’t let her granddaughter see them. “That Sandra. She wants to know everything that’s going on. Of course, so does everyone here. No one has anything to do except gossip.”

  “Grandmother!” Kim admonished. She turned her grandmother toward the light coming in from a sparkling picture window. “You’ll have everyone here involved in your projects inside of a month. Good. You’ve gotten your color back. You looked so washed-out in the hospital that it scared me.”

  “I was not washed-out,” Margaret contradicted. “White isn’t my color and I will never go to a hospital again if they won’t let me have my makeup. Let’s sit down dear. That darn hip still gives me trouble.” Margaret slid gracefully into an easy chair. “The doctor said I should still be using the walker. A walker! That’ll be the day. My exact words to him were, ‘I am not going to let my granddaughter tell me she’s taller than me.’”

  Kim quickly picked up the threads of the long-running argument. “But I am. I’m five-six. You’ve never made that, even on a day with low humidity.”

  “Who’s five-six? How someone who can’t drive a car without a booster seat worked her way up the ladder of success is beyond me.”

  “I was raised by a cutthroat businesswoman who taught me that nothing is impossible. Be honest, please. The doctor thinks you’re coming along all right?”

  Kim settled herself onto a corner of the couch while her grandmother gave her a blow-by-blow account of her last visit with the doctor. Despite the immaculate condition of the apartment and her grandmother’s improved health, Kim was vaguely disturbed. It wasn’t until she’d been in the apartment for at least five minutes that she realized what was bothering her.

  Margaret Revis belonged in her own home with its lovingly cared for antiques, pictures of relatives both living and dead gracing the walls, her rose garden outside her bedroom window. “Don’t they let you have your own belongings?” Kim asked. “Where is your Victorian furniture? What about your collection of button boxes? You still have those don’t you?”

  Margaret stilled Kim’s concern with a shrug of her own slender shoulders. “The button boxes are in my bedroom at home. And the old jewelry is, too. At least most of it is,” she said quietly. “I hope I can trust you not to wear it in the backyard now.”

  “I’ll try to resist the temptation. What about your furniture?” The idea of her grandmother’s beloved mahogany desk sitting uncared for in the Camp Oro home saddened her. “What’s going to happen to it?”

  “You are a worrier aren’t you,” Margaret chided gently. “I’ll be getting rid of this plastic stuff—” she snorted disdainfully at the bland furniture, “as soon as Mark finds someone who can bring it here without breaking it.”

  “Mark? I thought I was—”

  “You’re going to take care of the house,” Margaret interrupted. “That’s enough. I’m delighted with the way everything has turned out. Having you come here—” For an instant, the smile faltered. “Mark Stockton is my lawyer. And my friend. I told him not to bother about the furniture, but he insisted. And when Mark makes up his mind that he’s going to do something, the rest of us would be well-advised to stay out of his way.”

  Kim was uneasy about trusting her grandmother’s belongings to this Mark Stockton person. But Margaret Revis had lived in Camp Oro for most of her eighty years. She’d only moved to Grass Valley because Camp Oro didn’t have the facilities for a woman with her physical limitations. Margaret hadn’t been supporting herself in San Francisco the way Kim had. And, Kim believed, her grandmother trusted everyone. “Does this Mark person have a key to the house?”

  “Of course. You’re not going to lecture me about that are you?” Margaret admonished. “You don’t know how glad I am to have you out of the city. They must not have any good food there. Look how thin you are. Not only that, you’ve become so suspicious—”

  Not suspicious, Kim amended silently. Wiser. More aware. “Just because a man is a lawyer doesn’t mean you can trust him with the family jewelry.”

  Margaret laughed her hearty laugh. “You know I don’t care about that sort of thing. The jewelry has sentimental value, but I couldn’t care less about what it could be pawned for. You’d like Mark. He’s such a hardworking young man.”

  “How young?”

  “Young. About your age.” Amusement glittered behind Margaret’s glasses. “Barely old enough to have a driver’s license.”

  Kim knew it would be impossible to get her point across now that her grandmother was in a teasing mood. Margaret Revis delighted in pretending that Kim still needed someone to hold her hand when she crossed the street. “I see a broken hip hasn’t changed your disposition. I’m still your little girl, aren’t I?”

  To her surprise, Margaret turned serious. “You’re a long way from being a little girl. You’ve turned into the beautiful woman I knew you would. Still a little on the thin side, but everyone’s obsessed with being skinny now aren’t they?”

  Kim poked at her rib cage. “I can’t help the way I turned out. I think I run off the fat. This job—”

  “Are you happy?”

  “Do I look sad?” Kim asked. “I’m not. I just wish you didn’t have to be here.” They’d always been honest with each other. Today wouldn’t be any different. “You belong in Camp Oro. Grandmother, the town wouldn’t be a living replica of the gold rush era if it wasn’t for you.”

  “Don’t make me into a saint, Kimberly.” Although Margaret spoke with a teasing tone, her hazel eyes didn’t reflect that message. “And don’t try to change the subject. I was asking about you, not me.”

  “I’m doing fine.”

  “Are you?”

  Kim knew where the conversation was heading. Still, she had to make an effort. “I’m excited about what I’ll be doing here. I like the idea of working with a small staff, and it certainly sounds as if the Comstock Museum needs help. Do you know the board chairman? I’d like to think I’m capable of providing the assistance they need.”

  “That isn’t what I’m talking about. I have no doubt that you’re going to show the staff what they have to do if they want people to stop robbing them blind, although they’re such opinionated hardheads that if it was me, I’d can the bunch of them and start over. How they’ve kept this out of the news is beyond me. Stephan isn’t bad, but he and the rest of the board haven’t gotten as involved as they should. Listen to me! I promised myself I wasn’t going to pass on any gossip. I’m talking about your personal life, my dear.” Margaret was looking openly at Kim’s left hand.

  “One thing at a time. If you’ll look at my game plan, you’ll see that I’ve set next year aside for getting married. I had to find a way to support myself first.” Kim stopped herself. It wasn’t right to make light of affairs of the heart around her grandmother.

  Margaret Revis had loved and lost two husbands. She’d been little more than a child herself the first time she fell in love. A month after she turned seventeen, she’d walked down the aisle on the arm of Jeromiah Jacobs, the owner of a logging operation who was fifteen years her senior. Despite the age difference, the marriage had worked. Margaret gave birth to their first child the week she turned eighteen. Two more children had come along in rapid succession. Margaret had cared for three babies, made a warm home for her husband and enjoyed the benefits of being married to one of the area’s most successful men.

  It must have been rough after Kim’s grandfather was killed when their youngest was only a few months old. But a year and a half later, she’d married another wonderful man. Dow Revis had given Jeromiah’s children a home and his name.

  “D
on’t worry about me, grandmother. I have a full life, friends. I date. I’d date more if I had the time.”

  “But I do worry about you, honey.” Margaret winced as she changed position. “Sometimes I think it’s my fault.”

  “Your fault?” Despite having spent the past six hours in a car, Kim wasn’t so tired that she didn’t pick up on the concern in her grandmother’s voice. “Just because you raised me, doesn’t mean you have to run out and snag me a husband.”

  “You don’t need my help in that department, young lady. Unless today’s men are all blind, they’re going to notice what a lovely woman you are.” When Kim tried to protest, Margaret went on. “But, honey, sometimes I think I made a mistake by going on so about what a wonderful marriage Dow and I had.”

  “And you and Grandfather, too,” Kim prompted. “His death was such a tragedy.”

  “Some of that’s an old woman’s memories,” Margaret said softly, slowly. “Your grandfather was killed such a long time ago— Dow and I had our share of disagreements.”

  “Dad always said Dow was everything a real father could be. Still—” Kim paused. “It would have been easier for you if Jeromiah hadn’t been killed.”

  Margaret rose to her feet and slowly walked to the sliding glass door. She stood with her back to Kim, staring at the hummingbirds darting around the feeder hanging from the nearest tree. The birds weren’t enough; they couldn’t distract Margaret from her thoughts. Or give her escape from her fears.

  “That’s history, Kim,” Margaret said so softly that Kim could barely catch the words. “I don’t want to be an old woman living in the past. Spinning fantasies—” She turned around, a bright if artificial smile on her lips. “I’m one old woman who’s going to live in the present.”

  “Are you sure this move is right for you? You don’t regret leaving home?”

  “Home.” Margaret whispered the word. “It’s four walls, Kim. An old place full of memories. I don’t believe in wallowing in the past.” She sat down before continuing. “I am content. What I had was precious. The house is alive with the memories Dow gave me, but I don’t need possessions to remember what we had.”