My phone dinged. I glanced at it and saw Terrence Dale’s name pop up. I hit the ignore button.

Bette didn’t let my interrupting phone stop her story. “When she bought Seven Sisters, we thought for sure she’d restore that place, but she didn’t. I hate to speak ill of the dead, but I think the poor thing kind of lost her marbles. All that money and that sweet boy, and she spent all her time trying to find that girl who was long dead.”

“When you say Beaumont, you mean that Emily Stuart née Hunter was a descendant of the Beaumonts. As in the family of Christine Beaumont, who married Jeremiah Cottonwood?”

“The very one!” She looked supremely delighted to be the one to tell me this news. “That means that Ashland is also related to the Cottonwoods.” She smiled, rose from her chair and started picking up plates and dishes. I jumped in to help, wanting her to continue but not wanting to push.

“Oh, thank you,” she said. “I’m sorry I’m dithering on. You’ll have to excuse me. I’m just so excited that the big old house is going to get the treatment it needs.”

“I’m happy to listen. It’s nice to hear what the local community thinks and what stories you can share with me.” I added warm water and soap to the sink. “I’ll wash these while you put the food away. I don’t know where anything goes.”

“Thank you! I didn’t invite you over to wash the dishes, but obviously you were taught manners growing up.”

I smiled as I washed the glasses and cups. “You say she lost her marbles. What do you mean?”

“Well, she started hanging around a different crowd, a lot of psychics and mediums and such. She even tried to get the Historical Society to sit in on one of those séance things; you know to boost the energy or some such. I told her I couldn’t do that, I was a Baptist!” She laughed heartily, and I did too. “I think my friend Cynthia Dowd did, but she didn’t want to talk about it. Poor Emily gave so much money to those charlatans. In the end, all the money in the world couldn’t help her find that girl. Anyway, Emily got pneumonia. Poor Ashland found her in the garden, nearly dead. She died just a few days later.”

I felt a surge of sympathy for Ashland to have lost both parents so young. Still, he appeared to be coping with life fairly well. He was educated, committed to restoring important historical sites in the city and, of course, independently wealthy. That was the legacy his mother left him.

“When you can, Carrie Jo, when it’s allowed…will you come speak to the Society? We would love to hear from you. Maybe tell us something about the process or how you got started in the preservation field?”

“Sure, I’d be happy to. It will probably be a few weeks before I can, though.” I gave her a bright smile and dried my hands off. “Looks like I’d better go; time is getting away from me.” I grabbed my purse and phone and said goodbye.