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K ate let Ivy into her newly furnished front parlor and held her breath waiting on Ivy’s impression.

Kate thrilled in the transformation of the previously bare-planked room.

It now radiated warmth, inviting and welcoming with all the new additions.

A royal blue settee was just off to the side, a plush oriental rug in deep blues and burgundy spread before it.

But it was Kate’s most cherished piece of furniture that absolutely made the room work.

“Oh, my, you have a piano,” said Ivy, awe whispering behind her words.

Seymour had arranged to have it delivered separately from his U-Haul delivery, claiming he had two pianos so she might as well have this one.

Kate’s new friend stepped to the upright instrument and trailed her fingers lightly along the ivory keys.

“Do you play?”

Ivy spun back. “Me? Oh, no, not at all. My family was never musical. Yours?”

Kate nodded, then shrugged one shoulder, “Well, a bit. I had piano lessons as a child along with all the requisite recitals. Later, I played with the orchestra in high school.”

“Oh, you must have been good then.”

“Well, for my age, I suppose.”

“And now?”

Kate grinned, “Haven’t played in years, but I’m excited to have a piano again. It isn’t authentic to the era, of course.”

“No?”

Kate shook her head. “They didn’t have pianos in America until later. At the time this house was built, only harpsichords were available.”

Ivy scrunched up her face in puzzlement. “What’s the difference?”

Kate moved over to the piano and raised the lid so Ivy could see the strings inside.

“A piano key is levered to strike the string, allowing the instrument to be played softly or loudly, hence the name pianoforte.” Kate reached around to demonstrate before closing the lid.

“A harpsichord, on the other hand, plucks the strings so each note played has the same volume.”

“Ah, so the pianoforte was a technological advancement.”

Kate nodded. “It was considered an improvement.”

Ivy grinned. “But I bet harpsichords have their charm too. Have you ever played one?”

Kate smiled and shook her head. “Come on back; I know you want to look around.”

She led Ivy on a tour, and it was gratifying to have a friend to ooh and ah and share her excitement at how quickly the inn was coming together. They finished the tour in the kitchen where Ivy made herself at home, bidding Kate sit for a minute and rest.

“It’s amazing what you’ve accomplished in such a short time.

This place projected a ramshackle quality all the years I was growing up.

It waited, empty and sad, for you to come fall in love with it.

You must be working constantly getting this place in shape.

You deserve a break. I’ll make you a pot of tea, and you can tell me what you think of the blends I brought for you to sample. ”

It felt weird to Kate to just sit and be waited on in her own kitchen, but Ivy waved aside her efforts to help as she set about brewing three pots of tea because that was how many pots Kate had. Kate marveled that she’d brought over six potential tea blends for the inn.

“I’ll serve you my three favorites and you decide.” Ivy then proceeded to produce three kinds of mini scones to try them with.

“I can’t believe you went to all this trouble.”

“Trouble? Fun, you mean.” Ivy laughed, green eyes sparkling. “Making up the blends is so much fun. I will say, though, that naming them is a challenge.” She sat and poured. In silence, they sampled the three options.

“They’re all so unique. This first one brings to mind a spring meadow.”

“That’s the lavender in it. It’s for Mayfield. Here, try it with this scone.”

Kate took a bite and closed her eyes in ecstasy. “I wish I could bake like you.”

Ivy filled Kate’s cup with the second blend. Kate took a delicate sip, reluctant to move on. “Oh, this one is like autumn leaves and holidays.”

“That’s due to the sage and the cinnamon. Try it with the pumpkin scone.”

The combined flavors burst over Kate’s tongue, and she took a moment to process it all. “I know the first combination is for my name, but I think I like the autumn flavors better. They suit the inn somehow. It’s hard to explain and not at all what I expected.”

“Welcome to Hazard. Life is like that. Especially here. Here’s the last one.” Ivy poured again. “And a lemon scone to go with it.”

Kate sipped and sampled and shook her head. “It’s too delicate, I think. I need something more forceful for the inn.”

“The inn is rather energetic, isn’t it? It exudes a definite presence.”

Kate paused to study Ivy, pondering her words. She had sensed a presence too, but…

“What do you mean?”

Ivy tilted her head. “A presence on the block, I suppose. It towers above the buildings around it, even though it’s set back from the street.”

Ivy set aside the third blend and poured a second cup for Kate, allowing her to take turns sipping at the first two.

“I like this one, the autumn one. But it doesn’t seem right to call it the Mayfield blend.” Kate threw Ivy a questioning glance.

“Well, don’t look at me. I struggled to name all the blends I sell in the shop. Think on it a while, you’ll come up with a name.”

“Me?”

“Well, it’s your signature blend, for your inn. You should name it.”

Footsteps tread along the wood floor of the hallway.

Kate leaned around the doorframe to confirm it was Rory before she relaxed.

Really, she was too much on edge after their secret passage excursion.

She didn’t want to share with anyone what they found.

Yes, it was exciting, and perhaps the town should be aware there was a warren of tunnels beneath it.

But surely it would be safer to just close up the tunnel entrance at her inn.

Block it off. Later she could alert the town council about, as Rory called it, Hazard’s best kept secret.

She feared anyone learning about her secret entrance and sneaking in. Or teenagers daring one another and behaving foolishly and getting hurt. She didn’t relish anything happening like Rory’s misadventure. Not if she could help it. History, however, had a way of repeating itself, as she well knew.

She hated that.

Rory swung around the corner, and Ivy halted from pouring yet another cup of tea to blink up at him.

Her eyes brightened, and her mouth formed a silent “O.” She set down the teapot and clapped her hands in delight.

“I don’t believe my eyes. Rory Throckmorton?

In the flesh? I must be hallucinating. You’ve actually deigned to visit our little town.

Didn’t you blast out of here at nineteen swearing you’d never return? ”

Brow furrowed, Rory frowned and shook his head a little at Ivy, who tilted her head in a silent question.

Kate frowned. What was this? Had Rory given Ivy a warning look?

Weird.

Rory coughed and cleared his throat. “Ivy and I were in school together.”

“Hah,” Ivy laughed, “Not really. Rory was older, and, oh, so much cooler. I was just a lowly Hazard High freshman when he was a hotshot senior.”

Rory snorted. “I was never cool, well,” he grinned, “not here anyway.”

Ivy widened her eyes. “You, not cool?” She shook her head. “I always knew you were delusional.”

The light dimmed in his eyes a little, as Kate watched.

He shifted and cleared his throat before he shrugged. “So I came back to visit Granddad, but he threw me out.”

Perfectly at home in Kate’s kitchen, Ivy set out a cup for Rory. “That doesn’t sound like Seymour.”

“It’s the remodel.” He sat and set about sugaring his tea.

Ivy nodded, “He’s excited about opening Agate Point up for tours. Were you truly banished?” At Rory’s nod, Ivy frowned. “I wouldn’t think you’d choose to stay here. Not after all that happened.” Then she gasped at Kate. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

“He told me,” said Kate. “It’s okay.”

Ivy swiveled back toward Rory. “How much did you tell her?”

“Just about getting locked in the basement as a kid.”

Kate pondered his suddenly careful tone.

“I’m surprised you remember all that,” he said to Ivy.

“Are you kidding? It was big news, and then Priscilla Kane got in hot water over it because she orchestrated all the shenanigans. Anyway, I do remember you after it was over. You were different. Quieter. You spent a lot of time in the library after that.”

“Research,” said Rory. “On the inn.”

Kate hesitated at the look he cast her. His eyes were asking how much she wanted to share.

She shook her head at him. She wasn’t ready.

Then she got a bright idea. “We did find an old writing desk in my basement, though, that we need to bring upstairs. It has a bunch of little drawers, and I haven’t opened all of them yet. ”

Rory took off.

“Wait.” Kate called after him.

“I’ll be careful.”

Kate bit her lip. “Is he always like that?”

“Rory’s not one to sit around. Is it hard to trust?”

“A constant struggle,” admitted Kate, surprised at Ivy’s intuition. “I’m used to being the one who takes care of everything.”

Kate sipped. Really, what could go wrong?

It was a desk. Rory had carried in all this other furniture.

Surely one little desk wouldn’t be an issue, but Kate held her breath as he appeared with the desk.

Resisting the urge to jump up and flutter about like a nervous Nellie, she didn’t relax until he had set the desk in the middle of the kitchen.

She released a sigh, relieved, even as she wondered why the desk felt so significant.

She studied it there in her kitchen as she walked around it to view it from all sides. It wasn’t very big. It was scuffed up a little but still sturdy. A silence had fallen over the room.

“Wow,” said Ivy. “This desk is…”

“Vital,” said Kate just as Rory said, “Alive.”

“But why ?” said Ivy.

“Let’s find out.” Rory motioned, and he and Ivy joined Kate to circle around it this time. Not touching, not yet. Bravely, Kate reached out a hand and stroked it lovingly. She dropped to her knees before it and slid open the drawer in front. “A key.”

“Oh, yes.” Ivy clapped her hands.

Kate began feeling around the desk. She located several drawers that weren’t immediately obvious. It wasn’t until she crawled around to the back of it that she couldn’t help but let out a little, “ Oh ,” of anticipation. She released a long breath. “Here. A keyhole.”

Reverently, Kate slid the key into the lock at the back of the desk and turned it. Carefully, she slid out a long thin drawer containing an aged piece of parchment.

“How old is that?” The awe in Ivy’s voice reflected Kate’s emotional tumult.

“Don’t touch it.” Rory spoke, the voice of reason, making Kate snatch her hand back with a mental image of the parchment crumbling to dust like in the movies.

She blinked it away. It couldn’t be thousands of years old.

They weren’t in Egypt. The desk was colonial, though, so it might be a couple of hundred years old.

Rory ran a hand through his hair. “It needs an expert.”

They all looked at each other.

Kate shrugged. “Who? The Hazard Historical Society? Do any of the members have that kind of expertise?”

Ivy gave a decisive nod. “Marjorie. She’s the secretary, and she knows about old manuscripts and stuff, I think.”

“Wait,” said Kate, but Ivy already had her cell phone out and was calling.

Kate dashed to her cupboards and began searching.

She knew what she was looking for. She had picked up every conceivable size of plastic bag at the store the other day.

She knew that she’d bought a small box of the jumbo ones because you just never know, and she was all about being prepared.

She searched her cupboards, shoving items about until she found the extra-large plastic that created an airtight seal.

She wanted whatever-this-was out of the air.

Carefully, while Ivy chatted on the phone, she eased the bag around the document and zipped it closed.

There, that should protect the parchment until they could examine it and figure out what it was, why it was so significant, why it was locked up in an antique desk, and most of all, why it was hidden in a secret room in the basement of an old abandoned inn.