“Since always. I mean, I’m not going to wear that stuff to work, but . . .” She scowls at Barnes before asking Colonomos—-who really is drop--dead gorgeous—-to tell them more about the beads.
He spins his chair around to face the polished wood console perpendicular to his desk. After pulling up an image on his laptop, he turns the screen to face them.
“This is the Trinkettes Web site, just to show you what they are.”
“You have to buy them online?”
“No, some higher--end boutiques carry them, too, but they’re still catching on so there aren’t many. A store right here in town sells them and I have an officer over there right now.” He clicks from the array of painted enamel beads to a search screen and types something in, talking the whole time. “When we searched Brianna’s locker at the high school, we found that he’d set out a whole treasure hunt for her. We confiscated a bead he’d hidden in the cafeteria. This is the one.”
He zooms in on an image of a stick figure depicted in a classic runner pose, with the word Runner etched beneath. “Her parents found another one in her bedroom. It was this.”
Sully’s eyes widen as he zeroes in on the design: a stick figure crowned by long crimson curls and etched with the word Redhead.
From the Mundy’s Landing Tribune Archives
Lifestyles
October 1999
Historical Society Acquires
Conroy--Fitch Mansion
When she stepped in to helm the Mundy’s Landing Historical Society upon the retirement of her great--aunt Etta in 1956, Ora Abrams inherited a subterranean closetlike office, a heap of unpaid bills, and a trove of artifacts relegated to numbered bins in a cramped space between the boiler and the janitor’s sink.
She also inherited her aunt’s fondest dream—-one that wasn’t meant to come to fruition in Etta Abrams’s lifetime. But it’s about to be realized in her niece Ora’s. Housed for nearly a century in the basement of the Elsworth Ransom Library, the society is at last about to move into a home of its own with the purchase of a grand stone mansion that dates back to the late nineteenth century.
Built in 1891 at 62 Prospect Street on the site of the former Penrod Hotel, which burned to the ground several years earlier, the home was a lavish wedding gift from banker Barnaby Fitch to his bride, Edith Conroy. Childless and widowed young, she bequeathed the home to her only heir, great--nephew Rudolph Conroy, a concert pianist. Mr. Conroy resided there until his death in 1985, leaving it to his longtime companion, Kenneth Stone, from whose estate the historical society purchased it. “Over the past eight years, the profits from our annual summer fund--raiser have exceeded my wildest dreams,” she said, “and not only were we able to buy this lovely property, but we’ll be able to put some much--needed work into it.”
Ms. Abrams detailed planned restoration and renovation, including plumbing and electrical updates and tearing down a crumbling carriage house to make room for a parking lot. While the home itself will remain as period--authentic as possible, she envisions building an annex equipped with state of the art technology, where the society can hold event--related meetings, seminars, and panel discussions. For now, however, she’s focused on moving the exhibits to the new quarters in time for next summer’s convention.
“Aunt Etta would be thrilled about this,” Ms. Abrams noted, adding, with perhaps a glint of a tear in her gray eyes, “And so, of course, am I.”
Chapter 17
Rowan was hoping the sing--along in what was once the Conroy--Fitch mansion’s music room would banish “I Would Die 4 U” from her head. It’s been playing in the back of her mind all morning, ever since she thought about the time she ran away to the Prince concert in Hartford.