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He led me over to a second display case, where another newspaper was mounted. The headline read, “Giant Steamer Hits an Iceberg.”
The card accompanying it said Elbert Hubbard had given a eulogy for a couple who’d perished when the Titanic went down. “You knew how to do three great things well. You knew how to live, how to love, and how to die.”
Hubbard had gone on to praise Ida Straus, the wife of Macy’s co-founder Isador Straus, for giving up her place in a lifeboat rather than be separated from her husband. Hubbard also wrote, “I envy you that legacy of love and loyalty left to your children and grandchildren. The calm courage that was yours all your long and useful career was your possession in death.”
What Beau read next brought tears to my eyes. “‘Neither appeared perturbed in the least,’” wrote a man who’d survived the sinking of theRMS Lusitaniaafter it was torpedoed by a German U-boat. The letter on display was written to Hubbard’s son about his parents. “Your father and Mrs. Hubbard linked arms—the fashion in which they always walked the deck—and I called to him, asking what they would do. Mrs. Hubbard smiled and said, ‘There does not seem to be anything to do.’ The expression seemed to produce action on the part of your father, for then he did one of the most dramatic things I ever saw done. He simply turned with Mrs. Hubbard and entered a room on the top deck, the door of which was open, and closed it behind him. It was apparent that his idea was that they should die together and not risk being parted on going into the water.”
I wiped away my tears, embarrassed the story had affected me the way it did. When I looked up at Beau, I saw he’d teared up too.
“That kind of love”—he shook his head—“is once in a lifetime, and that’s if you’re lucky enough to find the person you’d rather die with than live without.”
“The true definition of a soulmate,” I said, resting my gaze on the photo of Elbert and his wife, Alice, taken right before the departure of the ship on which they took their last breaths.
Beau sighed. “Shall we?” When I nodded, he picked up Wanda’s carrier and motioned to the elevator.
“Should we get our bags?” I asked.
He shook his head. “They’re being delivered to the room.”
Prior to my adventure cross-country with Beau, the few times I’d traveled, and not on any great distance, I’d always carried my own luggage, given the motels I stayed at certainly didn’t offer bag-delivery service.
His words from a few minutes ago replayed in my mind. “This inheritance can change your life for the better,” he’d said. While it might, I still couldn’t envision asking someone to fetch my bags rather than carry them myself.
When the elevator opened on the top floor, Beau pointed to the right, then used an old-fashioned skeleton key to unlock the door. “Quaint,” he murmured.
It opened to a spacious sitting area that, like the lobby, was filled with Roycroft furniture. I rested my hand on the arm of a rocking chair.
“All the pieces are made of ash. Quite valuable,” he commented.
“How can you tell?”
His cheeks flushed. “I read the description while I was waiting to check in.”
I smiled, happy he’d told me the truth rather than pretend he was an expert on Arts and Crafts furniture.
“I was thinking that, once we were settled, we could take a drive by your property, then have dinner somewhere in the village.”
“It isn’t my property yet,” I mumbled, still unwilling to accept this wasn’t an elaborate ruse, as Beau had called it.
“Let’s go look at it, anyway. Before it gets dark.”
10
BEAU
There was something about the village of East Aurora that felt familiar and welcoming. When we drove into town, it seemed like we’d traveled back in time or that we were on a movie set.
While I hadn’t shared it with Sam, I was able to find aerial photos of Cena Covert’s property online, then discovered a website for the winery that showed adjacent structures.
There was a main residence, a guest cottage, a large barn, a carriage house, a winery, and a tasting room. It was impossible to tell if the photos had been taken recently, but if they were, the buildings appeared well-cared for. The other thing I was able to ascertain was that there didn’t seem to be a gate blocking people from entering the property.
“Are you sure this is it?” she asked when I pulled into the drive and saw a large sign that read, “The Lilacs.”
I checked the address. “This is the place.”
I drove slowly, giving Sam time to take in the evergreens lining the drive.
When we rounded a bend, she gasped. “Thiscan’tbe it.”
