Big, eighteen or twenty by forty, resting on the sturdy wooden easel. Rich, dark colors—reds, blues, and greens—receded into the background, paler splashes at three corners creating the impression of shadow and pulling the viewer in. Off-center, as if on the edge between the deep woods and the deeper lake, stood a pale figure in white, the soft fabric of her nightdress billowing around her legs. Shadow draped the woman’s face as she looked over her shoulder, at something or someone behind the viewer. Her light hair flowed loosely down her back and her arms and hands seemed ready to push against a danger she knew would overwhelm her.
“That’s her,” Sarah whispered.
“I know.” Peggy slid an arm around her waist and Sarah leaned into her mother’s embrace.
A few minutes later, they sat outside, on the wide front steps that faced the lake. Peggy had shown her several sketches working out the composition and two smaller finished canvases portraying similar scenes, but with the female figure glazed over, almost hidden, in layers of green and midnight blue.
“The effect I was after was like when Monet changed the composition of Woman in a Garden and painted over two of the original figures. You can still see them ever so faintly.” Peggy pressed her hands against the invisible air, miming the disappearing figures. “In the first two pieces, I’d made her too distant. I knew it. I knew I had to keep painting, as if she was pushing me, until I truly saw her. Thanks to the photograph you and your sister found, I know I have.”
“What does she want? What is she telling us?”
“I think she simply wanted me to know her story. Because we own the lodge.”
“Do you know if anyone else ever saw her? Grandma? Any of the men in the family?”
“Mary Mac never mentioned it,” Peggy said. “Men—well, not if you girls are right and she was hounded to death by a man visiting the Laceys for their New Year’s Eve bash.”
H, whoever he had been.
Sarah blew out a breath. “So now that we know her story, now that you’ve put it on canvas, she’ll be satisfied? Because I’m done with the nightmares.”
“I think so. I hope so. This has all been quite the revelation.”
“Mom, why didn’t you tell me Holly lost her job?”
“She asked me not to. Said you had enough on your mind,” Peggy replied. “I think she was embarrassed. Afraid you might think she’s a flake who can’t hold a job.”
“I would never think that,” Sarah protested. “Museum work is cutthroat. You’d think the art world would be genteel, but I’ve been on boards. I’ve watched her over the years. I know better.”
“She worries about what you’ll think of her. Whether she’ll meet your standards.”
Ouch.
“So, what will you do with the paintings?” Sarah asked. “Will you show them? Our theories about Anja’s death aside, they are really striking.”
“I haven’t decided. I’m hoping Anja will tell me.”
Sarah stood to leave. Peggy gripped her shoulders tightly, then kissed her cheek. “It’s good to have you girls home. And with Connor feeling less pressure, now that he’s bought the land below Porcupine Ridge, I hope the three of you can spend some time together.”
“He bought the land? I thought—” She tried to remember the conversation between Connor and Leo, in the office. Connor had said George had sold the land on Lynx Mountain, below the ridge. To whom, he hadn’t said, though he had rushed out with Leo, as if avoiding the subject. As if he wasn’t sure she would trust his judgment. “Is that what’s behind this expansion of the company? Got to be a lot of board feet up there. Anyway, doesn’t matter. See you tomorrow.”
In the car, she sat, hands on the wheel. The news of the land purchase was curious, but her mind was still on the mystery of the Swedish housemaid. Peggy had said—how had she put it? That Anja wanted Peggy to see her. Now that she’d been seen and heard, Peggy thought, the girl could rest in peace.
The rest of them—Sarah, most of all—had interpreted the nightmares as a sign of physical danger, as when Anja appeared to Ellen Lacey before her death, and when she came to warn Caro that Sarah Beth was sicker than they thought.
And when, twenty-five years ago, she’d wanted Sarah to protect Janine from a man with trouble on his mind.
If Anja had been satisfied with being painted, why come to Sarah now? Why had the latest nightmare been so vivid, so demanding?
What were they missing?
Sarah turned the key in the ignition. The only way to find out what Anja wanted was to ask her.
* * *
The wind had picked up by the time Sarah reached Valley View Cemetery on the southeast edge of Deer Park. She didn’t remember when she’d last been here.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Abby. The Paper Place offered me my old job for the summer!!!!!!!