A Key To Love

by Mary Jane Buettner

Overview

 

 

FASCINATING HISTORICAL FICTION INSPIRED BY

SEVENTY PAGES OF A PHOTOGRAPHICALLY

DOCUMENTED TRUE STORY!

 

A KEY TO LOVE

 

     Maggie’s key collection spans the world and stimulates her passion--investigating each key’s historyand learning who possessed it.

     A gift is presented--a key to a church, circa 1865, now demolished. 

     But, how?  Why?

     Elders entice her with pieces to the puzzle. Religious artifacts are discovered in a barn, antiques surface, and then there is the train . . . Abraham Lincoln’s train?

    Will a lifelong prayer be answered, and will the mystery be solved, uncovering hidden treasure in the lives of two families?

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781477249031
Publisher:	AuthorHouse
Publication date:	01/31/2013
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
File size:	10 MB

Read an Excerpt

A KEY TO LOVE

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By MARY JANE BUETTNER

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2013 Mary Jane Buettner
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4772-4904-8

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Chapter One

JULY 1966

There she was, walking down the path leading to Maggie Fischer's front door with something clutched close to her. The young girl strained to see the sign yet to be installed, leaning against a post and cocked at an angle, its black letters on white, partially concealed.

A puzzled look crossed her face as she halted her stride, wondering if she was in the right place.

She saw a few men and walked near them, deciding to ask them for help, and then realized they were preoccupied, struggling to pull multiple two-by-fours off their truck without disturbing sheets of faux wood paneling.

Carpenter jargon could be heard as she watched them hoist the lumber up onto their shoulders. One took the front and one the back, then they disappeared inside the house. On their second trip, while they were loaded down, she hesitantly queried only to receive an impatient, "not just now," response.

Considering she just might be getting in their way during their steady caravan of toting wood, she decided not to inquire further, turned and began retreating, squeezing her arm and the parcel gently toward her body.

"Wait," she heard someone say.

Turning around she saw a woman with smiling, brown eyes, her darker brown hair styled with full bangs and flipped-up edges captured with a wide headband, standing in the doorway that the men had just gone through.

Theresa scanned her outfit from toe to head and decided immediately she liked her look—from the soft, leather flats to the slim-fitting, black Capri pants—topped off with a loose fitting tunic top, buttons dotting its front. She formed an opinion right there, on the spot, that she was going to like this woman and thought that with her creamy, white skin and slim figure, she could be a double for

Laura Petri on the Dick Van Dyke Show.

"Are you wondering if we're open for business?

"We are, we are, well, sort of. Please, come in," Maggie said, motioning with her hand in a welcoming gesture to the teenager.

"Give me a minute to turn this radio volume down. The guys like their background music loud while they work."

While walking toward the radio she heard the announcer say, "And now, number five on the 'WTTR Top 40 Morning Show' for the summer of '66, The Mamas and the Papas'—'Monday, Monday.'"

She listened, hearing it play much softer, as she said,

"Now, that's better. Hi, I'm Maggie Fischer, and you are? Oh, wait. Move over here out of harm's way."

The pouch began to wiggle as the young girl said,

"Hi, I'm Theresa Anderson and this," she uncovered the hidden treasure, "is Bundles, my new puppy. Just got her about four weeks ago."

As the rest of the blanket was removed, a little ball of fur emerged. The pure white Maltese, with a solid black button nose, peeked out of dark, oval eyes right into Maggie's and she fell in love instantly.

Around her little neck, the puppy sported a tiny collar and a heart-shaped name tag, still blank, and Theresa held a rolled-up matching leash.

The dog's tail waggled as Maggie patted its slightly rounded head.

"Oh my, you are a cutie," she said through a wide grin and a giggle that emanated from deep within her throat.

"Is she registered?"

Theresa signaled with a nod,

"The names I submitted were Bundles of Crystal Threads and Bundles of Anderson Manor. I'm waiting for a reply from the American Kennel Club. Either one works for me."

More items were brought in from the truck—some drywall, the paneling and nails, drills, hammers and other assorted hand tools, not to mention a five-gallon bucket of paint.

The foreman, Brian, looked over to see the little puppy resembling one of his grandmother's powder puffs, the size of two fists, and couldn't resist. He walked over to Theresa and Maggie. Suddenly all the machismo melted and he stroked the dog while talking to it, his voice about two octaves higher. As the other workmen set down their items, they too walked over and turned to mush.

Maggie, somewhat of a people watcher, enjoyed seeing the transformation caused by 'Bundles', only to marvel at the change when they walked back into their work world with their tool belts flapping, oozing masculinity once again.

Theresa asked as she scratched her head, peering back at the workers she'd just met, still holding the animal close to her,

"Miss Fischer, I really wasn't sure if I was in the right place, couldn't make out the lettering on the sign leanin'against the wooden rail on the lawn. This is the T.L.C. Grooming Salon—right?"

"Oh, yes, yes it is, and I understand your hesitation. Brian, my carpenter, one of the men you just met, said he was waiting for the other thick post to come in to hang the sign on, so I guess I'd better tilt that sign to face the street temporarily, otherwise no one will see it. 'Course, if it did get shipped, and it's on their truck, maybe the guys will get to it today.

"I don't want to miss a new customer, that's for sure.

"Is she your first, Theresa?" asked Maggie, motioning toward the Maltese while anticipating her reply.

Theresa's head nodded.

"My father surprised me on my birthday, my sixteenth birthday, actually. I've been wanting a puppy for as long as I can remember ... said now I'd be responsible enough to take care of my own. My older sister, Jennifer, has her own Springer spaniel, Roxy. She's had her about ten years and she lives with Jen and her husband in Ohio. It was her sixteenth birthday gift, too.

"I know this kind of dog needs grooming and Mom said I should set up an appointment to learn how to take care of her myself ... in between times, she meant. Her hair is gonna' be long and silky, so I wanna' do it right."

That was music to Maggie's ears. The first customer and on the very same day the business was initially advertised in the Carroll County Times.

It was the first week of July, 1966, and the ad mentioned the grand opening in only two weeks, but Maggie was welcoming Theresa and her puppy business, today, ready or not, with open arms.

Chapter Two

Maggie told Theresa while guiding her to step toward the reception desk,

"Scoot on over here, but excuse the construction. Watch out ... careful where you step. There's more wood stacked here and there, waiting for them to begin. This entrance is being converted to accommodate the business."

Theresa was surveying the space, spotting two ladders, smaller cans of paint, buckets of nails, molding and a large roll of linoleum and baseboard, as well as stacked wood furring strips, next to the pile of new items that the workmen had just unloaded.

"This foyer will be the reception area for the business, which means I get to create an addition and a new entrance for my house," Maggie told her. She shook her head questionably as she continued, "I only hope they get it finished in time for the grand opening in two weeks. We'll have dog sweaters, animal toys and leashes, but not until we get the grooming business going; and I wonder ... how they will really get it done in time?"

She sighed as she turned around to scan the mess and while pushing one of the piles into a tighter pattern, left the young lady's presence for a few moments.

Curiously, Theresa took a few steps beyond the foyer, stuck her neck out and saw more of the house, but all of the furniture was covered with old sheets and tarps. She noticed two walls, straight ahead and to her right, filled with keys of all sizes, shapes and textures. Never had she seen a collection like this one, and she was drawn to the unique way they were all hung, facing in various directions. The background walls were painted off white and each key seemed to jut forward as if suspended in mid-air.

There were average keys but most of them had a novel quality about them in their composite, as well as their size and shape.

Many were brass, pewter and iron and there was even a glass ornamental key, all varying in size from two inches, up to designs about two feet long. These surprised Theresa, but she began to notice very authentic looking specimens interspersed among them. A matching pair had written inscriptions, one was hand-painted, yet some were untouched, rusty and natural, signifying the aged metals. One grouping sported old automobile keys and two were marked "Ford" and "Dodge."

"Wow! That's a neat collection. Keys, humph! I would never have thought to hang keys, but it is so cool! Where did you get them all, and how many are there? Did you ever count 'em? Is that one glass? Cool! How are they attached up there? Wow, that one's big. We have a Ford. Did you paint that one?"

As she spoke, Theresa's head turned back and forth between Maggie's direction and the keys, like she was watching a tennis match.

At the end of the recitation, Maggie walked toward her as she tried to remember all of the questions she was hearing, to answer them one by one.

Maggie took a deep breath as she gazed at Theresa, then back over her shoulder deciding whether the cacophony of carpentry sounds would soon drown out their words.

Theresa smiled, licked one hand and slicked back little strands of her tawny hair that had escaped her ponytail. Her green eyes were surrounded by long, fluttery lashes, a perfect specimen of a sixteen-year old in bell-bottomed jeans and a T-shirt.

She clutched her dog while waiting, watching Maggie like a storyteller at the library. Her ears tuned into, 'These BootsAre Made For Walkin', by Nancy Sinatra, barely audible, but loud enough to stimulate her rhythm as she gently tapped her fingertips on Bundles' back in keeping time with the music.

"Actually, the keys will be moved into my new entrance, but I'll be happy to tell you about them," she said as she kept an eye on the workmen's progress. Seeing them now doing quiet work, measuring and marking with a carpenter's pencil just where to zip through with the electric buzz saw, she decided to begin her saga.

She had told the story, oh, so many times, to anyone who had seen the gallery walls and inquired. Since it was her passion, she always enjoyed retelling it. After all, the keys numbering over two hundred grew gradually from the first wooden key she and her husband, Jim, received as a wedding present thirty years ago. It was one of those ornamental keys meant to hold your house and car keys, somewhere near a door ... one that little hooks are screwed into. In fact, the little hooks were in the box the key came in, but Maggie decided she liked it better without them. It was perfect to use ornamentally to fill in a small, open space on the wall.

After telling Theresa how it began, she continued, "One day we were antique-a-ling, a word my husband, Jim, made up for hunting down the neatest finds in old, out-of-the-way antique shops. We were in New Market, a little town that calls itself the "Antiques Capital of Maryland." We always stop there, on the way to Frederick, and stroll in and out of the buildings. Had just gotten back from our honeymoon a few months before and there wasn't much money in our budget for extras.

"But, suddenly I spied them, old iron keys, about ten altogether. Two were larger and looked much older than the others. The shopkeeper swore they were authentic jail keys and I believed him but wanted to know more, so I probed."

"'Not much I can tell ya"bout 'em 'cept these two were from an armory at Harper's Ferry, West virginia, during the Civil War era. That town sat at the junction of them two rivers, Potomac and the Shenandoah,' he had said."

"Oh, I remember those rivers. Yeah, we read about the Civil War in school," Theresa blurted out.

"Yes, dear," Maggie answered unconsciously and then continued, "That was all I needed to hear. I wanted those keys. I'd find out more about them later. How much? I said. See, I had to lock in the price, then and there. Thought the more he'd tell me the higher his price would go."

"'Gimme five bucks for each of 'em and they're yours,' the owner said."

"I took both of the bigger keys he separated from the others, and, after inspecting them, laid them near his cash register.

"To try to lock in his sale, he said to me, 'There's a lot of history behind 'em, and as I thought about it, I knew he was right. But, I just waited, knowing if he had a need to chat, I'd offer a willing ear."

"And what did he tell ya'?" Theresa interjected.

"I remember exactly what he said and how he said it." She modulated her voice, "'If them there keys could talk we'd be hearin' some tales all right. Wonder who was captive in that old jail? Why, it could've been some important General, a Captain or some deserter. Heard it was abandoned and burned by a garrison about April of 1861. Makes my mind do flip-flops just a 'thinkin' on it ... only wish I knew more. The longer I have this shop the more I will find out about 'em and the more valuable they will become.'

"I knew that shopkeeper was right—they would become more valuable as time went on and my mind began to expand on his theories." Maggie looked dreamily into the space above Theresa's head while she accentuated each word. "My ideas involved side tales of romance and fantasy and intrigue."

She brought her attention back to Theresa who was staring at her.

"From that day on, whenever a key came into my possession, I investigated to find out as much of its background as possible, who had owned it and what part it had played in history. And now, I love telling the tales as much as having the collection."

"Cool," Theresa said enthusiastically.

Maggie looked back to discern if the men were working when she didn't see them. Then she heard the buzz saw they had set up outside, being fed by the electric current coming from their extension cord plugged into her house.

They talked a little louder now.

Maggie pointed to the wall, "Theresa, see that small key right there? I located it in a little shop right on the main drag of a charming, little town, St. Michael's, over on the eastern shore of the Chesapeake Bay. It fit an old trunk found in a mansion. That was how the antique dealer relayed the story to me and the stories always intrigued me, so I listened very intently as he set the time period and proceeded to explain how those trunks were used and he even named the old mansion it came from."

"Wow! Sooo cool! Really?" Theresa crooned, her eyes wide like saucers, with a grin from ear to ear lighting up her face.

Maggie changed her inflection again. "'They filled 'em with their shoes, clothes and underpinnings that would be used during their summer stay at one of those Eastern Shore, telescope houses.'

"I must have looked puzzled 'cause he interjected, 'You know, the house kept being added onto like a telescope opens up, only layin' on its side. The entire family from the city would move into their summer home. This particular trunk was left behind for one of the servant girls, whose family continued to care for it for the past ninety-two years. The servant girl's great-granddaughter just sold it to me, along with some other antiques ... and would you believe it, just one week ago. And, here you are buying it with the original key in the lock, and I'm sure you'll keep it in your family for ninety-two more years, right?' He winked and grinned at me when he said that."

Maggie continued faking his drawl,

"'Look, I told you all I can tell about it—all that I know. Guess you'll just have to add your own thoughts to it and imagine the rest.'

"Yes, Theresa, that's exactly what he said to me and that's exactly what I did. In my mind I conjured up a family with a young maiden spending her last family summer on the "Shore", before leaving for finishing school abroad. Of course, this lovely Miss would meet a ruggedly, handsome young man, Henry, Phillip or Todd would be his name, something strong and masculine. He would be working in the family seafood business. Crabbing with a trot line in the summer and harvesting oysters in winter creates a strong body with weathered skin."

Maggie's eyes shifted upward and her head tilted as she heaved a dreamlike sigh and continued, "The two of them would meet by chance. Her family would nix their relationship because of the difference in their social rank. But, somehow love would conquer."

Barely within earshot, and between the lulls in the shrill whirl of the buzz saw, Maggie could hear Percy Sledge recant his tale of woe in 'When a Man Loves a Woman.' Dramatically she drew her arms to her chest and closed her eyes, "They would fall into each other's arms, pledge their undying devotion to each other and ..."

Before she could finish, Theresa interrupted Maggie's next thought and brought her back to reality.

"Where did that one with the metal tag on it come from?"

Shaking her head and focusing in, Maggie began,

"Oh. Oh, that one ... that one's from Paris."

"Wow! You do have keys from all over the world." Theresa found this so exciting and as she listened she continued to chatter as soon as a thought popped into her head. "If I can find one, would you have room for another?"

Before Maggie could answer she said,

"Tell me about Paris."

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from A KEY TO LOVE by MARY JANE BUETTNER Copyright © 2013 by Mary Jane Buettner. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Table of Contents

Contents

You Are Invited....................5
Kudos....................7-9 Author's Quote....................11
Lovingly Dedicated....................12
Table of Contents....................13
Genealogy Charts....................14-15 A Key To Love, the novel....................17
The Historical Chronicle....................467
The "Miracle" Begins....................484
The Stations Of The Cross....................512
A Unique Research Opportunity....................519
The Chronicle Continues....................520
My Summation....................532
The Evolution Of The Cover....................534
Bibliography....................542
Special Applause....................546
Your Prayers and Support Have Been Priceless....................550
Reading Group Discussion Questions—Adult Format....................556
Reading Group Discussion Questions—Young Adult Format....................558
Thank you to my readers....................563
About the Author....................565