Then I have my show. But you can hang backstage. I'm afraid it might be too scary for you to see again," she teased. "Sound cool?"
"I'd like to check out the Historical Society," I requested.
"All that talk about mansions last night with Marshall?" she guessed.
"I think I'll do a report on one for history class."
"During spring break? I figured you'd rather have a picnic in the cemetery," she said, putting down her coffee.
"Great idea! Let's do that afterward."
"I was joking," she responded.
By the time Aunt Libby got ready and I showered and dressed, the morning hours were dwindling. Libby was everything my dad wasn't--while he was an uptight type-A personality, she was a laid- back type-ZZZ. He was fifteen minutes early to a movie, and she was lucky to make it before the credits rolled.
I couldn't convince Aunt Libby to pack a basket of tortilla- wrapped tofu sandwiches and sit by empty graves, but I was able to trade in the art museum for the Historical Society. I grabbed my Olivia Outcast journal from my suitcase and put it in my backpack, and we finally headed out the door.
Dullsville's Historical Society was in an unhaunted late- nineteenth-century church. I had visited it only once on a school field trip and spent most of the time exploring the three tombstones in the cemetery until a teacher discovered my whereabouts and threatened to call my parents.
Hipsterville's Historical Society proved to be more interesting, located in two Pullman railway cars at the old train station.
Inside, I rummaged through pictures of Victorian houses, original menus from Joe's Eats, and letters from early residents. From the second car emerged a woman wearing a lime green pantsuit with matching sandals and a red-hair That Girl do.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
"My niece is visiting and would like to do a report on our historical mansions," Aunt Libby said, peering at black-and-white photos of streetcars that hung next to the emergency brake.
"Well, you came to the right place," she said, and pulled a book from a shelf.
"I'm interested in an abandoned estate near a cemetery."
The woman looked at me as if I were a ghost. "Strange. A man was in here the other day asking about the very same thing!"
"Really?" I asked, surprised.
"Was it Marshall Kenner?" Aunt Libby inquired. "He's starring in Dracula."
"No, Marshall was in earlier in the month. This was a gentleman who was new to town."
My ears perked up.
She pulled out several more books and leafed through them as Aunt Libby explored the museum.
"Here's the Landford Mansion," the woman pointed out. "It's in the far north part of town. And the Kensley Estate, toward the east." I studied all the pictures, imagining which one Jameson would have selected. Nothing remotely resembled the Mansion on Benson Hill.
"Which one was the man interested in?" I whispered.
She looked at me strangely. "You should do your report on what you like."
I looked again at all the mansions, each one statelier than the last. I wrote down their names and addresses on the back of the Historical Society's brochure and realized it would take me several spring breaks to visit them all.
As I was ready to close the book, I noticed the edge of a bookmark peeking out toward the back. When I turned to the noted page, I lost my breath. A black-and-white photo of a gloomy nineteenth-century grand estate stared back at me. A wrought-iron gate surrounded the towering house, and at the top of the mansion was a tiny attic window. I envisioned ghosts hiding behind the curtains, too shy to be photographed.
Underneath, the picture read "Coswell Manor House."
"What's this?" I asked the woman, who was organizing the bookshelf.
She glanced at the picture. "I didn't think to mention that one because it's on the outskirts of town. It's been abandoned for years."
"It's perfect," I said.
"Weird. That's what that gentleman said, too."
The woman jotted down an address and handed it to me. "It's on Lennox Hill at the far end of the road."
I dropped a donation in the "Friendly Funds" jar as we left the museum. "That was nice of you," my aunt said, as we walked through the parking lot to the Nifty Fifties diner.
"I'd have given her my college fund if I could've."