Vicki and Kimberly are both slack jawed as Amanda and I push back from the table and head out the front door.
I’m calling Winona the minute we’re a shop away from the Gingerbread House.
And fifteen minutes later, she’s showing us into the archives room at city hall again.
“You’re not the first people to ask about this in the past month,” she tells us as she lays out a spread of original letters on a wooden table in the musty-smelling room. “I got curious, so I dug these out myself and took them home to look them over during my off hours.”
“You’ve been sending us copies,” Amanda says.
Winona shakes her head. “I have not.”
“But these are the letters we got,” I say.
There’s the letter about George breaking Maud’s heart.
The one about George stealing the dowry.
And more that we haven’t seen yet.
At least a half dozen more.
Including letters back from Lucy, my great-great-great-great-aunt.
I’ve read all of them three times, but I’m not learning anything new.
George and Maud were engaged. Lucy sent the dowry. George got the dowry, broke up with Maud, and married Minnie instead.
Okay, we learn Minnie didn’t give birth for another thirteen months and that my great-great-great-grandmother was convinced that it was either the world’s longest pregnancy or that Minnie had lost a baby and not told anyone.
And we learn that my family has a deep and abiding dislike of Amanda’s family.
“So my family couldn’t let go that a romantic relationship didn’t work out, and they claim a dowry is missing, but we have no record of what the dowry was,” I say quietly.
“That’s my read,” Winona agrees.
“Do you have any letters or records about the Andersons?” I ask.
“Nothing until they built the original Gingerbread House right after the war.”
“The Gingerbread House,” Amanda whispers. “Oh my god.Oh my god.”
I arch my brows at her. “The Gingerbread House?”
“This one.” She points to a letter from Lucy. “May I please have a copy of this letter?”
I skim the letter again. “What are you seeing that I’m not?”
“The handwriting.”
I lift my gaze to her.
Her eyes are shiny, but not sad.
Not completely.
There’s a level of triumph in there too. “I think I solved the rest of the mystery. But I need a copy of this. And then I need to do something. Alone.”
She pinches her lips together, and her eyes go shinier. “Oh my god,” she whispers again. “This could change everything.”
