“About eight. That gives everyone enough room to enjoy the house without feeling overwhelmed by people. When we first opened, my sisters and I looked after everyone, but we have other staff who help now.”
“It’s a beautiful home.”
Penny grinned. “Thank you. We did a lot of remodeling after we moved here to make it somewhere our guests would enjoy. What would you like to know about the letter we found?”
“Before we begin, I should tell you I saw the exhibition at the Smithsonian. It was incredible.”
“I thought so, too,” Penny said. “Seeing everything restored and in one place was amazing. If you want to know what happened behind the scenes to get the letter and furniture ready, speak to Chloe Anders. She organized the exhibition and was our contact person during the restoration process. She moved to Sapphire Bay last year.”
Liam frowned. Penny couldn’t mean the woman he’d met at The Welcome Center and at the café. “I’ve only met one person called Chloe since I’ve been here. She has a son named Oscar and works at a café.”
“That’s her,” Penny said. “Chloe worked with the Smithsonian museums for about eight years before moving here. She has a Master’s Degree in Museum Studies and all kinds of certificates in conservation and cultural heritage.”
Liam’s mind raced as he tried to reconcile the warm, down-to-earth woman he’d met with the person Penny was describing. “I thought she’d always lived here. When I told her about my book, she didn’t say anything about her career.”
Penny didn’t seem surprised. “Chloe doesn’t tell many people, but I’m sure she’d talk to you about the exhibition. Without her help, we wouldn’t have been able to trace how the letter found its way to Montana.”
Liam picked up his pen, tapping it thoughtfully against his notebook. He remembered their conversations—the ease of her laughter, the way she lit up when talking about Oscar, and her passion for baking classes at The Welcome Center. But she’d never mentioned having such an amazing career.
Scribbling down a note to himself, he looked back at Penny. “I’ll definitely talk to Chloe. Can you tell me in your own words how you found the letter?”
Penny nodded. “When our grandmother died, she left my sisters and me a key, but we didn’t know what it unlocked. We eventually found some of my grandparents’ furniture in the old steamboat museum. The key unlocked the drawers on a dresser, and one of them had a hidden compartment. That’s where we found the letter. It wasn’t until the Smithsonian authenticated the letter that we realized it really was written by Abraham Lincoln.”
Liam turned to the next page in his notebook. “Finding the letter created an enormous interest in anything to do with Abraham Lincoln and the American Civil War. Your mom said you have a replica dresser and letter in the inn.”
“We do,” Penny replied with a smile. “My brother-in-law, Ethan, made the dresser, and the Smithsonian gave us a copy of the letter. I’ll show you them.” She stood up and led Liam into another part of the living room where the dresser was displayed for guests to admire.
Penny handed him a photo. “That’s the real dresser.”
Liam compared the image in the photo with the dresser in front of them. The deep mahogany wood gleamed under the pendant lights. The drawers, complete with brass hinges and handles, looked so much like the original dresser that he couldn’t believe it wasn’t the same one.
Penny unlocked the drawers with a small key. “We didn’t expect to find anything inside the dresser. If it weren’t for my husband, we wouldn’t have found the hidden compartment.” Kneeling on the floor, she carefully pulled open the third drawer and removed a thin layer of wood. Sandwiched in the narrow gap between the bottom of the drawer and the false bottom was a simple piece of paper.
“And this is a copy of the letter,” Penny said.
Liam looked at the dresser, then took the letter she handed him. Even as a replica, the letter still carried the weight of history. As he read the neatly written words, he felt a deep connection to the past.
“Would it be possible for me to have a copy of the letter for my book?”
“I don’t see why not,” Penny replied. “I’ll ask the Smithsonian if they can email you an electronic copy. If you want to know more about the authentication process or the exhibition, Chloe’s the best person to talk to.”
“Would you mind if I took some photos of the dresser and the inn?”
“Take as many as you like,” Penny told him. “After everyone heard about the letter, hundreds of people visited the inn. Luckily, most of our guests were here because of the letter and not for a quiet vacation.”
Liam took photos of the dresser’s hidden compartment, then moved around the room, taking photos of the living room.
Penny smiled when he took a photo of a replica steamboat. “Sapphire Bay is full of interesting stories. The cottages on Anchor Lane are a great example. They were built in the 1880s as vacation homes for the staff who worked on the steamboats. When we were renovating them, we found old newspapers, milk jugs, and all kinds of things left behind by previous generations of people. And there’s the building where they make the tiny homes. The old steamboat museum has been around for longer than the cottages. The storage rooms are filled with old furniture and lots of family heirlooms.”
“Pastor John showed me the rooms. I could spend a year in Sapphire Bay and still not scratch the surface of what’s stored in there. My priority before coming here was Abraham Lincoln’sletter. I didn’t realize there’d be a lot of other stories that could easily be part of my book.”
“I lived here until I was eighteen, but I didn’t know a lot about the history of the area. Now it seems as though everywhere I look there’s another interesting story waiting to be uncovered.”
Liam smiled as he put his camera away. “It’s the same in each town I’ve visited. One story leads to another and, before you know it, the entire town’s talking about the history of the area.”
Penny looked thoughtfully at him. “Have you seen the murals painted by Eleanor Whittaker? Her story would be great to include in your book.”
Liam frowned. “The only mural I’ve seen is on the back of the old schoolhouse. No one I asked knew anything about it.”
