Read Online Secrets of Hallstead House by Amy M Reade - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Amy M Reade
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built into many of their rooms, but particularly the guest rooms. The owners of the homes were successful businessmen and entrepreneurs, and I suppose they wanted to know what guests may have been saying about them. So they had secret spots built into the homes to allow them to see and hear without being seen or heard. The turret doors in Summerplace are examples of those spying places. With a key one can enter a turret stairway from the balcony and listen to a guest’s conversation or even enter the guest’s room without the guest knowing anyone is there. It’s something about this house that has always fascinated me.”
“What intrigue!” I exclaimed. “Guests could have gotten themselves into real trouble if they didn’t watch what they were saying.” I laughed.
I took the key to the balcony door and went up to my room excitedly. I let myself out onto the balcony and unlocked the turret door. The stairway was dark and smelled musty, and the stone walls were clammy to the touch. I shivered when my shoulder brushed against them as I looked and felt around briefly for a light switch. I could not find one, so I slowly made my way up the winding staircase inside the dank turret.
When I emerged from the gloom at the top, I stepped out into a large, bright room with tall windows inviting sunlight from every direction. There were shades on each window, but they were rolled up at the top. I couldn’t imagine ever wanting to pull them down! The wooden floors were planks painted a pale blue-gray. The walls were taken up mostly by the glorious windows, but in between the windows the walls were completely covered by paintings and pencil drawings. More paintings stood stacked against one another under the windows and against the walls. A large wooden table on one side of the turret held a wealth of art supplies, including oil paints, acrylics, watercolors, brushes, pencils, charcoals, chalk, jars, and rags—an artist’s dream! A pile of blank canvases stood waiting for inspiration in a large basket under the table. It looked like Vali had been up here to clean, because there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere. Beyond the table were an easel and a stool. I walked over to the easel and looked at the painting that hung there.
It was a beautiful, but unfinished, watercolor of two Canada geese flying low over the surface of the river in what looked like a narrow cove between two wooded islands. A gray, overcast sky was reflected in water that looked blue-black. A lone figure in a rowboat drifted nearby, fishing peacefully. The islands, which were only sketched in pencil, were covered with dark fir trees that reached loftily to the sky. Looking at the painting, which showed a great deal of talent, I could almost hear the geese calling starkly over the silent water.
I turned from the easel and walked around the perimeter of the large room, drinking in the breathtaking views on all sides. I could see all of Hallstead Island from this room, as well as the trees and homes on the neighboring islands. The river stretched away on either side of the island, and I could see other islands dotting the surface of the water far into the distance. As I walked around I peeked at some of the paintings that were stacked against the walls. There were some lovely waterscapes, as well as a few amateurish paintings of wildlife. There was even a charcoal sketch, signed by Alex, of that strange tree I had seen leaning over the water on the other side of the island.
This was such a tranquil room. I hoped I would be able to visit it often. The art books on the coffee table looked very interesting, and I sat down and began to look through them. I leafed first through the pages of a landscape book and had just turned my attention to a beautiful volume on watercolor painting when I heard a noise. I looked up, expecting to see a visitor emerge from the turret stairway, but no one appeared. I had probably heard something from outside. I got up to look out
“What intrigue!” I exclaimed. “Guests could have gotten themselves into real trouble if they didn’t watch what they were saying.” I laughed.
I took the key to the balcony door and went up to my room excitedly. I let myself out onto the balcony and unlocked the turret door. The stairway was dark and smelled musty, and the stone walls were clammy to the touch. I shivered when my shoulder brushed against them as I looked and felt around briefly for a light switch. I could not find one, so I slowly made my way up the winding staircase inside the dank turret.
When I emerged from the gloom at the top, I stepped out into a large, bright room with tall windows inviting sunlight from every direction. There were shades on each window, but they were rolled up at the top. I couldn’t imagine ever wanting to pull them down! The wooden floors were planks painted a pale blue-gray. The walls were taken up mostly by the glorious windows, but in between the windows the walls were completely covered by paintings and pencil drawings. More paintings stood stacked against one another under the windows and against the walls. A large wooden table on one side of the turret held a wealth of art supplies, including oil paints, acrylics, watercolors, brushes, pencils, charcoals, chalk, jars, and rags—an artist’s dream! A pile of blank canvases stood waiting for inspiration in a large basket under the table. It looked like Vali had been up here to clean, because there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere. Beyond the table were an easel and a stool. I walked over to the easel and looked at the painting that hung there.
It was a beautiful, but unfinished, watercolor of two Canada geese flying low over the surface of the river in what looked like a narrow cove between two wooded islands. A gray, overcast sky was reflected in water that looked blue-black. A lone figure in a rowboat drifted nearby, fishing peacefully. The islands, which were only sketched in pencil, were covered with dark fir trees that reached loftily to the sky. Looking at the painting, which showed a great deal of talent, I could almost hear the geese calling starkly over the silent water.
I turned from the easel and walked around the perimeter of the large room, drinking in the breathtaking views on all sides. I could see all of Hallstead Island from this room, as well as the trees and homes on the neighboring islands. The river stretched away on either side of the island, and I could see other islands dotting the surface of the water far into the distance. As I walked around I peeked at some of the paintings that were stacked against the walls. There were some lovely waterscapes, as well as a few amateurish paintings of wildlife. There was even a charcoal sketch, signed by Alex, of that strange tree I had seen leaning over the water on the other side of the island.
This was such a tranquil room. I hoped I would be able to visit it often. The art books on the coffee table looked very interesting, and I sat down and began to look through them. I leafed first through the pages of a landscape book and had just turned my attention to a beautiful volume on watercolor painting when I heard a noise. I looked up, expecting to see a visitor emerge from the turret stairway, but no one appeared. I had probably heard something from outside. I got up to look out
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