Page 20 of The Pumpkin Patch Sisters

"So then no one ever saw Mom open that narrow cabinet built into the frame of the cider barn?" Dahlia persisted, not believing that none of them had ever seen Rosalind go near that cabinet.

Junie paused, her hands remaining submerged in the suds. She turned her head, her forehead creasing with a faint frown.

"Dahlia, we just told you that none of us knew about a cabinet in the cider barn,” Junie’s voice was filled with exasperation. “Asking the same question in a different way won’t change our answer.”

“Yes, we don’t know what cabinet you are talking about,” Teddy told her, her brow creasing.

"It was hidden behind the metal utility shelves near the back wall," Dahlia explained, her fingers tracing the smooth rim of her mug. "It is a narrow door built directly into the timber frame, made of reinforced oak. It is secured with a modern padlock, and the wood around the keyhole is completely free of dust or rust. Someone has been using it. Recently."

“Yes, I saw it when you and Beckett let me into the barn,” Prue added. “That was the first time I’d seen it.”

Teddy straightened, her interest piqued as she set her mug down on the counter. "I spent my entire childhood climbing through those rafters, and I never saw a door back there."

"No, neither did I," Prue murmured, turning away from the window. "I don’t remember Mom ever mentioning any hidden storage space in the barn. She kept all the extra blankets and preserves in the pantry or the cellar. Everything else went in the attic. Important files are either stored in her desk or boxes in her closet in her bedroom."

"It is built flush with the support posts," Dahlia said, her thoughts returning to the clean lock she had touched during the storm. "Without sliding the entire shelving unit away from the wall, you would never know it was there.”

“Maybe Beckett knows about it,” Teddy suggested.

“No,” Dahlia shook her head. “He was there when I found it and was just as surprised as I was.” Her frown deepened. “Beckett said he has been helping Mom maintain that barn for decades, and he had never seen it."

"Are you sure it’s not just an old structural panel?" Junie asked, turning back to the sink to rinse a bowl. "The barn was built in sections back when the property was still expanding. There are all kinds of odd seams in those walls."

"The lock is new," Dahlia countered, her voice firm. "And the lack of dust means someone has been turning a key in it and maintaining it. It is not an abandoned structural seam."

The latch of the screen door rattled, a sudden sound that cut through the quiet kitchen.

Nell entered, carrying a wide wicker basket piled high with sliced cider bread and sweet tea cakes wrapped in clean white linen. The rich scent of cinnamon, brown sugar, and warm yeast rushed into the room ahead of her, a comforting presence that usually signaled the start of a busy morning.

But as Nell crossed the threshold, her gaze fixed on the sisters gathered around the table, she caught the final words of their discussion. Dahlia noticed how Nell seemed to freeze at the mention of the cabinet.

Nell’s knuckles turned white where her fingers gripped the woven handles of the basket, her body going completely rigid. Dahlia, who was watching the doorway, caught the sudden dilation of Nell's pupils as the older woman took in the words. For a fraction of a second, Nell looked completely exposed, her chest rising in a quick breath as if she had been struck.

Then, with the practiced efficiency of someone who had spent her entire life guarding secrets, Nell clamped her jaw tight, forced her shoulders to drop, and smoothed her features into a calm mask. She pushed the door closed with her hip, the wooden frame landing in its track with a quiet rattle and stepped into the kitchen.

Nell set her wicker basket on the pine table with a definitive thud, her movement abrupt enough to rattle the ceramic mugs that sat beside Dahlia's scattered papers. She did not sit down, remaining standing beside the chair she usually claimed during their morning planning sessions. Her fingers clung to the woven willow handle of the basket, her knuckles pale under the gray morning light that filtered through the damp kitchen window.

“Do you know anything about a locked cabinet hidden in the cider barn?” Dahlia asked Nell directly, closely watching the older woman’s face to gauge her reaction. Before Nell could answer one of her sisters chimed in.

"I could probably hazard a guess to what could be in there," Teddy offered, her expression bright with sudden speculation. She pushed a stray curl of dark hair behind her ear, her restless energy a stark contrast to the silence of the room. "Knowing how Mom was, she probably stored emergency cash in there during the harsh winters. She never trusted the local branch after they delayed her line of credit fifteen years ago. She probably had a tin box hidden in the wall, stuffed with old five-dollar bills."

"Why would Mom store anything of value in a damp barn?" Junie countered, her voice carrying a practical, dismissive sigh as she dried her hands with a cotton tea towel. She set the towel on the edge of the sink, shaking her head. "Don’t be ridiculous, Teddy. It’s probably just an old timber cupboard built into the siding. One of the places Mom used to store dry rags, stencil plates, and grease cans in those lower shelves. There is no reason to think she kept anything of importance in a place that leaks during every severe gale. If Mom had something valuable to hide, she would have kept it in the house, where it was dry."

Dahlia watched Nell closely, noting the tight set of the older woman's shoulders. The cozy warmth of the kitchen, smelling of baked cinnamon, roasted apples, and warm brown sugar, did not seem to touch the rigid frame of their mother's oldest friend. Nell's eyes remained fixed on the corner of the table, her jaw set in a hard, unyielding line. Dahlia leaned forward, her palms flat against the cool wood of the table, intentionally breaking the rhythm of the sisters' bickering.

"What if it has information about the extra six acres our farm seems to have?" Dahlia suggested, her voice low and deliberate. She didn’t break her gaze from Nell's face. "The land on the north ridge that is not on the official county surveys. The parcel that lies is completely unrecorded."

Nell went completely still. Her hand, which had been reaching into the wicker basket to retrieve a towel-wrapped loaf of fresh tea cakes, froze in midair. For several long seconds, she did not breathe, her fingers locked in a stiff claw over the fabric. The sudden silence in the kitchen became almost suffocating, the soft and steady whirr of the old refrigerator the only sound in the space.

Dahlia watched the silent struggle play out across Nell's face. The color drained from the older woman's cheeks, leaving her skin pale against the dark wool of her knit shawl.

Then, with a sudden, rigid movement that seemed to require a massive effort of will, Nell straightened her back and withdrew her hand from the basket. She bustled past the table toward the kitchen island, her face composed into a tight and determined mask that barred any further questions.

"I brought three loaves of fresh cider bread and two dozen tea cakes," Nell announced, her voice rising in a loud, defensive tone that tolerated no interruption. She began to unpack the baked goods, placing the paper-wrapped loaves onto the wooden counter with hurried movements. "They need to be bagged and tagged before the first cars arrive at the stands. We have enough real work to do today to prepare for the opening weekend without wasting the morning chasing wild stories and speculation about some old cabinet in that leaky barn."

Teddy blinked, surprised by the sudden redirection, her chin rising as if to argue. "We were just wondering if⁠—"

"There is no time for wondering," Nell cut her off, her hands moving rapidly as she smoothed the paper wrapping of a tea cake, her voice firm and final. "The stands open in less than two hours, and the display tables are still empty. Let's focus on the harvest we actually have to sell, rather than chasing mysteries that do not exist."