The Cobalt Seal

“How much more time are you going to spend cleaning out the old woman’s house?” Jessa complained about the umpteenth time that day, “You know, her kids should be doing this. Not you.”

“Jessa,” Enid chuckled. “I brought you here for moral support, not to hear your incessant nagging,” she chanced a look over her shoulder.

Jessa sighed, “I just… don’t understand why her kids couldn’t do this. She’s dead! You don’t work for them anymore.”

“Yeah, well… you’re free to leave if that’s what you please.”

Jessa scoffed and complained, but turned and shouted her farewell down the hall. It was getting close to eleven o’clock at night and Enid had had no luck in decluttering and packing up Ms. Ophelia’s home. And, Jessa had been right, once Ms. Ophelia had passed, it wasn’t her responsibility anymore to maintain the Tudor-style home in which she’d lived and raised her four children alongside her husband.

Her kids had done everything in their power to rid themselves of the responsibility of caring for their mother, and she’d made it clear, that until she died, she’d remain in her home.

At the beginning, Enid was wary of the home; always feeling as if someone was watching or following her everywhere she went. Whenever the winter solstice happened and the sky darkened at half past four, she dreaded the hours that came next. Ms. Ophelia enjoyed maintaining her home in a warm bask, and in contrast with the earthy tones coating the floors and walls, it was hard to not mistake the shadow of her grandfather clock for one of an intruder lurking behind the wall. After a few months of working for Ms. Ophelia, Enid learned that it was best to ignore the thumps and clunks rather than feed into them.

The children, once they’d reached their adulthood, returning to the place that was once their home, would find it difficult as the years went by. The only one that seemed willing was Circe, Ms. Ophelia’s youngest daughter. She came by every Saturday morning and would leave Sunday night just so that Enid could have her weekends off. Ms. Ophelia never divulged her weekends with her youngest daughter, but to Enid, it did Ms. Ophelia good to know that at least one of her children remembered her.

Enid sighed, moving swiftly through Ms. Ophelia’s favorite room: her study. It was the last room left to comb over and pack. There were so many books, so many paintings, and pictures to assess for the upcoming estate sale that just thinking about her slow progress was causing in her a flare of anxiety. The oldest of Ms. Ophelia’s children, Branwen had tasked her with the responsibility of sorting everything; if Enid deemed it trash or unwanted then it would go towards the estate sale boxes, otherwise, she'd deemed it valuable and/or important, and the siblings would gather afterwards to choose what they wanted to keep.

As she went through a box of worn ledgers and albums she encountered one with a picture of a pregnant Ms. Ophelia and her husband, Amos on the cover. Enid’s child-like curiosity had always appealed to the old woman being one of the many reasons why in the end, she’d remained Ophelia’s caregiver. Enid tucked her reddish mane behind her ear, undoing the small knot at the fore edge. Unlike the other albums in the box, this one seemed… used. It didn’t have dust collecting at the cover, nor its pages stuck to each other. It was as if, Ms. Ophelia sat with this book to reminisce, but never with Enid.

Inside there were sepia pictures of Ms. Ophelia and her husband, what looked to be their honeymoon, and pictures of the children as babies until they were in their teens. Branwen resembled her father in an odd way and so did Rune, Ms. Ophelia’s only son. Metis, the second daughter and Circe resembled their mother with their crinkly eyes when they smiled and their pouty bottom lip. Enid tittered wistfully, attempting to comprehend what had happened through the years to make the three oldest children stray from their relationship with their mother.

She sighed once more, setting aside the album for the important pile, reaching inside once more to reveal an almost new leather black book. For someone who spent almost the entirety of her day in the company of the presumed owner of the leather book, she’d never laid eyes on it prior to that moment.

Ms. Ophelia was a secretive person, private in her every day life, but Enid as her caregiver had access to the most private thoughts Ophelia had to offer. Nothing had been a secret between Ophelia and her caregiver, aside from the weekends with Circe, and even then, Circe would always send an email or personally disclose important details of their weekend adventures.

Enid turned over the leather book; attempting to find any sign of what could possibly be hidden inside, yet found nothing other than the year engraved at the middle bottom of its back cover. She removed the elastic closure, using her thumb to pry open the front cover, and doing a double take at the small envelope that fell at her feet.

She placed the book at the edge of the box, balancing it expertly at the sides, and squatted to pick up the fallen item. A cobalt wax seal held close the envelope’s flap and upon turning it, her name in Old English calligraphy stared back at her. She stood in haste, knocking the balanced book with her elbow.

An envelope… addressed to her… in the belongings of her former care receiver was not something she expected to find when clearing out their belongings. The blood rushing through her ears prevented her from concentrating on what to do next, yet her shaking hands reminded her that whatever was happening was real. A few steadying breaths later and the sound of the grandfather clock outside the study marking a new day eased her nervousness. Breaking the seal, she hoped no more surprises waited for her inside the envelope, but knowing Ms. Ophelia and the life she led, should’ve prepared her for the neatly printed words staring back at her, ‘You’ve been chosen.’

Chosen?

Chosen for what?

She could feel her hands agitating the paper in her hands as she continued to read the set of instructions Ms. Ophelia had printed for her. The letter spoke of gratitude, of repaying her services and company in the five years of residency at the Barach’s home, but only if she could prove that she’d been as devoted as she appeared to be. The writing didn’t match the scratchy signature of Ms. Ophelia’s and the only viable conclusion was that she’d had help from someone when executing this.

Enid was to engage in a scavenger through the home, finding clues that would lead her somewhere. Where exactly? She wouldn’t know until she was already there. An adventure…

Adventure…

Circe!

Enid suddenly felt faint. She clutched at her clammy forehead, breathing out as she took a step back. All of this was… nonsensical, but her eagerness prevented her from simply walking away without knowing the end result of Ms. Ophelia’s game.

The first started out making no sense; eighty-eight keys, but no doors to open and four ‘unsocked’ feet, whatever that meant. Enid racked her brain trying to come up with the answer of the first riddle yet nothing came to mind. She knew how many keys were for every lock in the home, she held them all in possession. There could be no more than seven of them, and all the doors inside the home had had their locks removed once Amos had passed. Nothing made any sense!

“Ms. Ophelia,” Enid sighed, “what do you mean?”

Enid stared at the riddle and reread it in her head, filling her subconscious with thoughts and memories of prior conversations with Ophelia. “There are four types of riddles, Enid. Figure which one it is, and the answer is at your fingertips.”

She scoffed, reading the riddle once again, “Prose. Keys, keys, keys…”

She sighed with a smile, leaving behind the dimly lit study room towards the east wing of the lower floor where an antique cherry red grand piano sat in the sun room. Enid lifted the fallboard revealing another envelope with the same cobalt wax seal. Undoing the envelope revealed the next clue, though the words written were… reversed of some sorts. On your wall I sit tight and pretty, on my back I carry all things redd.

“Redd?” Enid mumbled. “What? As in the color?”

Enid sat on the piano’s bench, almost defeated and completely confused at what could a possible typo mean to Ophelia… to her. Yet, Enid knew that even a typo was as significant to Ophelia as a correctly written word. It needed to mean something. Ready it up, she heard in the distance.

“Redd, as in clean up,” she stood, stomping towards the living room. She’d a newfound purpose as she remembered many a conversation with Ms. Ophelia.

First the piano, now the living room, where she’d set Ms. Ophelia for her morning reading right after her hour in front of the piano. It was her daily routine; the next clue was on the bookshelf. The next puzzle was a barcode. It took Enid a few minutes to figure out, but once she did, she ended up in front of the many windows of the home, alluding to their afternoon walks right before sitting down for lunch. The next puzzle was also a difficult one, but still Enid smiled at Ms. Ophelia’s tenacity.

An accordion puzzle hidden in an accordion window, of course! Once she folded the paper with a sea of mismatched letters into a small accordion, the next message was revealed, and once she’d figured that thus far the clues were in the order of her routine, even if she couldn’t decipher the message in its entirety, she did know that after her afternoon walk and lunch, Ms. Ophelia enjoyed a lie down. The chaise where she took residency during this time was near a lamp, and tucked underneath the base was the next clue.

It led her to the fireplace, where Ms. Ophelia insisted on enjoying her tea after dinner. No matter how hot or cold the day was it was where she wanted to be. On the floor or up the stairs, step all over me, I do not care, read the last clue, and Enid knew where she meant to be.

In Ms. Ophelia’s chambers, at the foot of the bed a cobalt lattice runner lain, and trusting her instincts she flipped one of the edges back revealing a hundred dollar bill. Enid smiled, pushing the runner back to notice the entire length of the it covered with a hundred dollar bills.

She gasped, releasing her air in bullets. This couldn’t be! How much money had Ms. Ophelia left her, and for what reason?

Another envelope with her name printed on the outside, and on the back, another cobalt wax seal.

My Dearest Enid,

Great job in your adventure! In the box with the clover stamp I leave you the deed of the house. My children want nothing to do with it, yet hidden on plain sight are four more spots with the same sum of $20,000. Contact Circe for your next clue, and may the rest of your life be filled with endless adventure.

Yours,

Ophelia