I walk back to the hallway, taking a left this time, towards the window at the other end of the hall. Late May sunshine filters through, leaving that end of the hall much brighter than the dining room side. On the right is another picture and two doors; on the left is a little nook and another two doors. I start on my right with the picture.
It is about where I thought the door in the laundry room was. I guess it goes to a closet or something. At first glance, the oil painting looks like a stereotypical deer-on-a-rocky-outcrop-at- sunset type of thing, but it's not. First, the "deer" has too many antlers growing from what might be the head. Even for a moose or elk, they are way too many. Second, it's green-chartreuse, teal, viridian, all shades. In flat polygons, like computer art. Then there is the single eye bulging from its forehead, and the probable fangs jutting from the mouth. The rocks are pinks and purples, and in the same flat style. The forest behind the beast is in reds and oranges, yet more jungle than temperate foliage. The sky is not blue, but a hazy yellow, with a bright blue sun beaming from the cloudless reaches. A thin black corona surrounds the sun. The scene must be some sort of alien/fantasy landscape, totally unlike anything else of my father's. Where am I? What could this be? Without any context, there is no way of knowing. My head reels as I move on.
Behind my is a little nook, probably for the phone when the house was built. I've read enough from that age to suspect it's the truth. Now there's just a small table with a large urn with fake flowers barely reaching over the rim. I suspect to hide something. I peek around the urn and see a small panel that would allow access to the pipes in the bathroom behind it without having to damage as much. Practical, even if the urn is a little much.
The two doors on the right are locked. One must be the home gym Sam mentioned, but why would it be locked? Why would both doors be locked? These were the servant's quarters, maybe the laundry room was too. No answers yet.
The first door on the left is open, though. Inside is a long, narrow staircase. Probably for the help. I flick on a switch by the door so I can see my way up. The stairs aren't steep, but I feel cramped. At the top, a small table and a chair sit beneath another picture. This time, it's a black-and-white photograph of a woman. Fairly young, long hair, kind of attractive. I can't tell how old it is. There is a timelessness about it. Otherwise, the landing is slightly dusty, as if no one used it. I take a left and continue up a shorter flight to ... something. It's blocking the way to somewhere. I try looking around and under it. I think it is a cabinet, and it's blocking the way to the main stairs. No wonder I was a tad winded. Can't see why this way isn't used. It would be faster to get to the kitchen from upstairs this way.
I take the stairs back down to the hall and open up the last door. The room was probably used as a sunroom, but now it was an office. The large picture window cast bright sunlight throughout. Beneath the window was an old-fashioned desk, out of proportion with the room. Along the other wall, framed clippings and diplomas were hung. Then it struck me. Where were the photos? Aside from the one hidden on the stairs, I hadn't seen a single one. Most people would have had at least one somewhere I had been--stuck onto the fridge, staring above the television, arranged perfectly in the living room. But there were none. Maybe they've gone digital, and that one I found was one of his early works. Maybe.
The name on the first diploma was "Catherine Haywood, Nursing." Another was for a "Catherine H. Burton," but this was a Master's degree, also in Nursing. Another was an MBA. This must have been Sam's mother. Here name was in the newspaper clippings as well. It looked like she was the head of a local clinic. The clippings were copies, carefully cut so not to include any photos. The few that were there were so smudged, I couldn't tell who anyone was. Filing cabinets took up most of the rest of the room.
There was a door on the left wall, under the stairs. Inside was another staircase, this one leading down to the basement. I didn't want to look there yet. On the last wall were a few old photos, about twenty or more years old. They looked mostly like graduation pics, but they were all groups. I couldn't tell which of the women were her. I quickly wanted to leave this room, its alien touch was worse than deer painting. I needed to get out of there. I opened the door knowing what room would be next. the library and, most likely, my father's office.
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