A Dollhouse to Die For(81)

            Nothing going on at home anyway.

            I picked up one of the dollhouses and followed her inside.

            “Where do you want it?”

            “In this back room.” Ardine led me to a tiny sunroom off the kitchen. “I’d like to display some in the living room, but there’s nowhere to put them. I haven’t changed anything since Mother died.”

            We went back for another load, and when we came back inside, I stood for a moment, surveying the living room. The furniture was huge. Monstrous, in fact. A wraparound beige sectional sofa encompassed almost all the available floor space, and a massive entertainment center crammed with knickknacks dwarfed the wall facing the front door.

            I knew from the rooms she’d created for Jeanne that Ardine had a good sense of design. Quite an elegant sense of style actually, which one would never guess from her appearance. Or from this space.

            “Horrible, isn’t it?” Ardine came up behind me.

            “Do you really need all this furniture? Can’t you get rid of some of it?”

            She gasped at this heresy. “Oh, no, Mother picked it out, and it’s only ten years old.” There was a pause while she chewed on her bottom lip. “But what do you think?”

            “I could see one pretty love seat and two armchairs in here, and there would still be plenty of room for a display table in front of the window.”

            I could almost see Ardine’s mind working. I knew from her buying spree at the auction she must have plenty of money, and she’d probably saved a lot by living with her mother all these years.

            “You could always sell this sectional or donate it to the church for needy families,” I suggested.

            She brightened. “The church is a good idea. I don’t think Mother would mind that as much.”

            “I think she’d just want you to be happy.”

            She shook her wiry gray head vigorously. “Mother disapproved of me spending money. I always had to make do. That’s probably why Harriet won the competitions.”

            Ardine walked out of the room and I followed. She stopped at the base of the staircase that led upstairs and jiggled the banister. “I need to get this fixed.” She stared at me. “That’s how she died, you know. She leaned on it and lost her balance. Fell down the whole flight of stairs. I found her unconscious when I came home. I called the ambulance, but it was too late.”

            She pressed a hand to her mouth.

            “Oh, Ardine, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have started talking about your mom. I really need to learn to mind my own business.”

            “It’s okay, Daisy. And you’re right. She’s been gone for two years now. It’s about time I redecorated.”

            We went back into the sunroom and she showed me one of her completed houses.

            “You need to train your eye to see one material as another. Like this.” She held up a flowerpot, which I realized was actually a wooden thread spool. “This table is made from a poker chip, and the chandelier is made of toothpicks, beads, and bits of jewelry.”

            “That’s very clever. They should have given you marks at those competitions for creativity.”

            Ardine bit her lip with her protruding teeth. “Harriet looked down her nose at it. Sophie, too.”

            “There’s nothing wrong with saving money,” I said firmly. “Nothing at all.”

            “I’m always on the lookout for common objects that I can repurpose. This pedestal base is a chess piece. This oriental rug is a piece of a paisley scarf.”