Tea in the Keys

Now it seems like a dream…or a nightmare depending on your point of view…bit it did it happen. At least I think did. Yes, I’m sure it did.

I was an adventurous 11-year-old, always too curious for my own good. My parents were history buffs, and a bit adventurous themselves. I guess I came by this honesty.

On this particular adventure, we were walking in the footsteps of Ponce de Leon in Florida to catalogue what he would have seen and map his exact journey. At the end of the line we found ourselves in Key West.

It was an interesting place. Part sleepy little beach town and part artist’s colony, but overall it had an eclectic, almost sideshow vibe. On any given day, the main area of Duvall Street exhibited the oddest variety of people. Some walked around with snakes around their necks. Others wore costumes, like it was Halloween every day. And there seem to be impromptu parades for any reason on any given day.

What intrigued me the most about Key West was a bit of mystery surrounding the entire island. Tales abound of pirate shipwrecks and sunken treasure all around. One day I visited the museum where someone did find the treasure from a shipwreck. So that tale seemed to be true.

I always heard stories about ghosts in a lot of bars, restaurants and hotels. One lady told me that in the many years of the island’s history, it was a rough and tumble place where drunken pirates mixed with drunken adventurers and drunken treasure seekers, not a good blend to keep the peace. The ghost tours around town advertised that it was one of the most haunted places in the US. A lot of places say they are one of the most haunted to sell tickets. I always dismissed that nonsense, until one day.

We were staying at a bed and breakfast that used to be a mansion in the 1800’s. Like many homes in the old town area, the home was Victorian, with big verandas and intricate gingerbread like decorations. Inside, the house had many of the same Victorian features and detailed décor. Hardwood floors, big fireplaces with hand-made mantels, and walls that had siding on the inside, now painted over in trendy paint colors for the guests. I often wondered around the gathering rooms and peeked into the vacant rooms, when no one was looking.

I would ask the workers about the house. Many of them loved to tell stories about the picky and complaining guests or couples who fought or had weird requests. And some even told ghostly tales. They were fun, but just stories, or so I thought.

One day, I was exploring in the main room, when I saw a broken tea cup on the dining room shelf. I heard the cooks talking in the kitchen about it. Each claimed they did not break it and they had not even touched that set in years. One of the cooks said it was bad karma. I didn’t think anything of it until later that day when I peeked into some of the vacant rooms and found some of the decorations in the wrong place. Each room had a slightly different theme. I noticed the small ships in the bottle from Captain’s Room in the Explorer’s Room. And the African mask on a stick from the Explorer’s room was in the Maiden’s Room. I bobbed between the three rooms in that corridor, making a mental note of anything out of place. I thought someone was playing a prank, but when I advised the maid in that area, she seemed scared and told me to never mind.

I went back the next day and everything was back in its place, except in the Maiden’s room, there were pink bows tied on all four posters of the canopy bed. They were not there the day before and no one slept in that room overnight. Plus, the room décor was all blue, green and yellow, not pink. I remember because I once asked why it had no pink, even though it was called a maiden’s room. The maid told me that men don’t like to stay in pink rooms.

It was strange, pink bows and a broken pink tea cup. Plus, the workers were acting strange. One of the maids shooed me out of the Maiden’s room again and the cooks put away all the pink tea cups. They seemed to know something.

I had to know what was going on and no one in the house was talking. So, I went around old town to find this old man I had spoken to a few times in passing. He sat on a stool with his dog at his feet telling weird stories about Key West to anyone who would listen. I always thought he made them up. My parents said that sometimes old people make up stories so people will talk to them. But now I thought he may have a clue as to what was happening. He said he heard people talk about strange occurrences in the house that took place each year in June. Mostly things broken and moved around, just like I saw. He never heard anyone say they saw any ghosts, but some did hear strange things. No one knew why.

After talking with the old man, my curiosity was dialed up to 11. I had to find out who it could be and why. I decided to start from the beginning. I remembered that there was a book on the fireplace about the house and the hotel. It talked about the original owners and some of the more illustrious and interesting guests. A dead end.

I spent the entire day going through the hotel and grounds with a fine-tooth comb and found nothing. All the workers were ignoring me now. I was sure the maids told everyone of my inquiries and now everyone was tight-lipped. Exhausted and defeated, I went into the main gathering room and sat down with a glass of lemonade. While drinking it, I saw a painting that I never really paid attention to before. It was an old-timey lady in a long pink dress with a big white hat drinking tea. It actually looked like the veranda of this house. Then I noticed the pink tea cup, it was exactly like the broken one and the set the cooks took out of the dining room. I stared at the woman. She was pretty with a sweet face and pink-tied bows at the bottom of her hair. Aha, pink bows just like the ones in the Maiden’s room the other day. I also had the feeling I had seen her before.

Remembering a picture in the book on the mantel, I grabbed it and quickly leafed through the pages to the entry about the original owners. Sarah Wineman, the wife of the original owner, born June 5, 1865, died June 24, 1905. It said they were childless and she was always kind to the town children, giving them tea and cookies on her veranda and doting on them. It also said she was a stylish wealthy woman with a keen eye for detail and very particular about her household. Nothing out of place. It all fit together. Sarah must come back to the house on the month of her birth and death to check on the house and make sure things are being cared for. That was it.

The rest of the day I walked around like Sherlock Holmes and the Cheshire cat. I not only found the clues and solved the mystery, but I knew the answer no one else did. I slept soundly that night tired from my adventure and secure in my victory. When I woke up in the morning, I had pink bows in my hair and I was very neatly tucked into my bed. But the thing is, I never wear bows, I don’t like pink, and I usually sleep above the covers due to the summer heat. Sarah must have paid me a visit last night. I think she was thanking me for noticing her. It was just our secret.