Garnet or Garnets Curse

evening.
    “With a little luck the four of us will be able to architect a plan of action,” Robert said, on his way out of the room.
    Maria had a pleasant look on her face, until Robert was out of sight. “Garnet, did you sleep well?” she asked, lowering her voice.
    “Yes, I did. Was it not so for you?” I asked.
    “One of the most dreadful nights of my life. Did you not hear all the awful clanging and banging?” she said, tossing her head back and taking a deep breath.
    “I heard nothing at all. It was deathly quiet in my room,” I answered. By the look on her face, I knew I had used the wrong choice of words. “It was most peaceful,” I restated.
    “Well, in the room I was in, it was anything but peaceful. The people in this house either never sleep or this house is full of ghosts. I am telling you there is something eerie about that room.”
    “Maria, I am surprised at you. You are starting to sound like me. Take me to your room and let me see for myself. But first let me take off these slippers,” I said, holding up my dress to show her the size of my shoes.
    We walked down the hall laughing and I did my best to convince her it was just a series of bad dreams. As soon as she opened the door to the room, I detected a slight foul odor, but I said nothing. The room was nicely decorated, but the walls and fabrics were done up in dark, solemn hues. The furnishings were impressive in size, but most likely overpowering for Maria’s delicate taste. It was obviously a man’s room and the odor perhaps left over from stale pipe tobacco. I could see she was terribly uneasy and I suggested that she share my room.
    “No, no, I am being childish. I’ll just open the window and let in some light and fresh air. Tonight all will be fine.” She walked over to the window, but oddly the curtains were sewn shut. Our curiosity arose and together we caught hold of the heavy velvet fabric and swung it to one side.
    “What is that?” she asked, looking down at a mass of pipes and structures below us. Here, help me open this window,” she said.
    We were heaving on the window when we heard a voice call out, “ No, No tuberías de aguas residuales. ” One of Rosa’s daughters ran and wedged herself in front of the window. “Stinky. “
    Maria looked confused, but I understood. “Sewage pipes, Maria,” I explained. Maria ’ s eyes widened. I turned back to the girl, “ Bang, Bang, fantasma .”
    “No Fantasma. Stinky,” she laughed. The girl liked my joke about the banging pipes sounding like a ghost. She agreed to move Maria across the hall to the blue room.
    Maria insisted I ask if this was once the grandfather’s room.
    “Si,” the girl answered.
    “No wonder the old man lost his mind,” Maria said, as we walked across the hall.
    The girl pulled back the drapes in the blue room and opened the window. “ Ver no fantasma,” she said.
    “ See, no ghost, ” I interpreted for Maria ’ s benefit.
    She looked a bit embarrassed, but I agreed the blue room was much more relaxing. We spent the morning walking through the gardens and took afternoon tea in the library. When Maria went to the blue room to take a nap, I ventured off to explore the house alone.
    In a small parlor, I discovered shelves of porcelain dolls dressed in elaborate costumes. Toward the back entrance was a gun room with overstuffed chairs, smoking paraphernalia and a billiard table.
    I found each room a treasure on its own. Lastly, my wandering led me to the kitchen. I happily stood at the open door watching the bustling activity from the hall. It was loud and exciting with a harmony of voices, chopping and pots and pans banging together. The smells and sights of fresh-baked bread and meat roasting were a delight to my senses. I counted at least eight workers weaving in and out of the room.
    I spied Rosa standing in front of a cage of little birds. She reached inside and grabbed one, but it escaped. Soon the scene turned into a comical chaos. When the bird flew out the kitchen door, she saw me.
    “ Aye, Senorita Garnet, ” she said, wiping her hands on her apron. “ Welcome to my world. Do you need something?” she asked, with her hair dangling across her forehead.
    “ Nada ,” I replied.
    She held her hand up signaling for me to wait for her. I watched her hobble out the back kitchen door. Soon she returned with a smile on her face. “ Dora and Nita will meet you in your room shortly. ” She then handed me a freshly baked