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little research on the history of the burial grounds.”

“I can’t wait to hear it.” Carlita said.  “Let me put my coffee cup away and we’ll go downstairs.”

Mrs. O’Brien was in the kitchen pulling a sheet of ramekin dishes out of the oven when they arrived.  “Ah, ladies. You’re just in time.  I thought I heard some bumpin’ around upstairs.”

She slid the sheet onto the stovetop and shut the oven door.  “Mrs. Montgomery has a breakfast meetin’ this morning, but she said you already knew about it.  I’ve been told to feed you a hearty breakfast and then she mentioned something about you touring the Montgomery Hall grounds.”

Mrs. O’Brien went on to explain that several of the employees were already outdoors, picking up yard debris and loose limbs downed by the hurricane.  “Would you like to eat in the dining room or here at the unofficial gossip center?”

“Gossip is good.” Mercedes hopped onto an empty barstool and eyed the dishes on the stove. “Whatever you made smells delicious.”

“Ah. Tis a simple breakfast bake with eggs, ham, a sprinkle of sharp cheddar cheese, chopped scallion and my secret ingredient, roasted red potatoes.”

“I can’t wait to dig in.”

“I’ve got a stack of pancakes in the warming oven, along with a side of bacon and toast,” Mrs. O’Brien added.  “Would either of you care for juice or coffee?”

“Orange juice sounds good,” Mercedes said.

“I’ll take coffee,” Carlita said, “but please, let me help.”

“The glasses and coffee cups are in the cupboard above the dishwasher.”

Carlita retrieved a coffee cup for her and a juice glass for Mercedes before turning to Mrs. O’Brien.  “Would you like to join us?”

“Thank you for askin’, but I’ve already eaten.  The chef’s got to taste the food first.”

Carlita poured a glass of orange juice for Mercedes and set the glass in front of her before pouring a generous cup of coffee.  She joined her daughter at the bar while Mrs. O’Brien loaded the counter with breakfast foods.

“Are you going to be stayin’ with us again tonight?” Mrs. O’Brien asked.

“Our original plan was to stay one more night,” Carlita said.  “It depends on how things go today.  With our apartment repairs, I mean.”

“Well, if you’re here for dinner, I’m makin’ my Irish fish and chips with a special sauce.”

“If the fish and chips are half as good as your shepherd’s pie, I’m sure we’re gonna love it.” Mercedes scooped a spoonful of the breakfast bake from her dish.

“I enjoy cooking, especially when we’ve got guests. There’s nothing like making a delicious meal.”

While they ate, they chatted about life at Montgomery Hall, and not surprisingly, Mrs. O’Brien kept tabs on everyone residing in the stately home. Obviously, she would have to for meal preparation.

Carlita suspected the kitchen was the unofficial complaint department, but nothing serious as far as she could tell and it seemed the employees were all happy with their positions.

After they finished their food, Carlita and Mercedes took care of their dirty dishes and headed for the front door.  Byron was nowhere in sight, so the women let themselves out and walked to the back of the property.

“The Indians have been in South Georgia for a long time.” Mercedes gave her mother a brief history of the Indians who inhabited the area.

According to Mercedes, the earliest evidence of human inhabitation was found near the Savannah River between Augusta and Savannah, where flaked micro-blades were found, dating to 16,000-18,000 BC -- the oldest tools to be found on the North American continent.

“One of the most prominent Indian tribes in this area was the Yamasee Indians.  Yamasee, originally spelled y-a-m-a-s-i, means ‘gentle.’ The form given in some early writings, Yamiscaron, may have been derived from a Siouan dialect or from Timucua, as there is no ‘r’ in any of the Muskhogean tongues.”

Mercedes went on to tell her mother the earliest references place the Yamasee on the Ocmulgee River, not far from the Oconee Forest, which was to the north and west, and directly east of Atlanta. Most of the Yamasee settled on inland rivers and near the southern margin of South Carolina.

They reached a row of shrubs in the back and Mercedes peered over the top.

“According to the article, in 1687 after the Yamasee Indians had some sort of falling out with the Spaniards, they settled on a tract of land on the north side of the Savannah River.”  Mercedes shoved her hands in her pockets.  “They stayed there, living in peace and under an alliance with the colonists until 1715 when they rebelled.  The last of the Yamasee tribe was defeated and they fled to St. Augustine, Florida.”

Mother and daughter stood solemnly staring at the mound, careful to stay a respectful distance away.

“I can’t imagine living here without fresh water or electricity,” Mercedes said.

“Or without air conditioning,” Carlita added.

“True,” Mercedes and her mother circled the area and then continued their walk along the edge of the property.  “I wonder if there are alligators.”

“I’m sure.  And snakes and all kinds of other water creatures.” Carlita steered clear of the soggy seawall.  “This place is peaceful and serene, but I’m not sure I would enjoy the isolation that Tori seems to crave.”

“Me either. I’ll take bustling, historic Savannah any day.” Mercedes backed away from the seawall and they continued their leisurely stroll around the perimeter of the property.  “I wonder how the breakfast get-together is going.”

“I was wondering the same thing.” They passed by the employee entrance and Carlita glanced up.  “As soon as Tori is free, I wouldn’t mind checking out Ava’s room again.”

Upon returning to the house, the women were careful to remove their muddy shoes and leave them in the boot tray near the door before traipsing up the steps to their rooms.

Carlita settled into her reading spot and picked up the book she’d

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