2020-01-08 - Missing Family History

Unlike the last few times in which she has stopped by the Historical Society building, her purpose today is decidedly not for fundraiser planning. Having recovered from a variety of ordeals in the last couple of weeks, Isabella Reede looks back to her normal self, though the hearing aid that she has taken to using lately is still visible against her left ear. But she's walking unencumbered, thankfully, save for the slightest limp; no crutches today. What she is doing at the moment, however, is giving her finest impression of an arctic explorer - she is clad in tundra expedition-grade gear, with a black jacket pulled over thermal leggings and snowboots. Scarf, gloves and hat complete the look, and despite the heat within the antiquated building, she is not taking her layers off. Anyone would be sweltering in what she's wearing, but she only seems to burrow further into her layers.

Green eyes shot with gold wander over the furniture and the decor, over the shelves which desperately need reorganization. But the acquisition of the Society's new headquarters means a move, and moving often means a certain degree of clutter before everything can be situated to its proper place. With a faint half-smile, she wanders further within, looking for a specific person. Clarissa should be in today, or at least, that's what Michael had told her over the phone anyway.

Clarissa looks up from where she's flipping through a couple of old looking photo albums with a young woman who is so young she's probably a high school student doing some kind of internship, "These should be filed away in the back room, there's really only family shots here save for one page of the house. Just make a note in the inventory about that, Jessica," she hands the book off and Jessica dutifully goes running into the back hall, "Miss Reede, you look..." She gives Isabella a once over, "Like you're expecting another snow storm. Inside."

"There might very well be at the rate things are going around here," Isabella tells Clarissa, voice muffled through her scarf. She manages to lift a hand, however, to draw it down so she could speak more clearly. There's a smile and a nod to Jessica, before slipping into a chair near the other woman. "Looks like the Gatsy Ball was a smashing success, though, from what I saw of the numbers. I didn't have any doubts at all but the amount collected was pretty staggering. Have you thought about where the money's going, yet?" Curious eyes fix on the unfailingly fashionable Chairwoman's features.

Clarissa's eyes shine at the compliment about the ball, "It was, wasn't it? Not that I had any doubts. Every last detail was taken care of--thanks to you and the other members and everyone that donated their time and effort," She sets a few more worn albums aside, "These funds are all earmarked for rebuilding what was damaged in those gas explosions last year. We'll be able to help the city retain an architect that will restore everything to proper standards. Nearly all of those buildings were historical landmarks or should have been designated as such, and getting them restored will hopefully help the town with some tourist traffic."

As Clarissa enumerates, enthusiastically, her plans for the restoration of damaged buildings, Isabella couldn't help but grin somewhat faintly - especially with the way the other woman's expression brightens. "Hopefully the architectural bids come in very soon, then," she says, leaning back against her seat and glancing at all the records that are still presently being reorganized. There's a dizzying array, and part of her is already excited to assist with those efforts, though she doesn't have Anne's expertise and penache in doing so. Still, it's all documents and history - things that never fail to catch her attention. "Speaking of historical landmarks, Anne, Alexander and I were looking into the Addington Park Carousel, recently, and we came across some interesting history on it," she begins. "But we couldn't find much, and I had a brainstorm that maybe the Society would have records that wouldn't otherwise be in the newspapers. But I'm still familiarizing myself with how the records are catalogued, so I thought I'd consult with an expert." Her face takes on a more hopeful cast. "I was wondering if you would be able to assist whenever you had the time. I don't know anyone else who's as familiar with how the records are currently being kept as you are."

"Of course," Clarissa folds her hands in front of her on the table, posture perfect as always, "I've walked by there plenty of times, it's nice to see children being outside and enjoying themselves, all too often you see them with their heads down staring a screen," she says with the judgement of someone that isn't a parent but certainly knows better than those who are, "Was there something in particular you were looking for? Who built it, or designed it, or where the carved animals came from?"

"Actually, I'm more interested in the operator of the Carousel," Isabella begins slowly, watching Clarissa for a long moment before she continues. "His name was Jacob Baxter." A member of the purported founding family of Gray Harbor until the Addingtons presumably bought them out in a land transaction that either doesn't seem to be recorded anywhere, or is but is a closely-kept secret from the populace. "Jacob Baxter had a daughter named Jill Baxter, who vanished riding the Carousel on August 16, 1977. A Tuesday. Records in City Hall or old issues of the Gazette didn't really come up with much...and it honestly just reminds me that records on the Baxters are few and far in between, despite the fact that they're the first family who settled here. So I was wondering if there was a way to look through the Society's archives to see if there are any surviving journals or documents that indicate what buildings they owned, or where they lived. Their settlement here was around the 1880's, so any properties or holdings they might have held or lived in would be considered a part of this city's history...if any of them survived anyway."

As Isabella continues, Clarissa takes out a pen to start writing some details down. If the name Baxter rings any alarm bells for the woman, she doesn't show it. Then again, Alexander's likely told her how utterly adamant Clarissa is about not recognizing the supernatural aspects of this town, "Hm, nothing really jumps out at me, but I don't pretend to have memorized everything that we have in here. We do have some very old records--I'm not sure if anything goes back to the very founding of the town, but sometimes later generations do happen to mention something like that they stopped by so-and-so's residence to check on a sick cow by the creek or something and that can help place things."

"Well, Jacob Baxter's a start," Isabella says after further thought. "We know that he was living around here during the 1970's and might've even be employed by the city, unless the Carousel has always had an independent operator?" There's a glance at Clarissa at that, because she would know better than she would. "So if nothing else, there'd be more recent records, hopefully. And maybe that'll lead us back further depending on what we find out on him and his side of the family." She pauses. "I'm very familiar with the Baxter family tree, but I don't recall seeing the name anywhere in the branches I've managed to discover or come across - so I'm wondering where he falls in. Hopefully there'll be a mention of some of that, too. It'd help with my own research as to how all of that comes together."

"Could be that Jacob wasn't his first name," Clarissa suggests, tapping the pen against her lips a moment, "Depending on how far back you go and the communities a lot of people were given the first names of Joseph or Mary or local variants of that, but then called by their middle name. I've never really looked into the Carousel so I don't have any answers for you right now, but I can certainly look into it. It might be nice to put a little plaque up there acknowledging the construction or the carver or something like that," she waves a hand, "People love reading those things."

"Could be, it would be helpful, I think." Isabella taps her fingers on the table in front of them in thought. "From what I'm able to tell, the family's descendants have scattered out, and have carried different last names since then, but only a few carry the actual Baxter name these days that're found in Gray Harbor. So I was really surprised to discover that there was mention of one in the research that Anne, Alexander and I were doing. None of them are buried here, no marker in St. Mary's Cemetery to denote relations - not even from the oldest gravestones, as far as I could tell, when they ought to be more numerous and when we actually know when they're living here. You're right about the first name, of course, but I have to try. Thanks for the assist, though." A smile tilts over Clarissa's way. "I really appreciate it. And maybe in the doing we'll know more about the Carousel, also."

"That's interesting," Clarissa says about them not being buried in the cemetery, "Are you sure they were part of the congregation? I lived some time in Boston, as you know, and there are a lot of family cemeteries in the Northeast, perhaps they carried that tradition out here? Although it did become more popular to be buried on consecrated ground it was rather common to be buried on your own land with your family. But I can look into it, you've given me a lot to work with and Jessica is here earning some credit for something or other. College?" She shrugs, clearly having not really listened to whoever set up the internship, "So I can have her go digging through some of the older archives."

"I'm not particularly sure about the history of Saint Mary's," Isabella confesses, though it does give her yet another idea as she makes a mental note of it, green eyes hooding slightly as she contemplates it further. "But that's a very good question. Even if they weren't particularly religious, going to Church every Sunday was a cultural norm in those times." There's the flare of a brief grin angled Clarissa's way. "I didn't even consider that. You're a genius, Missus Robbins. And thanks again, for the assist." There's a sidelong glance to where Jessica had vanished into the back. "Really putting those interns to work today, hm?" she wonders, a teasing lilt to her tone. "Well, if you have the resources, makes no sense not to use them. How have you been doing otherwise?"

"I've been keeping busy," Clarissa gives a rather standard rich person non-answer to that, "And I'm glad you think it might be useful. I'm trying to ingrain myself into the good side of your Gray Harborites and taking on interns from the high school seemed like a good step there. She's actually very good at coffee runs, but she wants to be an actress when she grows up and, well, I suppose I should wait a month before I have that conversation with her," she sighs and shakes her head. Ah, to be young again.

"Well, if nothing else, the Gatsy Ball was a positive step in that direction, if you're looking for acceptance. Everyone loves a good soiree." Isabella pauses. "...well, almost everyone." She winks at Clarissa, before she slowly stands up from her seat, wincing faintly at whatever aches and pains she might be hiding under the layers of clothing wrapped around her. Still, she bears it all with good grace, sliding her hands in her pockets. "Keep me posted? I'll do the same. I'll leave you to Jessica's young and capable hands. Thanks again, and the Ball was amazing. Hopefully we'll be able to afford to throw more fundraisers running along a similar vein. Got anything for me while I'm here, before I go?"

Clarissa eyes Isabella, making it very clear that she'd like to inquire about her strange fashion choices or more aptly, what they're covering up from the way she's moving, "Not right now. I'll think of something before you drop by next time I'm sure. And if you need anything, Miss Reede, do let me know." There's not a ton of stress behind those words, after all she can't really imagine Alexander Clayton being violent, but the offer still stands.

There's a slight tilt of her head, confusion passing over her eyes at the last remark - but chalks it up to simple consideration, in the end. Isabella grins faintly. "I will. Thanks, Missus Robbins. I'll talk to you soon, and I'll probably see you before the next meeting." Wiggling her gloved fingers, she turns to head out of the Society's headquarters.