by Eva Gates
“Maybe you can go and visit her in Oxford,” Josie suggested.
“I went on that tour of the haunted castles of England last year, and it was great. I’d like to go back sometime.”
I checked the time. “Almost seven. I’ll go downstairs and greet people.”
I stood on the front steps as cars began to arrive. At seven o’clock the sun was still up, although dipping in the west, casting long shadows between the trees lining the drive and across the lawn. I’d spent some time today thinking about book club and coming up with questions I could ask to start the discussion off. I found my thoughts constantly returning to the convict Selden, hiding out in the great Grimpen Mire, signaling his sister at Baskerville Hall to make sure the coast was clear.
Was that what had happened last night? Not escaped prisoners hiding out on the moors but me allowing the Conan Doyle story to take control of my imagination and run with it? Connor had been right: people had come by boat or had left their car in a copse of trees to observe the marsh at night. They hadn’t been signaling to anyone in Morse code but waving their arms in front of the beam of light they needed to guide their way.
Cars began bouncing down the long driveway, pulling me out of my thoughts. Most of the regulars had come tonight: Mrs. Fitzgerald, head of the library board; Josie and our friend Grace Sullivan; Mrs. Peterson with Primrose and a sour-faced Charity; Steph and Butch, who as usual shouted a quick “Hi, Lucy,” and galloped upstairs for the baked goods before they were all snatched up; Theodore Kowalski, complete with Harris Tweed jacket, paisley cravat, clear-glass spectacles, surrounded by the scent of tobacco even though he didn’t smoke; CeeCee Watson, wife of the detective, who told me Sam had hoped to make the meeting but was held up at work; and Louise Jane. Plus several library patrons who weren’t club regulars but came to meetings if the book was of interest to them. Daisy skipped down the path, her long golden hair swaying around her shoulders, and greeted us all warmly. Tonight she wore a light summer dress with spaghetti straps, and I could see that her tattoos covered not only her arms but most of her right shoulder as well. The light over the front door reflected off the silver ring in her nose.
“So glad you made it,” Louise Jane said. “Come on, we have to hurry if we want to get a seat. Lucy’s been in the cookies already.” They bustled off before I could casually ask what James was up to tonight.
I greeted everyone as they arrived and directed them to the meeting room on the third floor. At quarter after seven, when I’d decided I couldn’t wait any longer and was about to lock the door and head upstairs to start the meeting, two pairs of headlights broke through the trees.
“Sorry we’re late, dear.” Mom spoke to me, but she glowered at Evangeline.
“Yes, sorry,” Evangeline said, sounding not sorry in the least. “I couldn’t decide on suitable shoes.” I glanced down, wondering what she considered suitable. I suppose the open-toed stilettos with four-inch heels were suitable to match her perfectly tailored pale-blue suit jacket, navy-blue blouse with a big bow at the neck, and tight knee-length skirt.
“I don’t know what was the matter with the ones you had on,” said Mom, who’d been known to arrive at a dinner party an hour late because every pair of shoes had to be tried and retried, discarded, and pulled out of the closet once more. And then, shoes decided upon, maybe the dress wasn’t quite right.
Evangeline was obviously getting on Mom’s nerves.
“We’re here now.” Evangeline gave me an air kiss heavy with perfume. “No harm done. The boys are right behind us.”
A second car had pulled in behind them, and Ricky, Leon, and Stephen joined us on the steps.
“We’re on the third floor,” I said. “Go on up, help yourself to refreshments, and grab a seat. If you can find one—we’ve got a full house tonight.”
Evangeline touched my arm as I turned to go inside. “How’s Fluffy getting on?”
“She’s good. I think she’s enjoying it here. We’re going on lots of lovely walks.”
Evangeline glanced around us, taking in the boardwalk, the long grasses of the marsh, the ducks flying overhead, honking to each other. The not much of anything else. “I hope you’re not taking her too far, Lucy. She’s not used to all this … nature.”
“She’s fine. Shall we join the others?” I pulled the door shut behind us.
“I trust you’re keeping that horrid cat away from Fluffy,” Evangeline said as we climbed the stairs. “He looked like a bad-tempered beast to me, and Fluffy has a delicate disposition.”
“Well away,” I said. When I’d called Charles to come for book club, he and Fluffy had been curled up together on the window seat. They had almost—not quite, but almost—been touching. Charles, who loves book club, had to be encouraged to jump down and follow me.
“After your little meeting, I’ll pop up and say hello,” Evangeline said.
Instantly I mentally surveyed my apartment: laundry put away, bed made, dishes washed, trash taken out, floor swept. “Sure, we can do that.”
It was standing room only in the meeting room. Butch, Ricky, and Stephen leaned against the walls. Butch munched on an oatmeal cookie and clutched a napkin containing a pecan square and a mini cupcake in one massive paw, and Ricky balanced a fully laden napkin and a glass of lemonade.
Beside me, Evangeline sucked in a breath when she caught sight of the crowded room.
I turned and looked at her. “Are you okay?”
“Perfectly fine.” She patted her chest. “Those stairs are quite the climb, aren’t they? Suzanne, you should have warned me to wear a pair of sneakers.”
My mom’s the only person I know who can roll her eyes without physically doing so. It is, I’ve always thought, a neat trick.
“The laws of succession are very strict, even now,” Theodore was saying as Mom and Evangeline edged into the room. “Entailed property can only be inherited down the male line, regardless of the number of female offspring one might have.” He leapt to his feet when he saw Evangeline and offered her a slight bow. “Madam, welcome. Please take my chair.”
“I … thank you.” She sat and patted her skirt neatly around her. She threw a sideways glance at Charles, curled up on Mrs. Fitzgerald’s lap. Charles lifted his little chin and turned away.
The snub was almost human.
“Can I get you a treat or a glass of something?” Leon asked Evangeline.
“What? Oh, sorry. Yes, thank you. A drink, please. Whatever they have.”
“Like in Downton Abbey,” Primrose Peterson said. “Lady Mary couldn’t inherit, so she had to find someone to marry.”
“That’s not fair,” her sister Charity said.
“The royal family recently changed their rules of succession,” Mrs. Fitzgerald said. “Princess Charlotte, being the second child of Prince William, is now second in line after him and her older brother, rather than third after her younger brother, as she would have been before. Isn’t that right, Daisy?”
The Englishwoman chuckled. “I hope you didn’t invite me here tonight for my keen insider knowledge of the workings of the English aristocracy. My field is North American colonial history. The closest I’ve been to the monarchy is the time my mother met Prince Charles when he toured the university where she worked. As for any potential inheritance to sort out, my parents are determined to spend every last cent they have visiting the tourist traps of the world.” She smiled fondly at the thought.
“I’m the oldest in our family,” Charity said, “so I’ll inherit all your money, Mom.”
“Hey!” Primrose, the second daughter, protested.
“Fortunately for you girls, your family is not English and you are not landed aristocracy,” Mrs. Fitzgerald said. “Your parents can leave their property to whomever they choose.”
“Yeah, but if so, if not us, then who would inherit all your and Dad’s money, Mom?” Charity said. “You have five daughters.”
“I don’t think we want to get into a discussion of o
ur family’s financial situation,” Mrs. Peterson said. “Besides, your father and I plan to be around for a long time still.”
“Drat!” Primrose fell back in her chair and crossed her arms.
Everyone, with the exception of Mrs. Peterson, burst out laughing.
“I assume you’re talking about this because of the inheritance of the Baskerville title and estate,” I said. “An excellent point at which to begin discussion of the book. Imagine being a young American man who suddenly finds out that a relative he never knew has died and left you everything.”
“Including a family curse,” Grace said.
Ricky chuckled. “Including that.” He smiled at Grace. She smiled back.
“And then,” my mom said, “spoiler alert for anyone who hasn’t finished it—but I assume we’re here to discuss all of the book—the next heir is someone no one even knows about.”
“It did get rather ridiculous,” Daisy said, “in real life as in the book: the hunt for someone, anyone, to inherit the estates and the title, particularly when there were perfectly acceptable female relatives around.”
“Like in Downton Abbey,” Primrose repeated.
“I’m an only child,” Ricky said to Grace. “No inheritance worries for me.”
His mother frowned at him.
“Previously unknown and illegitimate relatives still pop out of the woodwork at will-reading time,” Butch said.
Evangeline shifted in her seat. She glanced at Theodore as he said, with great relish, “The very stuff of crime fiction.”
“Mom’s right,” I said, “but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. That happens at the end of the book. It begins with the death of Sir Charles, supposedly at the hands—or jaws, I should say—of the spectral hound. Did you for a moment think the legend might be true?”
It was a good meeting. The Hound is a great book, drenched in atmosphere as Holmes and Watson bound across the desolate, remote, deadly moors in pursuit of the mysterious and legendary hound. Ricky and Stephen didn’t have much to say, and I guessed neither of them had read the book. Leon hadn’t either, but he had seen some of the movie versions. Every time he made a point, he glanced at Evangeline out of the corner of his eye, hoping for her approval, but she scarcely seemed to notice. She sat quietly, ankles crossed, hands in her lap, almost pulled into herself, and I couldn’t read her thoughts.
“If anyone would like to get a feel for the atmosphere of the Grimpen Mire,” Louise Jane said, as the meeting began to break up, “the marsh outside these doors can be a mighty spooky place at night.”
I was about to tell Louise Jane to stop spreading her ghost stories in the library when Daisy gave an exaggerated shiver. “Even if mists aren’t swirling around your feet and dogs howling in the distance.”
“Even if Sherlock Holmes isn’t shouting, ‘Come, Watson!’ ” Louise Jane laughed. “Although we did get a fright last night when we heard that silly little thing of yours barking, Lucy.”
“What silly—” I said. “You mean that was you? You were on the marsh last night?”
“What silly little thing might that be?” Evangeline snapped.
“Some ridiculous dog poor Lucy’s been stuck looking after,” Louise Jane said.
Mom choked. Ricky stifled a laugh.
Louise Jane looked from one of them to the other. “Oh. Is that your dog? Sorry. Cute little thing. Feisty.”
“Fluffy is not feisty! I’ll have you know, her mother was a kennel club winner,” Evangeline said.
I struggled to get a word in edgewise, having more important things on my mind than Fluffy’s parentage. “You were in the marsh, Louise Jane? Last night? With flashlights?”
“Yup. We heard you and Connor and that … uh … nice little puppy. I wanted to sneak up and yell, ‘Boo,’ but Daisy said that wouldn’t be nice.”
“No, it wouldn’t,” Daisy said. “We’ve been out a couple of nights. Louise Jane says, and I agree with her, that the best way to get a feel for how things were in the past is to try to get away from all the noise and the bustle of modern civilization, as hard as that can be sometimes. Your marsh is so beautiful at night. And so quiet, I can almost believe I’m walking through it two hundred years ago. Until a plane flies overhead, anyway.”
“Or someone brings a yappy dog,” Louise Jane added. “Not that anyone did. Bring a yappy dog. Last night.”
“Are you ready to go, Evangeline?” Mom asked.
Evangeline broke off glaring at Louise Jane. “I want to see Fluffy. I need to let her know we’ll be together again soon.”
“Were you in the marsh on Monday night?” I asked Louise Jane.
“Yes, we were,” Daisy said. “It was brilliant with all that mist swirling around. Really spooky. It’s still early. Anyone up for going round the pub?”
“Sounds good,” Louise Jane said.
“Splendid idea,” Theodore said.
“I’ll give James a call,” Daisy said. “See if he’s ready to join us.”
“Where is he tonight?” I asked, ever so casually. “Not interested in our little book club?”
“He went over to Charlene’s house to have dinner with her and her mum,” Daisy said.
“That’s nice.” I studied Daisy’s pretty face while trying not to look too obvious about it. Did she and James have a truly open marriage, or did Daisy not realize that Charlene was in love with her husband? Or did Daisy trust James completely?
“Although,” Daisy added, “it’s starting to get a bit much, him always saying he has other things to do or going off without telling me. We only rented one car, and I hate having to keep begging Louise Jane for a lift if we want to do something in the evenings.”
“I don’t mind,” Louise Jane said.
“Well, I do,” Daisy said.
Theodore turned to Mom and Evangeline. “Nice seeing you again, Mrs. Richardson, Mrs. Lewiston.”
“And you too,” Mom said.
Evangeline said nothing.
The meeting began to break up and book club members clattered downstairs, chatting about the book, about venturing into the marsh at night, making plans for the weekend.
“Fluffy,” Evangeline said to me.
“I’ll take you up. Only one more flight to climb.”
“A drink sounds like a nice idea,” Stephen said. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, Ricky, if you’ve any idea what’s going to happen to the Frankland cases now that Rich isn’t around.”
Leon jerked his head in the direction of Evangeline. “That’s hardly a polite way of putting it.”
“Sorry,” Stephen said, sounding not at all sorry. “We’ll wait for you downstairs.”
“I don’t know,” Ricky said as the two men left the meeting room. “I was hoping you could tell me …”
Their voices faded away. I called to Charles, and Mom, Evangeline, Leon, and I left the meeting room. Evangeline glared at Charles, who returned her glare before nimbly leaping up the stairs.
The moment I opened the door to the Lighthouse Aerie, Evangeline dropped to a crouch and held out her arms, crying, “Come to Mommy!” Fluffy leapt off the window seat in a flurry of white fur and almost tripped over herself in her rush to do so. They greeted each other joyfully. Fluffy yipped. Evangeline cooed.
Charles headed for his food bowl to see if it had miraculously been filled while we were out. He was to be disappointed.
“Nice apartment,” Leon said.
“Thanks,” I replied.
Fluffy flipped over onto her belly and allowed Evangeline to rub and scratch at it. Finally, Evangeline started to stand. She wobbled on her heels and grunted softly. Leon grabbed her arm and hoisted her to her feet. She smoothed down her skirt. “My darling seems to be well cared for, Lucy. Thank you. And thank you for the … uh … pleasant evening.”
“I’ll walk you downstairs,” I said.
“That drink sounds like a good idea to me,” Leon said. “How about you ladies?”
“Not for me,” Mom said.
“I’ve had a long day.”
“Perhaps a quick one,” Evangeline said. She waved her fingers at Fluffy. “Good-bye, my darling. Don’t worry, we’ll be going home soon. I won’t leave you in this place a moment longer than necessary.”
“It’s not dog jail,” I muttered.
Charles hissed at Leon, who quickly made his escape.
Downstairs, Ricky and Stephen were waiting by the door, talking shop. That is, Stephen was talking shop. Ricky was fingering his phone and didn’t seem at all interested in anything the other man was saying.
Mom hugged me good-night and said she’d call in the morning, and they left.
Chapter Sixteen
Friday at lunchtime I headed upstairs, once again thinking how much I’d miss this commute when I moved in with Connor. If we ever found a house to move into together, that is. Anything we liked was too expensive, and anything we could afford, we didn’t like.
I could ask my parents for a loan, and they’d give it without question, but I didn’t want to start our married life that way. Connor might not think of it as being indebted to my family, but I would.
Fluffy greeted me at the apartment door, dancing and yipping in excitement. Her excitement only increased when I got down the pink leash. I had to admit, the little thing was beginning to grow on me. She seemed to be starting to like me too.
I intended to hurry through the library, let the dog have a brief walk, and then go upstairs to eat my lunch and make a call to my mom.
I should have known better. The preschool story time was getting out, and every one of the kids wanted to stop and pet Fluffy. Fluffy wasn’t used to children, so I kept a careful eye out, but she appeared to enjoy their attention.
Charles, not used to not being the center of attention, perched on a high shelf and scowled malevolently. I hoped Charles wouldn’t be so offended he’d end their truce. Still holding the leash in one hand, I reached up and plucked Charles off the shelf with the other. I put him on the floor in front of a green-eyed, freckle-faced little girl with the wildest mop of red hair I’d ever seen. She squealed and dropped to her knees next to him. “Charles! Are you jealous? Don’t be jealous. You know you’re our favorite.”
