Gwen put her arm around him. ‘What makes you think Elizabeth capable of having taken it?’
‘I feel wicked,’ Oliver squeezed his hands together, ‘because maybe she wouldn’t do anything like that in a million years, but what if she and Gerard are broke? I’d always thought they were loaded. I don’t know about her people, but my grandparents on that side seem to have had lots of money and it all went to Gerard. Grandpa didn’t tell me that; I overheard Brian’s parents discussing it a while back. But for some time now I’ve been wondering if it’s all gone.’
‘Fortunes placed in the wrong hands can disappear almost overnight. The stock market hasn’t been kind in several years.’ Gwen was glad to see Dusk open her eyes and gravitate to his lap. ‘I understand your uncle is a professional investor, but even they can sometimes get things badly wrong.’
‘He’s something called a day trader, and he’s in the room he turned into an office most of every day. Only I think he’s only been pretending to work since moving into that house.’ Oliver stroked Dusk. ‘I know Elizabeth’s upset at how much he drinks and she has those bad headaches. Twyla knows about them and she says they can be worsened by stress.’ The eyes now meeting Gwen’s were shining with tears. ‘I keep remembering Grandpa telling me that we shouldn’t be too quick to condemn, because desperate circumstances can lead to desperate measures. And I suppose I can see why Elizabeth could’ve been tempted to steal that ring, but there’s Sarah . . .’ His voice trailed miserably away.
Gwen put her arms around him, knowing that the person he needed most at this moment was another. She was also recalling a beloved voice from the past – reassuring her as a daughter that a mother is the forever shoulder. She was also picturing a three-year-old Sonny standing in the open doorway as she was about to drive away on a short errand and how she had always kept the car windows open so she could respond to his ‘Wave Mom, promise to keep waving.’ The echo of that small voice had returned hauntingly through the years. She suddenly ached to hold that little boy in her arms again. She wished she could tell Oliver that his mother had never stopped waving . . . and what she and his father wanted most was for him was the love and security of two wonderful living parents. She disengaged him gently and got to her feet.
‘It’s the not knowing, dear, that can sometimes be the worst part. Why you don’t stay here and continue keeping Dusk company while I go down and tell Sarah and Evan about the jewelry box being moved.’
‘But that would be cowardly of me.’
‘Not at all.’
‘Are you sure? I don’t want her to see me looking upset.’
‘Good thinking.’ She gave him an encouraging smile before going out the door. As it turned out she didn’t have to go down the stairs because Sarah and Evan were coming up them.
‘Everything OK?’ they asked simultaneously.
She explained as succinctly as possible without lowering her voice; it wouldn’t do for Oliver to think she felt compelled to whisper.
‘Oh, that poor boy!’ Sarah reached for Evan’s hand. ‘As if he hasn’t been through enough already!’
‘Why don’t you two take a look. I’ll go back and sit with him.’
They nodded and she returned to Oliver. Several minutes passed, during which she held his hand without speaking. Nothing can be more stress adding at tense moments than someone offering up platitudes and clichés. The brief but endless wait ended when Sarah and Evan came in. Both were smiling and Oliver was instantly on his feet. Relief flowed through Gwen on watching them gather him into a hug. It was Evan who spoke; she thought Sarah might well be too choked up to do so.
‘Sarah’s ring isn’t gone.’
‘It isn’t?’ There was no describing the joy in Oliver’s voice. ‘I was so scared.’
‘Understandably.’ Evan clasped his shoulder. ‘The box had been moved. Human nature being what it is there are always those types who have to look in other people’s medicine cabinets and otherwise nosy around.’
Gwen slipped out and returned to the living room, intent on collecting up any remnants of the potluck, but that had already been done. The same proved true of the kitchen and patio. Everything back to normal. She phoned Twyla to ask how Sonny was doing and, that news being reassuring, said she would stay on a little while longer. Sarah and Evan joined Gwen in the living room. She was seated in one of the linen-covered armchairs and they took the sofa.
‘How is he?’ she asked.
‘Like a huge weight has been lifted,’ said Evan, ‘but worn out. Fell almost immediately asleep after we tucked him in and listened to him saying his prayers.’
‘We have to do better at remembering to say grace before meals.’ Sarah’s face was troubled.
Gwen looked at them both. ‘There’s something the two of you are holding back. The ring really is safe, I trust?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Sarah bit down on her lip. ‘But something else was taken. Some drawings Oliver had found in his bedroom at the Cully Mansion. I’m sorry, Gwen, that we can’t be more explicit now – it’s a matter of keeping Oliver’s confidence . . .’
‘I understand, my dear.’
‘He gave them to us yesterday and I put them in the jewelry box; it was a convenient storing place and it looks like Elizabeth found them and was sufficiently motivated for some reason to risk taking them. Evan thinks she panicked.’
He returned her look. ‘Guilty consciences have that effect.’
‘It certainly looks as though she made a hurried departure because she dropped one sheet of paper. We found it on the floor by the bed; the side closest to the door. Of course we could be judging unfairly,’ her eyes sought comfort from Evan, ‘but, rightly or wrongly, Elizabeth does stand out as the likeliest person, given that Gerard, who does come off as amazingly self-absorbed, was concerned by what he believed to be her prolonged absence.’
‘Sadly, I’m with you there.’ Gwen sighed.
Evan reached for Sarah’s hand. ‘This is the possible scenario. Elizabeth, feeling the onset of her headaches, decided to look for a place to lie down for, say, five to ten minutes, and while lying on the bed saw the jewelry box and on getting up lifted the lid out of curiosity or . . . in hope of finding something worth taking. My Aunt Alice has a saying she says came down from her Scottish grandmother – a needy body is a greedy body. We are assuming some financial reverses on the Cullys’ part. But right there on top, to drive out any possible larcenous thoughts, were those folded-up drawings.’
‘Regrettably, I too wonder if she thought about helping herself to a piece of jewelry. With so many people in the house it would be difficult to point suspicion in one direction.’ Gwen shook her head sadly. ‘Before Elizabeth and Gerard arrived, Nellie talked to me in the den about what she learned this morning from Robin Polly about the likelihood of their being in financial straits.’ Gwen relayed what had been imparted to her, ending with the discovery of missing items, including the silver clock that had first ignited Robin’s suspicions, at the antique shop at Dobbs Mill. ‘They’re all at Nellie’s house and she wants to show them to us.’
‘I think that little clock would have a very special meaning for Oliver, considering its provenance being a gift from Nathaniel Cully to his wife on their fortieth anniversary.’ Evan was still holding Sarah’s hand. ‘He’s developed a strong interest in Nat, as he’s come to think of him.’ His eyes gleamed thoughtfully. ‘I do think the one positive thing we can glean from this incident of the drawings is that if Elizabeth is the one responsible for such a stupid move, she would not appear capable of contriving an intricately malevolent plot.’ He was looking at Gwen, but she was sure he was communicating privately with Sarah about something that had been worrying them both.
‘Yes, there is that.’ What Gwen thought of as the lovely face eased. ‘It certainly wasn’t smart of her to sell what she’d lifted from the Cully Mansion so close to Sea Glass.’
‘And now we have it from Robin Polly,’ Evan was still holding her hand, ‘that
’s she’s going to some gallery in Boston on Tuesday. Meaning she’s either rethought the wisdom of disposing of stuff so close to her own backyard or what she has at her disposal is significant enough to warrant taking it to someone who would pay the full value of what’s on offer.’
‘I wonder if it could be that dour portrait of Nathaniel’s father,’ suggested Gwen. ‘She could always claim to have put it in the attic. I can’t imagine it was painted by someone famous, but I suppose even great artists could have their off days.’
Sarah spread her hands. ‘From your description he, or she, would have had to be comatose at that time.’
‘I’ll talk to Aunt Alice and have her help make up a list of galleries we can check on starting Wednesday. The trouble is,’ Evan paused, ‘even with something – and if it’s big, what then? – I’m sure Oliver wouldn’t want us to turn her into the authorities, or rat her out to her husband, who may not be in the know. Whatever else those two are, Gerard was Oliver’s father’s brother and only sibling. And yet how do we, including Twyla of course, abandon him to their supposed care?’
This was unanswerable. Gwen saw zero comfort in Sarah and Evan saying optimistically, if tritely, that something might occur to present a solution. She got to her feet. ‘I’m going to leave and let you talk some more on your own. I need to be getting home. Sonny may still be up.’
They came with her out to her car, Evan carrying the picnic basket with the cleaned dishes inside; before getting in she looked up at the sky. Pink clouds. They always brought memories. Her mind went to them on the short drive home. Sonny in the car with her one late afternoon or evening; she pointing upward, and his awed delight. Throughout his childhood they would always smile in a moment of special closeness on seeing them. One day when he was a young man, still in college, they were having lunch together when he paused in the middle of a sentence and said, ‘I love you Mom.’ She told him that was wonderful to hear, that she loved him too. And he looked at her and said, ‘I saw pink clouds today.’
She entered the house through the garage and put the basket down on the table. Twyla came in from the foyer and told her, without delaying for questions, that it had been a good evening and Sonny was in the book room. She found him seated on the sofa and sat down beside him. He was staring straight ahead.
‘I love you, Sonny.’
‘I know. I love you too.’ He leaned his gray head against her shoulder and they sat like that until he went up to bed. She followed him to the stairs, stood gathering herself together, then returned to the book room with Twyla and told her about the potluck and all that ensued.
‘What should we do, Gwen?’ The consternation was visible. ‘Even if I were to take this to Frank, which would be so hard on him, I don’t know what he could do at this stage, having handed over guardianship to them.’
‘Wait a minute, dear.’ Gwen sat thinking. ‘Did he see a lawyer to take action through the courts?’
‘No, definitely not. He’d wanted to have Oliver remain with me, but Gerard as his next of kin insisted on taking him.’
‘Well, then, I don’t know much about the law, but I’d think Frank could petition to have Oliver removed from their keeping to be with the person, or persons, of his choosing.’
‘They might say he’s non compos mentis?’
‘Somehow, I don’t see them putting up that kind of a fight, given what can be presented against them, with witnesses. Elizabeth should already be shaking in her boots. If Frank has been praying to secure a better future for Oliver, as must be the case, then this may not be as distressing to him as you fear. I imagine when it’s explained to him the relief will be enormous.’
‘You’re right.’ Twyla’s face and body relaxed. ‘Absolutely right. Thank you, Gwen. I’ll set it up tomorrow, out of Oliver’s hearing, of course, to have a doctor with me when I talk to Frank. And now that his health is down-hilling, that surely can’t wait until we find out if Evan and his aunt’s sleuthing is successful – what Elizabeth gets up to Tuesday in Boston. I’m also going to tell Frank. I’m certain he’ll be able to rest easy if Oliver is with Sarah and Evan. The parents of his own choosing.’
They talked for a little while longer before going up to bed. The next morning Twyla left on her own for St Anne’s where she would meet up with Oliver, Sarah and Evan. Gwen had two reasons for remaining at home. She didn’t want anyone to feel she should be included in the visit to Frank Andrews after the service. And for some reason, possibly those memories of the past that had come to her yesterday evening, she felt a pressing need to spend time alone with Sonny, who had expressed no wish to go to church as he sometimes did. The thought caught up with her as she came downstairs that time was pressing at their backs. A clock was ticking faster and faster, leaping from seconds to minutes, so out of control that it was bound to stop suddenly forever. Gwen pressed her hand to her heart, aware that Jumbo was looking up at her anxiously. She sat down in her chair by the fireplace in the book room. She hadn’t had one of these panic attacks – which is what her doctor had been almost sure was all they were – in several weeks.
The few hours alone with Sonny were good ones. She talked to him about Beatrice – bringing forth smiles, if no verbal response – of childhood friends of his time in Boston and then of times spent with her parents and Rowena.
She had been thinking often of her sister recently – of the rage she had expressed toward her after their father’s funeral. Rowena’s firm distancing of herself in the following years, while maintaining devoted contact with their mother, who had never brought the matter up with Gwen, knowing that doing so would only add pain. That distance had only been breached once, by an incredible act of generosity on Rowena’s part. Reconciliation. But, no . . . when Gwen phoned the number in France to express her overwhelming gratitude, she had merely said it was the right thing to have done. A plea that they could see each other was brushed aside. They each had their own lives and could remain fond of each other from different sides of the ocean. She also made it clear that in future she preferred letter contact to phone calls. Gwen saw no hope of the wall coming down. She wrote at first every couple of months, but Rowena only responded to the second or third letter, so gradually she spaced her own further apart and that seemed to work better, in that Rowena began replying after a month or so to individual letters. When John died she didn’t make an attempt at another phone call to suggest a hope that her sister would come to his funeral. Rowena had already given to them more than could ever have been expected. That letter had received a prompt and kind response, but still no mention of a wish to see Gwen again. Acceptance had come over the years. And then had come Sonny’s diagnosis. Should she, or should she not, let Rowena know about it? Didn’t she have a right to be informed? Yes. But it would put her in such a difficult position if she still preferred to stay away. Here would be her sister in another crisis, compelling her out of decency and generosity to come to the rescue. So far Gwen had said nothing, keeping her letters as always light, but increasingly she was wondering if she had made the wrong decision.
‘It’s sad Grandpa died.’ Sonny suddenly spoke for the first time.
‘Yes, dear. He loved you very much.’ Jumbo shifted closer to her chair. What peace he brought.
‘What’s Grandma doing?’
‘Being her always lovely self.’
‘Can we go and see her?’
‘Sometime, dear.’
‘I’d like that.’ His smile was so broad it even seemed to include Jumbo.
After that he slipped back into vague-eyed silence. He barely touched the breakfast she’d prepared. She was contemplating a pork roast, although what she was really yearning for was fried chicken, which she hadn’t eaten in years. Her thoughts were interrupted when Twyla returned. Sonny had moments previously gone up to his bedroom having wandered in to stare at the piano before turning away.
‘How was Frank today?’ she asked when she and Twyla were seated at the table drinking freshly-brewed coffee
.
‘Praise be, this was one of his good times. His speech was clearer than usual and it was obvious he took mightily to Sarah and Evan. You should have seen the way his eyes lighted up when she gave him that blanket she knitted. And, oh, you should’ve seen how Oliver looked when he tucked it around his shoulders. Then Frank asked Evan about his books and they got off talking about other ones they’d read. Well, Evan said the most of it, as was necessary, but you could tell right enough Frank was enjoying himself to the full. The three of them said their goodbyes and went out a little ahead of me. And he said, though it was a little hard to hear because his voice was failing some: “Those are two good young people. Good for our Oliver.” And I said, “Loving, level and kind – along with being the right ages. I’ll talk more about that tomorrow, so get you some good rest.”’
‘Did you manage a word with anyone about having a doctor with you?’
‘I surely did. Slipped away while they were discussing Alice in Wonderland and how Oliver had loved it so much when Frank read it to him, and he and Evan were going to revisit it before going on the next one. Mr Braddock – he’s the manager at Pleasant Meadows – was in his office. Nice man. When I explained he said he’d contact Frank’s own GP, Doctor Marshall; the one he’s had from way back and was so good to him and Olive when Clare and Max died. The hope is he can come at ten tomorrow morning when Frank should be at his best.’
That afternoon Twyla received a call from Mr Braddock, saying the time and day worked well for Dr Marshall. A few minutes later, Nellie phoned Gwen saying she hoped both women could come round to her house at nine thirty the next morning to look over the items she had retrieved from the shop in Dobbs Mill. If so, she would ask Sarah to join them. Later wouldn’t work for her, nor anytime today, because she would be attending lengthy church meetings.
There would be no problem with Sonny. Sid Jennson had been in touch earlier with the good news that he was back fit as a fiddle from whatever bug had ailed him and, if possible, he’d like to pick Sonny up at nine tomorrow and take him on a run to look at light houses and then out to lunch if all went well.
Sea Glass Summer Page 29
