The house was suddenly too big and too quiet for the gentle man from England. To counter it, he turned on the radio and found some classical music, but it was far from being enough to fill the void.
Seven
Olympia tried calling Frederick when she got up the next morning. When he didn’t answer, she left a message saying that she was calling from an extension in her cottage and didn’t have a call-back number yet but would call him as soon as she did. Oh, yes, and she missed him. She really missed him.
After that, she put away a few things and then walked into Vineyard Haven to check out a local book store called, of all things, Bunch of Grapes. When she got back home, a few dollars poorer and a few books richer, she had just enough time to set up her laptop on the table in front of the window before it was time to go to tea … sans hat and white gloves.
Julia Scott-Norton’s West Chop house looked like something straight out of a cherished Vineyard scrap book. Old family pieces of wicker and polished mahogany were sitting side by side. Carefully patched and mended chair cushions, glassware and china, no longer in complete sets but lovingly saved and elegantly jumbled together on a wonderful old gate-leg table with a book propping up the back left leg.
An overweight yellow lab lumbered to the door and greeted Olympia. He barked once, sniffed her hand and then leaned his full weight against her, slid down her leg and rolled onto his back in full expectation of the belly-rub which she promptly provided.
“You’re a dog lover, I see.” Her hostess was beaming approval.
“I’ve had dogs off and on all of my life, but right now I’m just running around too much to give a dog proper care. It’s not fair to the animal to be left alone. Cats are more adaptable.”
Julia nudged the blissful pooch with the side of her foot. “Good thinking. Animals are a responsibility. Ours are members of the family. We’ve got a couple of cats, as well, but they go into hiding when they see the tea cart. Too many people.”
Olympia stood and brushed the dog hair off her hands just as several of the women she had seen the night before entered without knocking.
“We all came together so we could save gas and wouldn’t have too many people parking on your lawn.” Leigh Mayhew led the charge, heading directly for the kitchen. “I made some cucumber sandwiches without crusts, of course. Where do you want me to put them?”
“Oh, you can leave them right on the table here in the dining room. I’ll wash off the plastic wrap, and you can take it with you when you go.”
Julia had everything orchestrated right down to the recycling. Olympia was impressed with her efficiency but wondered what might be beyond it. She wondered if she would ever find out. Was this outwardly friendly group of people in reality a tightly closed, clannish society that would take generations to include a newcomer? They painted a lovely picture for all to see with their chipped family china and mended heirloom tablecloths and beloved family dogs, but would she or any newcomer ever see beyond what she was seeing today? And if they did, what would they find?
Before Olympia had time to speculate about what else might appear before her wondering eyes, more ladies arrived, deposited their plates on the table and arranged themselves into conversation groups throughout the living room, dining room and out onto the wide, wraparound porch. The big old house seemed to ramble around and almost fold back in upon itself. In some ways it reminded her of her own home back in Brookfield, and she was suddenly swept with a longing for it and for her funny-faced Englishman that left her breathless.
“So how is your second day on our wonderful island?” Janney Winters leaned in so close that Olympia could smell cigarette smoke and peppermint on her breath.
“I’m still settling in. My little house is darling—well, teeny really, but it’s all I need.”
“We’re so glad the place is working out for you,” said Jeanne, whose last name she’d forgotten since the night before. “Some of us were afraid it might be too small.”
Olympia took a plate and layered it with cucumber sandwiches and assorted cookies. “As long as I have a place to write and sleep, food for the cats and a cup of tea or a glass of wine in their proper sequence, I’m fine. The rest can be worked out.”
“You can come over for a glass of wine with me anytime you want,” said Janney companionably—too companionably. There was the peppermint smell again.
Olympia saw the glances and decided on the spot that the last thing she was likely do would be to drink wine with Janney Winters and very little with anyone else for that matter. Didn’t Leigh Mayhew say only yesterday that this was a small island? Olympia was beginning to understand there wasn’t much privacy here, but was that a good thing or a bad thing? A close-knit community could be very supportive. It could also strangle you.
For the rest of the afternoon, Olympia and the ladies made pleasant conversation around subjects of the church, its history, and the problems that come along with a historic building that needs work but no one wants to alter in any way. They were, in fact, providing her with a loving and proud picture of their church and their community. If there were tensions, they were not in evidence around the tea table.
The conversation turned to this and that, and as the sandwiches and cookies dwindled to a precious few, the women began to trickle out. Julia started clearing up, and Olympia pitched right in, consolidating sandwiches and compatible cookies onto plates and looking around for some plastic wrap she could re-use.
Julia held out a crumpled handful. “You learn fast. You’ll do well here. I’m so glad you could come.”
“Come today, or come here to the church?”
“Both, I guess, but mostly I mean today. Do you have to leave right away?” She was brushing the last of the crumbs into her hand and tossing them out the door for the birds. “I’d like to fill you in a little more on the ins and outs of the church and the island. You got a pretty good idea of who we are and what we look like this afternoon, but we both know there’s more than meets the eye anywhere you go.”
“I’ve got time,” said Olympia.
Julia got them each one more cup of tea, and they settled themselves onto a pair of painted wooden rockers that faced out to the sea. It really is like the pictures in the travel guides, thought Olympia, rocking back and forth and sipping her tea. The big porch, the distant view of the harbor, a soft breeze coming off the water, and nowhere to be but here. I could get used to this.
Julia broke into her thoughts. “I wanted to talk to you alone because I have some concerns about something that might be going on, but I’m not sure, and I don’t know how to find out.”
Olympia leaned forward, wondering what in heaven was coming next.
“Julia lowered her voice. “One of the reasons I’m even telling you this is because it involves your landlady, Dory West. If there is some monkey business afoot, you are in a better position than most of us to keep an eye on her.”
“I don’t understand, is she ill or something?”
“Oh, heavens no, just the opposite. She’s getting older and more frail, but her health is OK. No, this is something else. Ever since her husband died, she’s been talking about selling the house. For the last ten years she’s been saying it was getting too much for her. I don’t think she really wants to sell it; I think she just likes to fuss now and then, and the house is as good a thing to fuss over as anything else. She loves the place. I always thought she’d stay until she was carried out. Now I’m not so sure.”
The discomfort in Julia’s voice was evident.
“She came over for a visit yesterday, right after you and William left,” said Olympia. “She even brought me some homemade cookies and said if I needed anything I should come right over. She seemed pretty capable to me.”
“She is capable and sharp as a tiny little tack, but of late, something seems to have changed.”
Olympia sipped her cooling tea. “I don’t know her at all, but after ten years of being on her own, maybe it really is getting to b
e too much. Does she have any family?”
“She has one daughter who lives in Washington State. She doesn’t see her all that often, but she calls regularly. Dory’s eighty-four, and she still goes out to see her at least once a year. Of course, she comes back here every spring before the tourists get here.”
Julia finished her tea and set her cup and saucer down on the floor beside her rocker. “I think what might be bothering me … is William Bateson. You met him yesterday. I’m not sure, but I think he might be pushing her to sell and let him handle the sale. He says he works for an island realty company, and I think he might be looking for business. Dory’s place is a prime piece of property. It’s in a lovely West Chop neighborhood, it’s a nice solid house plus the guest house, and it’s walking distance to town. She would get a very good price, but I don’t think she really wants to sell. Dory hasn’t said anything to me, but the fact that she’s no longer talking about selling set me to thinking.”
“About what?”
Julia leaned closer to Olympia. “Ever since William Bateson started coming to church, he’s been very attentive to her. Half the people there think he’s gay, the way he fusses over her and some of the other older women.”
“I thought he was your friend.”
Julia spoke with a sharpness in her voice that Olympia hadn’t heard before. “The devil you know is better than the devil you don’t. I don’t know what he’s up to or even if he’s up to anything at all. If he thinks I’m his friend, I can learn a lot more about him than if he thinks I don’t like him. That’s why I keep asking him to help out with things around the church. Like I said, right now it’s just an uneasy feeling, and I could be a hundred and eighty degrees off the mark.”
Olympia hesitated. She wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Nothing like this had ever been discussed in seminary, and she was feeling distinctly uncomfortable. She wished she could ask Jim or Frederick what to do, but she was here on her own and very much at sea in more ways than one. Keep it noncommittal, Olympia.
“Um-m-m, what exactly did you have in mind?”
“If you don’t mind, for now just keep an eye on his comings and goings next door, maybe find a reason to pop in when he’s there. You know, ask for a cup of sugar or something. Then if you notice anything or even sense anything that might be amiss, I’m asking you to tell me. This isn’t exactly in your job description, but I don’t know who else to ask. I have absolutely no evidence; it’s a feeling, and a very uncomfortable one at that. The man is a newcomer. He doesn’t know the island way of doing things. Dory is getting older, and she lives alone in that big old house. Like I said, it’s a feeling, but it’s strong enough that I wanted to tell someone who is not an islander, but someone I felt I could trust.”
Olympia wondered if she should tell her about finding Bateson’s business card on her windowsill and then thought better of it. It was too early in all of this to take sides. She would hold back and give Mr. William Bateson the benefit of the doubt. It was clear that Julia liked being in charge of things. She is, after all, president of the board. Maybe she was resentful of this newcomer-interloper trying to move into her territory? Such things were not unknown or uncommon in small, tightly knit communities. Didn’t Leigh Mayhew tell her that islanders were a friendly lot, but they liked to take their time about it?
Eight
Driving home from Julia Scott-Norton’s tea party, Olympia had a lot to think about before Sunday, and very little of it seemed to do with ministry. On the other hand, maybe it has everything to do with ministry. Talk about a rapid learning curve. She was already driving more confidently and by five in the afternoon was thinking about supper. She wondered what might be available in the local market in terms of a no-cook, low impact meal for herself and the cats.
When she turned into the crowded parking lot, it appeared that half the population of the island must have had the same idea, and she had to circle twice before she found a space. Conveniently, someone had left an empty shopping cart in front of her car, but as she made a dive for it, she heard someone calling her name.
“Olympia! Olympia, is that you? Over here.”
She turned in the direction of the voice and saw Jack and Janney Winters weaving through the parked cars toward her. There was no escape.
“Hey, there,” said Olympia with a bonhomie she did not feel. “This really is a small island. I’ve only been here for a day, and already I’m meeting people I know.”
“Didn’t think I’d see you so soon,” said Janney, linking her arm through Olympia’s. “We stopped to pick up some things for supper.” Janney lowered her voice to a more confidential level and patted her chest. “That was a lovely party this afternoon, but I wish Julia had served something besides tea. I was dry as a bone when I got out of there. Between you and me, Dearie, Mrs. Julia Scott-Norton the Third may have a blood line as long as your arm, but she sure can’t make a drink!”
“I’ll bet you’re going to get something for supper, too. That right Olympia?” Jack caught hold of her free arm. “Why don’t you follow us back to the boat and have supper with us? We’ve plenty of food, don’t we, honey? Maybe even go for a little sunset sail. Howzzat sound?”
It sounds like I’m trapped.
“I need to get food for the cats. They’ll never forgive me, and, well, I was planning on working on my sermon. You know, as in Sunday morning?” Olympia offered a hopeful glance.
Jack released her arm as they neared the door. “OK, quick supper with us, and no sailing tonight. You’ll still have time for the sermon. Hell, we might even come hear you. Whadadya think, Janney? You like variety.” Jack looked over the top his sunglasses at his wife. “Going to church on a Sunday morning would certainly be a change for you.” Jack was laughing at his own joke, but the barb was evident under the laughter.
Olympia felt a sense of semi-reprieve. “OK. Why don’t I pick up some ice cream for dessert then? I can feed the cats when I get home. It’s really very kind of you.”
When they’d finished shopping, Olympia said she would follow them in her own car and asked exactly where she was going.
“Oak Bluffs Harbor,” Jack boomed and pointed off to his right. “That way. We have a mooring right against the sidewalk. Comes in handy for entertaining. Great little spot for drinks and dining al fresco.”
Jack shaded his eyes against the afternoon sun and raised an eyebrow when he said the words al fresco. “I’ll drive slowly; I wouldn’t want to lose you.”
The sexual overtone in his last comment was unmistakable. Olympia was sure she wasn’t imagining it, and she damn sure didn’t like it, but it was too late to back out now.
By the time she located a parking space and found the Winters’ boat, Janney already had a drink in her hand and was enthusiastically waving Olympia aboard. She had never been on a pleasure boat before, and despite her initial discomfort at being pressured into being there, she was fascinated by the way the craft was constructed, how every little convenience had been thought of and provided. On either side of the Janney-Lee, Olympia saw people doing much the same as they were, setting up cocktail party arrangements that connected the sitting area on the back of the boats and the sidewalk along the harbor. One family even put out plastic palm trees and pink flamingoes along with the onion dip and the chips. Olympia relaxed her cautious reserve a notch. This was just too public for anything uncomfortable to happen.
Jack bowed and held out a wine glass. “Something cool and pale for the lady minister. I seem to remember you had white wine at our pot luck supper last night. I think you’ll find this a tad better than the el cheapo stuff they serve at the church.”
He was right. It was a perfectly chilled French Colombard. The evening was taking a turn for the better, one cool sip at a time. Olympia sniffed and then tasted the contents of the glass and made a good show of savoring its elegance. He was right; this was good wine.
“Before I forget, here’s the ice cream.” Olympia handed Jack a plastic grocery
bag, “I got French vanilla and mango sorbet. They go well together.”
“An evening of French delights?” said her host.
Olympia ignored him and asked Janney if she could help in the kitchen.
Janney stuck her head through the half-door leading to the space below. “It’s called a galley, and actually, I’m done. I just need another drink. Come on down and see the place, and I’ll give you the five-second tour. Watch your head.”
Olympia ducked and stepped down into the tiny galley. “How did you get supper in the oven so fast?”
“I unwrapped the box. The tough part was turning on the oven.” They both laughed. Janney was pouring a lot of gin into a tall glass. “Want a G and T?”
Olympia shook her head and held up her almost full glass. “No, thanks,” This is simply elegant. I wouldn’t switch for anything.”
“I like a minister who knows how to drink. Let me top you up.” Janney took careful aim but sloshed a bit over the top as the microwave dinged, announcing their dinner. “Damn, that was quick. Well, it can stay there and keep itself warm while we finish our drinks. C’mon, let’s see who the old man’s up to. I gotta watch that boy.”
Janney turned and moved up the polished steps and led the way back onto the party deck. Jack, with a drink in one hand and a tortilla chip in the other, introduced Olympia to his next-boat neighbor.
She smiled politely through the trite pleasantries, knowing she would not possibly remember the names. As soon as she graciously could, she turned back to join Janney, who was glassy eyed and listing seriously to port on one of the deck benches.
Jack shook his head and steered Olympia to a deck chair on the starboard side of the craft. “She does that, switches off like a light. She’s been an alcoholic for years. She’ll come to in an hour or so and want something to eat and then have another drink. I guess I’m used to it by now. I take care of her, she takes care of me. It’s a trade-off.”
A Despicable Mission (Olympia Brown Mysteries) Page 4
