by Sonia Parin
Abby picked up Doyle and made her way toward the dining room. When she spotted Faith, she made a beeline for her.
There were two vacant chairs at her table. Abby could see one had a place name card with Sebastian’s name on it while the other one didn’t.
Faith patted the seat next to her and introduced her to the other guests at the table. Three of the women had worked at the Gazette but were now retired. A couple had recently celebrated their fiftieth wedding anniversary. The others were also elderly and they had all worked at the local hospital in one capacity or another.
“Where have you been?” Faith asked in a hushed whisper. “And what happened to Marigold?”
Moment of truth number three, Abby thought. She’d never kept any secrets from Faith. Now she’d have to lie to her. Or, at least, try to.
“I guess we’ll know more soon enough.”
Faith’s eyebrows curved upward. “Know what?”
Abby set Doyle down on the floor. Moments later, a waiter appeared with two small bowls; one with food and the other with water.
“Here comes your entrée. It’s a vegetable terrine. I found it to be light and refreshing. I’ve already had my starter. Now, I’m ready to sink my teeth into something more substantial.”
As Abby took her first bite, Faith picked up the thread of the conversation, “You were out there a long time. What were you doing?”
Abby took her time chewing. Giving a small nod, she said, “Charles came down. He’d been on a conference call he hadn’t been able to get out of. We had a chat.”
“So, where’s Sebastian?”
“He should be along shortly. He… He had to take a call. That’s to be expected, what with him being Mr. International Businessman.”
Faith looked around. “Just as well he sponsored the table, otherwise, I don’t think anyone else would have invited me.”
Sebastian had paid for the table? Surely that meant he’d made a place available for Abby. At a glance, she saw Faith had a place name card. Why didn’t she have one? Had it been removed? “I thought all the invitations had come from Charles.”
“Yes, they did. But only after he secured sponsorship of the tables. When Sebastian made his donation, he supplied names of people he wished to have at his table.”
Huh? Had Sebastian been the one to leave her out?
“Did you hear the paramedics say anything that might give us an idea about Marigold’s condition?”
Abby was about to scoop another mouthful in when Faith took hold of her hand and gave her a lifted eyebrow look.
Sighing, Abby said, “I heard something about breathing difficulties.”
“Oh, I see. Maybe Marigold is asthmatic,” Faith mused. “Some people have a hard time of it with asthma. I have a school friend who can’t go anywhere without her inhaler. I hope she pulls through all right. We wouldn’t want the night to be marred by an unfortunate incident.”
Abby looked up. “Whose table is Joyce sitting at?”
“Oh, she has her own table. I guess she might have invited me to join her at her table.”
“The coffee business must be more lucrative than I thought,” Abby remarked. “Then again, I do my bit to keep her in business.”
Faith snorted. “She’s quite the entrepreneur. Her little café is nothing but a lifestyle choice. Her real business is roasting coffee and selling it under her own gourmet brand. She’s a major supplier to several hotels and top restaurants in the city.”
“Really? I had no idea.”
“And you call yourself a snoopy reporter.”
“Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever referred to myself quite in those terms. Now that I think about it, Joyce Breeland does come across as a multi-dimensional character.”
Faith snorted again. “Now she sounds like someone out of Star Trek.”
Abby smiled. “For all we know, she might be.” Setting her fork down, Abby sat back. What if Marigold hadn’t had a pre-existing condition? What if…
Abby drew in a breath and told herself to get off the subject.
A murmur rose and swept around the dining room. Abby and Faith looked around. Their gazes landed on the door at the same time and they both gasped.
“What’s Detective Joshua Ryan doing here?” Faith asked.
Abby swung back and stuffed her mouth with as much vegetable terrine as she could fit in. If she couldn’t answer, then she wouldn’t have to lie.
***
“IS HE DOING A HEAD COUNT?” Faith shifted to the edge of her chair.
The main course had been served. Faith had managed to get in a few bites before looking around again.
“I don’t like the look of this,” Faith said.
No, neither did Abby. However, she remained intent on keeping up appearances, so she kept her focus on eating. “This is really delicious. I’ve never had venison before. It’s… it’s quite robust. The flavors are intense. I can see what people mean by the gamey taste.”
“Aren’t you the least bit concerned? Joshua doesn’t usually make an appearance unless there’s trouble.”
Several men from a nearby table had stood up and, buttoning up their tuxedo jackets, they’d made a beeline for Joshua. That had been ten minutes ago.
Ten minutes of stomach churning tension.
What if Joshua strode in, asked for everyone’s attention and made an announcement about Marigold Winthrop? Worse. What if he began taking statements? How would people react?
Abby looked heavenward. The entire town held under suspicion. Now that would be a sight to behold.
“Maybe he came to recall his officers. They’re all off-duty. Do you think something happened?” Faith asked.
Abby tried to remain calm, but her heart had other ideas. “The police have a table?”
Faith nodded. “Yes. I guess they might have invited me too. Anyway, Joshua must have been on duty tonight and that’s why he didn’t attend the ball. Now he’s talking and looking your way.” Faith gasped.
“What?”
“Remember what I said yesterday about everyone being here and the town being deserted? What if something’s happened in town?”
“I think someone would have heard something by now. Rumors always spread like wildfire in Eden.” Abby took a small sip of her wine and sighed in appreciation. “Charles hasn’t skimped on anything. Did you know, some people organize charity events and keep some of the proceeds to cover overheads? I read an article about a doyenne of society dipping into the donations to cover the cost of cleaning her chandelier. I’ll bet anything Charles hasn’t taken his cut to cover overheads. In fact, I’m sure he’ll be making a cash donation on top of all this.”
“Yes, he must be worth quite a bit,” Faith mused, her attention still on Joshua.
“Your venison will get cold,” Abby warned.
“In case you’re interested, the police officers are returning to their tables and Joshua just left.”
Abby breathed a sigh of relief and decided he’d only stopped by to pass on a message to the officers attending the ball. He might even have dropped by to see what he’d been missing out on.
“I could have sworn I’d seen more people in the ballroom,” Abby remarked. “Have some guests left already? At a glance, I’d say there are about fifty tables here, with twelve guests sitting at each one. Surely, there were more people in the ballroom.”
Faith shifted in her chair and reached for her wine glass. “There are. They’re in the other section.” She gestured toward the end of the dining room.
A set of double doors stood open. Abby craned her neck and saw more tables. “Is that another dining area? I didn’t see it when I came by yesterday.”
“They must have erected it early this morning,” Faith offered. “It’s a tent and not just any ordinary tent. It’s one of the luxurious ones with windows. I poked around while you were lingering in the foyer. All the sponsored tables are inside and the tent holds twice as many tables. That’s where the plebs sit.”
Faith gave her a wide grin. “Can I enjoy my moment of glory, please? I’d like to crow a little. This is the first time I’ve sat at a top table. When I attend weddings, I end up in a corner table next to the kitchen or worse, the restrooms. And, let me tell you, that makes me feel less than ordinary. Class systems stink but, for right now, I’m happy being at a special table.”
“Okay.”
“That’s not to say the tent is any less special,” Faith continued. “They’re eating the same food and drinking the same expensive wine. I looked.”
“Are you trying to justify feeling superior?” Abby asked.
Faith sank into her chair. “Yeah, but I’m not very good at being a hoity-toity little missy. Still, it’s been fun dressing up. Now I’m thinking this is really unfair. Tomorrow, I’ll have to return to my ordinary little life.”
Abby laughed. “So, now you’re going to launch a mutiny against the tyranny of the wealthy?”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to make a fuss.” Faith looked around her. “However, I noticed everyone here is playing the role to the hilt. They’re all looking down their noses. I hope I didn’t act so snooty.” Faith huffed out a breath.
“You did. A little.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Abby laughed. “I thought it was cute.”
“You’re supposed to be my friend. You should have told me I was being uppity.”
“But you were having so much fun.” Abby finished her meal and took another sip of wine. “Oh, there’s Miffi Howsen. I wonder whose table she’s sitting at.”
“That’s one of the Winthrop tables. Harry Winthrop sponsored a couple of them.”
“How do you know that?” Abby asked.
“I told you, I made the rounds and, while I did, I looked at all the place name cards.” Faith pointed at a card sitting in the middle of the table. “See, there’s one stating the sponsor’s name.” Faith looked down at her plate. “Do you think it would be uncouth if I soaked up that lovely juice with bread?”
Smiling, Abby broke off a piece of bread and, despite feeling quite full, she dabbed it on her plate. “Yum. Go ahead. It’s delicious. I think you could even ask for seconds and then get a doggy bag.” Abby looked down to check on Doyle. He’d curled up by her feet and appeared to be content taking a snooze. “What’s next on the program?”
“Dessert, of course.” Faith smacked her lips together. “Pavlova with limoncello cream.”
“I’ve never had Pavlova.”
“Oh, you’re in for a treat. It’s a meringue cake, filled with limoncello flavored whipped cream and topped with strawberries, blueberries, passionfruit and kiwi fruit. And there’s going to be more champagne.” Faith sighed. “I’m on cloud nine now, but I get the feeling tomorrow I’ll experience a slump.”
“You’ll probably be too tired to think about it.”
Faith nodded. “I’ll definitely feel it on Monday when I have to go into work.”
The woman sitting next to Faith patted her hand and said, “You need to find yourself a rich husband, dearie. Then you can become a lady who lunches. I have a grandson who does quite well for himself. I’ll send him your way.”
“There you go,” Abby said. “Problem solved.”
Faith tilted her head from side to side.
“What?” Abby asked.
“I’m just chewing the cud.” Faith wiped another piece of bread across her plate. “Actually, I’m thinking about Marigold landing herself a rich husband. She went to the same high school I did, but she graduated well before my time. Rumors about her abounded. She became a myth. Back then, everyone knew her as Marigold Erikson, the graduate most likely to succeed in life without lifting a finger.”
“What do you know about the Winthrop family?” Abby asked.
Faith soaked up the last of the rich wine sauce. “The Winthrop family goes back a long way. You know, original settlers. You’d call them Mayflower people. They made their money in cattle and then branched out and went into banking and politics. Oh, and one of them went into horse racing so they all have stakes in it. I remember seeing a photo of Marigold at last year’s Melbourne Cup. Her horse won a race and she got to stand in the winner’s podium.”
“Any idea if the rumors about her affair are true?” Abby couldn’t help asking. If she avoided talking about Marigold, Faith might get suspicious…
“She is so high up the social ladder, we know she spends time in the area, especially during the skiing season, but we don’t get to see her around town. The Winthrop family have a large estate nearby. It’s like a compound. I hear the matriarch lives there all year round.” Faith drummed her fingers on the table. “Harriet Winthrop, that’s her name. I’ve only just realized. She named Harry after herself. Isn’t that odd? First born sons are usually named after their fathers.” Seeing the waiters starting to remove the main course plates, Faith broke off another piece of bread and wiped her plate clean. Sighing, she sat back. “I am so full.”
“Yes, Lidia.”
“Who?”
Abby laughed. “She’s a character from Pride and Prejudice. The younger sister who got into trouble.”
“Oh, yes. The gluttonous one.” Tipping the plate, Faith studied it for any remaining traces of sauce. “You can hardly blame me. I’ve never tasted anything so delicious.”
Feeling more relaxed, Abby drank the rest of her wine.
“I do wonder how Marigold managed to meet Harry Winthrop,” Faith mused. “It’s not as if one can simply waltz into the Winthrop estate. The social rank is clearly defined.”
“Never the twain shall meet?” Abby asked.
Faith nodded. “When Marigold graduated, she moved away and no one heard anything more about her until she married several years later. We don’t even know if she continued with her studies or if she went into the workforce.” Faith leaned forward and asked the others at the table if they knew anything about those lost years.
The more knowledgeable table companions wore hearing aids, so Faith moved closer to them.
Mellowed by the wine she’d been enjoying, Abby lost herself in the moment and listened to the light jazz tune playing in the background. Everyone appeared to be having a wonderful time. She’d probably have to report the news about Marigold’s death in that week’s issue of the Gazette. However, Charles Granger’s spread would take precedence. The small community didn’t need dark clouds hanging over it.
She’d have to find an uplifting angle for Marigold’s article. To do that, she’d have to interview people who knew her. Abby didn’t think the Winthrop family would be up to it. Then again, they might want to honor her memory and provide information about her good deeds. Abby made a mental note to find out more. As a member of high society, she would have been involved in good causes.
Rushing back to her chair, Faith grabbed hold of Abby’s arm. “You’ll never guess. Marigold tricked Harry into marrying her.”
Chapter Seven
“ACCORDING TO NANCY HEWITT,” Faith pointed discreetly at an elderly woman sitting opposite them, “Marigold pretended to be pregnant. This happened years ago. So, Harry had to marry her. His mother insisted, saying no grandchild of hers would be raised outside of wedlock.”
“How on earth did Nancy Hewitt come by that information?” Abby slid her gaze toward the elderly woman who smiled back at her.
“Nancy’s neighbor worked as a maid at the Winthrop estate. She said Marigold marched right up to the house and demanded to see Harriet Winthrop and she wouldn’t leave until she did.”
Abby smiled. “This sounds made up.”
Faith gave a vigorous nod. “I know. It’s delicious and it gets better because Marigold faked her pregnancy. I thought this only happened in fiction. As time went on, and she retained her flat stomach, everyone realized Harry had been duped. Rumor has it, Harriet became so enraged, she refused to speak to Marigold ever again. Marigold and Harry have been married for twenty yea
rs. Can you imagine sitting at the dinner table, chatting with everyone except your mother-in-law?”
“She must have been very young when she married,” Abby pondered.
“Not really. She married at twenty and last year she had a huge celebration for her fortieth.”
Abby hadn’t had a proper look at Marigold but from the few glimpses she’d caught, Abby would have sworn she didn’t look a day over thirty.
“I know what you’re thinking. She looks good for her age. It’s amazing what a carefree life and expensive cosmetics can do for you.”
Abby wanted to ask more questions, but it somehow felt wrong. “Oh, here comes the dessert.” She hoped that would act as a distraction. If she let Faith continue talking about Marigold without first giving her an update of the situation, Abby knew there would be hell to pay afterward.
“Prepare yourself for a gastronomic delight. The flavors are so well-balanced, you won’t notice this dessert is mostly made of sugar.”
Sebastian chose that moment to make an appearance.
“We thought you’d skipped out on us,” Faith said. “You’ve missed most of the meal, but I’m sure they’ll whip something up for you.”
“Coffee will be fine,” he said, his tone neutral.
“Are you one of those high achievers who always skip meals?” Faith asked.
“No, in fact, sometimes my life feels like an extended lunch.”
Faith sighed.
“Did I say something wrong?” Sebastian asked.
“Faith is only now realizing there is a distinction between us ordinary folk and the rest.”
“The rest?”
“The one percent. You.”
“Oh.”
A waiter promptly appeared and served him some coffee. As he stirred some sugar into it, he checked his watch. “Did I miss anything?” he asked.
While he hadn’t been specific, Abby knew he wanted to know if everything had been kept under wraps. Abby shook her head. “I’ve been thinking about this week’s issue of the Gazette.”
Sebastian caught Abby’s attention and signaled with his eyes toward the French doors leading to the terrace.
