by Tracy Donley
Lighting flashed, revealing the outline of a man, standing behind the couch where Becky was seated. In a split second of horror, Rosemary gasped, but then realized it was Seth, who had quietly entered from the back door. She quickly looked back at Becky.
Becky began to turn to see what Rosemary had been looking at, but Rosemary, feeling safe now that she wasn’t alone with a madwoman, quickly said, “You’re right, Becky. I was after Sam. But he said he loved you, and so I gave up.”
“Good call,” said Becky, now focused again on Rosemary. “Too bad Victoria wasn’t as smart as you.”
“So, you visited her, at her hotel?”
“I couldn’t stand the way she said that she was the love of Sam’s life. The way she called him my Sam. Made me sick. I sat home alone for hours, trying to get over that. I did try, you know.” Becky looked at Rosemary again, searching for understanding.
“Of course you tried.” Rosemary took a quick glance at the shadows where Seth was hiding, and saw that George was there, too, now. In an instant, she knew why he was hesitating to step forward and arrest Becky. He was waiting to see if she’d make a full confession. His wide eyes caught Rosemary’s for a split second as another lightening flash illuminated the room, and Rosemary knew she should try her best to keep Becky talking.
“But I just couldn’t rest, knowing that somewhere in the world, that horrible woman would always believe that Sam had loved her.”
“You must’ve been furious that morning, when you found out they were engaged,” said Rosemary.
“Oh, yes,” said Becky, her face filling with rage.
“So, you went to confront Sam?”
“Of course,” said Becky. “Do you have any idea how long I’d waited for him? How many times he’d said, ‘just a little while longer,’ and that we’d be together soon. I couldn’t let it end with that woman getting my happily ever after. That was not acceptable.”
“So, you went to the meadow. You knew he’d be there.”
“And when I got there, I saw him and Ben fighting.”
“Ben had figured out that you were having—I mean, that Sam loved you.”
“Yes. And he punched Sam right in the nose. Sam fell, hit his head, and Ben ran away.”
“But Sam wasn’t dead.”
“From that little bump?” Becky laughed. “He was knocked out cold, though. I ran to him. He started coming around, sat up, and looked at me, except he must’ve been confused, because he said her name.”
“Victoria’s?”
“That tramp. I saw the rock, picked it up, and hit him in the head.”
“That’s how you cut your hand,” said Rosemary.
“They’ll find my blood on the rock, of course,” said Becky. “I realized it yesterday, when that woman was talking about the lab results coming in. My blood mixed with Sam’s. And they’ll see the surveillance tapes and I’ll be in them. The cameras weren’t supposed to be working yet! That’s what Ben said.” She stared at Rosemary for a moment. “I didn’t mean to kill him, you know. I was just so angry.”
“Of course you were.”
“I’d found out months ago that Sam was related to the Graves family—that Matthew Graves had also loved a witch, you know. Just like Sam, falling under Victoria’s spell. I talked to him about it, but he wouldn’t listen. Told him the curse would get him, but he wouldn’t hear me. He told me not to tell anyone about any of it. He didn’t want people knowing he was a Graves from way back.”
“And so that morning . . . It was you who called Ingrid Clark and told her the mayor was there in the meadow. You were the one who encouraged her to confront him,” said Rosemary, hoping she wasn’t pushing Becky too far.
Becky paused and thought for a moment, but then nodded. “Ingrid was always opposing Sam, trying to ruin his plans for this town. I wanted her stopped. She thought she was such a sneak, lurking, trying to see what Ben and Sam were up to in the meadow that morning—never noticing that I was watching her. Then I saw her talking to you. I saw it all. But no one saw me. Good thing I’m invisible.”
“Invisible? What do you mean, Becky?”
“No one notices me. I’m that girl at the side of the dance floor. The one nobody picks for their team. The quiet kid in the corner. The secretary. The wife. The good little girl in the boring clothes. I hated being invisible. But I thought Sam saw me. I thought . . . Her voice trailed off and she sighed, then continued. “I watched Benedict fight with Sam. But then when I hit Sam with that rock, I was horrified by what I’d done. But then,” she looked at Rosemary, her eyes glazed with tears, “I remembered stupid old Ingrid. How easy it would be to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. So, I called and pretended to be on her side. She was so easy to rile.”
“So, Ingrid walked right into your trap. She found Sam, and you framed her. You knew others—like me, for example—would have seen Ingrid in the meadow, and that would seal the deal.”
“I was hoping she’d actually get a little blood on her hands and clothes, but she didn’t. Just checked his pulse and ran away.”
“Two birds with one stone? More like three, wasn’t it?” said Rosemary, knowing she was skating on thin ice, but feeling bold, knowing Seth and George were right there. “One, get Ingrid out of the way by making it look like she killed Sam, so she’d go to jail. Two was Sam. And three, Victoria.”
“It didn’t have to turn out that way, but yeah, I guess you’re right,” said Becky, a hateful look on her face. “Three stupid birds. One, two, three . . . Might as well make it an even four.”
With that, she blew out the candle and lunged at Rosemary. Within a split second, her hands were around Rosemary’s throat, and for one brief moment, Rosemary couldn’t breathe, felt her neck being bruised. But just as quickly, Seth and George were yanking Becky away.
“You’re under arrest, Mrs. Thatcher,” George said, snapping handcuffs onto Becky’s wrists. “For the murders of Sam Wright and Victoria Winthrop. I’m going to read you your rights now.”
Rosemary was already in Seth’s arms when Jack and Charlie burst into the room. And then Rosemary was in all of their arms—in one giant, soggy embrace.
“Thank heaven you’re okay!” said Jack, as two other officers pushed past to help George escort Becky out. “We’ve been standing right outside. George told us to wait. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” Jack’s eyes filled with joyful tears and he hugged Rosemary again.
Rosemary looked up at Seth, who was still trembling. “And why didn’t you wait outside with the others?”
“He refused,” said Jack.
“Did you?” asked Rosemary.
Seth, who had taken off his glasses and was wiping the lenses with the edge of his shirt, smiled down at her and nodded.
“Oh, Professor McGuire, I’m going to kiss you now,” Rosemary said, pulling him close and encircling his neck with her arms.
“See that?” said Jack, elbowing Charlie. “I knew they’d be perfect together. Didn’t I tell you?”
A moment later, Ingrid pushed her way into the room. “This has been a fun evening. How about we pile into that tiny car of yours and you take me home now?” she said in her usual dry tone.
“I think we all need to get home and change out of these wet clothes,” said Charlie.
Seth kissed Rosemary one more time, took her hand, and they all ran out into the rain.
31
“I bet Benedict is in a seriously strange place emotionally,” said Jack as he and Rosemary walked down the little dirt road that encircled the pond the next morning.
“He probably doesn’t know which way is up,” agreed Rosemary.
“I mean, it’s got to be a toss-up between relief, that he didn’t actually kill his friend, and horror, that his wife is an adulteress and a murderer twice over.”
“And now he’s lost both his best friend and his wife,” said Rosemary, shaking her head. “And he’s got to process the fact that they were both lying to him for years.
”
“He’ll need a good therapist.”
“Yep.”
It was a glorious morning after the rain moved out. Clear and crisp. The autumn leaves lent a blaze of color to the surface of the pond. Jack and Rosemary would soon climb into Holly and head downtown to finalize the details for the festival that night, but now, Jack was as excited to show Rosemary the cottage as she was to see it.
“I’m not just going to live here as your guest, you know,” said Rosemary, taking Jack’s hand. “I’ll be paying rent—or I can buy the place if you ever consider putting it on the market.”
“You don’t have to,” said Jack, who was frankly just thrilled that his best friend would be living next door.
“But I will anyway,” said Rosemary. “I insist.”
“I’m just so glad you’re staying. I never thought we’d convince you.”
“But it’s time,” said Rosemary. “These last couple of years have been wearing me down. All the hotels and living out of a suitcase. Even when I was home, I didn’t feel at home. I guess I’ve been . . .” Rosemary thought for a moment. “Without home. For too long. And Ingrid is right: I’m surrounded by friends and by love here. That makes Paperwick more home than anyplace else ever could be.”
“Then welcome,” said Jack, sweeping an arm upward as they approached the cottage.
Rosemary, who had only seen the place distantly from the pond side, almost couldn’t contain her excitement. The side of the cottage that fronted the narrow dirt road was classic New England. There were chimneys on each end, cozy dormers on the second floor, and a bricked path that led up to the front door, which was painted red. The narrow wood siding was painted white, and large downstairs windows were framed by dark green shutters. There were flower boxes on the upstairs dormer windows, which were currently filled with a mix of orange and red dahlias and tiny pumpkins.
Jack handed Rosemary a keyring, complete with a Paperwick Historical Society key fob. Rosemary unlocked the door and stepped into the house. The first thing she noticed was the natural light that flooded the house from one end to the other. A wide entryway opened on either side to a study on the left and a dining room on the right. Just ahead, a simple staircase with a wooden railing led up to the second floor, and beyond that, the house opened up into a beautiful living room. The entire wall that faced the pond was windows. Even the door that went out onto the porch was glass. There was a stone fireplace on the left wall.
“Where’s the second fireplace?” asked Rosemary, looking around.
“Ah. Come see your kitchen,” said Jack.
The kitchen, which could be entered from either the living or dining room, was charming, with its small, red bricked fireplace and hearth. A French door led outside from here, and Rosemary already knew that the plot of land just beyond would be perfect for a kitchen garden. Everything from the warm wood cabinetry to the deep farmhouse sink communicated coziness.
“And look: We put in a double oven for when we all come over for dinner,” said Jack, smiling proudly.
“Jack, I don’t know how you did it. This is my dream house! Seriously, if I could design a home for myself, it would be this exactly. I’ve pictured it in my mind since forever.”
“Well, since college at least,” said Jack. “Don’t you remember how we’d talk about our ideal houses when we used to get stressed before exams?”
“Of course I do, but how could you have gotten it this perfect?”
“Because great minds think alike. I knew your taste and mine always matched. So, I just made this house exactly what I would want. Wait until you see the bedrooms upstairs!”
They went upstairs to find two bedrooms—one sunny guest room, and a master suite that overlooked the pond outside. Every window looked out at the treetops or the water, and Rosemary smiled when she saw that she could look across the pond and see Jack and Charlie’s farmhouse from her room.
“You’ll stay at our house until you can get your things moved here,” said Jack.
“Thank you. I’d love to.”
There was a light thumping sound from the vicinity of the staircase.
“What was that?” asked Rosemary, looking around but seeing no one.
“We hear that now and then,” said Jack. “We figure the place is haunted.” When Jack saw Rosemary’s wide eyes, he added, “By a friendly ghost!”
“Seriously?”
“We think the caretaker, old Theophilus Whitman, is still watching over the place.”
“Well, that’s comforting. I guess.” Rosemary looked around the room. “Hello, Mr. Whitman.”
“How’s it going, Theo?” added Jack. “And don’t worry: Charlie and I will just be a short walk away, if you ever need anything. This is going to be great! We can start our writing project soon, and oh, I almost forgot: You have a meeting with the dean of the history department at the university on Monday morning.”
“I do?”
“I told you there’s an opening.”
Rosemary hugged Jack. “I don’t deserve you,” she said. “But I promise to be a good neighbor.”
“I like the changes we made to the cemetery crawl,” said Rosemary as she stood back with Jack, looking over the twinkling lanterns and luminarias. “It looks gorgeous.”
“Hey! You’re looking at Seth,” said Jack, laughing and waving toward Seth, who was still walking from one luminaria to the next, adding a tiny, battery-operated candle to each.
“Well, no. But he’s gorgeous too,” said Rosemary with a grin.
“The costumes are perfect,” Jack said as the actor volunteers took their places next to their headstones.
“And the best surprise of all is waiting for folks out in the meadow,” said Rosemary as she and Jack joined Seth and walked along the illuminated path, past the headstones, past the Wrights’ family plot where Sam had been laid to rest, through the trees, and into the meadow. Thousands of fairy lights had been strung in the huge old maple tree that stood next to Hortence Gallow’s grave. Lanterns had been spread all around it. And there, in the middle of it all, seated in a rocking chair, was Ingrid Clark, who herself looked lit from within.
“She’ll tell them the true story,” said Rosemary, smiling at Ingrid and giving her a little wave.
“It’s about time,” said Jack.
“Does she know she’s being honored later tonight, as a member of one of the most celebrated founding families of Paperwick?” asked Seth.
“She has no idea,” said Jack.
“She might not be crazy about the idea of all that applause,” said Rosemary.
“And she’ll get a lot of that,” said Jack. “The whole village is in love with her after reading in this morning’s paper about how she was wrongfully arrested and how she has been advocating to protect the meadow all this time.”
“I’ll join that fan club,” said Rosemary with a laugh.
The Paperwick Founders Day Festival got underway just as the sun was setting. The whole village green was lit up and crowded with people. There were hayrides from the green out to the Potters’ farm, where festival-goers enjoyed the corn maze and tasted freshly-pressed cider and donuts. There was a small carnival on Chestnut Street, complete with all sorts of food vendors, games, and local displays. People lined up and walked through the cemetery, meeting the spirits of citizens-past and especially enjoying gathering around Ingrid’s feet and listening to tales of early Paperwick, when two forward-thinking young women traveled the land, delivering babies and healing the sick.
Many people left Ingrid and walked straight over to the Historical Society Museum, where both Mercy’s medical records and her personal journal were now on display, along with Mayor Wright’s copy of Josias King’s Paperwick: The Original Sins, A Cautionary Tale.
Rosemary and Seth, who had lost track of Jack and Charlie in the crowd, walked hand-in-hand along the street, admiring displays of produce, jams, jellies, and pies from the locals.
“Look who’s judging the pumpkins!” s
aid Seth suddenly, pointing.
There, with an extremely proud Mrs. Potter standing by, were Jack and Charlie, who were just attaching the grand prize ribbon to a huge pumpkin. Rosemary laughed so hard that tears filled her eyes.
“What will those two do next?” she said, wiping her eyes. “Tell me this isn’t all just a wonderful dream,” she said, squeezing Seth’s hand.
“I was going to ask you to tell me the same thing,” Seth answered, pulling her into his arms. And then he was kissing her—or she was kissing him. Both, really.
“That felt very real,” said Rosemary.
“It did,” agreed Seth. “I’m glad you’ve decided to stick around Paperwick.”
“Me, too.”
“And I’m glad you decided to go out with me tonight.”
“Me, too.”
“And I’m hoping you’ll go out with me again . . . say . . . tomorrow? We could go pick apples at the Potters’. Maybe get lost in the corn maze for a little while?”
“I would even go as far as level five with you,” said Rosemary, raising an eyebrow.
“Would you, now?” laughed Seth. “That could take hours.”
“I’ve got time,” said Rosemary, smiling.
“So, you don’t mind taking a chance on a small town boy?” He brushed a lock of hair out of her face and she looked up at him.
“Oh, I have a very good feeling about you, Dr. McGuire,” she said, her grin broadening. “And you know, I have a knack about these things.”
Epilogue
Rosemary pulled on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, boots with thick, warm socks, and her new sweatshirt—a gift from Jack on her first day at work. It featured the official Paperwick University seal emblazoned on a sea of Niagara Blue—one of the university’s colors, along with Kale Green—with an angry-looking trout in its center.
Rosemary had been thrilled to be able to start work right away after interviewing with the head of the history department, the university president, and several other deans. She’d given notice at her old job, and it was a smooth transition because she’d been on sabbatical touring Europe all semester anyway, so wasn’t actively teaching any classes. She’d promised to come to New York to do a guest lecture, along with her esteemed colleague and co-author, Dr. Jack Stone, as soon as their book was published.