I gathered Alice close in a quick hug. “You’re the best.”
She grinned in reply. “As if you ever doubted it.”
I called Sam and Aunt Peg from the car. Sam got the message, hung up quick, and hit the road. Aunt Peg wanted to talk.
“Don’t you want to head to the hospital?” I said. “We can talk when you get there.”
“When I get to the hospital, there’ll be all sorts of other important things to do. Besides, I can talk and drive at the same time. Isn’t that what you’re doing?”
Well, yes.
“Not only that, but I’ve been reading up on things. First babies usually take a long time to be born.”
“Not this baby. It’s in a bit of a hurry.”
“It’s about time it got with the program.”
I imagined Bertie felt the same way. At least she seemed to be reconsidering the whole Godot thing.
“So tell me what you’ve been up to,” said Peg. “Something useful, I hope.”
“For starters, I’ve been placating Betty Bowen.”
“Oh?” she said innocently. “Why would you need to do something like that?”
I’d driven south on High Ridge to the Merritt Parkway. There was a line waiting to get on the entrance ramp. I flicked on my turn signal and joined it. “Maybe because you marched yourself over to her house and called her a Peeping Tom?”
“I did no such thing!”
Fingers drumming lightly against the steering wheel as I waited for the light to change, I simply waited her out.
“Well, maybe I did. But it was for a good cause.”
“So you could figure out who murdered Henry,” I said. “How’s that coming, by the way?”
“Slower than you might think,” Aunt Peg grumbled. “It’s not as if I have a lot of spare time for all these extracurricular activities.”
And I supposed, by inference, that I did?
“You were supposed to be checking out his ex-girlfriends. Since I haven’t heard anything, I assume that didn’t happen?”
Now she sounded wounded; as though, once again, her unreliable relatives had let her down. I followed the line of cars up onto the parkway and accelerated quickly.
“I spoke with one,” I said. “With luck, I’ll get a chance to see the other in the next day or two. Jenna spoke very fondly of Henry.”
“Of course she spoke well of him! She was talking to an investigator. If she murdered the man, she’d hardly want to come right out and say she hated him, now would she?”
The thought made me laugh. “Nobody thinks of me as an investigator, Aunt Peg. And that certainly includes Jenna. She and I are friends.”
“Even so. It makes sense that she would want to deflect suspicion away from herself and onto someone else.”
“Yes, it would, if she were guilty. Which I’m willing to bet she isn’t.”
“Well, someone has to be,” Aunt Peg muttered. “Otherwise this perfectly nice older man who was, by all accounts, universally liked, wouldn’t be dead. And I wouldn’t be checking the classified section of the Greenwich Time with trepidation every morning to see whether Robin and Laurel have made good on their promise to run an ad for the boys.”
“The boys?”
“These two really are a couple of sweethearts. No wonder Henry was so besotted with them. I’ve always thought you could tell a great deal about a person by looking at his dogs. Even though I never met Henry, having lived with this pair for the last two weeks, I’m quite certain he and I would have gotten along like gangbusters. These Goldens are lovely, both of them; it’s obvious they had a wonderful upbringing. I couldn’t see the point of leaving them in the kennel all by themselves so I brought them up to the house to live with my dogs.”
“Have you spoken with Cindy Marshall since we saw her at the show?” I asked.
“No, but she emailed to say that she has several very good prospects for homes that would keep the two of them together. She’ll be conducting interviews this week. Now if only I could convince Henry’s daughters to let them go, I think we’d be all set.”
I’d used the connector to join up with 95. Now the exit for the hospital was fast approaching. “There’s something I’ve been thinking about,” I said to Peg.
“What’s that?”
“Nearly everyone I’ve spoken to has mentioned that Henry was the type of person who was very involved in everything going on around him. Even Davey said that his bus driver knew all about what was happening in the neighborhood. What if Henry saw something he shouldn’t have and that’s what got him killed?”
“Like what?” Aunt Peg sounded interested.
“I don’t know, I’m just thinking out loud. Throwing another idea into the pot.”
“Another mixed metaphor, you mean.” Still, she didn’t sound displeased. “Remember those photographs we found in Henry’s desk? As I recall, they were pictures of the neighborhood.”
“I know, I was thinking the same thing. Unfortunately, I don’t remember what was in them. It couldn’t have been anything sinister, or I’m sure we would have noticed.”
“I imagine we would have,” said Peg.
“Listen, you think about that. I’m almost at the hospital, so I’m going to park, go inside, and see if I can find out what’s happening with Bertie.”
“I’m ten minutes behind you,” said Aunt Peg. “See you soon.”
Inside the hospital, I was directed upstairs to the maternity wing. A nurse at the desk sent me down the hall to one of the birthing rooms. Standing outside, I paused and knocked.
Almost immediately the door flew open. Frank came barreling out. He was dressed in green scrubs and looked positively elated.
“It’s about time you got here,” he cried. “This is the most amazing thing. We have a baby. I’m a father!”
“Congratulations!” I wrapped my arms around him. “That was quick.”
“Tell me about it. We almost didn’t make it in time. They had a stretcher waiting for us at the door, and we were barely off the elevator before it was time to push.” My brother was shaking with emotion, like he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.
“So?” I asked.
Frank looked at me blankly.
“Boy or girl?”
“Oh. Oh. Right. She’s a girl. Eight pounds, seven ounces. A beautiful baby girl. She’s going to look just like her mother.” Frank gave me a loopy smile. “I still can’t believe it.”
“Can we go in and see Bertie?”
“In just a minute. They’re just getting things cleaned up in there. They told me to come back in five.”
He and I strolled down the hallway toward the elevator. “How’s Bertie doing?”
“Fine. Perfect. Absolutely amazing. She was great.”
The elevator door opened and Sam stepped out. “It’s a girl,” I said. “She’s already here.”
Sam looked back and forth between my brother and me. I realized our faces probably featured the same goofy grin.
“What’s her name?” he asked.
“Oh God,” said Frank. “I don’t know. People are going to ask that, aren’t they? And I won’t know what to tell them. Bertie and I never made a final decision. She said she wanted to see the baby first to make sure the name matched.”
“I think he’s suffering from reaction,” I said to Sam. “Not surprising, under the circumstances.”
We turned Frank around and walked him back to Bertie’s room. A doctor and two nurses were just leaving. “You can go in now,” the doctor said. He looked at Frank, then reached out and patted him gently on the shoulder. “You and Bertie both did a great job. And you have a beautiful baby daughter.”
“I have a daughter,” Frank repeated. He stared at the doctor as if he were hearing the news for the first time.
Happiness bubbled up inside me; I laughed out loud. “Don’t worry,” I said, wrapping an arm around my brother. “We’ll take care of him.”
“Him?” Bertie called from inside t
he room. “What about me? Come on in here and see the newest member of the family.”
She didn’t have to ask us twice.
23
Bertie was sitting up in the hospital bed, looking flushed and radiant. One of the nurses had combed her auburn hair off her face and tied it back with a velvet ribbon. Her arms were curled protectively around a tiny bundle, swathed in a pink blanket.
As we drew near, Bertie nudged the edge of the blanket aside and revealed her daughter’s face. The baby’s eyes were closed in a blissful sleep but she had her mother’s creamy skin and high cheekbones. I thought I could see Frank’s contribution in the pink bow lips and strong chin. Both tiny hands were fisted and pressed against her cheeks.
“Oh my,” I whispered. “She’s perfect.”
“I told you,” said Frank.
“I can’t believe it.” Bertie sighed happily. “I can’t believe I really have a baby.”
“You had nine months to get used to the idea,” I pointed out.
“I know, but it didn’t seem real until she was actually here.”
“It seemed real enough in the car,” Frank muttered.
Sam punched him in the arm. Good call, I thought.
“Isn’t she just the sweetest thing?” asked Bertie. The question didn’t seem to need an answer, but we all nodded in unison anyway.
“Look how tiny she is.” Sam reached out and touched the baby’s fingers with one of his own. Her hand opened, then curled closed again around the tip of his finger. I could see Sam’s heart melt.
“I can’t believe she’s asleep,” Frank said, gazing down at his child adoringly. “She just got here.”
Sam chuckled. “If my sister’s kids are any indication, there will be plenty of times to come when she’ll be up and you’d give anything if she would just fall asleep and let you do the same.”
“Besides,” I said, “getting here was the hard part. She probably wore herself out.”
“Tell me about it,” Bertie agreed.
Despite her words, she didn’t look tired. She looked... serene, blissful, even Madonna-like. It took me a minute to readjust the image I’d always had of my sister-in-law. Bertie was one of the smartest, busiest, most competent people I knew. There was always something going on in her life; it was unusual to see her sit still.
Marriage to my brother had gone a long way toward unwinding Bertie’s tension. It had softened some of her hard edges. But now, seeing her looking like she never needed to move again, as though everything she wanted was right within her reach, I realized that Bertie had finally found the peace she’d always sought.
Good Lord, I thought, drawing in a sniffling breath. I was about to cry.
Sam slipped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. When he turned his head, his lips grazed my hair. “There’s nothing like a new baby to put everything into perspective,” he said.
With a sudden spear of intuition, I realized how badly he wanted a child of his own. Sam made a wonderful surrogate father for Davey and I knew he doted on his nieces and nephews. But he and I had never spoken about having children. In the beginning our mutual desire for them had simply been assumed. Then our marriage plans had gotten derailed and the subject seemed moot.
Maybe it was time to reawaken it. Not right now necessarily ...but soon.
“She needs a name,” said Frank. He looked at Bertie expectantly. “We have to make a decision. The bracelet on her wrist says Baby Girl Turnbull.”
“Not Godot?” I asked innocently.
Sam grinned as Frank shot me a look. “I think they were kidding about that, Mel.”
“Just checking.”
“We wanted a family name,” said Bertie. “Something that came with some history. Your grandmothers’ names wouldn’t do.”
Agnes and Ethel, I thought. I could see why not. “What about yours?”
“Lavinia and Charlotte,” Bertie admitted.
“Maybe Charlotte... ?”
We all looked down at the baby. One by one, we shook our heads.
“But then I remembered Great Aunt Emma,” said Bertie. “She lived at the beginning of the last century, and when I was little my mother was always telling me stories about her adventures. She was way ahead of her time, fiercely independent, and probably a bit of a wild woman.”
Frank rolled his eyes. “And of course anyone would want to have a daughter with those traits. I was thinking of something demure, maybe Sarah or Rosemary.”
“Sorry, honey, but I don’t think so,” Bertie said with a smile. “Between your genes and mine, that die is already cast in the other direction.”
“Emma’s a great name,” I said.
“I like it,” Sam agreed.
“Emma.” Frank let the name roll of his tongue experimentally.
He reached down, took the baby from Bertie’s arms, and lifted her up to cradle her gently in his own. Frank dipped his head until he and the sleeping infant were almost nose to nose. “Little baby Emma,” he said on a soft breath. “Welcome to the world.”
“Now you are going to make me cry,” I said, fighting back another sniffle. Even Sam was looking a little teary eyed.
There was a discreet knock at the door, then Aunt Peg’s imposing frame filled the doorway. She seemed to be holding an entire gift shop’s worth of helium balloons in her hand. There were smiley faces, and bunny rabbits, and silver latex orbs bearing the message “Congratulations!” The balloons bounced and bobbled at the end of their strings, vying for space in the opening with my aunt.
“Am I too late?” she asked. “Did I miss all the excitement?”
“You’re just in time,” I said. “Come in and meet Emma.”
Peg released the strings she held fisted in her hand and a dozen balloons floated up to rest on the ceiling. Eyes never leaving the bundle in Frank’s arms, she crossed the room with cautious steps. Hesitantly, she reached out a hand toward the tiny infant. Then abruptly she pulled back and laughed self-consciously.
“I know everything in the world about puppies,” she said. “And not a single thing about babies. Can I touch her?”
“Of course,” Bertie said from the bed. “The doctor told me she’s very sturdy. You can even hold her if you like.”
“Oh no...” Aunt Peg said quickly, then stopped to reconsider. The tip of her finger traced the shape of the sleeping baby’s face. “Well, maybe if I sit down.”
A chair was brought forward. Aunt Peg settled into the seat. I thought of all the times I’d watched her show Poodle puppies to prospective families. How she always made the children sit on the floor before she placed the puppy in their arms. Babies were babies, I decided. And Aunt Peg wasn’t as ignorant as she thought.
She raised her arms and Frank, the proud papa, handed Emma over. Aunt Peg sat back and nestled her close. “Little Emma,” she whispered. “What a lovely name.”
Frank cleared his throat. He and Bertie exchanged a look. “That’s not her whole name,” he said. “Bertie and I were still thinking about first names, but we always knew what her middle name would be.”
Bertie looked at Peg and smiled. “We’re going to name her Emma Margaret Turnbull. I hope that’s all right with you.”
“All right?” Aunt Peg lifted her head; her eyes were shining. “I’d be honored.”
Now I was crying. Tears slid from my eyes and down my cheeks. I brushed them away, took the handkerchief Sam held out to me, and gave myself up to the moment.
The next afternoon I drove back to Davey’s school for the third time in little more than a week. This time I didn’t run into Annie Gault; the buses were loaded and gone before I arrived.
I’d called ahead earlier in the day and spoken to Carrie Baker. She said she had some work to finish up after school but if I could drop by around five, she’d be happy to chat. I arranged for Bob to pick up Davey, dropped the Poodles off at home, and went to see what she had to say.
The parking lot at Hunting Ridge was just about empty when I pulled
in. Most times of the year, the school would have still been busy at that hour, but two days before the start of Christmas vacation, nobody wanted to work any harder than they had to.
The only car in the lot was an older model Toyota sedan with a slightly dented fender and a bumper sticker that read “Have You Hugged Your Teacher Today?” I parked beside it, got out, and let myself in the side door to the building.
The lights in the outlying hallways and classrooms had already been shut off. Only the dim emergency lighting remained. Familiar with the layout from my years of working at Hunting Ridge, I strode through the darkened building toward the front lobby where I expected to find Carrie. The tap, tap, tap of my shoes on the slick linoleum floor echoed in the silence around me.
There wasn’t any cause for concern; even so, I felt my heart beating faster as I made my way through the labyrinth of corridors and intersections. At one point in my life, this building had been as familiar to me as my own home. Now, in the shadowy gloom, everything looked different and slightly off-kilter.
Finally rounding the last corner, I saw the lights of the lobby up ahead. Feeling foolish, I expelled a shaky breath and headed toward them. Then I reached the edge of the reception area and stopped.
The school office was visible on the other side of the expanse. Lights were on in the office, but from what I could see through the windows, the outer room where Carrie worked appeared to be empty. Surely she wouldn’t have left without speaking to me, I thought. And wasn’t that her car I’d seen parked outside? But if she wasn’t waiting for me at her desk, where was she?
Something... not a sound exactly, more a change in the air around me made the hair on the back of my neck quiver. Acting on instinct, I shrank back into the shadows and pressed my back against the cold corridor wall. As my eyes readjusted to the darkness, I looked around and saw... nothing. The portion of the lobby still visible to me appeared silent and empty. I’d lost my view of the office, but there hadn’t been anyone there anyway. Or had there?
My heart was beating wildly now; adrenaline pumping into my veins. I clutched my purse strap with cold fingers and wondered if there was anything inside I could use as a weapon. Quietly, sliding on my toes so as not to make any noise, I inched back toward the corner. I had to find out what was going on.
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