Maggie looked back at the gate, wondering if she could manage an escape without anyone noticing. Just as she was about to turn and run, a woman waved from across the yard and walked toward her.
"Maggie?" she said when she was standing before her. "Maggie McBride? It is you, isn't it? Do you remember me? I'm Lilly Hillyard."
Caught. She was caught. There was no leaving now. She forced a smile and hoped it came off as genuine. "Of course, I remember you. Did you ever have that face lift?"
Lilly laughed. "Obviously not. I doubt that it would make a difference at my age. I've been away or I would have been over to see your shop. I'm so glad you came. Deborah and Wayne always throw this amazing party every year, but it's so much work we rarely see them." She nodded at the plate of cookies. "Come with me. I'll show you where you can put those and then I'll introduce you to a few people." Her gray eyes were wide and kind. "It can be daunting to show up at a party when you don't know anyone. I think you're very brave to attempt it."
"You knew I was ready to leave."
"Yes, but I also knew that you wanted to come in the first place, or else you wouldn't be here."
Maggie laughed. "Right again." She followed the older woman around the house and into the backyard. More people lingered around a table tennis game and still others were seated on Adirondack recliners facing the ocean. "I've met Deborah and I know Scott and Holly. Are they here?"
"They're here, but I'm not sure where. The Summers really enjoy Holly. They don't usually invite other children. Sometimes I think she's too young for a grownup party. I worry that she'll be bored, but so far I've been wrong. She's always entertained. Either way, it's not up to me. Being a grandmother has it compensations. I can enjoy my grandchildren without having to make important decisions regarding their welfare." She pointed to a table groaning with food. Their hostess stood behind it, instructing the caterers in the arranging of dishes.
"Here's another guest, Deborah," said Lilly. "She brought cookies, very delicious ones from the looks of them."
"How lovely. But it wasn't necessary."
"I don't like coming empty-handed," said Maggie, "and I like to bake."
"Maggie McBride. I recognize your voice. I'm so glad you could make it. Grab something to eat and drink. Will you show her around, Lilly? I need to run upstairs for a minute."
"That was my plan. Have you seen Scott?"
"He's helping Wayne with the lights and Holly is somewhere, stealing the show with her yo-yo."
Lilly slipped her arm through Maggie's. "Let's find them. Meanwhile, I'll introduce you to some people I think you'll like. Have you met Wayne?"
"Not yet."
"We'll start there."
"First, may I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"When we first met you mentioned being friendly with a woman who lived in my house, a woman who practiced a form of holistic medicine."
"That's right. Susannah Davies moved closer to the harbor. She's a lovely woman and a good friend."
"She's a practicing wiccan."
"Does that bother you?"
"No. I just wondered if you knew."
"Like I said, Salem encourages eccentric people."
"Have you known her long?"
Lilly nodded. "Forever. As far as I know, she's always been here. Why?"
"No reason. It's just that she's helping me through a few things and she never told me she lived in my house. Penny told me."
"Penny? My daughter-in-law?"
"Yes."
"You're wondering why Susannah didn't mention living in your home?"
"Yes."
"Why not ask her?"
"I think I will."
Wayne Summers and Scott were testing wires for the speakers they'd set up near the patio. They stopped when Lilly introduced Maggie.
Wayne held out his hand and grinned. "So, you're the good-looking lady who has all the answers."
Maggie laughed and shook his hand. "You absolutely have the wrong person."
"You opened an alternative medicine store down the street, right?"
"Not really. It's more of a home remedy shop."
"Then I've got the right person."
"But the wrong information."
Wayne winked at Scott. "That's not what I heard. Right, Scott?"
Maggie's cheeks burned.
"Give her a break," said Scott. "You're embarrassing her. "Come on, Maggie. I'll find you something to drink. I need to check on Holly anyway."
"Not fair," Lilly protested. "I promised to introduce her around."
"I'll do that. You can stay here and keep Wayne honest." Scott took Maggie's hand and led her back toward the house. "Sorry about that. Wayne gets carried away."
"Are you the one who told him I have all the answers?"
"Wayne teaches science at the elementary school. He comes in contact with all kinds of people."
"You didn't answer my question."
"No, Maggie. It wasn't me."
She relaxed. "I'm sorry I'm so jumpy. I guess I wasn't expecting this." She waved her arm to encompass the lanterns, the lights, the tables, and the two hundred or so people milling around the yard.
"They're basically harmless, you know."
She retrieved her hand. "I'm an introvert. Large crowds make me uncomfortable."
"That makes two of us."
"But you've lived here all your life."
He nodded. "It does make it easier." They sat down on the porch steps. He reached down into a cooler, dug through the ice and brought out a dripping bottle of already opened Sauvignon Blanc. Pouring the wine into a plastic cup, he handed it to Maggie. "I think you're remarkable."
Shocked, she stared at him. "Why would you say that?"
"You came here on your own and started a successful business."
"Successful might be a stretch."
"It's growing, isn't it?"
Maggie acknowledged that it was.
"Then it's successful."
"But not particularly remarkable."
"The remarkable part is that you had the courage to settle here, a place you've never been before, because you had a dream. Most women, most people, would be afraid to take the risk. By anyone's standard, that's remarkable." She wasn't accustomed to compliments. Annie McBride had been uncomfortable with effusiveness and had transferred that discomfort to Maggie. She gulped her wine and looked away. "Shouldn't you be checking on Holly?"
"Just say thank you, Maggie," he said gently. "It's only a compliment. It doesn't obligate you in any way."
She nodded. "You're right. Thank you. It's very nice of you to say that."
"Much better. Now I think I will try and locate my daughter." He stood and looked down at her for a minute. "Do you think you might like to go out to dinner sometime?"
"With you?"
"Yes."
"On a date?"
"Or in any other capacity you'd like."
"What happens if it doesn't work out?"
"Worst case, we'll still be neighbors. Holly will still come over and annoy you about your cat and eventually our friendship would resume. Then there's always the possibility that we'll hit it off."
Maggie smiled. "How could I refuse an offer like that? I would very much like to have dinner with you."
"How about tomorrow? Penny will have Holly for the night. If you like seafood, there's a great restaurant at the harbor."
"Sounds good."
"Wait here. I'll be back."
Maggie watched him walk away, disappearing into the encroaching darkness. A thick mist had rolled in from the sea, smearing the light from the dangling lanterns, blurring the outlines of the people on the lawn. She still didn't know anyone but her awkwardness had disappeared, as had the wine in her glass. She considered refilling it but the aromas from the fire pit reminded her that she hadn't eaten. She opened the screen door, intending to refresh her lipstick and set her purse under the stairs, when she heard voices. Something compelled her to liste
n. It was a child's voice, but Lilly had told her specifically that there were no children at the party except Holly. Maggie climbed the first two steps and stopped. What was she thinking? It was none of her business. But what if it was Holly? Scott was looking for her. Would he think to check upstairs? And who was she with? Terrible things happened to children when their parents believed they were safe. She continued up the stairs, following the sound of the voices, one definitely belonging to an adult, and the other, Maggie was now absolutely sure, was Holly's.
The door was slightly ajar. Through the opening, she had a clear picture of what looked to be harmless entertainment. They were playing dress up, or at least Holly was. She paraded before Deborah in a floor-length cocktail dress covered in gold sequins and high-heeled matching sandals. Costume jewelry covered her arms, and perched on her head was a tiara gaudy enough to be a little girl's fantasy.
"How do I look?" Holly asked.
"Beautiful," Deborah replied. "You look just beautiful."
"But you can't really see me."
"I know the dress and I know you. Together you're beautiful."
Her answer must have satisfied the little girl because she pointed at her feet swimming in the oversized shoes. "It's hard to walk in these."
"It takes practice," Deborah agreed, "but I have a suggestion. Why don't you come over here for a little bit every day? You can walk around in them and before you know it, you'll be an expert."
Holly nodded, her eyes shining. "I'll ask Daddy." She frowned. "No. I'll ask my mommy. Daddy might not let me."
"That's very good thinking," Deborah said approvingly. "You're a very smart girl, Holly, but we don't want to make your daddy mad."
Holly twirled in front of the mirror, stumbling a little and then correcting herself. "He won't be mad."
The conversation was innocent. Maggie should have smiled at the picture of a little girl pretending to be grown while an indulgent mother, aunt or grandmother looked on. But Deborah Summers was none of those and something in her words and the tone of her voice sent alarm bells ringing in Maggie's head. Every instinct told her the woman was false and while the signals weren't enough to march into the room and accuse Deborah of anything specific, they were strong enough for her to call out, "Holly, is that you?" and push open the door.
"Hi, Maggie," said the little girl. "Look at the dress Mrs. Summers let me wear."
"My goodness, it certainly does sparkle, doesn't it?" Maggie wasn't looking at the Holly or the dress. She was looking at Deborah and the expression on her face, quickly masked and smoothed over, was one of unadulterated rage.
"Scott is looking for Holly," she explained. "I heard her voice and came up. What are you two doing up here?"
"Playing princess," Holly explained. "Mrs. Summers said I could come over every day and practice wearing these shoes. "She stuck one foot in front of her and held back the gown." Then she frowned. "But then I won't be able to see Muffin after school."
"I'm sure you and your dad will figure it out," said Maggie. "Let's go downstairs and ask him."
"Do I have to take off my dress?"
Deborah spoke for the first time since Maggie entered the room. "It might be better to take it off now. You might spill something on it."
Holly's face fell. Obediently she pulled the gold material over her head and laid it gently on the bed. Then she stepped out of the shoes. One by one, she lovingly removed every piece of jewelry. "Did I look pretty, Maggie?"
Maggie wrapped her arms around the child. "You always look pretty, no matter what you wear."
A half-smiled turned up the corners of the child's mouth. "Do you want to see me play with my yo-yo?"
"I'd like that more than anything."
Holly turned to Deborah. "Goodbye. Thanks for letting me wear your clothes."
"Bye, Holly. You're welcome any time."
* * *
They found Scott on the porch, a frown dividing his forehead. When he saw Holly, it cleared immediately. "Where were you? I looked everywhere."
"I was playing dress up with Mrs. Summers. She said I could come any time."
"That's nice of her, but I need to know where you are all the time. You can't disappear on me." He knelt down. "Do you understand?"
Holly nodded.
Maggie breathed a sigh of relief. She needn't have worried. Scott wasn't one of those parents she'd seen all too often at the police department, well-intentioned parents who had looked away, ever-so-briefly, they claimed, and when they looked back, their child was missing. Only, as it often turned out, it wasn't ever-so-briefly. It was several hours later when they returned to the hotel room after having a few drinks at the bar, or at the beach an hour later when they realized the blond toddler playing in the sand wasn't theirs after all. Every minute was crucial in a kidnapping case. An hour reduced the chances of finding a child by as much as half. Thankfully she was no longer part of that world.
His eyes met Maggie's. "How did you find her?"
"I heard her voice. She was upstairs with Deborah."
He took Holly's hand. "Let's get something to eat. The band should be starting soon. It's a soft rock band. They play music from the sixties and they're good." He lowered his voice. "Wayne and Deborah have been very good to us since Penny left."
"Not before?"
He shrugged. "Penny and Deborah never really clicked."
"Maybe you should ask her why."
"Who?"
"Penny."
"Why would I do that?"
"It might be important. Sometimes mothers have instincts that the rest of us don't have."
"She didn't have the right ones when it counted."
"Maybe not, but this might be different." Maggie glanced down at Holly who was taking in the entire conversation. "Something smells delicious. I have an idea that seafood here in New England is an entirely different experience than it is in Southern California."
"I like fried clams," Holly offered. "They're salty and sweet at the same time."
Maggie laughed. "Sounds good to me."
Later, when they were seated on the grass in front of the band, sated with clams, steamed oysters and fish so tender it fell apart at the touch of a fork, when Scott had introduced her to what was surely the entire neighborhood, when Holly was safely asleep, wrapped in a blanket at their feet, when the band moved from Sweet Caroline to the The Long and Winding Road, Scott picked up the conversation where they'd left off. "I have the feeling that you're holding out on me."
Maggie didn't pretend to misunderstand. She shook her head. "It's nothing substantial. I'm new here and still feeling my way around. Let's table this for now, okay?"
"Okay." He leaned back with his arms folded behind his head.
"There is something I wanted to ask you about."
"Shoot."
"Penny told me that a woman named Susannah Davies lived in my house for quite some time. Can you tell me anything about her, other than that she's a practicing wiccan?"
"Did Penny tell you that, too?"
"Actually, Holly mentioned it."
"Please tell me you don't believe in the hocus pocus."
"Of course not."
"Susannah was a perfect neighbor. She kept up the house and didn't socialize much. When we met on the street she was pleasant and warm. I wouldn't say she lived there for quite some time. It wasn't more than few years, three at the most. Why do you ask?"
Maggie shrugged. "Just idle curiosity. She's come in a few times to teach me to spin, but she never mentioned living in my house. Why is that, do you think?"
"Why don't you ask her?"
"I intend to, as soon as I see her again."
Scott narrowed his eyes. "I don't know much about her. She just showed up and then left. I never got around to sharing small talk with her." He looked directly at Maggie. "You never did explain what you meant when you said you were in law enforcement."
Maggie checked her watch. "It's late. How about saving this discussion for tomorrow nig
ht."
"You're a hard woman to get to know."
"You're not the first person to point that out. It's not intentional."
His voice warmed. "I didn't think it was. Is eight okay for tomorrow night?"
"It's perfect." She stood and brushed the grass from her pants. "Thanks for helping me out tonight."
"Helping you out?"
"You knew I'd be uncomfortable with all these new people. You made it much easier."
"It wasn't entirely altruistic on my part."
"No?"
"No."
"What was it, then?"
"You're very nice to be around."
His answer threw her. It was the last one she expected. "Thank you," she stammered. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"I'll wake Holly and we'll walk you home."
"No, please. Don't disturb her. It isn't necessary. I'll see you tomorrow."
He looked as if he might say something, but then changed his mind. "All right. Have it your way. Good night, Maggie."
At home, Muffin waited on the couch, ears alert, her black legs like two slim candlesticks on the blue couch. She slid between Maggie's legs, weaving in and out, howling unmercifully, until her food bowl touched the floor.
"You're relentless, you know," Maggie said. "It's not as if you're starving."
The cat turned her head, threw her mistress a baleful glance and then returned to her food.
Maggie walked into the living room, threw logs into the fireplace, struck a match, turned on the gas and lit the flame. Nothing signaled home to her like the snapping sound of dry wood and the warm glow of licking flames. Curling up on the couch, she pulled the afghan around her and stared into the fire. Scott was right. She would have to ask Susannah direct questions and as for Deborah Summers—Maggie didn't trust Deborah. There was something false about the woman, something secretive and sly. What she had no explanation for, what made no sense at all, was that she did trust Susannah, despite the fact that she had been the most secretive of all.
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