“I was on my way to Boston and I saw you riding along. I didn’t know this road existed. I was curious.”
No need to lie.
“You were following me.”
“What’s back here?” Muzzy asked, eyeing over his shoulder.
“Private property. Didn’t you see the no trespassing sign?”
“No. Is it your property?”
He clamped his lips and looked away.
“I can find out from county records, you know.”
His eyes narrowed. “I’m sure you can.”
Quickly he threw his leg over his seat and walked toward her.
“Listen, I want to be your friend, Muzzy.” He tried another dazzling smile with much less effect this time.
“So do I,” Muzzy said. “But friends know things about each other. Where they live, for instance. If you hoped to make friends with a reporter and keep your life a total secret, that wasn’t the smartest idea.” Muzzy grinned and was surprised when Peter seemed to relax a bit. He grinned back.
“I’m not the enemy. I told you, I just like my privacy.”
Muzzy suddenly remembered her problem of the day.
“I do, too,” she said, pulling her shoulders back. “Which is why I’d like to know how it got out about my owning the paper and why I got a threatening letter trying to force me to sell.”
His brows went up. “A threatening letter?”
She pulled it out of her pocket and handed it to him. He read it silently before giving it back.
“You don’t think I had anything to do with this, do you?” Peter asked.
Muzzy shrugged. “You were asking me about Mr. Brown at lunch. Before you ran off,” she added.
“So, there is no Mr. Brown?”
“Obviously not, Peter. But I think you already knew that. What you also need to know is that with this becoming public, it threatens everything I’ve worked for.”
A dark shadow crossed Peter’s face. “You’re not going to sell, are you?”
“Not if I can help it.”
“Good,” he said, nodding.
If Peter had been sniffing out the real owner of the Rockport Review and whom he might have told were details that would eventually emerge, Muzzy was sure. It didn’t change anything as far as fighting for her paper.
“You live back there?” she asked, shaking him from his deep thought.
“No,” he said quickly. “I’m visiting a friend.”
“Hmm,” Muzzy said. “Delivering a package?”
His eyes flashed up. “You can be real nosey, you know that?”
“Yes,” she said, straight faced and proud. “It is how I earn my living after all.”
“Well, watch where you stick that nose, Muzzy. I wouldn’t want you to stumble somewhere you shouldn’t be and get hurt.”
If he had placed raw meat in front of a starving bear, it wouldn’t have been more appetizing as what he’d just said to her. All the alarms and whistles went off in her head. That kind of threat to a reporter meant only one thing. There was something juicy at the end of this road. She started her bike and popped her goggles into place.
“I’ll see you around, Peter,” she said with a wave.
Peter watched her go, growling a curse.
***
Aryl’s mother, Kathleen, hadn’t toned down the bizarre sense of style she’d adopted during Aryl’s absence. She wore a long flowing skirt, a crisp white shirt, (possibly one that belonged to his father) and lots of beads and charms. To Aryl, she looked like she had morphed into one of those side show psychics at the circus. He wasn’t embarrassed of her, his whole family seemed to walk to a different beat than the rest of the world. And she was happy with her new hobby dabbling in the metaphysical. He was embarrassed for Claire, who he knew had been praying that Kathleen would show up in more matronly attire.
Catherine and Monroe rose to greet Aryl’s parents with forced smiles and dainty handshakes. After a moment of meaningless conversation, the living room filled with awkward silence, tense glances and a desperate desire from all parties for this to be over.
Aryl glanced at the kitchen, hearing Claire bump around preparing dinner.
“I’m just going to go see if she needs any help,” Aryl said, transferring Jac from his lap to his mother’s.
“Help?” Monroe asked with insulting amusement. “You help in the kitchen?”
“Oh, let me. I haven’t seen my Claire in too long.” Kathleen pushed Jac off onto Catherine and strode out of the room. Catherine looked as if someone had just placed a bomb in her lap. She held her hands up, staring at the child.
“He doesn’t bite, does he?”
“Only if you tell him no,” Aryl said, suppressing a snicker. His father swatted him.
“Some children do bite,” Catherine said in defense. “None of mine ever did, of course.” She glanced nervously to Monroe who made no attempt to rescue her. He was studying the spines of books on the shelf near him. Jac began swatting at her earrings.
“I heard from your brother Liam,” Michael said, nudging his leg. “He and Sarah are expecting.”
Aryl’s face lit up. “That’s great! I’ll be an uncle.”
“He said to tell you he’s sorry he hasn’t written more, but he promises to do better in the future.”
In truth, Liam hadn’t known how to deal with his brother since he came back. He was overly glad Aryl had returned and had overcome his addiction, but having been so close before, he couldn’t help but notice the hard changes in him. The only way he knew to react was to not interact. On some level, Aryl knew this was the reason for his lack of correspondence.
“Is he planning a visit soon?”
“Summer, hopefully. If Sarah’s coming along alright.”
“Look forward to it.”
“Your brother?” Catherine asked, leaning around Jac. He had a firm grip on her earlobe and she strained not to cry out in pain, but wasn’t sure how to detach him. Aryl and his father watched, amused and let her figure it out.
“Yes,” Aryl said.
Michael leaned in to continue talking and Monroe interrupted.
“Tell me about your fishing company, Aryl. Is it profitable?”
Profitable? Aryl thought. Define profitable. It kept a roof over their heads and food on the table. So he supposed it was profitable enough.
“Yes,” he started, facing him. “I have three boats, as I said, we hope to bring on a fourth along with more men. Jonathan runs the books, we all three do the work. Say, know anybody that wants a job?” he asked, hoping to throw him off track before he started grilling Aryl for numbers.
“No, not in my circles,” he said snidely. “Jonathan’s running the books, eh? I’m surprised you allowed that after what happened.”
Aryl had no desire to state the obvious that the fault of the crash was no one's. At least not any of theirs.
“You’re lucky he didn’t sell everything off while you were gone.”
“He would have had to ask Claire, since ownership technically transferred to her while I was gone.”
“Did you state that in your will? Possession is nine-tenths—”
“I didn’t have a will. Not a current one. I didn’t need one to know that Jonathan would never have done that.”
Regardless, Aryl made a mental note to talk to Jonathan and see to it that all three of them created a will, just in case. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of that before.
“Don’t have a will? My boy, did you lose all your senses when you lost your memory? Was that the only thing not to have come back?”
Michael readjusted himself on the couch with a huff and a look Aryl knew well. He wasn’t going to sit by while Mr. high and mighty, tweed suit insulted his son. Aryl put a hand on his arm to settle him.
Catherine even looked a bit uncomfortable with the turn of conversation. Or, it could have been that Jac was chewing on the expensive pendant around her neck, drooling on her dress front.
“Mo
nroe, enough, darling. Tell me, Aryl, do you and Claire plan on having more children?” She said it as if perhaps they hoped to do better next time.
After a moment to push back the words he had ready for Monroe, he shook his head. “No, I think Jac here is more than enough…joy for one lifetime.”
“No more children? Only one?” Monroe asked. He looked at Catherine as if he didn’t understand.
“We feel it’s best under the circumstances, if we stop with Jac.”
“Under the circumstances,” Monroe said flatly. Aryl braced for a low blow at his financial situation.
“You didn’t bring back the syphilis with you from London, did you?”
Michael’s mouth fell open, Aryl’s eyes went wide and Catherine gasped.
“Dear, Lord. No,” Aryl said, lowering his head, scratching behind his ear.
“Dinner’s ready!” Kathleen called from the kitchen. Everyone jumped to their feet at the same time.
***
New Year’s Eve
Jonathan and Ava arrived late. Almost everyone else was inside Caleb’s house, eating, talking and drinking. Arianna turned on the radio, though she looked tired from a long day of preparations. With Caleb having gone back to the boats – temporarily, he assured her – she had to retake a lot of the chores she’d been happy to be relieved of. Milking their cow and mucking the stalls were her least favorite tasks. Tired as she was, she seemed proud of the food she had laid out on the table for her guests.
There was a vegetable tray which largely was passed over by the children for the tray with small cakes and cookies.
It wasn’t a dinner, technically, with everyone arriving after the dinner hour, but Arianna had made fried chicken, cole slaw and mashed potatoes since the eating would go on all evening. She set them out cold and no one seemed to mind.
Liquor was to be rationed and kept safely under the sink. Plus, who knew if the sheriff would drop by for a friendly hello. Last thing they wanted was for him to see what Caleb had accumulated for gatherings like these. They all got the feeling that William wanted to be more than a sheriff. He wanted also to be their friend. Only time would tell if they allowed him any closer than arm’s length after what they’d been through.
“Sorry we’re late,” Ava said. “I needed to bathe Amy after she ate so she’d fall asleep quickly here.”
“It’s fine. There are still a few to arrive. We’re putting all the children to sleep in my bedroom. Claire’s up there now trying to settle Jac. Emily’s offered to watch over them. Jean, would you be her helper again?”
He nodded, though he didn’t look overly excited about it.
“I promise, everything will be fine this time. We’ll be right downstairs. Besides, I’ve already put Ethel to bed. I gave her something to help her sleep,” Arianna said with a wink.
“Emily won’t be ringing in the new year with us?” Ava asked.
“No,” Arianna said with a frown. “She said she’s not feeling up to a party. Personally, I think it has something to do with another letter from Arthur recently. I haven’t had time to talk to her about it.”
Ava’s face pinched. “Poor girl. I wish there was something we could do to help.”
Arianna shrugged and turned to the stove. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about Emily or want to help her. She did, very much. She’d come to think of Emily as a little sister and regarded her a lifesaver when it came to the children. Ethel’s episodes were growing more frequent and intense; she didn’t know what she’d do with a woman’s work on the farm, small children and an old woman who was losing her mind. However, tonight was for being with friends and celebrating. Relaxing, eating and laughing. She’d deal with Emily’s troubles tomorrow.
“I’ll go lay Amy down and then I’m going to devour one of those little white cakes.”
“I’ll do it,” Jonathan said, holding his hands out for Amy. “You were so busy with the kids you didn’t eat dinner.” He didn’t wait for her answer, but took Amy, kissing Ava as he went and headed up the stairs.
“Can I stay up for a little while?” Jean asked timidly. He didn’t mind helping with the children, but he was hoping he’d be able to be a part of the party for a little while at least.
“I’m sure that would be fine,” Ava said, touching his head.
Arianna handed him a stack of three oatmeal cookies loaded with raisins and nuts.
“Merci,” he said, his eyes lighting up. He wandered out of the room in the direction of his father.
“I have to admit,” Ava said, looking over the buffet spread. “Sometimes I can hardly believe that you are the same person that had to sit in front of the oven the entire time to make sure the biscuits didn’t burn. And you’re doing all this on a wood fire stove.”
Arianna snorted a laugh. “I’m amazed we didn’t starve. You could have built a house with the bricks of bread I used to turn out.”
“Yes, but look at you now,” Ava said with a smile, reaching for the little white cake. She took a bite and closed her eyes. “Amazing. I want the recipe and I want you to stick a few of these back in the cupboard for me later. Once people taste them, they’re going to be gone,” she said. She meant it as a joke, but Arianna sailed over to the cupboard and pulled open the door. Inside there were nine small cakes set aside with what looked like an extra layer of frosting.
“Three for each of us gals.”
“We’ll be sick!” Ava said, laughing as she wiped her mouth.
Jonathan returned downstairs, reached around Ava for a few cookies. She smiled at him as he hovered over her shoulder and then kissed her neck before walking into the living room.
Caleb and Aryl were already there by the fireplace. Caleb relaxed back into his father’s chair, Aryl sat with terrible posture on the ottoman. They already had drinks. And, Jonathan noticed, there was a distinct lack of snobbery in the air.
“Oh, you didn’t bring the in-laws,” Jonathan said, pretending to be disappointed.
“No, fortunately, Monroe was called back yesterday on urgent business.”
“It went that well, eh?”
“That well and more. It was disastrous, as I knew it would be.”
“What did it? Jac?” Caleb asked with a smirk.
“No, but it was close. It was lunch with my parents.”
“Wait, you had your parents and in-laws in the same room for more than a few minutes?”
Aryl nodded grimly.
“So was it the fathers or the mothers that tangled?”
“Fathers. At least at first. My mother tried the best she could. It was just a bad idea all around.”
“How’s Claire?”
“Surprisingly, she’s fine. I thought she’d be upset. I think she honestly expects each visit with her parents to end differently than it’s destined to. There was a moment, just a fleeting moment where I thought she was going to stand up and really lay it out for them.” He shrugged, knowing that Claire had not quite reached the breaking point with her parents. But it was coming.
“Maybe next time,” Caleb said, raising his glass. “One can dream.”
“Well, here’s to hoping they don’t visit again soon,” Jonathan said, raising his glass.
“Amen,” Aryl said as they clinked. “Who’s left to get here?” he asked after tilting the glass back.
“Muzzy and Harold, Maura and Ian,” Caleb said and cocked his head. “Speak of the devil…” They heard the backdoor close and Maura’s loud brogue filled the house.
Jonathan grinned. “Now it’s a party.”
Maura gushed over the food while unwrapping Scottie from his layers. Ian greeted politely and gravitated toward the men in the living room.
“I told Scottie he could stay up and welcome the new year,” Maura said, glancing around. She didn’t see any other children. “I hope that’s alright.”
“It’s perfectly fine,” Arianna said. She handed Scottie three oatmeal cookies and he scurried off.
“I have a feeling that Jean wi
ll be down here as well,” Ava said, her mouth full. Maura swatted her arm.
“Manners.”
Ava ducked her head, grinning. Maura noticed the plunging neckline of her dress and raised an eyebrow.
“I meant to ask you, Maura, how are things with Scottie?” Arianna asked delicately. It was a subject that everyone had avoided because they had no idea how to help.
“It’s as well as can be expected,” Maura said. “He’s still a bit distant, almost like the shock hasn’t worn off yet, but he’s not alienating Ian any longer. He’s begun asking Ian fer his help with homework and such. And yesterday, he suggested they might go hunting soon. Ian fairly jumped at the chance and I have to remind him not to go gushing over the child’s attentions. It’s best to act as the father Scottie has always known. All in all, it’s slow to get back to normal, but I’m pleased. It could be much worse.”
“Scottie is a sweet, smart boy. I knew he’d come around,” Ava said.
“And how about little Jean?” Maura asked, turning the attention to Ava.
“Like night and day. He and Jonathan had a long talk, several of them, actually. He doesn’t exactly understand the nature of Jon and Elyse’s relationship, but he’s glad to know about her. And I think after all we’ve done, all we’ve said, he knows he’s truly wanted.”
“I’m glad to hear it, dear,” Maura said. She pulled out a chair, took a plate from the stack and made herself comfortable. Arianna and Ava followed suit.
“I know it’s a social gathering, but I just received Muzzy’s Hettie Helps submission letters. I’m having a hard time choosing so I thought we could find some time fer tea and ye could help me. Well, Miss Claire, too, of course.”
“We’d love too,” Arianna said, her curiosity piqued. “Anything good?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow.
“Oh, I should say so. But I’ll leave the details fer our gathering.”
“Oh, just tell us a little bit,” Ava begged.
“No, ma’am, I will not. You’ll just have to come to my house next week and see fer yerself.”
Arianna pouted and consoled herself with a cookie.
Purling Road - The Complete First Season: Episodes 1-10 Page 16