“A comedian,” said Quill dryly.
“So you see.”
Quill shook her head. “Why involve the Kiplings? Why not”—she stopped—”just do it yourself?”
“Because that bitch had to know it wasn’t just me.” Georgia’s eyes narrowed, and that flat glittering stare would remain with Quill a long, long time. “Louisa. In the woods. We followed her. I can move quietly, you know, for all my size. She turned. We stood there. Silent. All of us. And I swung the hammer. And Carlyle, on the floor, with all of us around her. We were the last thing she saw, and she knew. For a long time. She knew. And the brother. He screamed. Like a rabbit. Like a rabbit.”
“It isn’t fair!” cried Tess. And then they were on her.
“You’ve lost something,” said Meg when Quill told her what had happened. “I hope to God you get it back.”
“What?” said Quill. “What have I lost?” They were in the kitchen. The copper pots hung from the wrought-iron hooks like billy clubs. The herbs had a stale graveyard smell. The afternoon light had died, and night crouched behind the falls.
Meg pulled a comic face. “Your sunny faith in the essential goodness of human beings?”
“I’m tired,” said Quill. “I’m not up to light chat.”
“Sorry. Sorry. I guess neither of us is especially good at looking into the pit. Now, dancing around the edge of the pit, jester bells in hand, that we’re good at.”
“It was all of them. All of them. Smiling, genial, good humored...”
“... and lethal.”
“I always thought there were things normal people wouldn’t do.”
“Myles knows better. One can smile and smile and be a villain.”
“But Georgia was good. I loved her.”
“Things fall apart,” said Meg, “the center fails to hold.”
“Shut up,” said Quill fiercely.
“All right. I’ll quit the oblique and we’ll tackle this head on. If there’s a fixed and eternal good, Quill, you won’t find it in people. You’ll find it in yourself. And your self needs your painting. Take a month. Go back to New York. Paint. And come home.”
“And Myles?”
“And me? And John and the Inn and Doreen and all those things you think you’re serving because we’re good? Pooh. You’ll know what to do when you come home. Do it. Leave us. And come back.”
CHAPTER 16
Quill signaled a right turn and pulled into the long driveway that led to the Inn. Bronze and pink chrysanthemums bloomed on either side of the door, and trees were a fireworks of scarlet, bronze, and yellow. There’d been a heavy frost the night before, and the last of the autumn lilies shivered in the October air.
Doreen, her apron filled with late potatoes, stumped around the corner of the old building. She grinned and dumped the potatoes in a tidy pile by the ivy trellis. “You’re earlier than you said.”
“The thruway was clear. And everybody’s driving seventy anyway these days, Doreen.”
“Ayuh? You get another ticket?”
“No, I did not get another ticket.”
“You got that suitcase?”
“It’s in the back. Along with”—Quill paused, a little shy—”a few sketches.”
“Huh.” Doreen opened the back door and slid the portfolio out. She flipped it open and stood considering. “Like the way you handled the water. Foreground perspective’s off some.”
Quill gaped at her.
“Sher’f talks about his art classes some at dinner. That Stoke’s thinking about takin’ a few.” She sniffed.
“How’s he doing?” -*
“Ast him. Once he stopped fooling around with that Quality stuff, he started talking like a sensible person, I guess.” She hoisted Quill’s suitcase.
“Meg wrote that he’s found a little house to buy in town.”
“Pension’ll go to that, I guess, now that he’s not pretending to be a rich guy.”
“I’m glad he decided to take over the newspaper.”
Doreen sucked her teeth, whether in disapprobation or indifference, Quill couldn’t tell. “Wait’ll you see it. It’s somethin’. Go on, they’re waiting on you in there. Sheriff ‘ll be along soon.”
Quill walked into the foyer. The vases were filled with autumn leaves. A fire burned steadily in the cobblestone fireplace. The small sign they used to welcome guests read welcome! artist sarah quilliam! with two lines underneath: CHAMBER OF COMMERCE WELCOME HOME DINNER 7:00 p.m., and then, quilliam exhibit, the sakura mall at the falls exhibited daily underneath.
“We wasn’t sure you wanted your pitchers hung here, so Meg and the Sher’f hung up ‘em down to the mall.”
Quill cleared her throat and smiled.
“And the terlits are workin’, which is a mercy.”
“I take it that’s not a comment on the quality of Sarah’s work,” said Axminster crisply as he came down the stairs from the upper floor. He’d shaved his mustache. He was wearing an Aloha shirt.
Doreen muttered what Quill took to be an imprecation and abjured Axminster to shake a leg and get the luggage.
“Please don’t bother,” said Quill. “I’ll take care of it.”
“We’re glad to see you back, Sarah.” He kissed her cheek. “I’d be delighted to assist you with the luggage. Andy, Meg, and John are in the kitchen. I’ll be along in a moment.”
“You hustle,” said Doreen. “We got to get ready for that Chamber dinner.”
Axminster snapped a salute and carried Quill’s case back upstairs.
“Doreen, just because poor Mr. Stoker isn’t as rich as we thought, there’s no need to make a ... a ... slave out of him.”
“Gotta learn, don’t he? One gol-durned thing I won’t put up with is a lazy husband.”
Quill stared at her. “A what!?”
“Well, I married him, din’t I? Somebody had to give the bozo a hand with that-there newspaper business. Durn fool can’t keep accounts to save his life.”
Quill burst into the kitchen. The thymey smell of boeuf bourguignon curled through the mixed scents of the wood fire, fresh bread, and spicy chrysanthemums. Meg shrieked and kissed her. Andy grabbed her in a bear hug. John nodded, smiled, and smiled again.
The back door banged open.
“Well, Myles, my dear,” she said. “I’m home.”
CRAB CLOUDS
from the Inn at Hemlock Falls
one cup fresh Dungeness crab, shredded
2 tsps. cilantro, chopped
tsp. fresh parsley, chopped
tsps. sweet red pepper, chopped fine
tsp. green pepper, chopped fine
tsps. Vidalia onion, chopped fine
2 cups cornmeal and flour, mixed in equal parts
1/2 cup whole milk
one medium-sized egg
one-half cup unsalted butter
several teaspoons each of unsalted butter and olive oil, for sautéing
Steam Dungeness crab for six minutes. Crack claws and body. Set crab meat aside.
Chop spices and peppers and mix together. Add to crab. Sauté onion for five minutes in butter, until onion is clear and transparent. Add to crab. Mix crab mixture well.
Measure cornmeal-flour mixture into glass bowl. Place milk in separate bowl. Separate egg. Beat yolk to thick froth. Beat egg white to soft peaks. Carefully fold egg into milk until smooth and very thick. Melt butter in pan, slowly, until it has separated into milky/clear liquid. Let butter cool slightly and whisk it into the cornmeal mixture, being careful not to curdle the egg, and to keep mixture thick.
Put a few teaspoons combined sweet butter and very pure olive oil into crepe pan and heat until it sizzles around the edges. Add three or four tablespoons of cornmeal to the pan and flatten with back of spoon. Cook as you would a pancake, until the edges of the crab cloud dry and curl slightly. Place a few tablespoons of crab mixture in the center of the crab cloud, leaving an eighth-of-an-inch edge all around. Flip the crab cloud over and sauté until corn-flour mixt
ure is cooked through.
Serve with condiments such as tomato or mustard chutney.
A Pinch of Poison Page 26