A Gala Event

by Sheila Connolly

  * * *

  The next morning Meg could hear Seth in the kitchen before she could drag herself out of bed. After a quick shower, she joined him. “You’re up early. Busy schedule?” she asked, helping herself to coffee. She sat in one of the kitchen chairs, and Lolly immediately jumped on her lap—she must be getting cold.

  “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. You?”

  “I’ll call my parents today. Was Lydia serious about having them stay at her house? We didn’t have much chance to talk to her last night, since you forgot to call her.”

  Seth looked guilty. “No, but I’ll call her today and ask about her inviting your folks, if you want.”

  “Good,” Meg said. “Anyway, I know the last time my mother was here, she said the hotel in Northampton was kind of expensive, which is no surprise, since it’s the nicest one around. Well, maybe the one in Amherst is good, too, but I’m pretty sure that costs just as much. Not that they’re hurting financially, as far as I know. It’s more a question of privacy. Although I’m sure they’d get along fine with Lydia.” Maybe. “I can’t remember that we ever visited much of anyone that way.”

  Seth was still studying a pad on the table. “Meg, you’re dithering. Just call your mother and ask what she wants to do. Mom won’t be insulted if your parents would prefer a hotel.”

  Yes, Meg thought, that would be the sensible, adult thing to do. So why was she waffling? “I’ve got to check the responses to the wedding invitations. I told people they could reply by e-mail, but I don’t seem to get much time to read it.”

  “Don’t worry so much. Most of the people we want to be there live in Granford, and we’ll probably see them before the day.”

  “Nicky needs a head count to buy food,” Meg reminded him.

  “Oh. Well, tell me how the responses are coming, and I’ll nudge the ones who haven’t replied, if I see them. Did you invite a lot of out-of-towners? Old college roommates or high school friends? Any relatives I don’t know about?”

  “No,” Meg admitted reluctantly, obscurely embarrassed that she seemed to have so few friends. “I’ve lost touch with most of my college friends, and it’s not like I’m recruiting a herd of bridesmaids. Have you talked to Art about being best man?”

  “Nope. How about you and Gail?”

  “Nope. Are you sure we’re getting married?”

  Seth looked up at her then. “Of course we are. I just want some friends there.”

  “My mother will be horrified by the whole process. But then, I’m not inviting any of her friends, so they’ll never know to criticize.” She stood up, dislodging Lolly, and went to the refrigerator to find breakfast. “What are you so busy working on?” she asked, over her shoulder.

  “Trying to figure out when to install the new bath. I think I can break some time free next week, depending on when I can wrap up a couple of small projects.”

  “Please don’t tell me you’re going to rip out the plumbing the week of the wedding!”

  “Don’t worry; this’ll only take a couple of days. Well, except for finishes. So, have you made any decisions about tiles yet?”

  “Seth! We’ve been a little busy. I really hope Gail finds those boxes for Aaron and we can put that whole problem to rest. It was nice of the Gardners to give him some short-term work. Did you have a hand in it?”

  “Nope. Although I do feel sorry for the guy somehow—it can’t be easy for him.”

  “I’m glad Art’s on board. And it sounds like he should be able to find the police records quickly, which is another plus. I wonder when Rachel will have the baby. She really did look ready yesterday, didn’t she?”

  “She did. Has Mom said anything about Thanksgiving?”

  “Not to me. I’ll talk to Lydia about it. Any other problems I need to solve? World peace? Global warming?”

  “That’s for next week.” Seth smiled at her, and Meg’s heart turned over. He looked so happy, and somehow she could claim at least part of the credit for that. All the rest was just . . . details.

  Bree interrupted them during a long clinch. “Hey, I thought I was making plenty of noise. You want me to leave and come back again?” she said.

  “No, we’re about done here,” Seth said. “Meg, you go pick out tiles and fixtures. See you later.” He strode out the back door toward his office, a man with a plan.

  “Wow, he’s in a good mood,” Bree commented, as she poured a mug of coffee.

  “Yes, he is, all things considered,” Meg replied.

  “What things?” Bree demanded. “Invading alpacas? That Big Event you keep avoiding talking about? This cold case that just fell into your lap?”

  “That’s just the short list. Add to that, I have to call my mother. Are we picking today?”

  “Yup, but just for a few hours. You should help. I think the fresh air will do you good, clear the fog out of your brain.”

  “You could be right. So I can postpone all the unpleasant stuff I’m apparently avoiding until this afternoon?”

  “You got it.”

  Bree had proved right: Meg felt better after a few hours of simple physical exercise. The autumn air was brisk and cool, and most of the trees around her property had lost their leaves. The last rows of late-ripening apples provided a bright spot of color, and Meg would be sorry to see the red highlights go. It had been a good harvest. Maybe not financially, but she was much more comfortable now with the process of picking and the details of marketing, and even with working with the pickers. Bree hadn’t said so yet, but she was pretty sure they’d all be coming back next season. And if she was very lucky, by then she’d have a new pump for her spring, and new irrigation lines laid down. One spell of watering by hand during a long heat wave, with a tanker, was more than enough for her.

  She had just about finished up her row when her cell phone rang, and she recognized Gail’s number. She answered quickly. “Hi, Gail. What’s up?”

  “I think I’ve found them. The boxes, I mean. Aaron’s boxes.”

  “Gail that’s terrific? You have them now?”

  “No, but I know where they’re stashed. Where’s Aaron?”

  “He’s got a part-time job, mending fences for the Gardners. Can you retrieve the boxes by the end of the day?”

  “I think so. But I’ve got the kids to worry about, and supper . . . I know how much Aaron’s going to want to see these, but I’m kind of jammed up.”

  “Aaron’s not the only one! We talked to Art last night, and he’s going to try to find the police records of the fire—he thought they’d still be in the new police department offices. And I have to admit, since Seth and I seem to be in the middle of this, we’d really like to see them, too. Any chance we could all meet after supper?”

  “I think so,” Gail said, after a moment’s thought. “Can you reach Aaron?”

  “Shoot, obviously he doesn’t have a cell phone. But I know where he’s staying. I was going to go over there and see the alpacas at home. Or maybe Seth can track him down. One way or another we’ll get in touch with him, and I’ll call Art. But I’ll wait to see if you can actually take possession of the boxes first, okay?”

  “I’ll let you know. If this is going to happen, I’ve only got an hour or two before the kids get home. Gotta run!”

  Meg felt ridiculously pleased that this whole tangled mess might actually be moving one step forward. She waved to catch Bree’s attention, then called out, “Bree, are we about done here?”

  “Yeah, we’re good,” Bree yelled back.

  “Then I’m going down to the house.” She made her way down the hill. Once inside, she wavered: eat lunch, or call her mother? Lunch could wait: she knew she’d feel much happier once she had discharged one responsibility, and she was still riding high on Gail’s news. She decided to use the landline, in case Gail called back on her cell.

  Her mother was on
speed dial, so Meg hit that. Her mother answered on the third ring. “Well, my goodness, I thought I remembered a daughter. How are you, darling?”

  “The usual. Busy, overworked.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. So I can assume that this theoretical wedding hasn’t been called off?”

  “Mother, I gave you the date as soon as I knew it. I’m just calling to firm up plans.”

  “Well, I believe it’ll be too cold in December to hold this in a New England meadow, or in your orchard. I assume you have a venue?”

  “I do—Gran’s. The restaurant.”

  “Oh, right. Lovely place. So those nice young chefs are doing the catering?”

  “They are.” At least one thing was settled—knock on wood, barring disasters.

  “And your delightful professor friend Christopher will be officiating?”

  “He will.” Assuming he had requested the license, and that hadn’t gotten hung up somewhere in the labyrinth of state offices. Another thing she should check. “Actually I was calling so we could decide when you’ll be arriving, and where you’ll be staying.”

  “Well, dear, I thought you might be a bit preoccupied, so rather than stay at your house I assumed we’d find one or another hotel. Early December’s not a particularly busy time of year among the colleges, is it?”

  “Not that I’ve noticed, Mother. But I did want to suggest one other alternative. Seth’s mother has invited you to stay with her, if you like.”

  “Oh, how nice of her! May I discuss it with your father?”

  Her mother’s typical stalling tactic. “Sure,” Meg said. “Don’t worry—Lydia won’t be offended if you say no.”

  “Let me think about it. Are you planning anything like a honeymoon?”

  “Not yet,” Meg said cheerfully. “So you can stay around after, if you want.”

  “I will let you know, as soon as I’ve talked to Phillip. Is everything else all right? How’s Seth?”

  “Seth is happy as a hog in . . . well, you know. He’s got as much work as he can handle, but it’s what he loves to do. You want to know what his wedding gift will be?”

  “Of course, dear. What is it?”

  “A new bathroom,” Meg said triumphantly.

  Meg’s mother was silent for several beats. “How very thoughtful of him. And both personal and practical.”

  “Yes, it is. I think it’s sweet. How’s Daddy?”

  “He’s fine. His knees have been bothering him, with this cold weather, so he hasn’t been playing as much golf as he’d like.” She hesitated before saying softly, “Are you happy, Meg?”

  Meg replied honestly, “Yes, Mother, I am.” And thank you for asking. “Let me know what you decide about where to stay.”

  “I will do that. We’ll talk soon! Bye, love.”

  There, one duty done. As if planned, Meg’s cell phone rang as soon as she’d hung up the landline. “Hi, Gail.”

  “Got ’em!” Gail crowed. “Can you and Seth bring Aaron by, say, seven thirty? To the Historical Society building? I want to show off our new heating system—the place should actually be warm.”

  “I’ll call Seth now. See you later!”

  As soon as she had ended the call to Gail, she hit Seth’s speed dial number. He, too, picked up quickly. “What’s up?”

  “Gail’s found the files! She wants us to bring Aaron to the Historical Society after dinner, for the great unveiling. Can you stop by the Gardners’ and tell him, or would you rather I went over?”

  “I think I can manage that, maybe around four thirty. I was going to swing by my house and see what clothes I’ve got that might fit Aaron. Or maybe I should ask Mom—she’s probably got loads stashed in the attic. Either way, I’ll collect Aaron and bring him over for supper, if that’s okay with you.”

  “No problem; the afternoon is clear. See you later!”

  Meg hung up again, feeling very pleased with herself.

  15

  Since she was freed from orchard activities for the rest of the day, and it seemed kind of early to start cooking dinner, Meg decided to do a quick Internet search on the Eastman fire in Granford. It never ceased to amaze her how much older material kept cropping up online, and she wasn’t disappointed. Archived newspaper reports from the time informed her that early in October 1990 the Eastman blaze had gone to three alarms. When the first fire truck had arrived, the house was already fully engaged, and there was no chance to enter the house and search for anyone. Putting out the fire was further complicated because there were no hydrants in the neighborhood—the house was set well back from the street in a rural part of town. Tanker trucks would have been useless against a blaze of that size. The best the firefighters could do was try to keep the fire contained and away from the surrounding woods. Apparently a few other people had shown up, but all they could do was huddle together at a safe distance, watching the house disintegrate, before describing the fire to the newspaper writers.

  The only mention of Aaron at first was that the Eastmans’ youngest son had been at home but was found outside the house in what appeared to be a state of shock. His two older siblings were both attending school outside of Granford and were not affected. Although it could not be confirmed until after the fire was fully extinguished, it was presumed that Aaron’s parents and his grandmother had perished in the blaze.

  Having read three versions of that account in three different newspapers, Meg sat back and reviewed. Basically she hadn’t learned anything new, except for the absence of hydrants, something she hadn’t thought about. Everything matched what Aaron had told her. She debated briefly about reading the follow-up stories from the first few days after the fire, which would segue into Aaron’s trial and conviction, and decided against it. She didn’t want to hear the story from third parties: she wanted to hear what Aaron had to say, in the present. She didn’t want to prejudice herself, either pro or con. Aaron was being fair. He admitted his memories of the event, then and now, were missing. He just wanted to know the truth, to know what he was really capable of, so that he could get on with his life.

  If there was no new evidence, or if anything they unearthed pointed even more strongly toward Aaron’s guilt, would Aaron be able to live with himself? Knowing what he had done? He had so little to look forward to from life. Maybe he would see suicide as a viable option.

  Not if she could help it. But she’d already saved him once. Was she supposed to save him again?

  Shutting down the computer, Meg set about making an elaborate casserole, mainly to distract herself from her troubling thoughts. Bree came in, took one look at her activities, and said, “Looks good—I’ll leave you to it,” before disappearing up to her room. Meg was just pulling the casserole out of the oven to cool when Seth and Aaron arrived, and Meg was surprised to see that it was nearly six o’clock. “Hi, guys,” she said. “Let this cool off a bit and we can sit down and eat. Bree?” she called up the stairs.

  “What?” Bree shouted in return.

  “Dinner in five,” Meg replied.

  “On my way,” was Bree’s answer.

  After ten minutes, they were seated around the kitchen table with heaped plates in front of them, and Max and Lolly had been fed. Aaron was wearing clean clothes, and looked like he was trying to bottle up his anticipation. This small piece of the family puzzle meant a lot to him, and Meg hoped he wouldn’t be disappointed. “How’d it go with the alpacas?” Meg asked him.

  Aaron smiled, which made him look younger. “They are so funny. Really curious, you know? Every time I wanted to do something along the fence, a bunch of them would follow me, watching. I swear they were talking about me.”

  “How much work is involved?”

  “Some parts are going to have to be completely replaced. Others I can repair, at least for now. I don’t know what those people were thinking when they bought that particular si
te—most of it’s on a steep slope. I gather they’re from a city. And why they chose alpacas doesn’t make sense to me, either.”

  “Hey,” Bree responded, “alpacas are hot these days. I took a class in animal husbandry at school, and if you can find an outlet for the fur, they make economic sense.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Aaron said. “Thank you.”

  “Anything more from Gail?” Seth asked. Aaron’s eyes flickered toward Meg’s face.

  “What’s going on with Gail?” Bree demanded.

  “She found the family papers that the Eastmans donated to the Historical Society, back before the fire, and we’re going over there after supper to take a look at them.”

  Bree cast a dubious glance at Aaron but didn’t say anything.

  “Hey, I talked to my mother today,” Meg announced in a cheery tone. “Seth, I told her about Lydia’s invitation.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She said she’d talk to Daddy.”

  “And how do you read that?” Seth asked.

  “It’ll probably be no. I told her Lydia wouldn’t be offended. Are you insulted on her behalf?”

  “No. I’m not surprised, is all.”

  “So you two are getting married?” Aaron said. “How long have you known each other?”

  “I moved to Granford two years ago January.” Meg debated briefly with herself before adding, “And was accused of murder almost immediately. I’m not sure Seth believed I didn’t do it, at first, so I had to figure out who did. As you can see, it all worked out.”

  Aaron smiled at his plate. “That’s sure one heck of a romantic story.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” Meg said complacently. “And did he tell you he’s giving me a new bathroom as a wedding present? We don’t seem to do anything the traditional way.”

  They wrapped up dinner quickly, conscious of the coming meeting. Bree asked, “You want me to clean up so you can head into town?”

  “That would be great, thanks,” Meg said. “You guys ready to go?”