A Gala Event

by Sheila Connolly

  “Sounds really swell,” Bree said sarcastically. “Can I skip that?”

  “But wait! There’s more!” Meg said sarcastically. “My mother and father will be arriving before Thanksgiving and maybe staying with Lydia at least some of the time around the wedding, with some excursions to fine local establishments. And Seth has decided that this is the weekend he wants to dismantle the only bathroom in the house. He volunteered a chamber pot. You might want to be somewhere else.”

  “You two do like to keep busy, don’t you?”

  “It’s the metabolism, I think. Seriously, do you have any plans? I can’t speak for Lydia, but if she’s willing, do you want to come for Thanksgiving dinner? With or without Michael?”

  “Let me think about it. Have you talked to Seth about the tiny house idea?”

  “Actually I did. He seemed intrigued: he likes exploring new ideas, which is kind of weird if you consider he spends most of his time fixing two-hundred-year-old buildings. But he also likes old materials—we’re having some Victorian plumbing fixtures delivered soon. And now I need to go find tile. Do you know anything about tile, Bree?” Meg ended plaintively.

  “Nope. Not my thing. You want marble? Granite?”

  “I want nonskid, and that’s as far as I’ve gotten. And Seth has already vetoed pink. Everything okay in the orchard?”

  “Nice of you to ask, boss. Yes. We’re down to our last few trees. All things considered, I think we did pretty well this year.”

  “That’s good to hear.” At least one thing in her life was on track. Well, so far the wedding was, too: she had the date, the place, someone to perform the ceremony, and the matron of honor. And guests, although she still didn’t know how many. And she had to find something to wear. She’d let Seth worry about licenses and rings. Oh, and she’d like to get this thing with Aaron wrapped up before the big day so she could enjoy her own party. Gail would probably prefer that, too.

  Meg was still lost in thought when the phone rang. It was Art. “Hey, Art, what’s up?”

  “Seth asked me about Aaron’s brother, Kevin? I’ve got a number for him, in Chicago. Seth said he’d make that call. I hear the sister is in town, too—I missed her when she stopped by the station yesterday.”

  “She is. We had dinner here last night, and she’s over at Seth’s house right now. She wondered if Seth and I were do-gooders. Are we?”

  Art chuckled. “Amateur, I guess. You making any progress on your wild-goose chase?”

  “I’m not sure. Let’s say for the record that I am ‘cautiously optimistic.’”

  Bree made a rude noise in the background.

  “I heard that,” Art said with a laugh. “Let me know if I can help with anything else, as long as it doesn’t jeopardize my job or my sanity.”

  “Of course. Thanks, Art.”

  As soon as she’d hung up, Seth called. “I got Kevin’s number from Art, and I just spoke with him. He wants to come to Granford, but he hasn’t decided whether to drive or fly.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Meg said glumly. “And the charming Eastman family can all discuss what they don’t know, face-to-face.”

  “Do I detect a lack of enthusiasm?” Seth asked.

  “I guess. Thanks for that list of tile places you left for me—and for telling me how much we’d need. I’m headed that way as soon as I finish breakfast.”

  “All part of the job, ma’am. Happy hunting. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Meg set the phone down—and it rang again immediately. “Rachel? What’s up?”

  “Meg, thanks for that list of investors you e-mailed me. Have you looked at it?” Rachel sounded breathless.

  “I did, but I’m the new kid here, so I didn’t recognize a lot of the names, only that the families had been local for a long time.”

  “Well, there were a couple of interesting ones on the list. One was Jacob Patterson, the insurance agent who sold the Eastmans the policy on the house, not all that long before the fire. He’s still in town here, although he’s pretty close to retirement age, if there is such a thing for insurance agents. Hang on.” Apparently Rachel put her hand over the phone receiver to talk to someone else—her husband? “The other—wait for it—was the judge who presided at Aaron’s trial.”

  “Oh, wow,” Meg said, stunned. That might explain the harsh sentence, and the lack of evidence presented at the trial. “Shouldn’t the judge have recused himself?”

  “Herself. You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But the list wasn’t ever made public, which would make sense if they’d been scammed.” Rachel covered the mouthpiece again, but even Meg could hear her. “I’ll be right there, Noah! Meg, look, I’ve got to go, because this baby has decided today is launch day. But I’ve got a huge favor to ask you.”

  “Anything, Rachel,” Meg said, suddenly on high alert.

  “Can you meet the kids at the school bus? Noah’s coming with me to the hospital, and Mom’s at work in the other direction, and I hate to drag her back again. At least the kids know you.”

  “Of course I’ll meet them, Rachel. What time and where?”

  “Between two thirty and three, on the corner two blocks away—away from the center of town, not toward it. You’ll see the bus coming. Are you sure it’s okay?”

  “Of course it is. Which hospital?”

  “Dickinson—appropriate, isn’t it? Thanks, Meg; you’re great. Talk later!” She hung up quickly, leaving Meg holding a mute handset.

  “Baby’s coming?” Bree asked.

  “Apparently. Shoot, it never rains but it pours. I said I’d meet her kids at their school bus in Amherst. If Kevin Eastman shows up here, which would happen only if he finds a flight and figures out where he’s going from the airport, tell him where Lori and Aaron may be. And if you have to be somewhere else, Kevin can wing it. I’m going to call Seth, and then I’m going to look for tiles.”

  “Breathe, Meg!” Bree said, laughing. “And I love your priorities: kid-tending, solve murder, find bathroom accessories. Talk about multitasking! But that’s fine. Go do what you gotta do.”

  Meg raced up the stairs, still clutching her cell phone. In the bedroom, she hit Seth’s number as she pulled on a clean pair of jeans. Seth’s phone went to voice mail, so she left a message. “Seth, Rachel says the baby’s coming, and she and Noah are headed to the hospital. I’m going to go over and pick up the kids from the bus. Art talked to Kevin Eastman, and Kevin might possibly show up today. And I’m going tile shopping. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Once she’d hung up, she forced herself to stop and think for a moment. Rachel hadn’t asked her to call anyone else, so she assumed Lydia knew the score. She herself had told Seth. It was now nine o’clock, and she had plenty of time to get to the bus stop in Amherst by two thirty. Seth had given her a list of several smaller tile stores in the area—he wasn’t impressed with what the big-box stores had to offer, so she could probably stop in a few of them and see what they had. She had to admit that her first thought was to stick with neutral colors—that way she could spice things up with towels and accessories. But that seemed too safe—and boring. Maybe she’d fall in love with something spectacular that she couldn’t live without. As long as it wasn’t pink.

  Three stores later Meg had tile shapes and sizes and colors whirling around her head. Who knew there were so many decisions involved? She’d vetoed marble (too soft, and it stained easily) and granite (too hard, and now a fading trend). She didn’t want to commit to an artistic design, because that would be time-consuming to install, and to her mind, kind of fussy. All she really wanted was something that was easy to keep clean and not too slippery. Sticking with traditional Victorian-ish tiles was still the most appealing solution. In white. Or off-white. Not too shiny, so water spots wouldn’t show. Minimal grout, because grout always looked dirty. The next place that she visited that had this simple list of tiles, sh
e’d commit and buy what she needed. She hoped.

  She worked her way toward Amherst, to be sure she’d be on time for the school bus. Somewhere along the way it occurred to her that she didn’t have a key to Rachel’s house, and with both Rachel and Noah otherwise occupied, she wouldn’t be able to get in. Ah well, she’d just have to take the kids home with her—unless, of course, Rachel managed to produce the awaited child before three and the hospital sent her home . . . Didn’t they try to do that these days? Still, she didn’t mind entertaining the kids for a while, and her house—and her life—couldn’t get much more chaotic than it already was.

  Tile place number five was the big winner. A fresh-faced young woman greeted her at the door. “Can I help you find something?”

  Meg had her spiel memorized by now. “I need tiles for a Victorian-style bathroom with tub, plus one with a shower enclosure, plus a powder room. Here’s a list of the measurements.” She handed the young woman one of Seth’s printouts—good thing she’d made multiple copies.

  Her face lit up. “Oh, Seth Chapin! He does great work, and he’s usually pretty accurate about calculating what he needs. So he’s overhauling your place?”

  “He is—two new bathrooms, plus patching the old one after he replaces all the plumbing. He thinks it won’t take long, so I guess I need something that’s in stock, or that you can get quickly.”

  “No problem. This is just the showroom—we have a warehouse nearby. What were you thinking?”

  Meg recited her list of requirements, and the woman nodded as if in agreement. “That all makes sense to me. But could I make one suggestion?”

  “Fire away,” Meg said, and realized she was getting a bit punchy.

  “How about a decorative border or a top rail? Then you could buy the basic tiles in bulk, but vary each bath just a bit. Let me show you . . .”

  In the following half hour, Meg managed to order everything she needed. It was like buying a puzzle that, when put together, would be a three-dimensional bathroom. It was simple (and the woman promised that setting the tiles would be easy), but as she had been told, the borders added a small touch of elegance. Done!

  “So you can deliver all this tomorrow?” Meg asked.

  “Sure, no problem. What’s the address?” When Meg told her, she said, “But that’s Seth’s work address.” Then her face lit up. “You must be Meg! Congratulations! Did you finally set the date?”

  “Uh, thank you, and it’s the week after Thanksgiving. Seth tells me he can get the plumbing work done over a weekend. I guess I’m doing the tiling part.”

  “Oh, sure, no problem. He’s good. And it’ll be easy, you’ll see.”

  “I hope so!” Meg said fervently. Why was it that so few things in her life turned out to be easy? “Thanks for your help.”

  Back in the car, Meg checked her watch again. Time to head for Amherst and the school bus. But at least she could check one thing off her list, and it was a big one.

  In town she parked down the street from Rachel’s house, from which she could see the corner where the bus would arrive. She got out of the car and stood by it, waiting, and the bus arrived at two thirty-seven. She spotted Chloe and Matthew Dickinson as they climbed down the steps of the bus—not together, of course. She went up to greet them.

  “Hi, kids. Remember me? Meg Corey? Your Uncle Seth’s, uh, fiancée? Your mom asked me to pick you up, because she’s having the baby now.” At least Meg hoped she was; she hadn’t heard anything since that early-morning call.

  “Hi, Meg,” Chloe said. “Can we go to the hospital to see her?”

  “Let’s wait until your dad calls us. I don’t know how many people they let in, or what age visitors. Either of you have a key to your house?”

  Matthew and Chloe shook their heads.

  “Okay, you can come over to my house, and we’ll wait there together.”

  The two children followed her obediently back to the car. Conversation on the way back was strained, and Meg realized how rarely she talked to children. She had no idea what they were doing in school or what their interests outside of school might be. “Do you have any pets?” she ventured out of desperation.

  Matthew finally spoke. “Nah. When the B and B is open, Mom worries about the guests and allergies.”

  “Well, I’ve got a dog and a cat, and a couple of goats. And there’s a new herd of alpacas in the neighborhood.”

  “What’s an alpaca?” Matthew asked. Describing those animals took the entire ride back to Meg’s place. When she arrived, there was an unfamiliar car in the driveway.

  Bree came out to greet her. “Hi, kids,” she said brightly, and then in a quieter voice she added, “No word from Rachel?” Meg shook her head. Bree turned back to the children. “You want to come up and help me pick the last apples?”

  “Can we, Meg?” Chloe turned to her to ask, actually looking excited.

  “Sure. You can take some home if you want,” Meg told them. Then she asked Bree, “What’s with the car?”

  “Kevin Eastman is in the kitchen.” Bree stepped back. “Come on, kids—let’s go up the hill.”

  As the trio made their way up the hill, Meg checked her phone for messages: there were none. Might as well go meet the third Eastman sibling—and hope Seth arrived home soon.

  24

  Meg squared her shoulders and headed for the back door. She’d met two of the siblings, and they had proven to be very different from each other. What would the third one be like?

  Kevin Eastman was seated at the kitchen table, but sprang to his feet when Meg entered the room. “Hi, I’m Kevin. You must be Meg.” He came quickly around the table and offered his hand.

  “Yes. Meg Corey, and this is my house. You made good time. How did you find me, once you got to Granford?”

  “The chief of police—Preston, was it?—said I’d find you here, and you could tell me where to find Aaron.”

  “Aaron’s nearby, but he doesn’t have a phone or a car, so it takes some explaining.”

  Kevin looked more like Aaron than his sister did. Oddly, he, like Aaron, looked older than his years. He was tall and thin, dressed in nondescript clothes, not particularly new but not obviously shabby. His hair was neatly cut. Mostly he looked worried, and based on the deep creases on his face, that was probably a chronic expression.

  “Did Art Preston mention that your sister is here, too?” Meg asked.

  “What?” Kevin looked stunned at that news. “I had no idea where to find her. Is she still living in Vermont?”

  “I think so. So you don’t keep in touch? Didn’t Aaron contact you? Because he did send Lori a letter saying he was being released.” Meg realized suddenly that they were still standing, on opposite sides of the table. “I’m so sorry—I’m being a lousy hostess. Please sit down. Can I offer you something to drink? You must have left early to catch a plane to arrive here by midafternoon.”

  “Water’s fine. Or coffee, if you have it. I didn’t mind; I didn’t want to waste the time it would take to drive.”

  “Coffee it is.” Meg started her hot pot to boiling. “Normally I’m a little more organized, but my soon-to-be sister-in-law went into labor this morning, and I had to pick up her kids. They’re up in the orchard now, but they’ll probably descend on us here as soon as they get bored, and there won’t be much chance to talk. Do you have children, Kevin?”

  He was quick to answer. “No, I’ve never been married, and I guess it’s getting kind of late for that now. I think about adopting now and then: there are so many needy kids.”

  “Never say never,” Meg said, pouring water over coffee grounds. She wondered if it would be rude to ask if he was in a relationship with anyone, but it really was none of her business. “I might as well go ahead and explain how I came to know Aaron, and we all had dinner together here last night, so I’ve learned a lot of your family’s detai
ls in a short time.” Once again Meg outlined Aaron’s arrival, Gail’s overreaction, and Meg’s role in tracking Aaron down.

  When she had finished, Kevin said, “Lucky guy, I guess. Or maybe he doesn’t think so. Did he tell you why he came here, to Granford?”

  Meg filled two mugs with coffee, set one in front of Kevin, then sat down with her own across the table from him. “I should let him explain that. We could go look for him now, but I’m responsible for the kids and I can’t just dump them on Bree.”

  “That was the young woman who let me in?”

  “Yes. She’s my orchard manager, and she shares this house with me. I told her you might arrive today.”

  “I’ve read about the itinerant Jamaican pickers around here—I take it she’s Jamaican?”

  Meg nodded. “Yes, but American-born. Her parents were pickers, but she lived mainly with an aunt here so she could go to school. She graduated from UMass not long ago.”

  “Good, good,” Kevin said almost absently.

  “My fiancé should be back soon, and maybe the two of you can go find Lori and Aaron. Lori’s staying at Seth’s house, and Aaron is staying temporarily at a nearby farm. Seth’s house is actually next door, but you can’t even see it from here. Do you remember much about Granford?”

  “Some,” Kevin admitted. “Although I haven’t been back for years. I took some time off after I graduated, just to come to terms with . . . the fire and the deaths. I worked odd jobs around here, wherever I could find anything. Let me tell you, the whole thing really hit me hard. And I have to say, Lori and I dealt with it in our own ways. Lori kind of dropped out, while I decided I should dig in and address the problems—like drugs—that can lead to such tragedies. That’s why I went into social work.”