It was an accident, do I have to spell it? It wasn’t our fault the fall killed her. She fell wrong. Maybe she had a heart attack. Who knows.”
“But …”
“Get over it, Al.”
Mary Beth spoke slowly and pedantically. “That’s why, if we are going to continue with the West deal, we have to be really careful. We can’t have any similarities, nothing that would raise a flicker of interest anywhere. This one could be a little too close for comfort.”
Al Francis looked at the people seated at the table. “It is too close for me. Maybe we should cut bait and get out. We’ve got the Parker money, or we will have. People make mistakes when they get greedy, and we can’t afford mistakes.”
“Will you just chill? This one’s too good to pass up. The place is a gold mine. With a little work we could double, if not triple, what I’m going to propose in the settlement. We’re looking at two to three million between the house, land and her investments.” William Bateson held out his hands, palms up towards his colleagues. “Trust me gentlemen, I’m a professional. The only thing that could really screw things up is if minister-lady gets too nosy, and I’ve already started working on that one.”
“What do you mean?” asked Al.
“I mean, I seem to remember someone right in this room saying that accidents happen.”
~
When he got back to the house in Brookfield, Frederick unpacked his overnight bag and opened every window in the old farmhouse that he could lift. Then he filled the largest drinking glass he could find with cold water and melted onto a chair at the kitchen table. The house was an oven. No matter how many times Olympia had assured him that it was safe to leave windows open when they were out, nothing in his urban English background would allow him to do it. It was not the way he did things, and now he was paying the price. Even the seat of the chair was hot.
He thought back on his all too brief visit with the woman he loved and then to the endless expanse of time before he would be seeing her again. Four whole days. Then, when an involuntary response to his amorous anticipation began to manifest itself, Frederick considered the twofold benefits of a cold shower. With no cats to feed and the heat of the day such that work in the garden was impossible, and work on his inside project, insulating the attic, would be downright suicidal, Frederick the lonely closed his eyes, thought of England and staggered off in search of a towel and a bar of soap. This was no way to spend a summer.
~
“Julia?”
“Mmmm, yes, Dory, what’s on your mind? Would you like something cool to drink? I can’t believe how hot it is today, and the humidity is making it even worse. It doesn’t usually get this bad until August.”
The two women were seated in the shade of the covered porch, hoping to catch a breeze off the water.
“No, thank you, dear, I can get it myself if I really want some. I was just thinking.”
“Thinking about what?”
“I was thinking that maybe it really is time for me to move. I’m getting too old for this. I was thinking about those apartments for people like me, you know, the ones on the water in Vineyard Haven? I can’t remember the name right now.”
“Seacrest?”
“That’s it. Maybe I should go down there and put my name on the list.”
Julia Scott-Norton stopped fanning herself with the newspaper.
“Dory, promise me you won’t do anything or sign anything or put your name on anything until your daughter gets here, OK?”
“I’m getting tired, Julia. I never thought I’d hear myself say that. But I suppose you’re right, I need to wait at least until Jessica gets here. She’s coming tomorrow, isn’t she? Isn’t that what I said?”
~
Jim leaned back in his reading chair and stared out of the window. His bedroom at St. Bartholomew’s rectory offered a distant view of Dorchester Bay, and it never failed to soothe and help him think. What in the world is she getting herself into this time?
There was no doubt that the Reverend Doctor Olympia Brown, his beloved and most trusted friend in the world, had a nose for trouble. Beyond that, she had the very predictable habit of dragging him in on it because she knew she could depend on him to help, and she was right. But one of these days he feared that she was going to dig herself into a ditch that she couldn’t get back out of, and then what? She had never yet let her head get in the way of her heart, and at fifty-something he didn’t suppose she was going to start now. He shook his head and opened his calendar. It was midsummer, and miracle of miracles, he actually had a few clear days. He could take the two o’clock bus out of South Station and be at her place by five at the latest. Piece of cake!
Speaking of cake, he’d heard there were some pretty good restaurants on Martha’s Vineyard. Maybe he would treat his friend to a nice meal in exchange for sharing a lumpy pull-out sofa with her two cats.
But something unspoken was flashing danger, something hovering out there beyond the fancy restaurant and the bottle of wine. Olympia was in a new situation, far from home and him and from Frederick, as well. For a woman who had done so much with her life, she could be hopelessly naïve when it came to people with devious intentions. He never wanted to pierce her bubble of optimism and generosity. It was one of the reasons he cared so much about her, but somebody needed to strike the reality gong now and then. And Frederick, nice as he is, is too new to the American scene and too courteously, Englishly unassertive, to do it himself.
Jim closed his eyes and rubbed his chin, his pondering position. This could be the opportunity he had been looking for, and trust God to hand it to him. There was something he needed help with that only a friend like Olympia would understand and not pass judgment on. He reached into his pocket for his pencil and started listing what he would need to take with him.
~
The meeting with the insurance adjuster was set for four that afternoon. At precisely ten minutes after the hour, Mike Barnes, Olympia Brown and Julia Scott-Norton were seated in Dory’s living room along with Dory herself and her daughter Jessica. The famous cellist was wearing cut-off jeans, a green tank top and a harried expression.
Mercifully, after a terrifying thunderstorm in which Olympia’s two cats actually spat and hissed at the door and then raced for cover, the weather had cooled down and dried out. But the change in barometric pressure didn’t do much for the interior, contents and ambience of Dory West’s soggy house. Because of the heat, the stench of the rapidly proliferating mold was almost overpowering. Julia wisely thought to bring a fan, and Olympia followed suit and dragged one over from next door. Now seated together and yelling over the noise of the fans, they were trying to make sense of what the insurance adjuster, Mike Barnes, was telling them.
Olympia was doing her best to listen and take notes, but a piece of her outward professional demeanor was simply star struck. There was no other way to put it. She was sitting next to one of the most famous cellists in the world, Jessica West. Olympia had seen her in performance, but in real life, sitting in her devastated childhood home, she looked and talked just like any other daughter concerned for her mother’s safety and well being. She tried not to stare. Jessica’s skin was a shade darker than her mother’s. She had green eyes, and her hair curled in tight, dark copper ringlets that framed her face. She had an angular body, and draped into the wicker rocker across from her mother, she looked like a long, graceful cat, relaxed but totally aware of what was going on around her and ready to spring if necessary.
The insurance adjuster was speaking. “I don’t think you are going to like what I have to say, Mrs. West. The house is old and very much in need of repair, but at the same time, the flood damage is not enough to call it a total loss. Trouble is, you can’t live in it until it’s fixed, and it’s going to take a lot of fixing. I’ll do the best I can, but I can tell you right now the settlement will not cover what needs to be done.
Jessica straightened up in her chair and leaned forward. “So what is she
supposed to do until then?”
“My personal and candid advice to both of you is to sell the place for whatever you can get and let someone else worry about fixing it. You take the money and move your mother into something that’s easier for her to maintain.”
Dory sat on the sofa with her eyes fixed on the floor, slowly shaking her head back and forth.
“Mum?”
Dory raised her head and then stuck out her little brown chin. “It’s much too much to think about. I wouldn’t even know where to begin, and thank you very much, Mr. Barnes, but I’m not going to start now. You can leave your estimates with my daughter, and we’ll get back to you in a few days. My father used to say, ‘this is gonna take some hard thinkin’… and after that a little bit of prayin’.’”
“Perhaps if I sent …”
Julia Scott-Norton stood up the way she did when she wanted to signal the end of a church meeting.
“You’ve been very helpful, Mr. Barnes. I think we understand each other. Dory has a lovely place to stay for as long as she needs it. She has her own bathroom and even a microwave and mini-fridge in her room. We need time to think about this from every angle, and that’s exactly what we are going to do. We don’t rush things on Martha’s Vineyard.”
No one got past Julia Scott-Norton when she signaled the end of something, and this was no exception. It was clear that Mike Barnes got the message. He made a great show of collecting his papers and putting them in order. Then, after giving a folder containing his findings and estimates to Jessica, he nodded farewell to the assembled ladies. Julia wasted no time in shutting the door firmly behind him and suggesting that the four of them continue their discussion next door in Olympia’s cottage where the air was a little better.
It was a tight squeeze inside Olympia’s one-person living room, but once they were all inside and had pulled chairs out of various corners, there was just enough room to seat them all. Julia did a quick recap of what had just transpired and suggested to Jessica that they would do well to get a second opinion. Jessica agreed that it was a good idea but added that she’d been concerned for some time about her mother living alone in such a big house—well, big for her. Managing it all while on concert tour was not easy, so maybe selling and moving was not such a bad idea, or maybe finding someone to come and live with her. It certainly would be easier for all concerned. Dory looked around at the women in the room. She was outnumbered by people who loved her.
“I have no idea what the house is worth,” she said.
“That’s easily found out,” said Julia.
“William Bateson is a realtor. He’s told me more than once if I ever wanted to sell, that he would help me. Why don’t we call …”
“Let’s get a second opinion on that as well,” said Julia, interrupting and diverting her. “I think it’s a good idea to get two or three estimates and then come to an agreement. But we might be getting ahead of ourselves. Dory, you and Jessica need to look at what Mr. Barnes has given to you and talk it over between yourselves. When you have come to a decision, that’s when we can help, can’t we, Olympia?”
Olympia had no choice but to agree. She cast a furtive glance at the wall clock in the kitchen. Jim had called and said he’d be on the five o’clock ferry out of Woods Hole. It would be docking in Vineyard Haven at quarter to six. That meant she needed to get over there in time to find a place to park, and she knew all too well that traffic at that time of the day was going to be vicious. This idyllic little island had more than one dark side, and Olympia wondered how many more she would uncover before her eight weeks were up.
Julia rose to her full, elegant height and said, “Well, ladies, I think we have done what we came to do. We have information and options. Jessica, why don’t you and Dory join me for dinner? Olympia, you’d be most welcome to join us.”
“Thank you, Julia, but I need to pick up a friend at the ferry at five forty-five.”
Julia raised an eyebrow and cocked her head.
“It’s a priest friend of mine. Actually, he’s my best friend. He’s coming down for a few days.”
Julia looked around the tiny cottage with the question mark still arched in her eyebrow.
“She has a guest room,” said Dory. It’s about as big as an airmail stamp, but there’s room enough for a single bed and a pair of shoes. Right, Olympia? I picked out the paint and the quilt myself.”
Now it was Dory’s turn to stand. “Dinner sounds lovely, Julia, but let’s go out to a restaurant, and it will be my treat. You have been so kind. Your house embraces anyone who walks in the door. I need a way to say thank you for all you’ve done for me and my daughter.” Dory turned to Olympia. “Why, we even have our own rooms.”
Julia smiled and nodded. “I’d like to think I planned it that way, but the truth is, my mother and grandmother before me welcomed friend and stranger. I guess I inherited it.”
“You are an absolute treasure,” said Olympia.
“Tell my husband,” said Julia.
Twenty-One
May 7, 1861
One week ago today, I returned to Brookfield with my son. And on that first Sunday, I carried him (more bravely than proudly perhaps) past the raised eyebrows and the questioning looks to my accustomed seat in our little village church. Should anyone have the temerity to ask, I say only that he has come to me by virtue (virtue indeed?) of another’s folly. I said it was someone on my aunt’s side of the family who could not keep him and didn’t want him to go to a stranger. In promising to keep him safe, I promised to keep safe the mother’s sorrowful secret and raise the child as my own. Let the busybodies pick the bones out of that! In the end, they will believe what they want.
Meanwhile, there is a garden to tend, a child to nurse, and a stray kitten the color of cooked squash who has decided that my little boy needs a companion. If the weather holds, I can put in the last of my seeds. Simple, ordinary tasks take so much more time these days.
More anon, LFW
~
The ferry arrived on schedule, and within minutes of its gliding along the dock and tying up, Jim, in a short-sleeved, pale yellow summer shirt and no clerical collar, waving his sunglasses on high, was striding down the metal walkway. The two embraced theatrically, and Olympia towed him off to her venerable Volvo.
“Hey, there, Vicar, that the gentleman friend we’ve not been privileged to meet as of yet, or do you have an island secret?”
Olympia didn’t have to look up to know who it was. “Jack, meet Father James Sawicki. He’s a dear friend and respected colleague. We’ve worked together for years. Now what was that you were saying?”
Jack coughed and sputtered, trying to pry his foot out of his mouth while Olympia and Jim stood by and snickered. Finally Olympia took pity on the man and intervened.
“Relax, Jack. He is a priest, but he is not wearing his collar because he’s on vacation. If you are very nice to him, I might allow you to pour him a drink. But I warn you, he’s a wine expert. He’s got a very educated palate, and you, I remember, have a very fine selection of wines on that dandy little boat of yours.”
“Oh, Christ, I mean crap … I mean …”
By this time Olympia and Jim were laughing so hard they had to hang on to each other to keep from collapsing. When she could breathe, she turned to Jim and said, “It’s a small island, and you’ve just stepped off the boat. By tomorrow half the island will know I’ve got a house guest, and the other half will have invited you to dinner. Welcome to my new world.”
“And let me be the first. Olympia, Jim, may I invite you both to my place on the water tonight for drinks and who knows what. My sister Melody is still here, and she’d love to see you again, Olympia. Whaddya say?”
“Sure,” said Olympia, answering for the two of them. “Give me a couple of hours to show the man to his cubicle and let him put his feet up for a little bit after the commute, and we’d be delighted.”
“OK, how about seven? That give you enough time?”
&
nbsp; “Perfect,” said Olympia.
Once they were under way and heading home, Jim turned to Olympia and said, “Is it like this all the time?’
“I don’t know. I arrived after the start of the tourist season, so I don’t know anything else. I do know there’s a huge clear-out after Labor Day and a lesser one after Columbus Day. I understand that in the winter months this place is totally different. I think I could really like it then. It’s nice, but I never have been one for crowds. That part is pretty overwhelming.”
“You sound as if you don’t like it now.”
“No, I didn’t mean to imply that. It’s different. And it’s nice, but that’s not why I called you. I’ll tell you everything once I get a glass of something cold into your hand. You’ll want to save your taste buds for Jack’s wine; he serves some pretty elegant stuff.”
Jim leaned back and smiled. It was clear to Olympia that he was tired.
“You up for going out tonight?”
“I’ll probably need a quick nap, but I’ll be fine. I’m getting better at pacing myself.”
“Since when did you need to pace yourself?”
“It’s one of the things I want to talk about when we get back to the house.”
~
As he approached the Janney-Lee, Jack Winters waved an energetic greeting to his two favorite women. Melody and his wife were sitting topside, each holding up an umbrella drink and picking at something colorful on a plate between them.
“We got some sushi. There’s more downstairs if you want some.”
“No, thanks. I bumped into The Reverend just now, and I invited her over for drinks later on. She’s got a priest friend staying with her for a couple of days. ‘Course, I didn’t know he was a priest when she introduced me, so I kinda …”
“Blew it?” said his wife.
“You might say that, as well, but I confessed, and he forgave me.”
A Despicable Mission (Olympia Brown Mysteries) Page 12