The outraged prisoner was still screaming things like, “You can’t do this to me!” when Tom turned him over to the backup team. He watched them drive him away, then rubbed his chin in thought for a minute. He went back into the house, found his church directory, and called Suzy Norton.
“Suzy, it’s Tom. Look, I found Joel, and I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but he is in trouble. Not life-or-death trouble, but a bit of trouble. I need to come talk to you about it. Can I come now? O.K.”
He got in his car and drove over to the Nortons’.
Suzy let him in. She looked paler than ever, and frightened. “What is it, Tom?”
“Suzy, I think you should sit down.”
They went into the living room, and Tom saw that Trish O’Malley was there.
“Oh. Hi, Trish.”
“Hi, Tom.”
“Suzy, I didn’t know—”
“It’s O.K., Tom. I asked Trish to come over. She’s my best friend and she’s going to get me through this, whatever it is.”
“Suzy, it’s very personal.”
“I don’t have any secrets from Trish.”
“O.K., then. Here goes. You know that Louise has been missing?”
“Yes, I’ve been so concerned for you.”
“Thank you. Well, she’s back now. Joel brought her.”
“Joel brought her?”
“He’s the one that took her.” And he told both women everything that Joel Norton had told him.
Toward the end of his recital, Suzy Norton began to cry quietly. Trish got up, fetched her purse, extracted some tissues from it, and handed them to her. After Suzy had used these to some effect, Trish sat down beside her and held her hand.
When Tom stopped talking, Suzy said in a small voice, “Oh, Tom, can you ever forgive me?”
“You didn’t do anything to me, Suzy. It was your husband.”
“That’s kind of you.”
He stood up to leave.
“You’re not going to ask me who I am having an affair with?”
Tom was astonished. “That’s none of my business.”
The two women walked him to the door. He noticed they were still holding hands.
The scales fell from his eyes.
“Uh, you wouldn’t like to tell me,” he asked, “if by any chance the note on the flowers signed ‘your loving Tom’ was capital T, capital O, capital M? Not that it’s any of my business!”
Trish O’Malley smiled at him. “You are a clever man, Tom Holder.” And for the second time that day, a woman kissed him on the lips.
CHAPTER 27
It was April in Harton. Spring was being hailed, as always in New Jersey, like a long-lost lover.
Patrick Cunningham, confronted with irrefutable evidence that he had rented a car that contained a crowbar on which were hair and blood from the head of Mason Blaine, had confessed on the advice of his lawyer; the lawyer had used the confession in a plea bargain for a lesser sentence. Tracy had left not only Kathryn’s house but her own apartment on Merton Street and the fellowship of St. Margaret’s Church. No one had heard from her again.
Two days after Patrick’s arrest and Louise’s return, precisely as Kit had predicted, Kathryn delivered herself of a little speech something to the effect of: “Kit, dear, I’m so sorry to drag you over here and then inhospitably throw you back again, but I’m hideously behind on my work because of all this homicide business, and you are such a distraction you know…” Kit sighed and packed his bags.
Tom’s and Kathryn’s friendship survived the period of initial awkwardness. Kathryn, deliberately looking for ways to spend time with him in neutral situations, started coming to vestry meetings—a thing she had sworn she would never do—and sitting next to him. Then she would grab somebody amenable, like Tildy Harmon, after the meeting, and say, “Why don’t we all go have coffee somewhere?” By January they were comfortable again.
Tom even got to the point where he would once more invite himself over for teatime consultations. In February a drunk got into a bar fight with his second cousin; later that night he went over to the cousin’s house and shot him. Tom didn’t have enough evidence for an arrest; he needed a confession. Kathryn offered him some advice on how to get one; he tried it, and it worked. He wanted to send her a dozen roses, but decided that was too lover-like. He discussed it with the florist and sent the arrangement she recommended. He was rewarded with an ecstatic phone call. “Tom! It’s fantastic! Which florist did you use? It doesn’t say on the card. I want to know because the next time I need flowers I’m going to use this florist because this is a gorgeous arrangement! Thank you!” He didn’t touch ground for the rest of the day.
And so he went on loving her, and she went on loving Kit, but at least they were still friends. And he had the comfort of knowing, because he had seen her doing it, that she had worked to make that possible.
One major change had occurred in his life, or was about to. What Louise had done to him with this supposed Runaway thing was the last straw. She hadn’t given a damn about him, and in not giving a damn she had jeopardized his career and his standing in the church. He went to talk to Tildy Harmon. She was appalled.
“Tom, if you want a divorce, I’ll handle it for you, and by God I’ll do it pro bono. And I’ll get somebody else in my firm to do Louise’s part pro bono, too. Do you think she’ll accept it uncontested?”
“Cross your fingers and pray to God.”
She did.
When Tom had told Kathryn, she had said, “Oh, Tom, congratulations! I’m so happy for you. And proud of you, too.”
What Tom didn’t know was that Kathryn had instantly gone to Tildy and asked if there were any costs she could help to defray behind Tom’s back.
So spring came to Harton, and the events of the autumn, which had been so painful to Kathryn, had been carefully forgotten. Or at least suppressed. So it was when the Assistant to the Rector called her up and made an appointment for a lovely Thursday afternoon, Kathryn didn’t have a clue what it was about.
She knocked on the door and two voices called, “Come in!”
She entered to find Maggie Nicholas and Tildy Harmon, both smiling mischievously at her.
“Hi, Maggie, Tildy. What’s all this about?”
“Have a seat, Kathryn,” invited Maggie, who was looking rather like an elf with a secret. “We have summoned you here in our capacity as chair and cochair of the St. Margaret’s scholarship committee. On behalf of the committee, we would like to thank you for presenting us with the happiest and easiest task we have had in years.” She looked at Tildy and they both giggled like schoolgirls.
Kathryn, sinking into a chair, was completely at sea. “But—”
Tildy rode over her. “We only had two applicants,” she said, “and one of them dropped out because she ceased to be a member of St. Margaret’s. The other applicant was superlatively qualified, I have to say. This candidate applied to Harton, Harvard, and Oxford, was accepted at all three, and has chosen Oxford.”
The Assistant to the Rector took up the tale. “Oxford, I’m informed, is divided into colleges, and applicants are supposed to list the three of these they would most like to go to. Our candidate listed Balliol, Magdalen, and Brasenose, and was again accepted at all three, and has chosen Brasenose because that’s where you went. We thought you’d like that.”
Kathryn’s mouth was hanging open. She had forgotten all about the wretched scholarship when Tracy had vanished from Harton. A second candidate? She had deliberately written the requirements so that only Tracy could fulfill them.
Tildy was laughing out loud, practically cackling with glee, enjoying Kathryn’s obvious bafflement. “Come on, Kathryn, don’t you want to know who you’re sending to Oxford? Can’t you guess?”
Kathryn shook her head.
Maggie mimed opening an envelope and extracting a card. “And the winner is…” She looked at Tildy.
Who announced, with a smile as wide as creation, “Tom Holder
.”
about the author Cristina Sumners holds a B.A. in English from Vassar, an M.Div. from the General Theological Seminary of the Episcopal Church and an M.Phil. in Medieval English Studies from Oxford University. She has taught English and religious studies and has served churches in Texas and England. Married to a scientist, she lives in Taos, New Mexico.
ALSO BY CRISTINA SUMNERS
Crooked Heart
Thieves Break In
FAMILIAR FRIEND
A Bantam Book / August 2006
Published by
Bantam Dell
A Division of Random House, Inc.
New York, New York
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved
Copyright © 2006 by Cristina J. Sumners
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eISBN: 978-0-553-90279-2
v3.0
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