Jenny Rose and I looked at each other with fright.
Paige said, “Yes, isn’t it pretty? And please do call me Paige.”
“About 1750, isn’t it?” Jupiter said.
“Really?” Paige said. “How can you be sure?”
Jupiter frowned knowingly. “Well, because it has a moon phase, we know it’s after 1720. They didn’t make them before that. Now, the dials are made of brass and they have those little silver decorations. They kept making them only until about 1770. That lets me know it can’t be later than that.”
Jenny Rose stood. “I think I’ll just go tuck our Wendell into bed.”
Jupiter continued, “Did you notice how the Roman numeral VI on the clock face is placed upside down? Only the old girls have that. They turned them upright after 1850. And all the early pieces used the Roman numeral IIII instead of IV for four.”
“Really!” Oliver said.
“How enlightening!” Paige marveled, and then everyone was joining in.
“Where did you dig that up?” I whispered when no one was near.
“In the public library,” Jupiter whispered back, winking. “Kovels’ Know Your Antiques.”
It wasn’t until after dinner when Mr. Piet danced in the crêpe suzette, its pan aflame, that Jenny Rose made her sudden appearance with the make-believe treasure. Because the flaming suzette was such a hit and warranted everyone’s attention and applause, I thought Jenny Rose would have to come close to make sure everyone had a glimpse of the loot. But the room literally stopped at her entrance. She looked, standing there at the threshold until she had everyone’s attention, like a younger version of Carmela. I had to blink twice to ascertain it was Jenny Rose. Her short hair was pulled back off her face with gel into a kind of medieval veil and she’d dressed up in some sort of Moroccan costume. She carried a glimmering tumble of what seemed to be antique platinum and gold fitted gems. Just then, something neither of us had anticipated occurred. The music box began to emit a sudden tinkling of “The Waltz of the Flowers.” It was so haunting, so utterly theatrical, the tune drifting unbidden across the room. Surely everyone would realize it was a scam. But they didn’t, they watched, mouths agape as the glittering “jewels” and Jenny Rose seemed to float across the living room to the hallway. I thought Glinty would fall from his chair. Even Morgan, whom I’d earmarked as sensible, sat knocked for a loop. Jupiter Dodd got up and adopted her by the elbow and they took the grand staircase, she with such Lady MacBethian poise that no one moved until they disappeared into the blue room.
The door opened and Jenny Rose emerged alone and descended the stairs.
“Chi è quella bellissima ragazza?” Mrs. Dellaverna marveled.
“It’s Jenny Rose,” I whispered in her ear.
“Jenny Rose? No!” she protested.
Jenny Rose, taking her seat, shrugged with pleasure. “It’s just an old thing I picked up in Istanbul.”
Everyone began to talk at once. Mr. Piet refilled the crystal glasses with a treasured Sancerre. I was on pins and needles and drank one down and then another. I wasn’t the only one. Darlene Lassiter, I noticed, had lost her affected ladylike airs and was reverting back to the barmaid from Skibbereen, slouching with knees obscenely at their ease.
I said to Jenny Rose through gritted teeth, “Why are we doing this again?”
“It’s a laugh, isn’t it?” Jenny Rose gave me that Irish dare look, which I have to say was contagious—and I tried to relax. We were in charge, right? What could go wrong?
Wendell
The noise from the party tinkled up the stairs. Wendell opened his eyes just a slit. She was gone. He threw off his quilt. He was already dressed with his shoes on and all. He arranged his toys under his covers and made it look like he was in there, a very good idea he’d observed on TV. He put on his red corduroy jacket, eased the straps of his blue knapsack over his shoulders, and went to the window. Quiet as a mouse, he slid the window open and got up on the ledge. When the two men down past the garage strolled to the other side of the house and lit their cigarettes, he maneuvered himself out and scuttled down the trellis. Halfway down, the wood snapped and he grabbed hold of the vine, landing his feet on the wall of the house with a thunk. The vine was twice as strong as the rotting wood, and he held on for dear life.
Mr. Piet was alone in the kitchen with two orange cakes in the oven and a white restaurant tablecloth wrapped around him. He looked up. What was that? No. No, it was nothing; just those squirrels reeking havoc again on the old roof.
Wendell stirred and then lowered himself in slipping gulps—covered now in blossoms—all the way down to the lawn. As fast as his little legs would carry him, he crossed the yard and made his way down the cliff to the marina—and Teddy’s old Dream Boat.
Claire
We moved outside and made good use of the veranda despite the damp air, all of us tipsy and talkative. Mr. Piet had dragged out the wrought-iron chairs, and Radiance had strewn twinkle lights and hung paper lanterns from the grapevines on the pergola and lit them with flickering votives. The sky was stars and whizzing clouds. Glinty had a scratched-up violin—a fiddle he called it—and from the corner under the trellis he played with an almost shocking beauty. I was both touched and unnerved by the deep looks he and Jenny Rose dealt each other, the music so moving it seemed somehow wrong for the others to go on talking and laughing. How could such a scamp be so skilled? But I reminded myself of his harsh words about Teddy and resumed my dislike. He’s jealous, I said to myself. Just look at Teddy there playing horseshoes with Mrs. Lassiter, as good-natured a fellow as you’d ever want to know.
We were waiting for Jupiter Dodd to descend after his inspection, the staircase and doorway in full view through the glass doors. It was taking him long enough. We were all getting cold. I was beginning to think he’d fallen asleep and wished I’d never included him in our scheme. Oliver came over with a drink for me. Rye and ginger. He’d remembered. He went over and stood beside Mrs. Lassiter. She remarked, “It’s nice to see Daniel here. I didn’t know he could be social.”
I started to go inside but wanted to hear what he’d say and so I lingered behind them. Oliver sighed. “It’s hard to tell with a guy like him. He was such a good kid.” He crunched a knuckle. “Before the accident, he was headed for a stellar life. I used to worship him, believe it or not. Still, off kilter as he is, to this day he’d never hurt a soul. There’s no real bad in him. It was his wife, Janet. She was rotten. There’s no other way to say it. I don’t like to speak ill of the dead, but she had no conscience. She was just born without one.”
“There’s them that are!” Mrs. Lassiter opened her purse and shut it. “At least he has his son.”
“Yeah, right.” He wiped his lip and looked away.
At last the door upstairs swung open. Jupiter looked more sad than happy, though, and that hadn’t been in the plan. I didn’t dare look at Jenny Rose. The wind had picked up and the paper lanterns blew sideways, making a noise like fluttering birds’ wings. Already I could see Oliver shrink with disappointment, calculating how much he’d lain out for this feast. Jupiter minced down the stairs with such a morose look on his face that my heart began to pound. Carefully he opened and came through the French doors. Glinty stirred and sat beside Jenny Rose, taking her small hand in his.
“I’m so very sorry,” Jupiter began, painstakingly taking a seat in our midst. Was he going to sell us out? Paige shivered and Radiance put a caring arm around her shoulder. Oliver threw back his drink.
Jupiter said, “I’m afraid these artifacts are even older and more valuable than I was led to believe. They’re quite out of my realm. I’ve telephoned my secretary. We’ll have to wait for my associate to join us tomorrow.” He scowled into his drink then looked up through sparse brows. “Would that be all right, do you think?”
“Oh, yes!” everyone effused at once. I sank with reli
ef. Oliver didn’t even wait for Mr. Piet but breezed light-footed down to the cellar himself to find a more celebratory bottle. Everyone chattered and cigars were passed around and lit. It wasn’t that cold everyone agreed. Jenny Rose’s wicked eyes glowed and met mine across the starlit night.
Claire
The day of the race broke with a nice, brisk wind. I was up early and trying to enjoy my breakfast—expensive Greek yogurt with a little pot of honey attached—but Jake watched me reproachfully. “Oh, all right.” I gave in and let him have the rest. I let him out, washed and dressed quickly, let him in and made my way into town. The linden trees were in bloom and their perfume was intoxicating. Hearing voices and excitement, I went to the overlook, a good location for a broad view of the race. There was still plenty of time before the start, but already I could just feel the high spirits. I watched the villagers hurrying to set up their folding chairs and picnic baskets. At the dock below, sailors aboard their yachts threw good-natured insults at one another. I spotted Daniel down there at the marina, out on the farthermost dock. What was he doing there? He looked so strange standing at the end of the pier gazing out to sea and I figured I’d better go tell Paige. I sprinted off to Twillyweed, but then something happened that made me forget all about him.
Going up the gravel drive, I stopped in my tracks. An undercover cop car was parked sideways, all four doors open, winglike. A frightened-looking Glinty, his hands cuffed behind him, was being ushered into a backseat with solemnity, the officer’s hand holding his head down like on TV.
I watched them pull away and drive right past me. Not one of them looked at me.
Paige and Jupiter Dodd stood in the doorway. “What’s going on?” I hollered.
“Claire!” she called. “You won’t believe what’s happened! They caught Glinty trying to steal the jewels from Father’s room! Our Glinty!” She stamped her foot like a wounded adolescent. “I still can’t believe it! I won’t.”
But Jupiter shrugged and argued, “He didn’t raise a peep to defend himself.”
Mr. Piet came out drying his hands. Paige demanded, “I don’t understand what the police were doing here anyway. I’d like to know. They didn’t even look like police, did they, Mr. Piet?”
Jenny Rose pushed through them from the kitchen, her arms akimbo, her face streaked with tears. “You did this!” she fumed at me unreasonably. “You just had to pin it on someone! Are you happy now?”
“Come on, girls, no sense blowing in the wind.” Jupiter herded us back into the house. He took me aside. “Oh, my God. It was so exciting. I was in the shower! Suddenly there were police everywhere! It was like on CSI! It was heaven!”
“Where’s Wendell?”
Paige raised herself onto a bar stool, shaking her head. “He slept through the whole thing, God bless him. He’s still up in bed.”
“This was all your idea!” Jenny Rose glowered at me.
“But,” I protested, “but …”
She ran into the powder room and I stood there, listening to her be sick. The foghorn from Steamboat Landing blew. That meant five minutes to go till the race.
I went outside and walked, bewildered, toward the docks. So it was Glinty. I ought to be pleased. I was glad. Wasn’t I? Well, God help me, I was just glad it wasn’t Morgan. I ought to be proud. But I remembered the way Glinty had played the violin so tenderly, and it left me with a hollow, anticlimactic feeling. I could hear the rustling of the sailboats; they were all jockeying for position at the start. I scuffled up and down the length of the crowded dock trying to catch sight of the Corinthian, but the gun sounded and the boats took off in a whoosh. I bent over catching my breath.
“Claire!”
I turned. Morgan. Who never raced. Our eyes locked across the span of rocking boats.
“Come for a ride?” He held out his hand.
“Oh, Morgan,” I said, jumping on board, “they’ve arrested Glinty!”
“Arrested for what?”
“Jenny Rose and I set a trap for the thief,” I panted. “The whole thing with the jewels last night was a setup. And Glinty went for it. I thought it would happen during the race and I wasn’t there and missed the whole thing! I should be glad. But I can’t—”
“Whoa! Slow down!”
“Okay. Look. Glinty tried to steal the jewels Jenny Rose had appraised last night.”
“What? That’s ridiculous!”
I threw my arms in the air. “Except the jewels weren’t real. They were your mother’s button collection, gussied up. Well, we did put one or two good pieces in just to keep it kosher.”
He was utterly baffled. “What are you talking about?”
“It was a gag. The police were in on it. A hoax, to try and draw out the thief!”
Morgan stared at me, grasping this, then burst out laughing.
I said abruptly, “What’s so funny? It worked, didn’t it?”
“Ach. He never did mean to steal your jewels. Glinty’s a far cry from a thief. I’d stake my life on it. Look, Claire, the gag is on you. Glinty wasn’t up to the house to steal anything. It was me who told him to go there, to find the papers to the For Sail.”
“What? You’re just sticking up for him.”
“No, I’m not.” He laughed hopelessly. “He was all set to take your niece away with him. Did you not know they were set to run away? He wanted to surprise her with the boat. I hate to be the one to tell you, but your niece …” His eyes softened. “She’s going to have a baby. Glinty’s baby. He went to get the ownership papers to the For Sail so he can take her out to sea. She’s a fine, brisk vessel for all that. Oliver keeps the papers in his father’s desk upstairs in the blue room. Ach, the For Sail is mine but, ah, well, I never had the heart to actually march upstairs and snatch the papers from the house. Everyone knows she’s mine, but the Cupsands always sailed her. Glinty wants to sail her to Maryland and marry your niece straightaway,” he explained.
“But … then … why didn’t he say—”
“Didn’t want to sell me out, I imagine. Probably thought I’d be in trouble with the family.”
My head was swirling. “But, but they’ve arrested him!” I cried. “The police. He’s in jail!”
“Oh, I’ll just go bail him out,” he told me and pulled contentedly on his earlobe. “It won’t hurt him much to be locked up for a bit.”
We stared at each other across the rolling deck. The wind was making it hard to talk. There were so many boats moving in and out that the water surged choppily.
“Morgan? I don’t know. I was just wondering … There wouldn’t be any significance to a glove, would there? It’s just I found this single glove outside the cottage one night a while ago when the lamplight was deliberately put out.”
He frowned. “None I can think of.”
I looked out to sea.
Then he said, “There was that case of abuse up at Guardian Angel House years ago. A preacher. Volunteer, it turned out. Used to lock the kids up in the closet to punish them.” He said this breezily and then, remembering, grew thoughtful. “But that was years ago. We were worried for a while how it would affect the kids. Yes.” He scratched his head. “Played the banjo. He used to wear gloves to protect his hands. Weirdo. They caught him abusing himself right in front of the children! Made them watch!”
“He … wouldn’t still be around Sea Cliff?”
“Naw. He hasn’t been around for years. Dead, probably.”
I put my sweater on.
“It was Paige who flushed him out,” he continued, shaking his head with admiration. “He didn’t last long with her around. She cleaned that place out top to bottom.”
Paige. Always Paige.
Chapter Nine
Wendell and Teddy
Wendell was stowed away nicely now in a pile of supplies and white life jackets. He’d wriggled himself down deep a
s he could and had slept pretty well, he thought. When Teddy’d come on board, the small boy had jumped with nerves, then burrowed in fearfully and pulled the tarpaulin over his head before Teddy could see him. He would wait here as long as it took. He had all his supplies in his backpack. He knew it was Teddy who was writing those letters. He knew because he’d seen him take the letter paper from Mama’s nice desk. He put his ear against the soft cork and he tried to be comfortable, thinking of everything nice, put his thumb in his mouth, and rocked back and forth with the tide. There was an old man from the west. He wore a pale plum-colored vest …
Teddy sheeted the mainsail to get the boat moving. He wanted to be out of there and back before the winner’s celebration. The Dream Boat skimmed westerly toward Duffy’s Point—away from the regatta, away from the gullible.
He’d get rid of everything implicating him, just weigh it all down and dump it, then slip back into Twillyweed and retrieve the jewels that were rightfully his. Well, they were! Son of the eldest son. If that fat fucking thief Patsy Mooney hadn’t come across his hoard, things would have run along so smoothly. Ah, well. It was her own damned fault. Served her right, the bitch. He sniffed the air. Good wind. He smiled. The ex-husband had been a gift. Handy that Patsy was always moaning and groaning to him about how he’d hit her. Getting him to come to Sea Cliff had been a cinch. The timing was perfect. He’d been cutting it close, but it had all worked out. Served her right for making off with his stash. Nosy, fat bitch. It hadn’t bothered him a bit to put an end to her. He’d enjoyed it. Almost as much as he’d enjoyed getting rid of Noola. Teddy chuckled. Served her right, too, the old ninny, stupidly announcing there was a priceless lunar volvelle unrecognized for what it was down in that shabby rectory in Queens and no one to care for it! Lucky he’d been there at Noola’s with Daniel, delivering Paige’s care basket, when she’d come across that German priest’s obituary. What an old fool she’d been to think he’d trot right off to do her bidding so Morgan could see it safely wedged onto some museum shelf—never imagining it would appeal to the likes of him. But, no, she’d thought only her precious son, Morgan, would be smart enough to know what to do with a treasure of that magnitude. In her astonishment, she’d spoken too soon. Old fool. Still, he remembered the look of worry and realization that had sprung to her eyes when she realized what she’d said—and to whom she’d said it. She’d always been suspicious of him. All his life. Janet’s son, he’d heard her murmur once. Like she’d had a bad taste in her mouth. Her skepticism had been like a wall of disapproval he could never get past. Well, he’d gotten past it now, hadn’t he? He’d given her a real bad taste. Slipping the pills into her tea was so simple, so quick—even she hadn’t suspected he’d think of it.
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