and glistened in the clear and crisp morning air. Abigail had walked up from her house, yesterday afternoon’s escapade on the rocks with her journal ashes and Owen Garrison behind her.
Grace leaned over and brushed her fingertips over a perfect dark pink foxglove. “These gardens are Ellis’s pride and joy. It won’t be easy for him to give them up.”
“Give them up?”
“Oh. I assumed you’d heard. We’re selling the property.”
“This place?” Abigail didn’t hide her surprise. “No, I hadn’t heard.”
And Grace would know she hadn’t heard. It was just her way of reminding Abigail that she didn’t know everything about the Coopers. Abigail had no illusions about her relationship with them. It wasn’t unfriendly, but they were aware she kept track of them-and that she did so because of their connections to Chris. They’d known him all his life. Ellis had held a garden party here the day she was attacked and robbed and Chris was killed. Someone had burglarized them and a handful of their friends that summer, although whether it was the same person who attacked her and stole her necklace remained an open question.
“The timing’s right,” Grace continued. “Linc and I aren’t children anymore. My father can only get away for a few weeks in the summer. Keeping two houses here just doesn’t make as much sense these days.”
“Why not sell your place on Somes Sound?”
She shrugged, moving past sprays of coral bells and painted daisies. “It’s right on the water, and it’s really the family place more than this is. Ellis agrees. I think he wants to buy his own place. He’s so much younger than my father-he didn’t have the money when my father bought this property from the Garrisons.”
“Won’t Ellis miss his gardens, especially?”
“I imagine so, but he’s become quite the amateur landscape designer-I’m sure he’d love to get his fingers into something new. And there’s not much more he can do here.”
“But it wasn’t his idea to put the home on the market?”
“He trusts my father on these matters.” Grace paused, then smiled as she moved on to a sun-filled garden “room” of peonies. “We all trust my father.”
“He’s a smart man,” Abigail said.
“That he is. And you-why are you here?”
“In Maine? I’m painting.” She and Lou Beeler had agreed to limit the number of people they told about the anonymous call. “I’ve already been to the hardware store this morning.”
“Good for you. I hope you’ll join us for lunch one day while you’re here. I’m sure my father would love to see you. And Linc’s here-”
“I saw him on the steps while Mattie had a cigarette.”
Grace rolled her eyes. “Mattie knows Ellis doesn’t allow smoking on the grounds. Well, Linc won’t tell.”
“Neither will I. I’m not here to stir up trouble.”
“Aren’t you?” But she added quickly, “I have to go. I have calls to make. Take all the time you want looking at the gardens. Ellis will be flattered.”
“Congratulations on your appointment.”
She brightened. “Thank you. I’m thrilled. It’s a tremendous honor, and I look forward to the work.” She started back to her uncle’s house, then stopped and glanced back. “It’s good to see you, Abigail. I mean that.”
With Grace’s departure, Abigail walked over to a small garden shed at the far end of the yard. Mature herbs and tall wildflowers grew to its small, four-paned windows. As a young bride, new to Maine, new to Garrison wealth, Polly Garrison supposedly had insisted on keeping chickens.
Abigail peeked behind the shed-sure enough, there was a boarded-up, chicken-sized door.
Mattie Young dragged a hose toward the shed. “Hey, Abigail, how’s it going?”
“Great. Beautiful day. You?”
“Paying the bills.”
“I was just talking to Grace. I hadn’t realized the Coopers were putting this place on the market.”
“Not the Coopers. Daddy Jason.”
“But Ellis-”
“He goes along. Can’t afford to piss off big brother, you know?” Mattie coiled the hose into a heap under a water line at a corner of the shed. “Makes no difference to me. New owners will need a yardman.”
Abigail didn’t respond. She’d lost patience with Mattie’s chronic bitterness and cynicism a long time ago. Even Chris, who’d stood by his childhood friend through one self-indulgent, self-destructive screwup after another, had finally written Mattie off after he didn’t show up for their wedding.
“I hadn’t realized Linc was up here,” she said. “I saw you two talking-”
“We’re allowed to talk.” He caught himself, stepping back from the house. “Sorry. It’s just-you’re a cop. Every time you ask a question, I think I’m being interrogated.”
“That’s understandable,” she said, neutral.
He picked at a mosquito bite on his wrist. “Linc’s at a loose end this summer. I think he’s bummed about his dad selling this place. He’s never known a time when it wasn’t in his family. He doesn’t remember when the Garrisons owned it.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way. But the Coopers’ house on Somes Sound is even bigger and fancier-”
“Don’t I know it?” Mattie grinned, but he didn’t manage to take any of the edge off his put-upon attitude. “I mow their yard every week.”
Portly Ellis Cooper joined them. He was neatly dressed in khakis and a bright blue golf shirt, a retractable walking stick tucked under one arm. His favorite pastime was to wander in his five acres of gardens. His property also backed up onto woodland trails that led into Acadia and down the steps and across the private drive, included the cliffs where Doe Garrison had drowned. Ellis could roam to his heart’s content.
“Abigail-my apologies for not greeting you sooner. I wanted to finish in the garden and wash up before saying hello.” He put out a hand and shook hers warmly. “Wonderful to see you.”
“You, too, Ellis. I don’t think I’ve ever seen your gardens this gorgeous.”
“We had a cool spring. Everything seems to have blossomed at once. Did Grace give you the grand tour?”
“She did. I should let you all get back to your day. Is Linc still here? I haven’t had a chance to say hello-”
“He took off a few minutes ago,” Mattie said.
Ellis seemed faintly irritated at his yardman’s interruption, but he hooked his arm into Abigail’s, smiling at her. “I’ll walk with you. You came up the steps, didn’t you? I was worried the fog would settle in for a few days, but it blew out almost as fast as it blew in.”
When they reached the front of the house, he unhooked his arm from Abigail’s, and she grinned at him. “You’d have made a good bouncer in another life.”
He laughed. “I’m just a political consultant and gardener.”
“I don’t know how good a consultant you are, but you’re obviously quite the gardener.”
“Grace told you we’re selling the place? I could continue here forever, but I have to admit I’m excited about the prospect of a fresh start somewhere. Keeping up five acres of gardens is a huge responsibility. I’ve naturalized more and more in recent years, but it’s still a lot of work.”
“You and Mattie manage everything yourselves?”
“I bring in specialists from time to time. Mattie-well, you know what he’s like. He’s just reliable enough and just hardworking enough that I can’t fire him. I don’t think he’s drinking, not right now. The truth is, I feel sorry for him.” Ellis’s expression softened. “Chris’s death shattered him. He’s never been the same.”
“He’d started drinking again before Chris was killed.”
“True, but he was starting to turn himself around that summer-or so most of us thought. Hard to believe it’s been seven years. Jason thinks it’s been long enough not to affect prospective buyers. Even if Chris wasn’t killed on the property, it was close-” He stopped himself, looked stricken. “Oh, Abigail. I’m so sorry. I know it must seem like yesterday to you. I didn’t mean-”
“It’s okay, Ellis. Forget it.”
Abigail was accustomed to people getting tongue-tied around her. She wondered if it’d be different if she’d remarried, if she’d been older when she was widowed.
She said goodbye to Ellis and followed a shaded stone path surrounded by thyme to the steps. Abigail imagined Owen’s eccentric great-grandfather taking the time, the money and the energy to have the steps carved into the granite hillside-all to get to a teahouse. He wasn’t in the same league as his superrich Maine neighbors like the
