radical revision.
'Don't tell anyone,' he warned. 'She'd kill me if she knew I'd told anyone.'
'Don't worry; I'm not into gossip.' Mother and Mrs. Fenniman, on the other hand, would have it all over the county within twenty-four hours of her return. Nothing I could do about that. 'I'm the oddball around here; I like secrets as much as anyone, but prefer keeping them to myself and snickering at people who aren't in the know.'
'I can certainly relate to that,' he said. 'But sometimes ... well, there's a big difference between simply not telling a secret and having to run around lying and pretending to cover it up. This summer I've gotten very tired of pretending. In fact--'
Just then we heard a blood-curdling shriek. We both jumped up and ran out of the study and toward the front door, the direction from which the shriek seemed to have come. Other family and friends were peering over the upstairs banister and popping out of doorways all up and down the hall, although I didn't see any of them venturing down to help us. Michael grabbed my grandfather's knobby old walking stick from the umbrella stand in the front hall. I flung open the front door and peered out to see--
A small, nondescript man in overalls and a John Deere cap standing on the front steps holding a much- creased piece of paper and frowning at us.
'Is this the Langslow house?' he asked.
'Yes,' I said, rather tentatively. He looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't quite place him.
'About time,' he growled, turning on his heel and walking down the steps to the driveway, where a large, battered truck, like a small moving van, was parked. 'I'd like to have a word or two with whoever drew up this map,' he said over his shoulder, shaking the piece of paper vaguely in our direction. 'Been driving around the county with these damn things for hours now.'
'What damn things?' Michael asked, still keeping the walking stick handy.
Instead of answering, the man flung open the back door of the truck and banged the side a couple of times with his fist. A chorus of unearthly shrieks rang out and then half a dozen shapes exploded from the back of the truck and scattered across the lawn, still shrieking.
'Ah,' I said. 'I see the peacocks have arrived.'
Mr. Dibbit, the owner of the peacocks, gave Dad, Michael, and me a brief rundown on peacock care while the rest of the family ran off into the night to hunt them down. Mr. Dibbit assured us this was unnecessary; they'd find someplace to roost tonight and would show up for breakfast when they got hungry enough. Or if they didn't, we wouldn't have any problem finding them; you could hear them for miles. Or follow the droppings. I sensed that Mr. Dibbit was not a peacock owner by choice, or at least was no longer a proud and happy one. I began to suspect he was secretly hoping we would manage to lose or do in his peacock flock so he could be rid of it. He unloaded a couple of sacks of what he called peacock feed-- actually Purina Turkey Chow, I noticed.
He told us just to treat them like any other big bird. And then he drove off into the night--rather hurriedly. Or perhaps he was still miffed about the map. Mother had drawn a beautiful map, elegantly lettered, with many little sketches of the houses and gardens in the area. But since she'd left out or misnamed most of the critical streets and drawn most of the rest out of scale or perpendicular to the way they really ran, I could well understand Mr. Dibbit's frustration.
Dad and Michael began lugging the peacock chow into the garage. I was not a bit surprised to see Dad sampling it, but I hadn't realized how much he was influencing Michael. Men. At least Michael had the grace to look sheepish when I caught him nibbling. I went upstairs to change. The rest of the family could amuse themselves chivvying the peacocks through the neighborhood or devouring the poor birds' breakfast. The peacocks had arrived, taking care of one more of what Samantha called 'those little details that really make an occasion.' I was filled with a sense of accomplishment, and I planned to get all dressed up and go to Samantha's party.
Why I bothered I have no idea. Within half an hour of my arrival I was wondering how soon I could sneak out. As usual, most of the people at the party were Samantha's friends, not Rob's. I wondered if Rob realized how much his life was going to change after the wedding. And not for the better if it meant hanging out with this crowd.
By one in the morning, I was through. I was running out of ways to dodge Dougie, the particularly persistent unwanted suitor I'd ditched at Samantha's last party. I decided to leave. But I didn't want to have him follow me home, so I decided to hide out upstairs for a little while, in the hope that he'd think I was gone. Then I would go back down and sneak out.
I didn't want to stumble into a bedroom that might be occupied, so I headed for Mr. Brewster's library at the end of the hall. Luck was with me; the door was open, and I was able to duck inside before anyone else appeared in the hall.
Just as I was breathing a sigh of relief, I heard a noise behind me. I whirled about and saw a couple half reclining on the library sofa. Rob, and one of the bridesmaids. She was wearing a tight, red strapless dress, although there was a great deal more of her out of the dress than in it at the moment. I tried to remember her name, but after several glasses of wine it was impossible. Not one of the Jennifers, anyway. Rob looked somewhat disheveled as well, but instead of the angry stare the woman in red was giving me, Rob's flushed face showed mostly embarrassment with, I was pleased to note, perhaps a hint of relief. I decided that he needed rescuing, and that the best way to do it was to ignore whatever they had been up to.
'Oh, good, there you are, Rob,' I said, walking over to the sofa. 'Samantha was looking for you for something.' Rob jumped to his feet and began putting his clothes to rights. I helped him by retying his tie as I continued. 'I think they want to take some pictures. With the peacocks, if they're still awake.' What a stupid thing to say, I told myself, but it was the first thing that came to mind. Actually I hoped they didn't want Rob for anything else tonight; as I drew his arm through mine and began leading him to the door, I realized that he was stumbling and lurching badly. Rob never did have much of a head for drink. I was babbling something inane about peacocks and wondering how on earth I was going to get him downstairs, when I ran into Michael at the landing.
'Help me with Rob,' I hissed, glancing back at the door of the study. Sure enough, the vamp was standing in the door, looking daggers at me and trying to stuff herself back into the bodice of the dress. Michael took in the situation and immediately propped up Rob from the other side.
'We need to get him downstairs and back home,' I said.
'Maybe you'd better zip his fly up before we take him back out in public. I'll hold him steady while you do.' I did, made a few more futile efforts to make him look presentable, and then we more or less carried him down the stairs. Fortunately there were only a few people to stare as we lugged him out the front door.
Our luck held at first; the fresh air seemed to revive Rob a little, so he wasn't a dead weight on the walk home. But getting up the porch steps took a lot out of him, and he passed out in the front hall.
'Allow me,' Michael said, and he heaved Rob up in a fireman's carry and hauled him up to his room, with me running ahead to show the way. Michael deposited his burden on the bed. After I pulled off Rob's shoes and loosened his tie, I decided to call it quits.
'Thanks,' I told Michael. 'Once again, I don't know what we'd have done without you. You seem to be making a career out of hauling incapacitated Langslows home.'
'You're welcome. I only wish we could get some aspirin in him. I learned in my misspent youth that a couple of aspirin the night before does more than a dozen the morning after. But I don't think he'd thank us for waking him up to feed them to him.'
'He should thank us for getting him out of there. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't happened to come along.'
'I didn't just happen to come along. I saw you go upstairs, and I remembered that you'd seemed to be trying to lose that Doug character, and I thought I'd tag along in case he followed you.'
'And what if I'd been heading for a rendezvous with him?' I teased.
'I would have been frightfully embarrassed. But somehow I can't see you slipping upstairs for a rendezvous with Dougie.'
'No, actually he was waiting for me in the gazebo.'
I'd never actually seen anyone do a double take in real life.
'He was what?'
'Waiting for me in the gazebo.'
