As I recalled from long ago, the doors to the right opened into a dining room. The double doors to the left were partially open. Light streamed out into the hallway. Voices murmured. I’d attended many a Christmas tea for the Altar Guild in that ornate room with a low beamed ceiling, gilded Louis XVI furnishings, and a hand-carved green Italian marble fireplace.
Gina moved swiftly past Peg down the central hall, heading toward an oak door. Her silk skirt swirled as she walked.
“Don’t call the police.” Peg’s voice was low but sharp. “I’m taking him upstairs.”
Gina stopped and faced Peg. “Up to see Susan? That’s crazy. We don’t know anything about him.”
Peg held up the envelope. “It’s written here. He’s Mitch’s son. Do you honestly think someone would drop a strange child on the front porch and make that claim? Everyone knows about DNA. No one would try to foist off a child as Mitch’s. There are tests that can be done and then we’ll know without a doubt. For now, if you think Susan will thank you for trying to turn away her grandson, a grandson she never knew about, even for a few minutes, you can think again.”
Gina lifted her hands. “All right, maybe he’s for real. I don’t know and neither do you. But we do know how sick Susan is. Do you want to kill her?”
Her round face uncertain for an instant, Peg drew in a sharp breath. “Joy never killed anyone.”
They stood a foot apart on the Oriental runner in the center of the main hallway, Peg’s eyes determined, Gina’s sharp features resistant.
One of the doors to the left squeaked as a plump woman in her fifties stepped into the hallway. “Girls, you’re missing the most fascinating description of Christmas in Lapland. Did you know Santa lives on a fell called Big Ear? Harrison knows so many things.” Her voice was cheerful and only slightly tongue-in-cheek.
With a sidelong glance, Peg moved a little to her left, shielding Keith from the woman’s line of vision. Peg managed a bright smile. “Please tell Harrison we’ll be there in a minute. I’m sure he has much more to say. I’m going to run up and see Susan for a minute. A message came for her. Gina and I will see to it and be down in a little while. Susan may want to talk to us.”
“Tell Susan we are all thinking about her. It isn’t the same not to have her downstairs with us. I think this is the first time she’s missed Harrison’s birthday celebration. She must not be feeling well. Don’t stay too long and tire her.” With a quick smile, she turned away. Before the door closed, her high dithery voice could be heard. “The girls will be back in a few minutes.” The door squeaked shut.
Gina jerked her head toward the closed living room door. “You had your chance to tell Jake. What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”
Jake. It was an interesting name. I wondered if the name reflected a wish to be different or a streak of boyishness not evident in the heavyset blonde’s matronly appearance.
Peg looked both uneasy and defiant. “I don’t want to bother her.”
Gina’s grin was malicious. “She’ll have a fit when she finds out, cuz. Your mom fancies herself queen of the hive in this house.”
Peg’s hands clenched. “Mother will understand. Besides, this is Susan’s house. We have no right to keep Keith’s arrival from her.”
Gina shrugged. “What if this is a hoax? If he’s truly Mitch’s son, why would he arrive like this?”
Keith pressed against me. Gina’s words held little meaning for him, but he saw her frowning face. Tears glistened in his dark eyes.
I bent down and whispered, “Let’s go upstairs, Keith.” I realized I no longer needed the warmth of the chinchilla coat and cap and wished it away.
The two women were engrossed in their quarrel. With a quick glance over my shoulder, I lifted Keith—the steep old steps would be a stretch for his short legs—and sped up the stairs. His sweet breath tickled my cheek and he felt warm and dear in my arms. In scarcely an instant, we reached the landing and soon were out of sight from below.
I’ll admit I acted on impulse. Keith was obviously tired, probably hungry, alone and frightened. I felt that ultimately Peg would prevail but I wasn’t going to chance Keith being handed over to the police. Besides, I have faith in instinct. Somewhere upstairs a woman named Susan had no inkling of the joy that was to be hers. Bringing joy is good, and as Peg insisted, joy never killed anyone.
In the upstairs hallway, twin rosewood lamps on an English Hepplewhite sideboard shed soft light through their milky bowls. The Oriental runner was old, its colors faded to a muted glow of rust and sage. I had little time. I moved swiftly along the hallway, opening doors.
The last door revealed a spacious bedroom with a fireplace. A too-thin woman sat in a Sheraton chair to one side of the fireplace with glowing fake logs. Her oval face, even though drooping with pain and illness, was lovely, a high forehead, finely arched brows, eyes dark as shadows at midnight, long narrow nose, narrow lips, a firm chin, an air of command. Silver frosted her softly waved chestnut hair. She rested against the cushion, her gaze remote, sorrow her companion. She was in the room yet she seemed distant and unapproachable. There were no garlands of evergreen, no flicker of red candles, no red-and-green taffeta bows in this room. On a cushion by her feet, a large calico cat slumbered, her patches of red-and-black fur striking against the white.
Over the fireplace hung a reproduction of Fra Angelico’s
She didn’t turn at the sound of the opening door. “You’re early, Jake.” She spoke as if coming back from a far distance. “No matter. Put the tray on the table.” She turned a hand toward the gleaming dark Queen Anne table next to her chair. “You can tell me about the evening tomorrow. I’ll not visit tonight.”
I put Keith down, once again murmured in his ear, smelled his sweet little boy scent.
He looked up at me, his eyes huge and dark.
I blew him a kiss, nodded.
