Edith had been a Hamilton and on the island, kinship mattered more than real estate transfers. Nan and Freeman didn't seem to be paying them much mind, though. Paul was the only man Faith had seen wearing a suit. There were a few ties of various natures, some dress pants, even a few neatly pressed jeans, but no suits. He must know the mores. Maybe he liked to set himself apart, in which case Faith thought he could have picked something more distinguished than the navy polyester model he was sporting. Edith was wearing a lilac pants suit, no doubt of similar venue, and they looked like bookends.
There seemed to be a lot of activity around the rear door to the outside. Faith noticed the people leaving for a breath of fresh air were returning with very rosy cheeks. The dances were dry, not even BYOB, so those desirous of refreshment drank it out in the parking lot or made do with the punch ladled out of a large pot sitting on the pass-through into a small kitchen. She hoped Arlene and Samantha didn't dis- appear out the back door. She was there to chaperone, but it was not a role she relished. They were still glued to the wall with a steadily increasing group of girls. An equal and opposite number of boys was gathered by the entrance.
The time passed more quickly as she became engrossed in people watching. Those returning from the outside began to be a bit unsteady. The room got warm, and people who had arrived in freshly pressed shirts and dresses began to sweat and wilt. The smoke grew even denser, and the Mariners announced they would be taking a break. The floor cleared, but many of the dancers stayed and arranged themselves in two long lines facing each other.
Freeman mounted the stage and took the mike in his hand.
“Get ready for `The Lady of the Lake,' he called out. 'And if you don't know it, don't worry. The person next to you does.”
Faith joined the ladies' line and saw Arlene and Samantha follow suit. Two boys quickly placed themselves opposite them. Faith looked across. She was opposite Joe Prescott. The one who had tried to attack Eric and Roger at the auction. He smiled encouragingly at her. Well, she reflected, if she thought someone was trying to get away with what she believed to be hers, she might try to throw a punch too. Besides, bygones were bygones. In some cases anyway.
The music started. It would have been impossible to sit still, and she was glad she had decided to dance. An old man with a string tie was playing the fiddle. Another man was plucking a flat-backed mandolin, and a woman named Dorothy was on guitar. Faith knew her name because every once in a while someone would shout, 'Hit it, Dorothy.' She was obviously a local favorite. Freeman was a good caller, and Faith had no trouble following. Over the years the dance must have been performed countless times under this roof. Skirts swirled, feet stamped, and hands clapped. Two more dances followed, then they played 'Soldier's Joy' for Nan Hamilton and 'Red Wing' for Freeman, who demanded equal time. The Mariners returned and Faith collapsed breathlessly on the nearest chair. Sonny and Margery were next to her. Sonnygrinned at her. 'Don't get much of this up to Boston, do you?'
“No. In fact, I've never been to a dance like this before.'
“A few years back they wanted to cut out the old dances. Said the kids didn't want to do them and would stop coming, so we tried for a while. They were the first ones to complain,' Margery said.
“I think it's important,' Faith told her. 'Otherwise they would never know how to do them and a whole part of the island's history would be lost. I hope there will be some more, and the musicians were wonderful.”
Sonny looked at her appreciatively. 'They just do it for fun. We have an awful lot of good times in the winter. Those three will come by and we'll have a musical evening. There was an English lady here last summer, and she heard them play down to the inn. She said a lot of the songs were old English and Scottish ones. And here we thought we'd invented them on the island. Anyway they've been here a long time.”
Sonny was being his friendly and loquacious self, and Faith didn't think it all could be chalked up to the nips he was having out by his Chevy. By dancing she had taken a step away from being an off-island onlooker to becoming at least an appreciative outsider. She thought of the quilt. Little did they know how much and how well she was getting to know the island.
Sonny and Margery excused themselves to dance, and Faith was lost in thought when she heard a familiar voice.
“You were stepping pretty lively from what I could see, Mrs. Fairchild, and I hope you'll give a poor old man a dance.' It was Freeman.
“Show me the poor old man first,' answered Faith.
“Now that's what I call kind.' He pulled her to her feet and energetically steered her onto the dance floor. It was 'The Beer Barrel Polka' and fortunately it was half over. After they had spun around for a while, there was another of those abrupt changes of direction and the Mariners segued into 'The Tennessee Waltz.'
“My favorite,' said Freeman. 'Are you game for another?'
“Absolutely.”
The waltz afforded more opportunity for conversation, and after they had maneuvered over to wave at Nan, Faith commented that the Edsons didn't seem to be dancers.
“I guess that's true,' observed Freeman. 'Come to think of it, I never have seen Paul dance. Edith used to be pretty spry when we were younger.'
“Maybe he likes to sit and take the lay of the land.”
Freeman slowed down a bit and appeared to be thinking of something. When he responded, his voice had lost some of its teasing quality.
“You seem to have gotten pretty interested in this island in the short time you've been here. I don't deny that a lot has happened to you that sort of dragged you in. But sometimes it isn't always good to know too much about a place too fast.”
Faith was startled. Was this some kind of warning? Did Freeman know about the clues in the quilt? Or was it the normal reaction of someone who liked her to the fact that she had come upon two corpses and had her house broken into in less than a week?
She spoke slowly. 'I'm not sure I understand what you mean, but I certainly don't mean to push myself in where I'm not wanted.'
“Now, now it's not that. Not that at all. Just take it slow, Faith.' He smiled broadly at her. 'Since you're so interested in things, I'll tell you what we say about Paul Edson around here. He's what we call a `self-made man,' and that lets the Almighty off the hook. Now I'd better dance with my wife or the whole island will have me in divorce court on Monday.' He gave her hand a squeeze as they walked over to Nan. Faith felt as if she had been stood in the corner and given a star all at the same time. She greeted Nan. 'Thanks for the loan of your husband. He's a treat to dance with.'
“He's a treat, all right,' Nan said as she glanced lovingly at Freeman. 'You can borrow him anytime. He's awful good at weeding the garden and chopping wood too.'
“Now Nan,' protested Freeman. 'One female slave driver is enough!”
The three of them laughed and Faith went back to her chair. She had told the girls that was where she would be if they needed her for anything, and she didn't want to desert her post for too long.
Nobody asked her to dance, and the next half hour dragged a little despite the excitement of the raffle drawing. Sevenyear-old Missy Sanford drew her own grandmother's name and everybody cheered as Missy solemnly presented her with a large canned ham and got a big kiss in return.
Faith's chair was near the door, so she saw Eric before he spotted her. He was wearing spotless white Levi's and a navy polo shirt open at the throat. He looked cool, crisp, and very handsome. She automatically looked for Jill, but he appeared to be alone. Maybe he was meeting her at the dance. He certainly seemed to be looking for someone, standing in the door and letting his eyes travel across the crowd. At last they landed on her, and he smiled and made his way over.
“Faith! What on earth are you doing here all by your lonesome?'
“Gooseberrying. You know, the honorable role of 'chaperone.' Pix is having one of her allergy attacks, so I'm here to keep Samantha and Arlene on the straight and narrow. A pretty easy job.'
“Poor Pix. This smoke would have been murder for her. I always stink after one of these things.”
He was speaking clearly, but Faith had the definite impression Eric had been drinking. It was the way he shaped his words—precisely and with extra care. He asked her to dance and stumbled slightly as he gallantly reached for her hand to pull her to her feet.
“Love the band, don't you? Good beat and easy to dance to. I give it a seven and a half.' He laughed.
Maybe Jill didn't like to dance, Faith thought. Or maybe Eric liked to have a few beers and go solo. As was
