When Pix saw Faith shake her head in a silent no, she suddenly looked at her watch—a watch so fully equipped as to tell the time and rate of exchange in Istanbul, among other things—and exclaimed, 'Goodness, something must be wrong with my watch. It says it's the twenty-second today.' She tapped it speculatively.
“Pix,' said Faith, catching on immediately, 'It is the twenty-second.'
“Oh, you're all going to hate me. I thought it was the twenty-third. That's when Mother's asked us for lunch!”
f anyone hated her, they were too polite to say so, or perhaps it was relief that Mrs. Rowe was not prone nearby in one of those Boston oxymorons, a pedestrian crossing.
They got out quickly and hastened down the stairs to the sidewalk. 'You were brilliant,' Faith congratulated her friend.
“Thank you. We can cross the Chilton off our list. After you left, I steered the conversation around to Penny. How Mother was so worried about her good friend and so on. They'd all heard about Mrs. Bartlett's disappearance and said no one had seen her.'
“Car or MBTA to the Fine Arts?'
“Let's leave the car where it is and take the subway. If we don't find her at the museum, Horticultural Hallis two stops away. I have tickets for the show, by the way. Mine and the one I got for my sister-in-law, but this is more important. Besides, she's always saying she kills every plant she touches, and the sight of all those blooming successes might be too much for her.”
A thorough search of not only the upstairs restaurant but the cafe and cafeteria at the Museum of Fine Arts —despite Millicent's imprecations, they had checked to be sure—yielded nothing. It had been the old 'having lunch with Mother' routine again for the restaurant. This time, Faith went solo while Pix checked the members' room. Back at the entrance, they agreed their search had done nothing except make them incredibly hungry. Just as they were about to leave, Pix said, 'We never checked outside! You know how nuts Penny is about fresh air. She might have taken a sandwich into the Garden Court to eat”
It was a sunny and surprisingly warm day for March. Not what Faith would call warm, but what all her neighbors, coats open, hats off, called warm.
“I suppose you may be right,' she agreed, the idea of a picnic on a par with eating chilled vichyssoise in an igloo.
They retraced their steps across the museum's marble floors and down the stairs to the cafeteria. The door to the courtyard was shut but unlocked, and, sure enough, there were people eating lunch at the wrought-iron tables surrounded by leafless branches and brittle ivy. A woman in a navy down coat similar to Penny's sent them racing across the garden. Halfway there, they realized she had a toddler in tow, and even if Penny thought the ploy would help her avoid detection, it was hard to think where she could obtain a child at such short notice. There were days when Faith could have helped her out, but this was not one of them.
Out on Huntington Avenue at the trolley stop, Pix wondered aloud whether the whole thing wasn't a waste of time.
“I'm beginning to think Penny hopped a plane for parts unknown. Disappearing from Aleford was such a strange thing to do that looking in her familiar haunts doesn't match up. At the least, we should be canvassing X- rated movie theaters or Frederick's of Hollywood.'
“You may have a point,' said Faith, moving from foot to foot, regarding her frosty breath and wondering where the train was. It was a peculiarity of Boston to take you from underground, above ground, and back down all in a matter of a few stops. 'However, I am not going to be the one to tell Millicent we skipped some of the places on her list.'
“Oh, I'm not suggesting we give up. I just don't think we're going to find her.”
The train arrived, plunged underground, and deposited them at their spot.
They emerged from beneath the streets to face the turn-of-the-century facade of Horticultural Hall. It was a stately grandame of a building, brick, with a great deal of exterior decoration in the form of elaborate ornamental iron balconies and stonework. Over the entrances, three fruit-garlanded roundels in the style of Della Robbia welcomed those in search of flora. The middle one sported a nymph clad in trailing diaphanous garments, hands clutching bouquets, who floated high above the top of the globe, peeking through a blanket of clouds. Faith had never really looked at the building before and was impressed.
Inside, they could smell that ineffable combination of good soil and fresh flowers. The air was moist. It wastempting simply to wander through the hall, feasting their eyes on the beds of perfect posies, so far removed from the results of one's own backbreaking attempts.
At the center of the room, an entrant had re-created a Victorian-style conservatory with a glassed-in gazebo, suggestive of Kew Gardens, surrounded by flowering shrubs and masses of daffodils, tulips, and hyacinths. A wrought-iron courting bench had been placed beneath a weeping birch, and it was in this spot of romantic repose that, much to their surprise, Pix and Faith found Penelope Bartlett. All three stared at one another for an instant— Penny, eyes widening, assuming the characteristics of the startled doe, a period lawn decoration next to her. Had the deer been real, it would then have fled, and that's exactly what Penny did, plunging into the crowded aisles of gardening enthusiasts.
Faith and Pix followed in hot pursuit, but a garden club group, dressed by Smith & Hawken, momentarily blocked their way. 'Some clematis like to be cut down each year. Some don't. It's important, ladies, to find out which variety you have.”
Penny was moving right along. Walking her dog had indeed kept her in good shape. Faith and Pix shoved their way through disapproving stares and managed to keep their quarry in sight until they were once again thwarted by the sudden appearance of what looked like most of Boston's elementary-aged school population dead ahead. 'Teddy, if I have to tell you once more not to touch the flowers, you're sitting in the bus!”
After that, it was hopeless. They completely lost sight of her. The navy blue coat was engulfed by the crowd waiting in the lobby to buy tickets.
Faith and Pix finally gained the sidewalk and looked up and down the street.
“She probably went straight down to the subway,' Pix said.
“Damn, damn, damn,' said Faith.
“I know. We almost had her. She must be terribly upset if she's running away from us.'
“Or frightened.'
“What now?'
“How far are we from the Y? After being spotted, she'll certainly go to ground, and this is the only possibility we have left. I doubt Penny would go have tea, knowing we were searching likely haunts'
“It's a bit far to walk to the Y,' Pix said, which meant it must be several miles, Faith interpreted. 'But we can take the subway to Copley and walk from there. f that's where she is, that's what she must have done, too.”
Waiting for the train, Faith realized she should have stuffed some snacks in her bag. Even a granola bar would have been welcome.
Unlike her venerable sister, the Pioneer, the Berkeley YWCA was a modern building in the South End of Boston. The large lobby was attractive and warm; the security impressive. The woman at the desk greeted them pleasantly but firmly. What did they want?
“My aunt is staying here. She's expecting us and told us to come right up. Her name is ...' Faith had a sudden inspiration. 'Mrs. Millicent McKinley.'
“I can tell Mrs. McKinley you are here, but I cannot send you up without calling. Why don't you have a seat?”
There couldn't be two. Millicent McKinley aka Penelope Bartlett was at the Y Faith shot Pix a triumphant look.
Five minutes later, Penny walked into the lobby. She did not look triumphant. She looked tired and extremely troubled.
“How did you know where to find me? No, don't bother. I've heard all about Faith's abilities. I suppose you're going to call the police now.”
Faith had not really given much thought to what they would do once they found Penny. It had seemed so remote. But she certainly didn't intend to call the police, particularly not before she'd had a chance to talk to the woman. And first, she had to correct Penny's false impression.
“Looking for you in Boston was Millicent's idea. It was Pix's idea that you might be here, because her mother
