“Oh Mom, it's so sad! What wil Rebecca do now?
She'l be so lonely.'
“Why don't we go outside for a minute. I'm sure it wil be al right.”
Samantha nodded and they walked toward the waterfront. The sails were sparkling white again—the extra sets. The red paint had turned out to be latex and those were being cleaned, so there was no great loss. Apparently it hadn't been the marine paint they used for the waterlines.
Pix was sure that Jim was relieved. It wasn't the money so much as the waste. She put her arm around her daughter's shoulders and they sat down on the dock. Samantha seemed extremely shaken by the news.
“How did you hear?'
“Gert cal ed Dot and she told us. Is it true that the police are there and there's something funny about the way she died?'
“The police are there, but it's not altogether clear whether anything's wrong. She was not in the best shape, avoided getting medical advice, and probably had a mil ion things wrong with her that she didn't know about. You know how short of breath she was. She could barely walk down and back to her own mailbox.'
“I know. It's just ... wel , after the other thing, everyone's saying there's a kil er loose on the island.”
Pix drew her daughter close. 'We can't leap to con elusions like that. There doesn't seem to be anything to connect the two events at the moment, except that both people died.”
And the quilts. But she didn't want to burden Samantha with that knowledge yet; besides, she was supposed to keep her mouth shut. A word to Samantha meant a word to Arlene, another Prescott, and it would be simpler to print up announcements and drop them from a plane over the entire island.
“It's not only Mrs. Bainbridge. Everything's stil going crazy at camp. There was a dead seagul on the dining room porch this morning when the breakfast crew arrived.
None of the kids saw it, thank goodness. Arlene said it was horrible.'
“But these things happen—probably an injured bird who just happened to end up there.'
“With its throat cut?”
Now Pix was shivering. Knives. Too many knives. 'Are you sure?'
“Yes, and Arlene thinks it's Duncan again. I mean after what we saw—' Samantha stopped abruptly.
“After you saw what?' Pix had to know. This was obviously what Samantha had been keeping from her.
“Mom, I promise I'l tel you, but I can't now. I have to get back. The kids are very jumpy. They swear there's a ghost around, although I think that's some of the older campers trying to scare the little ones.'
“How are your two imps?'
“Not exactly happy campers. Kids are so weird, Mom.
One minute everything is fine, the next they're imagining al sorts of gruesome things, especial y these two. I think maybe they are too young to be here. Anyway, al this is going to affect them for a long time. Susannah leaps a foot in the air if someone startles her, and she and Geoff are always off by themselves. At the moment they're feeding each other's fears. I can't even get them to tel their stupid jokes.”
Kids are so weird. The understatement echoed through the long tunnel of maternal memory. You never know, until you're there, Pix thought. Samantha was arriving sooner than her mother had.
“It's Parents' Weekend soon, isn't it? Maybe we should bring them to our house for a day, since they won't have visitors.'
“That would be real y great, Mom. They need to be with the dogs”
Pix understood. There was nothing more therapeutic than a good rol in the grass with an overly affectionate golden retriever.
“I've got to go, and I'm sure you want to get home and change' Samantha clearly did not approve of her mother's choice of outfits.
“Honey, I was in a rush. I just grabbed what was on the chair.'
“That's al right. I understand.' To avoid more hand patting, Pix grasped her daughter's paw firmly in her own and pul ed her to her feet. They walked back toward the car together and were saying good-bye when, as luck would have it, Valerie came out of the director's office, a vision in a short Adrienne Vittadini brightly patterned sheath with a matching scarf tied carelessly around a broad-brimmed chapeau.
“Pix! I just heard about Adelaide Bainbridge. Come over to the house and tel me what happened. What a tragedy!”
Pix hesitated. She was curious about the fabled abode, but she wasn't real y dressed, or even combed sufficiently, and she wanted to get home to cal Faith.
She hadn't reckoned on Samantha's reaction.
Samantha clearly regarded an invitation to the Athertons'
'Mil ion Dol ar Mansion' as a command performance for those fortunate enough to be asked. She actual y poked her mother in the back.
“Wel , perhaps for a minute. I have to get home. Mother may be cal ing. Rebecca is over at her house.”
Valerie smiled brightly. 'You come, too, Samantha, unless you are needed here.”
Crestfal en, Samantha admitted she should be inside helping with lunch.
“Another time.' Valerie turned to Pix and said just loud enough for Samantha to hear and swoon, 'You have the most precious thing for a daughter I ever did see.' Valerie occasional y lapsed into the Kappa Kappa Gammanese expressions of her col ege and deb days in the real South.
“Thank you. We like her,' Pix replied, then realized it sounded a little snippy and added, 'We're going to miss her terribly when she goes off to col ege.'
“You're so lucky having a daughter,' Valerie commented wistful y as they went down the path connecting the Athertons' house to the camp. 'But then, you have sons, too.' Her voice was ful of commiseration. Pix was tempted to say they had never put them through the kind of hel Duncan seemed to be inflicting on his parents, yet it seemed inappropriate to gloat, and Danny was stil young.
Pix was loath to make any predictions—or say anything out loud—that might jinx things.
Valerie led her into the huge living room with teak-paneled wal s soaring to a cathedral ceiling. The shape of the room—it swept forward, fol owing the lines of the bluff on which it was situated—and al the wood made Pix feel as if she was in a boat, a very spectacular boat, and that must have been the architect's intent. She admitted inwardly that she was indeed envious. The house was gorgeous. Every plate-glass window framed a spectacular view. One set looked straight out to sea, another to the cove. Jim's boats, including the souped-up lobster boat he'd recently purchased, were picturesquely moored there.
It looked like July on a Maine-coast calendar. The fireplace was as stunning as Samantha had described. Pix noticed a large photo on the mantel of a handsome smiling man with his arm around a much younger, and happier, Duncan.
Valerie fol owed her gaze. 'My first husband, Bernard Cowley. Duncan looks a bit like his father. I wish he could act like him. Buddy was a saint. I don't think I'l ever stop missing that man. Of course,' she added quickly, 'Jim is just about the nicest thing on two feet I've ever met, but you never get over something like this, and Jim understands.'
“It must have been a terrible time for you and your son'
“It was—and if I hadn't met Jim, I don't know how I would have survived. Coming here was just what I needed and I know Duncan wil settle down' Valerie did seem genuinely happy, more so than Pix had noted recently.
Maybe things were going better with her son. Certainly it would be hard to be depressed in these surroundings. Most of the furniture in this room was modern, with a few wel -
chosen antiques: a softly burnished cherry card table, a child's Shaker chair, and an enormous grandfather clock, the sun and the moon slowly changing places above a stately schooner on the face. Scattered about in what Pix was sure was not a haphazard fashion were old brass navigational devices, a col ection of Battersea enameled boxes, and other conversation pieces.
“Now tel me about poor Adelaide while I make coffee.
I think there are two of those devastating muffins from that bakery in Blue Hil left. I swear Jim and Duncan devour whatever goodies I bring into this house like a swarm of locusts.”
Pix begged off. The locusts could feast on her devastating muffin. She real y had to get home, so she quickly gave a brief account of Adelaide's death.
