“I didn't actual y know them wel , but Jim and his family had,' Valerie said. 'Poor old lady. She did kind of let herself go, if you know what I mean.”
Pix looked at the svelte figure graceful y draped across the leather couch before her and did indeed. Valerie Cowley Atherton would never let herself go. Pix saw her twenty years hence with face as smooth as plastic surgery could make it, body as trim as aerobics and a diet of lettuce and Perrier would supply.
She left and promised to return for a ful tour of the house.
“It's beautiful, Valerie, and everything you've done is perfect'
“Thank you' Her hostess flashed a wel -satisfied smile.
'I've always wanted to live in a modern house. Buddy's family, bless their hearts, would have a conniption over this place. The Cowleys are an old family and they never let anyone forget it. You can't imagine the inconvenience they put up with in order to stay authentic!”
Pix laughed. She had often heard Faith on the same subject with regard to New Englanders. She hoped the heat was breaking in Aleford, although it wasn't here. She stil felt guilty about the question of air conditioning at the parsonage.
“I can imagine. I'm afraid in my family, we may tendin this direction ourselves. Thank you for showing me the house. I'l take a rain check on the coffee.'
“Bring Sam. We'l make it something else and al go into the hot tub,' Valerie cal ed after her. Pix waved goodbye. You'd have to put a gun to Sam's head to get him to disport in that kind of revelry.
A hot tub sounded particularly unappetizing at the moment. A cold shower would be more like it. The temperature was up over ninety again. No one could remember such a long stretch of searing hot days.
But everything, including bodily comfort, took a backseat to her most important task; she was rewarded by Faith's answer on the second ring. What was more, Ben was at a friend's house and Amy was napping.
Faith was shocked at the news. 'I know who Addie Bainbridge is. She's the fat one who runs the bed-and- breakfast and makes those incredible quilts, right? Her sister—what's her name again? She lives with her.'
“Yes, except it's her sister-in-law. She's a Bainbridge, too, Rebecca. They've lived together for over thirty years.'
“Oh, the poor thing. What wil she do now?'
“Her main worry at the moment, besides getting Adelaide buried, is keeping her garden watered, so I think she'l be al right. She's got something to focus on. Then, too, she may not real y be taking it al in. Rebecca's always been a bit scatterbrained and it's become more pronounced recently.'
“Total y gaga?'
“I wouldn't go that far, definitely bordering on eccentricity though.'
“Wel , so are most of the people I know, including you.
There's nothing wrong with that, but what is going on up there? I think I'l pack up the kids and come this weekend.
There has to be a connection between the two quilts. Let me know as soon as you find out whether there's a mark on the latest one and what kil ed her.'
“I wil —and it would be lovely to have you here' At least Pix thought it would be, wouldn't it? A tiny voice was whispering that these were her murders, but she valiantly ignored it.
“The only problem is, we promised to go to Tom's sister's for a big family picnic, since everyone couldn't get together on the Fourth, and you know how they are about these things.”
Pix did know, having listened to Faith to these many years. Fairchild gatherings were sacrosanct, as wel as invariable. They were a family that celebrated—birthdays, major holidays, and then their own specific South Shore rituals: First Spring Sunday Raft Races on the North River, Al -Family Autumn Touch-Footbal Saturday, and so forth.
Faith's own family had tended toward less strenuous fetes, such as taking the children to the tree at the Metropolitan Museum of Art or shopping for Easter dresses at Altman's, fol owed by lunch in the store's Charleston Gardens restaurant. Pix wasn't sure what her own family did al those years, because they were much too busy.
“Maybe you can come up the fol owing weekend.'
Things should certainly be sewn up by then, which brought her back to the quilts.
“I told you the quilt I bought is a fake, right?'
“No, but I know you've suspected as much. Have you heard about the one found with Mitchel Pierce's body?'
“No, Earl hasn't said anything. They'l probably send the one around Addie to Augusta for testing, too.
By the way, the Bainbridges sold Mitch a lot of antiques, things they thought were worthless, although I'm sure they were anything but. Maybe Addie discovered that she had been swindled, but that would mean she'd be angry at Mitch, not somebody at her. But she might have had a reason for wanting him dead, except I can't imagine her kil ing him. In fact, it would have been a physical impossibility for her to transport his body, let alone dispose of him in the first place.'
“Could the sister-in-law have helped?”
Pix was stunned. 'Rebecca! God, no. I don't think she even swats flies.'
“I think what you need to do is sit down and make some of your lists. You're so good at that. You know the kind they do in al those British detective stories. There's got to be some link you're missing.”
Pix had been thinking al morning that she hadn't exactly been bringing the organizational skil s that propel ed her to the fore of every cause in Aleford to bear on this situation. It wasn't just making some lists, although that might help. She planned to sit her daughter down as soon as she came home and find out what she knew. And the same with Mother. It wasn't going to be easy, but somebody had to do it.
“I'm going antiquing again,' she told Faith, ful of plans and energy now. 'Maybe Jil wil come along. I want to find out if there are any more of those quilts around. Perhaps the police can trace them. We'l go up toward Bar Harbor—
and Sul ivan.'
“That's where Mitch was living, right?'
“Yes. Maybe I should talk to his landlady. I could pretend I was looking for a place for a friend to stay.”
Pix was learning fast, Faith realized with a twinge. If she wanted to be any part of this, she'd have to get up to Sanpere as soon as possible. Damn the Fairchild fun and games, she thought guiltily.
Looking out the window over her struggling squash vines to the imperturbable line of firs beyond, Pix wished life on Sanpere would return to normal. She told Faith about the paint on the sails, adding, 'And don't say a word about red sails in the sunset.'
“It never crossed my mind,' Faith lied. 'It's more red and white, though”
Pix hadn't thought of that. Things were becoming more complicated by the minute.
Amy was waking up. Faith heard soft little coos that would soon become bel ows of rage. She told Pix, who remembered the scenario al too wel .
“Cal me as soon as you find out anything more'
“I wil ,' Pix promised. 'Oh, one last thing.' She couldn't hear the baby yet, so Faith had a few seconds more. 'Jil and Earl have apparently split up and Jil has been going around with Seth Marshal .'
“That's a surprise. Seth is al right, but he's not what I would cal husband material. Who left whom?'
“Jil , according to Earl, and he's as puzzled about it as I am. Jil is very touchy this summer. I haven't felt that I could ask her what's going on.'
“Definitely invite her to go on your little jaunt”
Pix laughed and suddenly perversely wished Faith were on Sanpere.
“Talk to you soon.'
“Bye-bye”
As soon as she put the phone back in the cradle—it was an old black dial phone that 'no one wanted replaced
—she remembered she had completely forgotten to tel Faith that Seth had planned to pour the foundation today.
Maybe she'd go over there with Samantha before dinner. At the moment, she wanted to get to work. She felt more like her old self now that she had a plan. The tire swing was receding into memory.
