girls was waitressing at the inn, which was only open for dinner, and it must be Doris.
“I hear the food is even better than last year.”
Doris made a face. 'It's too fancy for me. I like to recognize what's on my plate. I eat at home before I start.”
Pix laughed. 'Wel , maybe some of it is an acquired taste.' She decided to take Ursula and Samantha to the inn soon, al three of them having acquired a taste for any and al good food.
Jil had a snug little apartment over the store. Pix walked up the outside stairs and knocked at the door.
Hearing no reply, she pushed it open, stepping inside. She could hear water running and Jil had obviously decided to take a quick shower while waiting for Pix.
“Jil ,' she cal ed loudly, not wanting to startle her when she emerged. 'It's me, Pix.'
“Oh great,' Jil replied above the noise of the spray. 'I'l be out in a minute. I just had to cool off.”
The apartment was divided into two large rooms plus bath. The front room was Jil 's bedroom and the larger back room served as living room, dining room, kitchen, and storage for the overflow from the store. There were several large boxes in the corner by the door, but this wasn't what caught Pix's eye. She was struck by the change in the room's decor since she'd been there last summer. Jil had been buying a great many antiques over the course of the year and the Goodwil finds spruced up with paint and fabric that had previously fil ed the room were mostly gone.
An Early American cupboard with open shelves on top stood against one wal , behind a trestle table and chairs from the same period. Pix walked over to take a closer look. She wondered whether Jil had gotten the things from Mitch. Spying a pumpkin pine stand that would make a perfect bedside table, she also wondered whether these things were for sale. She tripped on one of the uneven floorboards and her hip bumped into the corner of the cupboard. Jil 's apartment had original y been used for storage by the cobbler's shop below and the floor had never been finished off. One of the cupboard doors flew open. Pix bent down to close it, rubbing her hipbone, which, with little cushioning, smarted sharply.
She didn't close the door; rather, opened it wider. The shelves were fil ed with various items: some wonderful folk art carvings, especial y one who looked like one of the prophets; miniature furniture—the kind that used to be carried around as samples; and several patchwork quilts.
The shower was stil running. Pix was sure Jil wouldn't mind if she looked at the quilts. At least that's what she told herself. Her self also wondered what they were doing up here instead of down in the store, where they would certainly attract buyers. For that matter, al the things in the cupboard would. Perhaps Jil was saving these things for herself.
Pix careful y removed the top quilt and opened it up. It was an applique sampler quilt, every square a different wreath or bouquet and intricately quilted. The quilt-maker had used red, green, yel ow, and white. It was museum-quality. The shower stopped and Pix started to cal out her appreciation, but her words froze in her throat as her eyes moved down to the lower corner. Moved down to a tiny, barely perceptible blue cross.
She folded the quilt up and quickly put it back, latching the cupboard securely. When Jil came out, she found Pix sitting in a low rocker by the window reading this week's Island Crier.
“The parade pictures are wonderful. Sonny is going to love the shot of him as Burt Dow' she said brightly— too brightly.
Driving across the bridge to the mainland with Jil at her side, Pix was in a quandary. Should she come right out and ask Jil about the quilt and the other antiques? She probably should have done so immediately, but she wanted to take time to reflect. What could it possibly mean? That Jil had unwittingly bought a fake quilt—or wittingly? It was the latter possibility that was keeping Pix's tongue securely tied. Was Jil somehow connected to an antiques scam? At this point, Pix was certain it had been one of Mitchel Pierce's activities. Had they been in it together? She had certainly gotten antiques from him. This would explain Jil 's recent attitude toward Earl, and perhaps her new al iance with Seth. Supposedly, Seth had learned everything he knew from Mitch. Did that include how to construct old from new?
The blue crosses were no laundry mark, as she'd speculated to Earl. They must be an indication to those who knew that these quilts were not the real McCoy. Had Jil seen the mark on Pix's quilt when it was spread out on the ground and later come into the house and removed it?
Jil was talking and Pix realized with a start that she hadn't heard a word the woman had been saying. She forced herself to concentrate. Jil was suggesting where they might go.
“There's that barn right outside Blue Hil as you head up the hil toward the fairgrounds. I found a wonderful bamboo easel at a very reasonable price last spring. Why don't we stop there first, then go farther up the coast?'
“Sounds fine to me,' Pix answered. Anything was fine at this point, when her main worry was how she was going to get through this trip without coming unglued.
The barn door was firmly shut and they didn't have much luck in El sworth, either: no quilts to examine and nothing else tempting. Pix knew why nothing appealed to her, but Jil seemed just as restless and disinterested.
Maybe she had simply needed to get away because of Addie's death and the antiquing was an excuse. Whatever it was, neither had bought anything by eleven and Pix suggested they drive straight to Beal's in Southwest Harbor for an early lunch. A big bowl of their chowder consumed at the pier while looking across the water at Acadia's Mount Cadil ac was exactly what she needed to soothe her troubled mind, and perhaps it would do something for Jil 's too. Pix had noticed that whenever Jil wasn't speaking, her fingers were finding their way to her mouth and her cuticles looked red and sore.
Many of the tables at Beal's were already ful . In tacit assent, they took their food to the one farthest away from the groups noisily cracking open the lobsters they had picked out of the tank.
A cool breeze was coming off the harbor and for a while they sat in silence consuming the delicious chowder thick with clams. Pix was in no hurry to get back into the car. Eating gave her something to do and think about other than what was pressing most on her mind.
“Coffee and pie?' Jil asked. Beal's was known for their blueberry pie.
“Sure, we came al this way. We can't leave without pie.”
More silent enjoyment fol owed, or rather, Pix thought, more silence. The pie was as good as ever, yet it was beginning to turn to ashes in her mouth. She had to say something to Jil —Jil , who had been a friend for years.
“Maybe—no, probably—it's none of my business, but you know how much we care about you, both of you. Do you want to talk about what's gone wrong with Earl?' Pix decided to start with this trial bal oon to gauge Jil 's reaction before attempting to discuss such matters as antiques fraud and breaking and entering, although Jil had always been free to walk into the Mil ers' unlocked house whenever she pleased.
Jil frowned. 'I don't know why everyone thinks something's wrong between us. Goodness, if you don't happen to be climbing al over someone every minute of the day, the whole island assumes you've broken up, and of course it's not true. No one's bothered to remember we both have jobs. I've been busy and Earl's been even busier with al that's happened. We haven't had time to see each other.”
She jammed a large forkful of pie into her mouth.
Some of the juice dripped onto the front of her gauzy white blouse.
“Damn,' she said, rubbing at it with a paper napkin, which only made it worse. She seemed close to tears. It didn't seem the moment to mention Earl's remarks or the fact that Pix had been there herself when Jil had turned her swain down the day after she was spotted dining with another. Nor was Pix inclined to raise anything else. They finished eating quickly, paid, and got into the car.
“Are you game for some more or do you want to head back?' Pix asked, hoping Jil , like she, had had enough.
“Let's keep going. Doris can stay until she has to go to work at the inn.' Jil 's chin jutted out. 'Besides, I haven't had any luck yet”
Nor have I, Pix thought dismal y.
They retraced their steps and went into a large antiques shop in Trenton. It was one Pix had frequented before, but Jil said she had never been there. They walked in and the owner greeted Pix warmly. The shop was free of cobwebs and dust. Everything was shown to its best advantage. It was quite a contrast and at the moment a welcome one. When Pix asked about night-stands, he said he thought he had the very thing and led them into
