exactly the right size at home.”
It was as Faith had imagined, even down to Joey’s greeting. She didn’t think she could stand to hear Nelson say any more, but the hands on the clock had barely moved. Unless Charley and John decided to come early, too, she had to keep the conversation flowing.
She asked her question again. “What ring, Nelson?
You mentioned a ring.”
“The engagement ring for Lora. Didn’t I tell you?
We’re getting married.”
Faith sat down on the stool. It was that or fall down.
Her knees had buckled beneath her.
Nelson spoke dreamily. “I think I must have always loved her. You know how she is with the children. We plan to have a large family. She comes from a large family, but I’ve never known the pleasure of siblings.” Some siblings might dispute that characterization, but Faith wasn’t about to interrupt.
“Of course, I’d seen her in town. Watched her grow into full womanhood, but it wasn’t until last fall that I knew my destiny had arrived. I had a kind of epiphany the day the Story Lady came. It might be interesting to talk to your husband about this sometime. It was a religious experience.”
Faith thought now would be as good a time as any, but was sure that Nelson would not.
“The Story Lady?” Her questions had been brief ones throughout Nelson’s monologue. It was so unbelievable, more complex inquiries eluded her.
“Lora has a friend who is a professional story-teller and actress. She came to entertain the children one day. I’m surprised Ben didn’t mention it,” he said accusingly.
In her son’s defense, Faith spoke at greater length.
“I do remember now. Ben was very upset at missing the visit from the Story Lady. The children talked about it for weeks afterward. But he was home with chicken pox. Amy had it, too.” Faith had soaked them in so many Aveeno baths that the skin on her own arms had never been softer.
Nelson was mollified. “I’m sure she’ll come back.
A wonderful performer. She brought a suitcase filled with costumes and had the children act out the various stories with her. At the end, she spun a tale about a beautiful enchanted princess whose heart had been turned to stone because no one loved her. The Story Lady loosed Lora’s lovely hair. It fell to her shoulders in a gleaming cloud.” Nelson was quite the weaver of tales himself.
“She put a gold crown on Lora’s head and draped her in a purple velvet cloak. Lora took her glasses off and sat in the story chair.” At least Faith knew what this was—an oversized rocker where the children gathered to hear Lora read.
“The princess could only be rescued by true love.
The Story Lady had the children think of all their favorite people and things. One by one, they expressed their thoughts to their teacher. It was a very moving experience. As they went around the circle, Lora began to glow, lifting one arm, then the other. Her eyes opened wider. She smiled. Their love was working. I directed all my thoughts toward her from the corner where I had been working. I’d stopped when the program began. At the end, Lora kissed each child. I thought for an instant she might kiss me, too, but that would have given us away.”
Lora with her hair down, Lora without her glasses, Lora with a crown—Faith knew what all that would have looked like. The Story Lady had unwittingly signed Margaret’s death warrant.
But Lora and Nelson? What would Lora get out of the relationship, although it was clear that the Batcheldors had more money than Faith thought. You could get quite a decent diamond for seven thousand dollars, especially at the Jeweler’s Building in town, but Nelson would have gone to Shreve’s. He was a man who stuck to tradition.
He looked at his watch and uncocked the gun.
Quickly, she tried to stall with another question.
“Have you set a date for the wedding? We’re pretty booked, but it’s possible we could fit it in. Niki does a beautiful cake—and it tastes good, too. Lots of butter-cream frosting with a hint of orange and—”
“You’ve finished your coffee.”
The innocuous phrase had never sounded so chilling.
Nelson stood up and moved toward the end of the counter. She couldn’t act too quickly—or too late. He wasn’t saying a word now and was holding the gun by the barrel, ready to strike. He seemed much taller. She watched him intently. He was coming around the edge. Dozens of eggs were lined up in their cartons.
He knocked into one with his elbow but didn’t look away from his prey.
When he was almost next to her, she jumped off the stool and pushed it straight in his path. At the same time, she kicked some of the large pots stored under the counter out onto the floor. They made a loud clattering sound. He stumbled, as she hoped he would, and the pots added to his confusion. He leaned down slightly to push everything out of the way, shoving the stool aside with his foot.
Using her apron as a pot holder, Faith immediately grabbed the heavy copper skillet she’d planned to saute the beef in from the burner she’d turned on. The pan was red-hot. She brought it down on Nelson’s head as hard as she could, letting it rest a moment.
Her fingers were burning. He screamed in agony. The smell of his singed hair was nauseating. She hit him again full force and he fell to the floor.
“I thought you might need help,” a voice at the door called out.
It was Pix.
Chief MacIsaac and Detective Lieutenant Dunne were punctual men. Faith had said 6:30, so 6:30 it would be. They were sharing some supper at the Minuteman Cafe—meat loaf—when their beepers went off. They jumped in John’s car and arrived at the kitchen with several other officers of the law, sirens blaring—and Tom.
The first thing Pix and Faith had done was to make sure Nelson would not be mobile should his unconscious state prove brief. They did a thorough job of trussing him with twine Faith kept for the purpose, although in the past it had bound poultry and beef. Pix was good with knots. Then they called the police, Sam, and Tom, in that order. Sam walked into the parsonage to watch the kids just as Tom was hanging up, frantically wondering what to do about them.
“I’m not sure I’m made of the same stuff as Charlotte—you know, the one who continued to cut bread and butter as her lover was carried past the kitchen window stiff and cold on a shutter. Nelson wasn’t my lover—far from it—but I still don’t feel much like cooking tonight. It’s going to be a while until I forget the sight of his body on the floor, and I may have to get rid of this perfectly good skillet.”
“Early days yet,” Pix advised. “We can wash the skillet and Twinkle its bottom.” It was at this point that the police arrived.
“Copper cleaner,” Pix explained. Then Faith explained a whole lot more.
Nelson wasn’t dead, for which Faith was profoundly grateful. They took him out on a stretcher and he was already stirring.
Tom took Faith over to the end of the room. They sat in Ben’s beanbag chair, with Faith on her husband’s lap. The picture they presented would have been laughable if the situation had been comical.
“Faith, Faith, Faith . . . I almost lost you!” He held tightly to his wife, as he had since his arrival, rushing wide-eyed through the door.
The terror was over and Faith was beginning to breathe normally again. She was aware that her heart-beat had slowed. Nonetheless, she didn’t mind the position she was in and was happy to cling in return.
Pix was starting to clean up, but John Dunne stopped her.
“I know you’re trying to help, but this is all evidence and we have to do some work here. I want to make sure this guy goes away for a long, long time.”
“I don’t think there is much doubt of that,” Pix replied somewhat acidly. She didn’t want Faith to have to deal with the eggs and dirty dishes in the morning—and she doubted the police would tidy it all away. “He’s killed two people and tried to make it three.”
“Why don’t I call you when we’re finished?” He smiled at her. She wasn’t as used to his appearance as the Fairchilds and found herself instantly obedient.
“We should get Faith home now, anyway.”
“Good idea. Charley and I will drop by in a while.”
“Maybe we’ll take her to our house. My husband is watching the children at the parsonage and my daughter
