A Gala Event (13 page)

Seth arrived with the pizzas. Meg doled out paper plates and more drinks, and called upstairs to Bree, who'd been in her room to avoid the whole discussion with Art, to alert her that food was on the table. Bree came down, grabbed a couple of slices, then retreated to her room again. Once
everyone had food in front of them, Art cleared his throat, and the other three turned in unison to hear what he was going to say.

Art laughed at their response. “Hey, guys, I'm not about to make some big pronouncement here. This is all new to me, remember? But I'll tell you what I've got so far. The most important thing is to find those boxes, and you've already got Gail working on that. She's probably the only person who has a hope of tracking them down. Okay.” Art held up one hand and started ticking off points on his fingers. “So either she can't find them, and the story's over.” One finger. “Or she can find them, and there's nothing important in them.” A second finger. “Or she finds them and we get a real surprise and this whole thing blows wide open.” And he opened his hand wide as if mimicking an explosion. “If that happens, we can all reconsider. Tomorrow I'll track down our in-house files on the fire—you're lucky there, Aaron, because when we moved into the new building a year or more ago, we did go through the files and sort them, and since we had room, at least for now, we kept them within the department. So it won't take me long to find what you need. Then we wait on Gail. Now can we eat?”

“Thank you, Art. I appreciate it,” Aaron said quietly.

Art waved a slice of pizza toward Meg and Seth. “Thank these two.”

Aaron smiled at them and went back to eating.

Not long after Art had left, Meg was startled to see Lydia's face at the back door. When Meg let her in, Lydia said cheerfully, “I thought I'd bring you that recipe you asked for earlier.”

Meg stifled a laugh. “Yes, Lydia, you may come in and meet Aaron.”

“Am I that bad a liar?” Lydia walked into the kitchen. “Hello, Aaron, I'm Lydia Chapin, Seth's mother. I just didn't want you to feel like some zoo specimen that everyone had to inspect. But Meg's told me about what's going on with you, and I'd like to help. I knew your parents slightly, but we weren't exactly friends.”

Aaron had stood up when Lydia entered—those good manners again—and he extended his hand. “It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Chapin. I don't mind; I guess I'm pretty much a curiosity around here.”

“Lydia, please. Well, it's rude, but I thought I should at
least see you face-to-face, if I'm digging into the details of your personal life.”

“Have you eaten, Mom?” Seth asked. “I'm sorry we ate all the pizza.”

“Yes, I waited until I thought you'd be done. And I'll be on my way—it's getting late. But I'm glad to have finally met you, Aaron.”

“Thank you for your help, Lydia. I appreciate it.”

“Will you be staying around long?”

Aaron looked at Meg and Seth before replying. “I . . . don't know. A couple of weeks, anyway.”

“Then I'll probably be seeing you again. Night, all.” With that Lydia breezed out the way she had come in.

“Sorry,” Seth said. “I was going to call her, but we got busy. I hope you don't mind, Aaron. We weren't planning to drag all of Granford into this.”

“I know. No problem,” Aaron said, and lapsed into silence.

The rest of the evening passed cordially, and Meg was pleased. Aaron left first, pleading a need for sleep; Seth told him he'd try to find him some additional clothes, and offered to direct him to local supply stores so he could get the materials he would need for the fence repair project.

“You have a way to get around?” Seth asked.

“Yeah, the Gardners have an old pickup they said I could use to haul supplies. I didn't drive over tonight because I like walking back and forth to this place—clears my head.”

Art had left, but he had agreed to help, within limits, and Meg couldn't ask for more. Now the next step rested on Gail's shoulders. No, that was a confused metaphor, Meg realized; she must be more tired than she thought. So, she would call Gail in the morning, after she'd sent her kids off to school. And she'd keep her fingers crossed that the boxes would turn up somewhere. And maybe she'd bake something and take it
over to the Gardners, to thank them for offering Aaron work, and to welcome them to the neighborhood—and to check out the alpaca herd. She was having trouble imagining a whole bunch of the silly fuzzy creatures together.

*   *   *

The next morning
Meg could hear Seth in the kitchen before she could drag herself out of bed. After a quick shower, she joined him. “You're up early. Busy schedule?” she asked, helping herself to coffee. She sat in one of the kitchen chairs, and Lolly immediately jumped on her lap—she must be getting cold.

“That's what I'm trying to figure out. You?”

“I'll call my parents today. Was Lydia serious about having them stay at her house? We didn't have much chance to talk to her last night, since you forgot to call her.”

Seth looked guilty. “No, but I'll call her today and ask about her inviting your folks, if you want.”

“Good,” Meg said. “Anyway, I know the last time my mother was here, she said the hotel in Northampton was kind of expensive, which is no surprise, since it's the nicest one around. Well, maybe the one in Amherst is good, too, but I'm pretty sure that costs just as much. Not that they're hurting financially, as far as I know. It's more a question of privacy. Although I'm sure they'd get along fine with Lydia.”
Maybe
. “I can't remember that we ever visited much of anyone that way.”

Seth was still studying a pad on the table. “Meg, you're dithering. Just call your mother and ask what she wants to do. Mom won't be insulted if your parents would prefer a hotel.”

Yes
, Meg thought,
that would be the sensible, adult thing to do
. So why was she waffling? “I've got to check the responses to the wedding invitations. I told people they could reply by e-mail, but I don't seem to get much time to read it.”

“Don't worry so much. Most of the people we want to be there live in Granford, and we'll probably see them before the day.”

“Nicky needs a head count to buy food,” Meg reminded him.

“Oh. Well, tell me how the responses are coming, and I'll nudge the ones who haven't replied, if I see them. Did you invite a lot of out-of-towners? Old college roommates or high school friends? Any relatives I don't know about?”

“No,” Meg admitted reluctantly, obscurely embarrassed that she seemed to have so few friends. “I've lost touch with most of my college friends, and it's not like I'm recruiting a herd of bridesmaids. Have you talked to Art about being best man?”

“Nope. How about you and Gail?”

“Nope. Are you sure we're getting married?”

Seth looked up at her then. “Of course we are. I just want some friends there.”

“My mother will be horrified by the whole process. But then, I'm not inviting any of her friends, so they'll never know to criticize.” She stood up, dislodging Lolly, and went to the refrigerator to find breakfast. “What are you so busy working on?” she asked, over her shoulder.

“Trying to figure out when to install the new bath. I think I can break some time free next week, depending on when I can wrap up a couple of small projects.”

“Please don't tell me you're going to rip out the plumbing the week of the wedding!”

“Don't worry; this'll only take a couple of days. Well, except for finishes. So, have you made any decisions about tiles yet?”

“Seth! We've been a little busy. I really hope Gail finds those boxes for Aaron and we can put that whole problem
to rest. It was nice of the Gardners to give him some short-term work. Did you have a hand in it?”

“Nope. Although I do feel sorry for the guy somehow—it can't be easy for him.”

“I'm glad Art's on board. And it sounds like he should be able to find the police records quickly, which is another plus. I wonder when Rachel will have the baby. She really did look ready yesterday, didn't she?”

“She did. Has Mom said anything about Thanksgiving?”

“Not to me. I'll talk to Lydia about it. Any other problems I need to solve? World peace? Global warming?”

“That's for next week.” Seth smiled at her, and Meg's heart turned over. He looked so happy, and somehow she could claim at least part of the credit for that. All the rest was just . . . details.

Bree interrupted them during a long clinch. “Hey, I thought I was making plenty of noise. You want me to leave and come back again?” she said.

“No, we're about done here,” Seth said. “Meg, you go pick out tiles and fixtures. See you later.” He strode out the back door toward his office, a man with a plan.

“Wow, he's in a good mood,” Bree commented, as she poured a mug of coffee.

“Yes, he is, all things considered,” Meg replied.

“What things?” Bree demanded. “Invading alpacas? That Big Event you keep avoiding talking about? This cold case that just fell into your lap?”

“That's just the short list. Add to that, I have to call my mother. Are we picking today?”

“Yup, but just for a few hours. You should help. I think the fresh air will do you good, clear the fog out of your brain.”

“You could be right. So I can postpone all the unpleasant stuff I'm apparently avoiding until this afternoon?”

“You got it.”

Bree had proved right: Meg felt better after a few hours of simple physical exercise. The autumn air was brisk and cool, and most of the trees around her property had lost their leaves. The last rows of late-ripening apples provided a bright spot of color, and Meg would be sorry to see the red highlights go. It had been a good harvest. Maybe not financially, but she was much more comfortable now with the process of picking and the details of marketing, and even with working with the pickers. Bree hadn't said so yet, but she was pretty sure they'd all be coming back next season. And if she was very lucky, by then she'd have a new pump for her spring, and new irrigation lines laid down. One spell of watering by hand during a long heat wave, with a tanker, was more than enough for her.

She had just about finished up her row when her cell phone rang, and she recognized Gail's number. She answered quickly. “Hi, Gail. What's up?”

“I think I've found them. The boxes, I mean. Aaron's boxes.”

“Gail that's terrific? You have them now?”

“No, but I know where they're stashed. Where's Aaron?”

“He's got a part-time job, mending fences for the Gardners. Can you retrieve the boxes by the end of the day?”

“I think so. But I've got the kids to worry about, and supper . . . I know how much Aaron's going to want to see these, but I'm kind of jammed up.”

“Aaron's not the only one! We talked to Art last night, and he's going to try to find the police records of the fire—he thought they'd still be in the new police department offices. And I have to admit, since Seth and I seem to be in the middle of this, we'd really like to see them, too. Any chance we could all meet after supper?”

“I think so,” Gail said, after a moment's thought. “Can you reach Aaron?”

“Shoot, obviously he doesn't have a cell phone. But I know where he's staying. I was going to go over there and see the alpacas at home. Or maybe Seth can track him down. One way or another we'll get in touch with him, and I'll call Art. But I'll wait to see if you can actually take possession of the boxes first, okay?”

“I'll let you know. If this is going to happen, I've only got an hour or two before the kids get home. Gotta run!”

Meg felt ridiculously pleased that this whole tangled mess might actually be moving one step forward. She waved to catch Bree's attention, then called out, “Bree, are we about done here?”

“Yeah, we're good,” Bree yelled back.

“Then I'm going down to the house.” She made her way down the hill. Once inside, she wavered: eat lunch, or call her mother? Lunch could wait: she knew she'd feel much happier once she had discharged one responsibility, and she was still riding high on Gail's news. She decided to use the landline, in case Gail called back on her cell.

Her mother was on speed dial, so Meg hit that. Her mother answered on the third ring. “Well, my goodness, I thought I remembered a daughter. How are you, darling?”

“The usual. Busy, overworked.”

“I'm glad to hear that. So I can assume that this theoretical wedding hasn't been called off?”

“Mother, I gave you the date as soon as I knew it. I'm just calling to firm up plans.”

“Well, I believe it'll be too cold in December to hold this in a New England meadow, or in your orchard. I assume you have a venue?”

“I do—Gran's. The restaurant.”

“Oh, right. Lovely place. So those nice young chefs are doing the catering?”

“They are.” At least one thing was settled—knock on wood, barring disasters.

“And your delightful professor friend Christopher will be officiating?”

“He will.” Assuming he had requested the license, and that hadn't gotten hung up somewhere in the labyrinth of state offices. Another thing she should check. “Actually I was calling so we could decide when you'll be arriving, and where you'll be staying.”

“Well, dear, I thought you might be a bit preoccupied, so rather than stay at your house I assumed we'd find one or another hotel. Early December's not a particularly busy time of year among the colleges, is it?”

“Not that I've noticed, Mother. But I did want to suggest one other alternative. Seth's mother has invited you to stay with her, if you like.”

“Oh, how nice of her! May I discuss it with your father?”

Her mother's typical stalling tactic. “Sure,” Meg said. “Don't worry—Lydia won't be offended if you say no.”

“Let me think about it. Are you planning anything like a honeymoon?”

“Not yet,” Meg said cheerfully. “So you can stay around after, if you want.”

“I will let you know, as soon as I've talked to Phillip. Is everything else all right? How's Seth?”

“Seth is happy as a hog in . . . well, you know. He's got as much work as he can handle, but it's what he loves to do. You want to know what his wedding gift will be?”

“Of course, dear. What is it?”