A Gala Event (22 page)

Seth was already out the door when Meg stumbled down to the kitchen the next morning. Bree was also already there. She looked up and said, “Look what the cat dragged in. Late night?”

Meg poured herself a mug of coffee. “Not so much late as difficult. Aaron's sister showed up out of the blue yesterday.”

“Ah,” Bree said. “And?”

Meg wrestled with a way to describe Lori without sounding judgmental. “I think she's kind of a drifter. Dropped out of college, got married, had a child. Currently has no husband or partner, and offspring is not living at home. She didn't mention anything about a job. She did say that Aaron had sent her a letter when he knew he was getting out, and mentioned he'd be passing through Granford, so I guess she hopped in her car and just appeared.”

“Okay. Did she and Aaron connect?”

“Yup. He showed up while she was here. It was an
interesting evening. They hadn't seen each other since he went to prison.”

“She angry?” Bree asked. “I mean, what did she want with him now?”

“No, not angry, really. Curious, I guess. Wouldn't you be?”

“None of my relatives has killed anybody—that I know of. What about Aaron?”

“To tell the truth, Aaron didn't react much at all. I haven't seen him show much emotion about anything. Anyway, Lori's staying at Seth's house, which seems to be turning into a hotel. Aaron had already opted not to stay there, even now that Lori's there, but went back to the alpaca farm. And now we're trying to find the brother, Kevin, so everyone can have a big, happy family reunion.”

“Sounds really swell,” Bree said sarcastically. “Can I skip that?”

“But wait! There's more!” Meg said sarcastically. “My mother and father will be arriving before Thanksgiving and maybe staying with Lydia at least some of the time around the wedding, with some excursions to fine local establishments. And Seth has decided that this is the weekend he wants to dismantle the only bathroom in the house. He volunteered a chamber pot. You might want to be somewhere else.”

“You two do like to keep busy, don't you?”

“It's the metabolism, I think. Seriously, do you have any plans? I can't speak for Lydia, but if she's willing, do you want to come for Thanksgiving dinner? With or without Michael?”

“Let me think about it. Have you talked to Seth about the tiny house idea?”

“Actually I did. He seemed intrigued: he likes exploring new ideas, which is kind of weird if you consider he spends most of his time fixing two-hundred-year-old buildings. But he also likes old materials—we're having some Victorian plumbing
fixtures delivered soon. And now I need to go find tile. Do you know anything about tile, Bree?” Meg ended plaintively.

“Nope. Not my thing. You want marble? Granite?”

“I want nonskid, and that's as far as I've gotten. And Seth has already vetoed pink. Everything okay in the orchard?”

“Nice of you to ask, boss. Yes. We're down to our last few trees. All things considered, I think we did pretty well this year.”

“That's good to hear.” At least one thing in her life was on track. Well, so far the wedding was, too: she had the date, the place, someone to perform the ceremony, and the matron of honor. And guests, although she still didn't know how many. And she had to find something to wear. She'd let Seth worry about licenses and rings. Oh, and she'd like to get this thing with Aaron wrapped up before the big day so she could enjoy her own party. Gail would probably prefer that, too.

Meg was still lost in thought when the phone rang. It was Art. “Hey, Art, what's up?”

“Seth asked me about Aaron's brother, Kevin? I've got a number for him, in Chicago. Seth said he'd make that call. I hear the sister is in town, too—I missed her when she stopped by the station yesterday.”

“She is. We had dinner here last night, and she's over at Seth's house right now. She wondered if Seth and I were do-gooders. Are we?”

Art chuckled. “Amateur, I guess. You making any progress on your wild-goose chase?”

“I'm not sure. Let's say for the record that I am ‘cautiously optimistic.'”

Bree made a rude noise in the background.

“I heard that,” Art said with a laugh. “Let me know if I can help with anything else, as long as it doesn't jeopardize my job or my sanity.”

“Of course. Thanks, Art.”

As soon as she'd hung up, Seth called. “I got Kevin's number from Art, and I just spoke with him. He wants to come to Granford, but he hasn't decided whether to drive or fly.”

“That's wonderful,” Meg said glumly. “And the charming Eastman family can all discuss what they don't know, face-to-face.”

“Do I detect a lack of enthusiasm?” Seth asked.

“I guess. Thanks for that list of tile places you left for me—and for telling me how much we'd need. I'm headed that way as soon as I finish breakfast.”

“All part of the job, ma'am. Happy hunting. I'll talk to you later.”

Meg set the phone down—and it rang again immediately. “Rachel? What's up?”

“Meg, thanks for that list of investors you e-mailed me. Have you looked at it?” Rachel sounded breathless.

“I did, but I'm the new kid here, so I didn't recognize a lot of the names, only that the families had been local for a long time.”

“Well, there were a couple of interesting ones on the list. One was Jacob Patterson, the insurance agent who sold the Eastmans the policy on the house, not all that long before the fire. He's still in town here, although he's pretty close to retirement age, if there is such a thing for insurance agents. Hang on.” Apparently Rachel put her hand over the phone receiver to talk to someone else—her husband? “The other—wait for it—was the judge who presided at Aaron's trial.”

“Oh, wow,” Meg said, stunned. That might explain the harsh sentence, and the lack of evidence presented at the trial. “Shouldn't the judge have recused himself?”

“
Her
self. You'd think so, wouldn't you? But the list wasn't ever made public, which would make sense if they'd been
scammed.” Rachel covered the mouthpiece again, but even Meg could hear her. “I'll be right there, Noah! Meg, look, I've got to go, because this baby has decided today is launch day. But I've got a huge favor to ask you.”

“Anything, Rachel,” Meg said, suddenly on high alert.

“Can you meet the kids at the school bus? Noah's coming with me to the hospital, and Mom's at work in the other direction, and I hate to drag her back again. At least the kids know you.”

“Of course I'll meet them, Rachel. What time and where?”

“Between two thirty and three, on the corner two blocks away—away from the center of town, not toward it. You'll see the bus coming. Are you sure it's okay?”

“Of course it is. Which hospital?”

“Dickinson—appropriate, isn't it? Thanks, Meg; you're great. Talk later!” She hung up quickly, leaving Meg holding a mute handset.

“Baby's coming?” Bree asked.

“Apparently. Shoot, it never rains but it pours. I said I'd meet her kids at their school bus in Amherst. If Kevin Eastman shows up here, which would happen only if he finds a flight and figures out where he's going from the airport, tell him where Lori and Aaron may be. And if you have to be somewhere else, Kevin can wing it. I'm going to call Seth, and then I'm going to look for tiles.”

“Breathe, Meg!” Bree said, laughing. “And I love your priorities: kid-tending, solve murder, find bathroom accessories. Talk about multitasking! But that's fine. Go do what you gotta do.”

Meg raced up the stairs, still clutching her cell phone. In the bedroom, she hit Seth's number as she pulled on a clean pair of jeans. Seth's phone went to voice mail, so she left a message. “Seth, Rachel says the baby's coming, and she and
Noah are headed to the hospital. I'm going to go over and pick up the kids from the bus. Art talked to Kevin Eastman, and Kevin might possibly show up today. And I'm going tile shopping. I'll talk to you later.”

Once she'd hung up, she forced herself to stop and think for a moment. Rachel hadn't asked her to call anyone else, so she assumed Lydia knew the score. She herself had told Seth. It was now nine o'clock, and she had plenty of time to get to the bus stop in Amherst by two thirty. Seth had given her a list of several smaller tile stores in the area—he wasn't impressed with what the big-box stores had to offer, so she could probably stop in a few of them and see what they had. She had to admit that her first thought was to stick with neutral colors—that way she could spice things up with towels and accessories. But that seemed too safe—and boring. Maybe she'd fall in love with something spectacular that she couldn't live without. As long as it wasn't pink.

Three stores later Meg had tile shapes and sizes and colors whirling around her head. Who knew there were so many decisions involved? She'd vetoed marble (too soft, and it stained easily) and granite (too hard, and now a fading trend). She didn't want to commit to an artistic design, because that would be time-consuming to install, and to her mind, kind of fussy. All she really wanted was something that was easy to keep clean and not too slippery. Sticking with traditional Victorian-ish tiles was still the most appealing solution. In white. Or off-white. Not too shiny, so water spots wouldn't show. Minimal grout, because grout always looked dirty. The next place that she visited that had this simple list of tiles, she'd commit and buy what she needed. She hoped.

She worked her way toward Amherst, to be sure she'd be on time for the school bus. Somewhere along the way it occurred to her that she didn't have a key to Rachel's house, and with
both Rachel and Noah otherwise occupied, she wouldn't be able to get in. Ah well, she'd just have to take the kids home with her—unless, of course, Rachel managed to produce the awaited child before three and the hospital sent her home . . . Didn't they try to do that these days? Still, she didn't mind entertaining the kids for a while, and her house—and her life—couldn't get much more chaotic than it already was.

Tile place number five was the big winner. A fresh-faced young woman greeted her at the door. “Can I help you find something?”

Meg had her spiel memorized by now. “I need tiles for a Victorian-style bathroom with tub, plus one with a shower enclosure, plus a powder room. Here's a list of the measurements.” She handed the young woman one of Seth's printouts—good thing she'd made multiple copies.

Her face lit up. “Oh, Seth Chapin! He does great work, and he's usually pretty accurate about calculating what he needs. So he's overhauling your place?”

“He is—two new bathrooms, plus patching the old one after he replaces all the plumbing. He thinks it won't take long, so I guess I need something that's in stock, or that you can get quickly.”

“No problem. This is just the showroom—we have a warehouse nearby. What were you thinking?”

Meg recited her list of requirements, and the woman nodded as if in agreement. “That all makes sense to me. But could I make one suggestion?”

“Fire away,” Meg said, and realized she was getting a bit punchy.

“How about a decorative border or a top rail? Then you could buy the basic tiles in bulk, but vary each bath just a bit. Let me show you . . .”

In the following half hour, Meg managed to order
everything she needed. It was like buying a puzzle that, when put together, would be a three-dimensional bathroom. It was simple (and the woman promised that setting the tiles would be easy), but as she had been told, the borders added a small touch of elegance. Done!

“So you can deliver all this tomorrow?” Meg asked.

“Sure, no problem. What's the address?” When Meg told her, she said, “But that's Seth's work address.” Then her face lit up. “You must be Meg! Congratulations! Did you finally set the date?”

“Uh, thank you, and it's the week after Thanksgiving. Seth tells me he can get the plumbing work done over a weekend. I guess I'm doing the tiling part.”

“Oh, sure, no problem. He's good. And it'll be easy, you'll see.”

“I hope so!” Meg said fervently. Why was it that so few things in her life turned out to be easy? “Thanks for your help.”

Back in the car, Meg checked her watch again. Time to head for Amherst and the school bus. But at least she could check one thing off her list, and it was a big one.

In town she parked down the street from Rachel's house, from which she could see the corner where the bus would arrive. She got out of the car and stood by it, waiting, and the bus arrived at two thirty-seven. She spotted Chloe and Matthew Dickinson as they climbed down the steps of the bus—not together, of course. She went up to greet them.

“Hi, kids. Remember me? Meg Corey? Your Uncle Seth's, uh, fiancée? Your mom asked me to pick you up, because she's having the baby now.” At least Meg hoped she was; she hadn't heard anything since that early-morning call.