Venom and the River (10 page)

“I shouldn’t have told you about the books or the show. Peach asked me not to.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. She’ll want to announce it when she has the biggest possible audience. Don’t worry; it’s our secret.” She gently tapped Ida May’s portrait and then led Leigh out of the room. “Why don’t you join us downstairs for the meeting?”

“I should work.”

“Consider this work, then. For one thing, you might change your mind about her offer and you should start learning all you can about the Little Girls. And even if you don’t work for Peach and her empire, there’s the book you are writing. Whether they admit it or not, the Bancrofts are tied forever to Ida May. Doesn’t that make you just a bit curious about it all?”

Leigh touched a brown high-top shoe on a doll tucked into a bookcase.

Marti smiled. “Huh. Thought so. Got you now.”

“You’ve got me is right. Have you forgotten that you’re blackmailing me?”

“Of course not. Two weeks until Roberta arrives! Now let’s go downstairs and give Peach the good news that the most famous fan of the books is coming to the convention and staying in the cottage.”

“Why haven’t you told her? You nailed me to the wall a week ago. What’s the hold-up?”

Marti started down a narrow staircase at the rear of the house. “I just didn’t feel like rushing to Peach and gloating. Besides, I’m not an official member of the planning committee, Leigh. Just a representative from an interested organization and I’ve learned to speak when they want me to speak. She won’t like it, at least at first, because securing Roberta was my little idea.” She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “And now it’s our surprise.”

Leigh whispered, “Screw you, Marti.”

Marti laughed. At the bottom of the stairway, she put a hand on a six-panel door and pushed. “Watch your language, honey,” she said as she waved Leigh through. “You’re in Little Girl Land.”

4.

Ellen Blaney sat alone, knitting, in the kitchen. A laptop was running on the table in front of her. Ellen looked up, but the needles clicked away.

“Leigh’s joining us for the meeting,” said Marti.

“How nice! Have a seat, Leigh, and have a snickerdoodle. You two sure took your time up there.”

“Marti was persuading me to stay.”

“Hmm. I was beginning to think that she might have talked you into some shenanigans, like dismantling the displays and hiding body parts.”

“I suspect,” Leigh said as she sat and claimed a cookie, “that it would be more her style to display the body parts. These look delicious, Ellen.”

“She’s a world class knitter and a world class baker,” Marti said, “and the county tax assessor. Where’s your mother tonight, Ellen?”

“Home, feeling sorry for herself. She had some dental work done today. She’ll probably call me on the hour.” Ellen frowned, then wiggled a cellphone out of her pocket and turned it off.

A door slammed and women’s voices floated in from the front room. Leigh wiped crumbs off her shirt and looked toward the kitchen doorway.

Peach Wickham’s jaw dropped when she entered. She said, “You.”

Leigh waved.

“Look who’s here!” Marti said. “The new resident of the cottage. I’ve invited her to join us tonight. Leigh, this is Jane and this is Holly. You know Peach, of course.”

The women with Peach both glanced in her direction before offering their hands to Leigh.

Jane and Holly were wearing nearly identical lilac-colored sundresses. Ellen made a fuss over them and fingered and admired the embroidery on the pockets of one and the stenciled designs on the other.

Leigh said to Peach, “Nice to see you again. I finally heard from the garage this afternoon. The body work should be done in a few days.”

“Sonny keeps me informed.” Peach dropped her briefcase on the table. “I’m delighted to see you’re taking an interest in the original occupant of the cottage and joining us tonight. After our conversation the other day I wasn’t so sure you appreciated the honor of your situation.”

“I roped her into it,” Marti said.

“We’ve seen Peach’s pictures of the cottage,” Jane said. “You must be thrilled to be there.”

“It’s lost on her,” said Ellen. “She hasn’t read the books.”

Marti shot Leigh a look. “You’ve had them a week.”

“I’ve been working.”

“Where are Donnie and Turnbull?” Ellen asked as everyone settled around the table. “It’s not like them to miss the meeting.”

Peach distributed copies of the meeting’s agenda. “Turnbull had a little accident on his skateboard this afternoon.” Ellen gasped, and the other women murmured concern. “His wrist is strained, and Donnie is making sure he keeps it iced. Turnbull is fretting that it won’t be better by the convention. He’s been practicing so hard and he can’t wait to perform ‘Für Elise’.”

Ellen, Jane, and Holly all said, “
Big River Rolls On
.”

Peach nodded. “Chapter 6, when Maud triumphs at the church social.”

Leigh reached for another cookie. “I’ve heard the real girl was an outcast. Would she even have been at a church social?”

Peach said, “I suppose Terry Bancroft told you that. Tall tales and venom—that’s all you’ll hear from any Bancroft about Ida May.”

“So she wasn’t an outcast?”

Peach said, “Whether or not she was, what matters is the story Ida May decided to give the world. I think we’d all agree it’s a testament to her strong spirit that she chose not to focus on the negative.”

“Or a testament to her book-selling savvy,” Marti added. “Leigh and I have something to add to the agenda, Peach. You might not want to save it for my usual two minutes at the end of the evening.”

“Something,” Peach’s eyelids fluttered, and her voice dropped an octave, “something involving the cottage?” She reached a hand toward Leigh and dropped it on the table. “You’ve changed your mind?”

“Don’t get too excited,” Marti said. “You’re not getting back in there.”

Ellen set down her knitting and started typing on her computer.

Peach looked from Marti to Leigh, then she turned to Ellen and snapped, “We haven’t formally convened the meeting.”

“Just noting who’s here,” Ellen said cheerfully.

Peach called the meeting to order and started working through the agenda. One by one the women reported on their assignments for the upcoming convention. Decorations, registration, bus tours of the surrounding area, the parade permit, late housing requests, and more. Peach’s voice droned. “I don’t understand all these special diets. Do people really need…”

Leigh’s thoughts drifted. The kitchen was blessedly free of mannequins or any attempt to recreate the books’ purported magic, and it seemed to be used mostly for storage. Boxes were piled on the floor and on the counters. She shifted in the folding chair and tried to look alert. It was too damn bad these kitchen cupboards didn’t hide a bottle of Glenlivet.

Peach rapped her pencil. “Now some good news! But I must ask everyone here to keep it a secret. Donnie and I have made a special donation. We’ve commissioned a statue. It’s ready to be shipped to Pepin and it will be unveiled at the convention. You may have noticed the slab out front. That’s for the sculpture, which recreates the moment when the girls spot the eagle.”

Leigh smiled as the others murmured, “
Big World.
” Was there any reference from the books they couldn’t identify and cite?

Ellen, Jane, and Holly clapped, and Peach beamed. Marti said, “Seville or the poster version? Two girls or three?”

Peach examined the eraser on her pencil.

“Oh, crap,” Marti said. “The artist is copying the TV poster version, not the original Seville drawing. You’re going with the television version of the story.”

“Does it matter?” asked Leigh. “Are they that different?”

Ellen whistled softly. “Don’t go there, honey.”

Peach said, “We’ve been through this a million times, Marti. Our fans expect certain things. If they’re primarily familiar with Pepin and Maud because of the television show, we should honor that. After all, the fans pay dues, they make the donations that enable us to care for this house, and they buy the books. It’s up to us to keep those fans happy.”

Marti said, “I have a surprise of my own.”

Peach straightened the papers in front of her. “You’ll have time later. We need to discuss a few other things first. Holly, did you—”

“Roberta Garibaldi has agreed to come and speak at the convention,” Marti said. “I realize I should have consulted with you first, but the opportunity presented itself and I had to move quickly.”

Opportunity for blackmail, Leigh thought as she took a third Snickerdoodle.

While Ellen, Jane, and Holly fussed happily over the announcement, Peach and Marti engaged in a stare-down.

I will not take sides, Leigh thought. Or was it too late? Had she already been conscripted, tossed into the fray of an apparently fierce and very personal battle?

“I’ll be picking her up at the airport on the fifteenth,” Marti said. “She’ll be here the final three days. She has generously waived her standard speaking fee because of her affection for the books. The Ida May Turnbull Society will be covering her travel expenses.”

Ellen said, “She’s my favorite living author!”

“Her first novel was wonderful,” Holly said, “but I thought
Sunset America
was terrible. Anti-Christian, if you ask me. All that crude language and then those scenes between the two men…horrid.”

“I love her books!” said Ellen.

“Will she be staying with you, Marti?” Peach asked. “There’s not an open motel room for thirty miles.”

“No. She’ll be staying in the cottage. Leigh has been gracious enough to welcome her.”

Leigh said, “I’m delighted, of course.” She turned to Peach. “I’m sorry I couldn’t say anything the other morning.”

Peach’s eyes narrowed as her chin lowered in folds on her neck.

“Don’t you think,” Marti said, “given Roberta’s fame and popularity, that it might be a good idea to open her talk to the public and have it in the high school auditorium? Perhaps it should be part of one of the evening programs. And Jane, since you’re in charge of the convention shop you’d better have plenty of her books on hand to sell. She’s agreed to a signing session each day she’s here.”

“I’m rather surprised she’s interested in being part of a Little Girl event,” Peach said. She folded her agenda in half, then half again, each time pressing the tip of a pale lilac fingernail along the crease. “We sent her a newsletter for a few years, but then she moved and never gave us a forwarding address. I assumed she had lost interest.”

“Not at all,” Marti said. “She was delighted to be asked. I’ve talked with her several times. She’s especially thrilled about staying in the cottage. The real cottage.”

“An exciting development,” Peach said, “though perhaps next time, Marti, you needn’t be so independent in your initiative. And Leigh, we thank you for your part. Now we need to move on to the fashion show.”

“You don’t need me for this,” Leigh said, rising. “Your convention sounds like a wonderful event. I wish you all the best with it.” She smiled at everyone, took another cookie, and then faced Peach Wickham. The woman had flushed, a furious pink that spread from her cheeks to the plush freckled bosom framed in lilac.

Oh lord, Leigh thought. She did not want this woman for an enemy. Marti’s blackmail would pale against any threat Peach contrived. “Those photos you took,” she said slowly.

“What about them?” Peach snapped.

“They couldn’t have been all that good. Would you like to get back in and take some more? Perhaps you could make a commemorative album to sell at the convention.”

Peach gripped the edge of the table. Leigh glanced at Marti, who was nodding as she slowly and softly clapped her hands.

“It will have to be soon,” Peach said. “Tomorrow at one?”

Leigh nodded. “See you then.” She took two steps, then turned back. “I don’t want your visit tomorrow to turn into a public event.”

“Surely you don’t mind if I hire a professional photographer? The album is a brilliant idea, but the photos must be good ones.”

What had she started, and what would Terry say? “I’ll need that waiver you mentioned.”

“Of course.”

“The photographer’s fine, but no entourage of assistants. No special lighting or props. And no rearranging, Peach, absolutely no redecorating. You can shoot the cottage, but everything’s as is.” She paused, then added, “I’ll make my bed.”

“Next item!” Peach barked as Leigh left the kitchen. “The fashion show. We have twenty-seven models…”

The woman had missed her true calling, Leigh decided as she closed the museum door and lifted her face to the still-warm sun. Peach Wickham would have made a fine wartime general.

5.

Was Ida May Turnbull a writer or a sorceress?

Leigh moved about the cottage, touching the relics that had so moved both Marti and Peach and which, no doubt, would fetch a nice price on eBay. Why were some of them even still in the cottage? The blue vase, the spoon rest, the painting—each was important enough to be mentioned in the woman’s books, so why hadn’t she taken them with her when she left Pepin?