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‘Helen is going to make sure you and Zeke have everything you need. I’ll leave you two to get acquainted. See you later,’ Daphne said.
‘Thanks,’ I called after her.
Helen Dickenson was a sturdy girl, with brown eyes and a quiet way about her that I liked right away.
‘I’ve taken a few of your things to be ironed. And I’m quite handy with the comb, miss. I can come back before dinner and fix you up real nice, if you’d like.’
‘Thank you, Helen.’
‘My room is just next door. If you need me, that’s where I’ll be, or downstairs in the kitchen. We’re all glad that Mr Zeke has come home, miss. I hope you’ll be happy here.’ With that, she walked down the corridor toward the staircase.
‘Oh, but we won’t be staying that …’ My words trailed off. Helen had disappeared.
* * *
I lay down on the sofa in the sitting area and soon fell asleep, Rachel Caen’s portrait the last thing I saw before my eyes shut. Daphne was right. The afternoon heat was relentless. I woke up groggy, damp with sweat, and parched. The sun had started to set, leaving the room bathed in a soft light that pierced the heavy curtains. The iced lemonade that Helen had brought up earlier had melted. I poured a glass of the watered-down stuff and chugged it, then poured another and sipped. A fan sat in the corner of the room. I propped it up on the desk, turned it on, and headed into the bathroom.
I took a cold bath and had just buttoned my blouse when Zeke came into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. ‘Just me,’ Zeke said. ‘I’ve had a—’
Someone banged on the bedroom door.
Was there no privacy to be had in this house? I smoothed my hair and hurried out to meet whoever had come to speak to Zeke.
‘Simon, what do you want? If it’s about what happened at the mill, now isn’t the time.’ Zeke’s tone was so sharp, I stopped in my tracks.
‘No, we are talking about this now,’ the other voice said.
I stayed hidden in the bathroom, like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar, not quite sure if I should make my presence known.
‘You seem to think that you can come home, the prodigal son, and waltz into a position of authority at the mill,’ Simon said. ‘How dare you? You’ve always been arrogant, but don’t you think this is pushing it just a little bit? I’ve actually done a good job, made a difference to the workers’ lives, and have increased the profit margins. Not that Father would notice. He hasn’t said a kind word to me in years.’
‘Simon, we aren’t going to stay here. We have a life in Sausalito, a home, a business.’
‘Why should I believe you?’ Simon asked.
This had gone far enough. I knocked on the door between the bathroom and bedroom, and opened it, like a lamb going to slaughter.
Zeke leaned on his cane. His eyes flashed with fury as he faced off with his brother. Simon Caen, for his part, seemed just as angry. He shared Zeke’s flashing eyes, although his were blue. Both men were tall and lean, but the resemblance ended there. Where Zeke’s jaw was determined, Simon’s was soft. Where Zeke’s eyes held your gaze, never breaking contact, Simon’s flitted around. He had the countenance of a spoiled boy, and I judged him to be weak within seconds of laying eyes on him.
‘You must be Simon,’ I said, forcing a smile.
‘So this is the psychic wife,’ Simon said. He surveyed me, not bothering to hide his distaste.
‘You will address my wife with respect,’ Zeke growled.
‘Simon, I overheard what you said. We’re not staying here. Believe me.’
Simon smirked. ‘You’re up to something, both of you. I would like to know what it is. Why in the hell are you two here?’
Zeke hobbled over to the table and poured himself a glass of watered-down lemonade. He drank it in one gulp.
‘I’ve come to clean up your mess, Simon.’
‘I don’t have a mess, brother, and if I did, I wouldn’t want your help.’
‘Are you aware of Millport’s resident thief? Ah, I didn’t think so. Are you aware that one of Rachel’s emeralds has surfaced?’
Simon’s face paled.
‘They’ve been reworking the autopsy and other evidence. What do you say about that?’ Simon’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth and shut it again, without uttering a word. ‘And it seems that you’ve somehow come up with the money to pay off your gambling debts,’ Zeke said. ‘So how did you get the money?’
‘Are you saying that Joe Connor thinks I had something to do with Rachel’s … My god, I cannot even fathom this,’ Simon said. He started pacing the floor beneath Rachel’s picture. The irony of this was not lost on me.
‘Where did you get the money?’ Zeke asked again.
‘None of your business,’ Simon snapped. ‘I’ll discuss it with Joe Connor. That’s all you need to know.’ He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
I stood behind Zeke and started to knead the muscles in his shoulders.
‘It never will change,’ Zeke said. ‘Simon doesn’t want me here, my father doesn’t want me here, and – here’s the irony – I don’t want to be here.’
I longed for the foggy days, our small, yet comfortable flat, and the day-to-day things that we dealt with at home – finding scrap metal for Jimmy Blithe to take to the corner; Mrs Fields and her cats that were always escaping; the clients who would wander into the office seeking help for small matters, such as lost jewelry or suspicions about wives who had spending problems. They all appealed to me now. I even missed the neverending noise from the shipyards that were turning out Goliath-like ships at a frightening pace. Now that I had a chance to miss the home we had created together, I realized that our life in Sausalito was very fine indeed.
Zeke stood up, kissed me, and tucked a stray wisp of hair behind my ears, a familiar gesture of endearment that never failed to warm my heart. ‘Promise me that you won’t let my father upset you. He’s an ogre. Prepare yourself for the worst.’
‘Surely you know by now that I’m case hardened,’ I said.
‘Excuse me, miss?’ Helen rapped on the door before she opened it. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. It’s just that I thought you might like me to dress your hair.’
‘I’ll be back shortly,’ Zeke said. He nodded at Helen and left us.
‘He’s very romantic,’ Helen said.
‘He is. Now show me what you have in mind.’ I took the seat at the vanity.
‘Close your eyes,’ she said. I did as she requested. She took my silver brush and ran it through my hair in sweeping strokes that lulled me. She parted my hair and started curling and pinning, weaving my hair into loops and curls with the expertise of a professional.
‘Okay, I’m finished.’
She handed me a small mirror. I surveyed my hair from the back. Helen had woven my hair into an updo, similar to the style worn by movie stars.
‘I can’t believe it,’ I said.
‘You look lovely.’ She beamed at me, her cheeks aglow.
‘You should be a professional, Helen,’ I said.
‘No, ma’am. I’m going to be a teacher. But you have such thick hair, it is easy to do up like that.’
I tested it, just to make sure that nothing would fall down during the course of the evening. ‘Don’t you worry about that, miss,’ Helen said. ‘It’s pinned fast, of that I can assure you.’ I dismissed Helen, as she was needed in the kitchen. The sun started to set, so I opened the French doors and ventured onto the veranda, where I had a clear view of the sloping back lawn, followed by miles of the golden grass indigenous to California. In the distance, the stable gleamed white as the horses grazed in the diminishing sunlight. It was still warm out, and the grass smelled sweet. At home in Sausalito the fog would be rolling in. Zeke came out of the bath, damp tendrils of hair curling around his face, and found me sitting at the vanity fidgeting with my pearl necklace.
‘You’ll break that string of pearls if you keep on like that.’ He stood behind me. Our eyes met in the mirror. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from my father. If you can survive this, you can survive anything.’
‘Surely he can’t be that bad,’ I said.
‘We shall defend ourselves, whatever the cost may be.’
And so we headed down to dinner to face Zeke’s father, while Zeke quoted Winston Churchill.
Chapter 3 (#ulink_5cdd9d5c-44e8-5b45-99a2-e984b79e35b4)
My husband’s tension level increased with each step, so by the time we reached the sitting room where everyone had gathered, he was coiled like a panther, ready to spring. The energy flowed off the arm that I held and coursed through me, as we followed the sound of clinking glass and the low murmur of voices. We entered a large room with whitewashed walls, which gave the spacious room a gleaming brightness, accentuated by the large picture window. Through it, the sun set in purple and red streaks. Daphne held a champagne flute while Simon filled it. She gazed at Toby, who was busy with a vast collection of toy soldiers.
‘You look gorgeous,’ Daphne said, smiling as she walked over to me. ‘Pour Sarah champagne, Simon.’ She put her arm around me, as though she wanted to tell me a secret. Zeke went over to Simon and busied himself with his own drink.
‘I see Helen has done your hair.’
‘She also mended my clothes. She is very talented,’ I said.
‘Helen is a marvel,’ Simon said. He handed me a flute full of bubbly liquid, took a sterling silver cigarette case from his pocket, and made a fuss over lighting up. I wanted to step away – I hated cigarette smoke – but was afraid of being rude. He offered the case to me. I shook my head.
‘No, thank you,’ I said. ‘What an interesting lighter.’
‘Thanks. Gift from my father.’ He handed me the sterling lighter, overlaid with white enamel. On the front a tiny fish under the sea had been painted in remarkable detail. ‘It’s my lucky charm.’
‘Then I’d best give it back to you.’ I handed the lighter to him. He tucked it into his pocket, gave me a tight smile, and wandered to the window, where he stood smoking with his back to the room.
‘This room is lovely,’ I said.
Daphne spoke about her interest in design and her efforts to use light to enhance space. I listened, nodding when I should, or saying, ‘Really?’ and, ‘You don’t say,’ when a response was required. We carried on this way until an old woman hobbled into the room.
‘Granna, look at me! I’m big!’ Toby jumped up and flew toward the woman. ‘Mamma said we can eat lots of ice cream and cake.’
Granna wore a floor-length skirt twenty-five years out of style, topped with a silk blouse with an elaborate lace collar, held by a cameo at her throat. Toby skipped around her skirts for a moment before he ran back to Zeke, his eyes riveted on Zeke’s black cane with the silver lion’s head.
‘Do you have a sword in there? Some crime fighters have swords in their canes—’
‘Not so loud, Toby,’ Daphne said. She stood up and went to her son. Soon Daphne, Zeke, and Simon were listening to Toby’s tales of heroes with canes.
‘That’s my fault.’ The old woman stood next to me now. ‘I’m afraid I let him listen to anything on the radio that he wants, and, well, boys will be boys. Let’s sit, shall we?’
We took the two chairs tucked into the far corner, just out of earshot.
Granna said, ‘My son – Zeke’s father – is a bully and a fool, and I just want to warn you not to expect too much from him. We are glad to have you here, my dear. It is time that Zeke came home. I’m sure that you’ll want to stay on permanently after you’ve had a chance to get the lay of the land, so to speak.’
I was about to tell her that we wouldn’t be staying permanently when Mrs Griswold stood in the doorway.
‘Dinner, Mrs Griswold?’ Daphne asked.
* * *
We followed Mrs Griswold into a dining area positioned inside the alcove created by four windows which formed a good-sized bay window. An octagonal table had been expanded with leaves to accommodate all of us. The open windows provided a pleasant breeze. Outside, the crickets and nocturnal birds serenaded us. Zeke’s father already sat at the head of the table, a large glass of amber liquid at his elbow. He surveyed us as we filed in, his eyes mean and hard.
Zeke held my chair out for me.
‘This is Sarah, Father.’
‘I know who she is,’ the man growled at me. ‘I followed the trial. I know what you said about that man.’
‘I didn’t have much choice,’ I said.
Mr Caen sipped his drink and watched me over the rim of his glass with watery blue eyes. He had the same features as his sons, intense eyes, and a strong jaw that had once been as determined as Zeke’s. Mr Caen was handsome – all of the Caen men were – but the booze was taking its toll. It wouldn’t be too long before the skin would hang off the jowls and the eyes would become irreparably clouded.
‘You continue to speak to Sarah like that, and we’re leaving.’ Zeke spoke in that calm-before-the-storm quality that even his father noticed. A hush fell over the room. In the distance, an owl hooted.
‘I see someone’s knocked you down a peg or two. You’re a cripple now. Always knew you’d wind up on the wrong end of someone. Troublemaker, that’s what you are.’
‘Stop it, William,’ Granna snapped, as she sat down. ‘Zeke and Sarah made a lot of effort to get here. Let’s not chase them off today. Please, everyone, sit. Let’s enjoy our meal.’
Mrs Griswold entered the room as if on cue. She carried a pan with roast beef, potatoes, carrots, and peas, which she set on the sideboard. She made quick work of serving us. Soon the room fell silent as we ate.
‘The meat shortage hasn’t affected us too much,’ Daphne said. ‘We have a neighbor who raises beef cattle. I give their children riding lessons, and every couple of weeks we get a roast. I grow the vegetables, as you saw earlier.’
‘Regular paragon of virtue,’ Will Sr said. He turned his focus to Zeke. ‘What do you think of the mill? We’ve made a smooth switch to parachutes. Doing our part for the war.’ Will Sr put a piece of beef in his mouth and looked at Zeke.
‘Indeed you have. But you need to install an air-conditioner. One of those girls had to go to the hospital today, Father. She had a heat stroke. You need to take care of your people.’
‘Too expensive,’ Will Sr said.
‘Then at least let them work in the evening so as to avoid the heat of the day,’ Simon piped in. ‘I had to go tell Fred Jones his daughter collapsed on the job because we didn’t provide a humane working environment.’
‘Enough about the mill,’ Will Sr said. ‘Let’s have some peace while we eat.’
‘This is really good,’ Toby said. He ate ravenously. If he noticed the rancor among the adults, he didn’t let on. ‘When I get a pony, I will only feed him grass and alfalfa, maybe some rolled oats, right, Mamma?’
‘Yes, sweet pea,’ Daphne said.
‘Aunt Rachel will lead him while I ride. Just at first. That way Mamma can still teach her lessons and not worry about me.’
All movement in the room stopped. Toby didn’t notice. He kept right on talking, despite everyone’s attention. I knew that children often saw ghosts, so this revelation from Toby didn’t surprise me.
Toby stuffed a huge piece of potato in his mouth.
‘Aunt Rachel said—’
The color drained out of Daphne’s face. Drops of perspiration broke out on her upper lip.
‘Don’t talk with your mouth full,’ Simon said.
