Free The Trespassers by Zilpha Keatley Snyder Page A

smiled teasingly— “with all that unprotected pain and joy, but a lovely face full of confidence and grace.”
    Then she let go of Neely’s chin and gestured toward the living room. “Now you two just go right on in and sit down. I’ll be with you as soon as I put these gorgeous things away.”
    Neely and Dad grinned at each other and Dad said, “Right. Come on, Miss Confidence and Grace. And Determination too. The third name is Determination.” Then he patted Neely’s shoulder and led the way into the cluttered living room where he sat down on the saggy old couch while Neely wandered around looking at ancient keepsakes and dim photographs of old pioneer families. When Greta came in with wine and cider and cookies, the talk began.
    As usual at Greta’s, most of the talk was about the old times before the highway went in when the Big Sur coast was wild and free. Dad didn’t really remember those days but he’d grown up hearing about them, and since his parents had been real coast pioneers Greta considered him one too. They talked about old Doc Roberts, and the Pfeiffers, the Sharpes and Douds, and the Posts, and of course about the famous poet, Robinson Jeffers. Neely sat and listened for a long time before she brought up the subject of the Hutchinsons.
    Greta shrugged. “Summer people,” she said. “Rich summer people.” Her tone of voice said they weren’t really worth mentioning, but fortunately she did go on talking. “I remember hearing my father say that old Harold the first, the one who built Halcyon, got his money in some pretty shady ways. And there were rumors of worse than that. Blackmail, and maybe even murder. One of his competitors died under pretty suspicious circumstances. But then in his old age he supposedly saw the error of his ways and tried to repent. My father used to say old Harold came here and built Halcyon hoping that the peace and beauty of the Carmel coast would help him escape his evil past.”
    Greta stopped to pour herself another glass of wine. When she’d finished pouring Neely prompted, “Did he find any peace and beauty at Halcyon?”
    Greta chuckled grimly. “The beauty is here for anyone with eyes to see it,” she said, “but from all accounts any sort of peace and tranquility pretty much escaped poor old Harold. Got what he deserved, I’m afraid. Over the years there were all kinds of accidents and sickness, along with things like alcoholism and insanity. Not to mention a lot of pretty bitter family feuds.”
    “They were star-crossed,” Neely said. “I heard you telling Mom that the Hutchinsons were star-crossed.” And then, hurriedly, while Greta was still in a reminiscing mood, “And wasn’t there a little girl who died when she was only ten? I heard you telling Mom about that once. Did you know her, that little girl who died?”
    “Not really,” Greta said. “The Hutchinsons didn’t mix much with real coast people. But I was asked to a party once. A birthday party for Monica when she was eight years old and I was just a year or so older. There never were many girls in the Hutchinson family and I suppose they thought she needed at least one little girl guest for that particular event and I happened to be the handiest one.” She paused, staring with blank, unfocused eyes, as if into a faraway distance. “Only time I ever saw Monica,” she said, “or that fantastic house. Never will forget that fantastic house.”
    “Monica.” Remembering the M on the sampler, Neely tried to keep from sounding too excited. “Was that her name?”
    “Umm.” Greta nodded thoughtfully. “Pretty little thing she was. Pity about her dying so young.”
    “What did she die of?” Neely asked.
    Greta frowned and scratched her chin. After a while she said, “Pneumonia, I think. I think that’s what the paper said it was.”
    Neely felt disappointed. She hadn’t really believed the mysterious disappearance thing, but somehow she’d been expecting something at least a