Free The Body in the Birches by Katherine Hall Page Page B

and definitely Dick, were all grown-ups—well, maybe not Craig—but Marian was the most grown-up of them all. Faith thought of her mother-in-law as that “central cedar pole” in the Frost poem “The Silken Tent,” with her husband and children, the guy wires about her. Faith had long recognized that Marian’s solo travels were a respite from this role. What Faith was recognizing now, and recognizing acutely, was what a weakening—or, horrible to even consider, the removal—of this support would mean for the family.
    â€œHi.” A voice to her left penetrated her thoughts. “Are you okay?”
    Faith grabbed a package and put it in her cart. “Sorry, just a little distracted.”
    The young woman looked familiar. Faith quickly subtracted a few years from the pretty face and realized who it was.
    â€œYou’re Sophie, aren’t you? From The Birches? You babysat for my children many summers ago.”
    â€œYes! It doesn’t seem that long, but that’s what summers here are like—one blends into another. How are you, Mrs. Fairchild?”
    In Faith’s experience when people asked you this question it was almost always better to say “fine” unless you really wanted them to know, so that’s what she replied. And when she asked Sophie in turn, the young woman said the same thing.
    And yet, looking each other in the eye, they each immediately knew the other was lying.
    For Sophie, one sign was the fact that Mrs. Fairchild had put a family-size package of those red hot dogs, endemic to Maine, in her cart when it was well known that she was a respected caterer and food lover—the hot dogs falling into the comestible category only because they were eaten in a bun. Even more telling was her furrowed face and eyes that threatened to overflow.
    Looking at Sophie’s expression, Faith thought her former babysitter was bearing the cares of the world on her smooth shoulders, exposed by the bright yellow sundress she was wearing. Knowing what was going on at The Birches, Faith wasn’t surprised.
    â€œIs your mother here? And do call me Faith.”
    Sophie shook her head. “She’s in Greece. I’m representing her. What I mean is I’m—”
    Faith interrupted her. “We’re staying next door at The Pines with Ursula, so we’ve heard about the conclave.” She tried for a smile.
    Now Sophie smiled back in a similar fashion and sighed. “I suppose I should tell Uncle Paul to send white smoke up the chimney when he’s made his choice. But I’m so glad you’re next door. You’ll be at the picnic tomorrow, I hope. I’d love to see Benny and Amy—right? They must be so big!”
    â€œVery big, especially Ben—no more ‘Benny’—and yes, ‘Amy.’ We’re looking forward to the picnic. That’s why I’m getting allthis chicken.” She looked in her cart and gave a little start. “Oh dear. What is that doing in there?” She put the package of franks back and began selecting the chicken. She was going to get up early and bake it in the oven with her own barbecue sauce, basting it frequently, refrigerate, and then bring it to room temperature, since it would both save time and not heat up the kitchen later. Tomorrow was supposed to be worse than today.
    The Point would hear soon enough, so she added, “My husband, Tom, won’t be with us. His mother has had a heart attack, and he’s on his way to Massachusetts.”
    â€œI’m so sorry! Is there anything I can do? I know there are plenty of people at The Pines, but if you want me to help with the kids—if you need to go down yourself, I’d be happy to look after them.”
    Faith impulsively gave Sophie a hug.
    â€œYou are a dear. I always knew that, and I may take you up on the offer, but for now I’m staying here. Ben is working at the Lodge, The Laughing Gull