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

for supper, but Faith had wanted to go to bed early after her wakefulness the night before and declined. She sat down at the big rolltop desk by the window facing the cove and got out her recipe notebook to jot down a few ideas. The phone rang. Of course.
    â€œHello, Pix,” she said.
    â€œHow did you know it was me?”
    â€œYou and Tom are the only people who call me, and Tom just called, so that leaves you, Watson, my good fellow.”
    â€œOh, I see. I called to see if you wanted to change your mind. John Eggleston is bringing over some lobster from his traps—he just has a few in front of his house—and the Fraziers are dropping by. Oh, and Jill is coming, though she wasn’t sure when. She’s taking inventory or something. Eric went up to some friends on Drake’s Island for a couple of days, so she’s at loose ends. I asked Roger too, but he’s up to his elbows in new glazes, he told me this morning.”
    â€œYou people seem to exist in a frantic whirl of gaiety here. One party after another. How are we going to settle down to life in Aleford? And think how bored I’ll be next time I go home to the City for a visit,” Faith said, reflecting on the difference between Pix the hostess as hostage of Aleford and Pix the Perle Mesta of Sanpere. Several times a year she had to give dinner parties for Sam’s law partners or clients, and she would start worrying a month before. The night of the dinner something disastrous always occurred. Either with the food—one time she
had forgotten to remove the plastic bag with the innards from her roast chicken—or with her person—a zipper stuck halfway up on the dress she was attempting to put on—and Faith had to rush over to save her. But on Sanpere Pix thought nothing of inviting large groups on the spur of the moment. If she didn’t have enough plates, she switched to paper with casual aplomb.
    â€œI do want to get to bed early, Pix, but I’d like to see the Fraziers and especially your renegade priest again. Could Ben and I come for the aperitif?”
    â€œOf course, and Faith, you’ll never guess! The Prescotts took turns watching the weather vane all night until they got some expert down from Orono this morning. And Eric was right. There was no way the gold could have been hidden in it. Too heavy. Anyway, the man didn’t mind climbing on the roof, so he went up, poked around, and took scrapings. It’s copper through and through. So now it goes in the next auction Gardiner has, and they’ll all go to bid against Eric and Roger out of spite and disappointment. Since the weather vane was part of the contents of the house, if it had been gold, it would have been the Prescott clan’s. That’s a lot of trips to Florida for the winter.”
    â€œFrom everything I hear about her, Matilda would have enjoyed all this,” Faith commented.
    â€œDefinitely. Fortunately, she liked me—or didn’t dislike me, I should say. I used to take her some of my strawberry preserves every once in a while. Oh, and Louise Frazier told me that your quilt top is probably the last one Matilda made. She was piecing one with those colors when Louise visited her just before she died.”
    â€œThanks, Pix. It’s nice to know who made it. If she appreciated your delectable jam, she couldn’t have been too horrible.”
    â€œOh, she wasn’t horrible at all—just lonely and unappreciated, I think. Sam used to enjoy talking with her, sparring really. He thought she should have gone into politics. She was bright and totally honest, and had so much drive. Too much for her family. She liked to be in charge, and when she got old and couldn’t be, they were used to keeping their distance.”
    â€œI want to hear more about all this, Pix, but Ben’s awake.
He’s starting to hurl things violently out of the crib, always a bad sign, so I’d better go. When do