Free Hall of Secrets (A Benedict Hall Novel) by Cate Campbell

always enjoyed traveling.”
    “Oh, yes,” Edith said, but she dropped her gaze immediately, not looking at Allison at all. “Oh, yes,” she said again.
    When the salad came, Allison ate most of it, feeling the pressure of Margot’s questioning gaze. She ate a bit of sea bass, and one bite of fried potatoes. The potatoes also tasted strongly of onions. She mashed them with her fork into a little pile at the side of her plate.
    The maids came in with dessert and a coffeepot. Leona, Allison could see, was ever so slightly thinner than her sister Loena. Leona had a freckle beside her left ear, too, that Loena lacked. Allison thought she would point that out to Ruby so she would stop complaining about not being able to tell them apart.
    As Loena poured coffee, Cousin Dick said, “So, Margot, how’s the clinic coming? Windows all in?”
    “Yes,” Margot said, pulling her coffee cup closer to her. “The windows are in, and the floors are almost done.” She picked up her coffee and leaned back, cradling the small china cup in long, strong-looking fingers. “Cartons arrive every day,” she said with satisfaction. “The autoclave is here, a full set of storage jars, and the mattresses for the exam tables. Two of the doctors at the hospital have sent me extra specula and syringes, and one of them had a drug cabinet he wasn’t using—” She broke off and gave Ramona a wry look. “Sorry, Ramona. You don’t like hearing all these details.”
    “Well, no,” Ramona said, with a light laugh. “But I know it’s a big undertaking, replacing everything .”
    “It is, in fact. So many details! Hattie’s going to make curtains for the windows, bless her. I could have hired someone, but she really wanted to do it. I worry that she’s doing too much, handling Blake’s job as well as her own.”
    Dickson said, “Let her do it, daughter, if she wants to. She’s proud of you.”
    “I know. It’s awfully kind.”
    Edith looked up abruptly, as if something Margot said had startled her. “Curtains,” she said.
    Uncle Dickson frowned, and Allison thought his lips trembled. “What, dear?” he said.
    “Curtains,” she said again, as if he should understand. “I forgot to tell Hattie.”
    Margot leaned forward and set her cup down. “Mother, what about the curtains?” Her voice usually had a decisive tone, an authoritative edge to it. Now, however, she spoke carefully to her mother, as her father had done earlier. Allison wondered if this was how she spoke to her patients.
    Edith turned her head to her daughter, but a trifle too slowly, as if she were having trouble locating the speaker. “It’s the curtains in Preston’s room. They’re dusty. They should be—” She fluttered one thin hand. The skin was so pale it almost seemed a person could see right through it to the bones beneath. Allison glanced down at her own hand, and noticed, with a twinge of unease, that her fingers were nearly as bony as Aunt Edith’s.
    Ramona said, “Mother Benedict, I’ll have Leona do it. Don’t trouble yourself.”
    Dick covered his wife’s hand with his. Dickson nodded and cleared his throat. Margot, on Allison’s left, folded her arms, and Allison had the distinct impression she was holding herself in.
    Aunt Edith gazed around the table as if she were searching for someone. Her eyes went from place to place, the empty chair, her daughter-in-law’s face, her son, her husband at the head. When they reached Margot, they focused suddenly. The pupils swelled, threatening to swallow the pale blue irises. Her pale lips parted, and as she drew breath, Allison felt Margot tense beside her.
    “I told you,” she said in an urgent whisper. “I told you not to do it. You shouldn’t have done it, Margot.” Allison’s arms prickled with gooseflesh. She realized her mouth was open, and she pressed her lips quickly together.
    “Edith,” Uncle Dickson said. “Margot didn’t do anything.”
    “She did!” Aunt Edith’s voice rose.