"I know he would be very proud of me," I said calmly. "And you don't have to avoid mentioning him, Sashy darling, or stop midsentence when you do. As I told Mom yesterday, Andrew Keswick lived, he existed, he was my husband for ten years, the father of my children. He was on this planet for forty-one years, Sarah, and he made a big difference to a lot of people, not only his mother and me and the children. He loved me. I loved him. He was my lover, my best friend, my true soul mate, and my dearest companion. He meant everything to me, he was my whole life, you know that. So I don't want you to stop yourself every time his name crops up in conversation."
"I won't, I promise, Mal. And I understand, I really do. You're right, we risk negating him by never speaking about him."
"It's the same with Jamie and Lissa. I want you to talk about them to me, remember them, discuss them whenever you feel like it. You will, won't you?"
"Of course."
"It's comforting, you know," I went on softly. "And it helps to keep them alive."
"I'm so glad you've told me. I was being scrupulously careful."
"I know…" I let my sentence trail off. We walked on up to the house in silence for a few seconds. Then I said, "They were so special, weren't they, Sash? Your godchildren."
"Yes, they were. Your Botticelli angels, your small miracles, and mine, too. How I loved them. And Andrew."
"They loved you, Sarah, and he loved you, just as I do. I'm so glad you're my friend."
"I am, too. We're very lucky to have each other."
"I was thinking the other day… about Andrew," I said, looking at her. "Do you remember when you first met him, Sash?"
"I certainly do. I was bowled over, and jealous to death of you'."
"You called him Dreamboat. Do you remember that?"
"Yes, I remember," she murmured, returning my long look. Her lovely dark eyes grew suddenly moist, and I saw her swallow hard. "I remember everything," she said in a whisper.
"Don't cry," I said softly. "Don't cry, Sashy."
She could only nod.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
As we entered the house, Sarah said, "I'll go and change out of these clothes. I'll be down in a few minutes."
"There's no hurry, Sash," I answered. "I'm going to be in my office. When you're ready, join me there. I want to show you the sign for the main gate, the labels for the different products, all the things I've designed this past week."
"Give me ten minutes, Mal," she murmured with a faint smile as we walked down the back hall together.
"No problem, Sashy."
I stood outside my office, my eyes following her as she ran upstairs. She had been quite upset a few moments ago; I realized she wanted to be alone for a while, to compose herself.
Turning, I stepped into my little office and sat down at the desk, where I spread out the various labels. Leaning forward, I studied them for a few moments. "Keep it simple," Sarah had said to me before she left for California. "Remember what Mies van der Rohe said-'Less is more,' and he was right."
I was glad to have Sarah's advice. There was always the temptation to add some sort of decorative element to a label, along with the name. But I resisted, used only the words Indian Meadows and Kilgram Chase, concentrating on a distinctive type of lettering.
I had also kept simple the drawing for the sign for the main gate into Indian Meadows, using the name and the slogan I had dreamed up in Lettice's rose garden at Kilgram Chase a few weeks ago: A Country Experience. I hadn't even added anything about a café or shops. I wanted to keep the sign uncluttered, and people would soon know what we were about.
The phone rang, and I reached for it. "Hello?"
"Mal, it's me. How are you?"
"Hi, Mom, I'm okay. Sarah's here. She arrived a short while ago, and I've been showing her around. She's impressed, excited about everything."
"So am I, darling, and I can't wait to see how it's progressed in the last couple of weeks. You're still expecting us on Sunday for lunch, aren't you?"
"Yes, of course I am."
"What time?"
"I thought about eleven-thirty, twelve. You can take a stroll around, and then we can have lunch at about one. How does that sound?"
"Wonderful, darling. We'll be there. Here's David, he wants a word with you."
"Bye, Mom." I frowned to myself, wondering what David had to tell me. Had he heard from DeMarco? Most probably. I felt myself automatically stiffen and gripped the phone that much tighter.
"Hello, Mal," David said. "I'm looking forward to seeing you on Sunday."
"Hi, David. You've heard from DeMarco, haven't you?"
"Yes, this afternoon. He wanted me to know that the date for the trial has been set, and-"
"When is it going to be?"
"Next month. The end of the month."
"Will it be in criminal court downtown? Like you said?"
"Yes, it will."
"I want to go. I can, can't I?"
"Yes, you can, but I don't think you should."
"David, I have to be there!" I cried, my voice rising.
"Mal, listen to me. I don't think you should expose yourself to something like this. You've never been to a criminal trial, you don't know what it's like. But I do. I'm in criminal court almost every day of my life. You're going to be very upset again-"
"I'll be all right," I interrupted quickly, "Honestly, I will."
"No, you won't. Please take my word for it. Mal, I understand why you think you want to be there, but you mustn't go, not under any circumstances. I don't want you exposed to that… filth, and neither does your mother."
"My family was exposed to it; they're dead because of those animals."
"I know, honey. Listen to me, I want you to think very carefully about the trial and going to it, and we'll discuss it when I come out on Sunday."
"We don't have to, David. I've made up my mind."
"Don't do that. Keep an open mind. I'll explain things to you, tell you what the trial's going to be like, and then you can make a decision."
Knowing it was useless to argue with him, I said, "All right, David. We'll talk about it on Sunday."
"Good. See you then."
We said our good-byes and hung up.
I sat staring into the middle of the room, thinking about the impending trial and those who had been responsible for killing my family, and I began to tremble. The calmness I had acquired of late instantly disappeared; I was suddenly filled with agitation and anxiety.
I heard Sarah's footsteps on the staircase, and I glanced toward the door as she came into the room.
"What's wrong?" she asked, staring at me.
"I just spoke to David. DeMarco called him today. The trial's set for late July."
"Oh," she said, walking across the little office and sitting down in the chair near the fireplace. "I've been wondering when it was going to be."
"I want to go to it. Sash, but David doesn't think I should."
"I tend to agree with him."
"I have to go!" I exclaimed.
"If you really feel you must, then I'll go with you, Mal. I'd never let you face that alone. I don't suppose your mother would either."
"How can you come with me? There's your job."
"I'll take some of my vacation time."
"But you were going to spend your vacation out here with me, getting Indian Meadows ready," I reminded her.
"I know, and I'd much prefer to do that. On the other hand, I couldn't stand it, knowing you were in court without me, even if your mother were with you. Anyway, what did David say?"
I told her quickly, then continued, "I feel funny about not being there, Sarah. Those youths are going to be on trial for the cold-blooded murder of Andrew and Lissa and Jamie, and I ought to be in that courtroom."
Sarah did not speak for a moment or two. She sat thinking; eventually she said slowly, "I know you, Mal, and I know how your mind works, so I know you feel you should be present to see justice done. I'm right, aren't I?"