Tutti gave a discreet little cough. "We'll see you at dinner tonight, then, Alphonse." The benign grandmother was back. Alphonse snarled at the three of them and stamped off, presumably, Quill hoped, to cool off skiing down the slope of the Gorge.
"Well, dear," Tutti said briskly. "Let's get those roses up."
"You'll have to excuse me, Tutti, Elaine. But I have some pressing business in the office," said Quill. She badly wanted to go through the computer disks, if only to save Claire and her female relatives the embarrassment of having Alphonse Santini hauled off to jail at the church door.
Tutti fixed her with a gimlet eye. "My dear. I have no wish to be more direct than necessary. But my family and I have spent a great deal of time - and money - at your Inn. I would appreciate it if you would help in the arrangement of the flowers." Her rose-leaf cheeks crumpled in a smile. "It won't take very long at all."
The dining room was decorated in less than two hours. And it was because Tutti, Quill realized, had the instinct, if not the outright talents, of a second Napoleon. "Except there were two, weren't there? Or three?" she murmured aloud.
"Three what, dear? No! Redo that swag, young man. I want all the roses facing out. And the drape needs to be loosened just a little. That's it. That's too far. Put it back. Good." She clapped her hands. "I want this mess cleaned up and all of you gone. Five minutes." The crew went to work with a will.
Quill turned slowly in a circle. "It's not just good, Tutti. It's beautiful."
"It is, isn't it?" Her faded blue eyes sparkled. "I never had a formal wedding myself, my dear. I took a great many pains with this one."
"The rose swags were designed by..." Elaine leaned forward and whispered a name most of America knew into Quill's ear. "But he wouldn't come here to direct it himself, of course. So Tutti said she'd do it."
"Why wouldn't he come himself?" asked Quill. She caught the exchange of glances between the two older women.
Tutti said tactfully, "Well, it's the family, dear."
"Nonsense," said Quill. "Shaw was right, you know. Good manners don't have anything to do with whether you treat a shop girl like a duchess, good manners have to do with whether you treat a duchess like a shop girl."
"I'm afraid I don't quite understand, dear," said Tutti.
"Just that plumbing money is morally neutral. It's what you do with it that says whether or not you have taste. And this is wonderful."
Quill looked around the dining room again and was delighted. It must have cost the earth, but the florist had delivered outdoor roses in the depths of December. The vibrant peach-orange of Sutter's Gold, the full glorious yellow of Faust, the paler yellow of Golden Fleece were all mixed in glorious confusion with the rich reds of Frenshman and Dickson's Flame, An ivy of a deep, pure green twined around the rose bouquets, interspersed here and there with full-leaved fern, The rose garlands hung from the long windows, swung gracefully from the center chandelier, and twined down freestanding vases in the corners.
"It smells like June," Quill said. "It's amazing."
"Now," Tutti said briskly, "The crate's arrived with the table linens. Elaine, dear, if you'd go find that nice groundskeeper..."
"Mike," said Quill.
"Mike, and ask him to wheel it in here, we'll set out the tablecloths for this evening. Then tomorrow, Sarah, we'll use the white damask and the linen napkins. But tonight is a quiet, family celebration, so we don't need to be as formal." She smiled at Quill as Elaine left in search of Mike. "I had a chintz sent directly from England. It has a wonderful Chinese yellow back- ground with aquamarine accents. It just makes these roses."
"Tutti," Quill began. She hesitated. "I thought... Forgive me, I don't mean to be rude. But do you want Claire to marry Alphonse Santini?"
"Of course I do. It's time we had a little political connection in the family. At least, one that we can count on." She twinkled at Quill's expression. "You can't count on money alone, my dear. Blood ties are everything."
"Oh," said Quill. "But, Tutti. What you said about the rabbit. At the s‚ance. You know who killed Nora and Sheriff Dorset. I don't understand. I don't understand at all."
"You think Alphonse was responsible?" Tutti took a small muslin handkerchief from her purse and patted her cheeks. "That's warm work, decorating. Well. My little messages to Alphonse were more in the nature of letting him know who's the head of the family. Not, my dear, that that's any of your business. As far as I'm concerned, if Claire wants him, she can have him. As long as he treats her well. As long as he understands the rules."
"But murder, Tutti. If you know something, you really have to tell the police. Have you met Sheriff McHale? He's wonderful. A wonderful sheriff, I mean. And you won't find it difficult to talk to him at all."
Tutti began to laugh. It was a warm rich laugh, and it made Quill think of her father's mother, a round woman with a joy of life that was infectious. Quill touched her arm. "I don't want to upset you. But I'm almost sure that the senator is behind these murders. And since Sheriff McHale's been here, every single murder that's been committed in Hemlock Falls has been solved. All this beauty,'" Quill said. "I just hope it's not wasted."
"We'll be fine, my dear. Just fine." Her pink cheeks got a little pinker. "There's Dina. Yoo-hoo! Here we are, dear."
" `Scuse me, Quill?". Dina, unusually tentative, crossed the dining room with a hesitant air.
"Now, Dina, did you call that young nephew of mine?" Tutti asked fondly. She pinched Dina's cheek. "He's first-year law, Cornell," she said to Quill. "The poor boy doesn't have time to find himself a nice girl, so when Dina came to the Welcoming - those of us with the Gift don't call it a s‚ance - it's so - Fox sisters, if you know what I mean. We call it a Welcoming. So, you called him?"
"Your nephew Anthony, Mrs. Mc - I mean, Tutti. No. There's this botanist I've been dating - "
"Botanist!" said Tutti. "What kind of living does a botanist make? Now a young lawyer..."
"Well, there's one to see you," said Dina. "A Mr. Greenwald."
"Oh, really?" said Quill, "I certainly would like to see him, too, Tutti."
"Joey? Here? How nice!" Tutti beamed at them both. "He's engaged, though, to my brother's third daughter, Christina. A beautiful girl."
"Where is he, Dina?" Quill asked grimly. "I put him in your office." She gave Tutti an apologetic glance, leaned forward, and whispered in Quill's ear, "Meg said that's the guy who tried to kill you!"
Quill nodded.
"Shall I get a gun or something? John's got that rifle he uses for rabid woodchucks and stuff."
Quill shook her head. "How does Greenwald look?"
"Pretty banged up. His arm's in a sling and his face is purple."
"Oh, dear." Quill marched after Tutti and found her fussing over Joseph Greenwald, who was, to Quill's guilty satisfaction, looking very banged up, He rose to his feet as she came in. Quill folded her arms and glared at him.
"I see you've met," Tutti said comfortably. "Sit down, dear." She settled herself behind Quill's desk and waved at the couch.