“May I join your party?" Norman Osgood asked. Pix was delighted. She might have the chance to work in some of her questions, although with Jil and Seth around, it might be hard to steer the conversation toward Mitchel Pierce.
Jil had made it plain that she didn't want to hear anything at al about the subject whenever Pix had referred to the event.
“Are Addie and Rebecca watching from their lawn?"
Pix asked.
“No, Addie is stil not feeling wel and she needs Rebecca. I suggested they go over to the Medical Center or at least cal a doctor, but Addie won't hear of it."
“According to my mother, neither lady has ever had any contact with the medical profession," Seth said.
“That's amazing." Norman was astonished. "At their ages. Not even tonsils?"
“If they did have them out, the doctor did it in the kitchen, and since that meant a boat trip in Addie's case, it might never have been done”
Norman was stil shaking his head when the first rocket went up and they al said "Aah.”
A huge golden chrysanthemum shape fil ed the sky and the petals dropped slowly toward the sea, leaving trails of golden sand. The show was spectacular. The finale was positively orgasmic and the cries of the crowd grew louder and louder as bursts of color and sound exploded overhead. Then suddenly, it was finished and only smoke hung in the air like dense fog.
Norman sighed happily. "That was wonderful. I love fireworks, especial y over the water. I was in a boat on the Hudson for the Statue of Liberty display in 1986. Sublime, but this came close."
“Have you lived in New York City al your life?" Pix asked as a way of starting her inquisition.
“No, my dear, I haven't, however you'l have to wait for the tale, which is a lengthy and enthral ing one. I told the Bainbridges I'd be back as soon as the show was over, and I am a little concerned about Adelaide. She hasn't been eating, and you know how she enjoys her table.”
Something must be wrong indeed, Pix thought.
"Please cal me if there's anything I can do. Maybe my mother could convince her to cal a doctor."
“I doubt that the Almighty Himself could convince Mrs.
Bainbridge to do anything she didn't want to do, but if I think otherwise, I'l cal . Thank you.”
Pix had the peculiar feeling that Norman had become closer to the Bainbridges than she was—two people she'd known al her life.
Seth picked up on it, too. "Who do you think is adopting who?"
“I'm not sure," Pix said. "Maybe it's mutual.”
Jil jumped up and said she was exhausted after her busy day. "Al I want to do is col apse." Pix said goodbye to them both and slowly began to fold up her blanket as she watched the crowd disperse—as she watched Jil and Seth go into The Blueberry Patch together.
Duncan Cowley was lying on the mattress in his secret cabin, staring up at the rafters. Long-ago inhabitants had carved their names and various epitaphs into the wood.
He'd painted over the ones on the wal s in disgust at such sentiments as "Maine Sail Camp. I pine for yew." He was disgusted tonight, as wel —and angry. What a bunch of pussies. They knew how important the ful moon was and stil his friends had deserted him for some stupid fireworks.
The cabin glowed with the candles he'd lighted. He looked at his watch. It was stil too early. He closed his eyes yet knew he wouldn't sleep. Restless, he got up and went over to the trunk.
He'd just have to do it alone.
It was a long wait until midnight. Pix had been tempted to cal Faith but didn't want to bother her. If she was home, she'd be weary after working the holiday. She hadn't had a chance to tel Faith about the blood red sails at the camp.
Amy had diverted her mother's attention just as Pix had remembered she hadn't mentioned the incident to Faith.
She'd cal tomorrow. Tel ing Faith what was going on was making things clearer, or, if not clearer, making Pix feel better.
She did cal Sam, to make sure he'd gotten home al right. She missed him more than ever when she hung up.
Final y, she got into bed with the latest issue of Organic Gardening and tried to get interested in mulch. When Samantha did get home, just before the stroke of twelve, Pix cal ed out to her daughter to come say good night.
“Weren't the fireworks awesome? The best ever."
Samantha had clearly had a good night. Pix felt less worried.
“Truly awesome," she agreed. "Whom were you with?"
“Oh, the usual people—Fred, Arlene, their friends. How about you?" Samantha sounded slightly anxious.
Oh no, Pix thought, don't tel me Samantha is starting to worry about poor old Mom. The way I do, a stil -deeper voice whispered.
“We had quite a crowd on the blanket. I was by the library. Jil , the antiques dealer who's at the Bainbridges, some others." Pix didn't care to get more specific.
Samantha was hoping to be a junior bridesmaid at Jil and Earl's wedding.
“That's nice, Mother." Her daughter actual y patted her hand. "Now I see you've got your usual exciting bedtime reading, so I won't keep you from it a minute longer."
“Don't you patronize me. And where's my kiss!" Pix grabbed Samantha for a hug. Sam had given them al magazine subscriptions last Christmas: Organic Gardening renewed for his wife, Sassy for his daughter, and the Atlantic Monthly for his mother-in-law. There they were in a nutshel .
Pix drifted off to sleep. Maybe this was a new way to categorize people. She'd have to talk about it with Faith—
The New Yorker, obviously. And who else? Valerie Atherton, House Beautiful, without question, and Jim, Boys'
Life. Jil ? Not Modern Bride, not yet anyway.
She thought she was stil thinking about magazines, then realized that dawn was streaking across the sky outside in shades of burnt orange and magenta. The phone was ringing. She grabbed the receiver in a panic. Nobody cal ed this early. It was just over the edge of night.
“Pix, Pix, are you awake?”
It was Mother.
“What's wrong? What's happened? Are you al right?"
Pix ignored the obvious question. Of course she was awake.
“I want you to get over to the Bainbridges as fast as you can. Addie's dead.”
Pix was momentarily relieved. "Oh dear, Mother, what sad news, yet I suppose with this weather, her age and al that weight, it—"
“Rebecca found her on the floor of her bedroom with an old quilt Rebecca's never seen before wrapped around her—a red-and-white quilt."
“I'l be there as soon as I can.”
Seven
Once when Mark Mil er had been about nine years old, he had inveigled his mother into trying out the new tire swing at the school playground. Somehow, Pix had gotten her feet caught in the rim and for what seemed like a giddy, reeling eternity was unable to stop or get off. The world whirled around. She was almost sick and momentarily terrified. As she pul ed into the Bainbridges' drive and opened her car door, she felt as if she was back on that swing.
Rebecca opened the door before Pix could knock. The sight of the grief-stricken old lady, pathetic in a worn flannel robe, her gray hair untidily sticking out in clumps around her face, brought Pix soundly back to earth. She put her arms around the woman and hugged her hard. "I'm sure there's some explanation for al this.
Maybe Addie had a quilt you didn't know about, felt cold, and got up to get it." It didn't sound especial y plausible, but it was something to say.
Rebecca shook her head. Tears had been fil ing the soft wrinkles of her cheeks ever since Pix had arrived and obviously for a long time before that.
Pix looked around the kitchen. Ever since she'd driven up, she'd had a sense something was wrong besides what was so obviously wrong, and now she knew what it was: No one was around. Where was Earl? Where were the B and B guests? The Bainbridges had countless relatives al over the island. Where were they?