The woman had obviously been violently sick and the police might have found further signs in the bathroom—al of which pointed to poison of some kind. Addie had been sick for days and Pix recal ed the graphic account of her symptoms. What did one have to do with the other? Was her il ness merely a coincidence? Poison. This made absolutely no sense. Things like this didn't happen on Sanpere.
Then there were the quilts, two red-and-white quilts.
Three quilts, including Pix's purchase with the disappearing mark. She would cal Earl later to find out whether there was a cross on Adelaide's. It would be impossible to sleep otherwise. She also wrote down sails. As Faith had pointed out, they were red and white, too. Sails were made of cloth, so were quilts. Quilts and sails. Sails and quilts. Mitch had been wrapped in Drunkard's Path. Could there be some connection between the name of the quilt pattern on Addie's and her death? Pix closed her eyes and concentrated on remembering the spirals she'd seen that morning. She drew a square at the bottom of the page and fil ed it in as best she remembered: two pinwheel shapes, the tiny dotted fabric alternating with the red. She'd go through her quilt pattern books after supper and try to find the name.
It wasn't much of a list, not up to her usual standards.
But it was a beginning. She went to the bottom of the stairs and cal ed to Samantha to come for a walk with the dogs.
They al needed to get out.
For once, Samantha was staying home. After an early supper of toasted cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, one of the Mil er family's favorite repasts, the phone rang.
During the course of a lengthy conversation, Pix heard Samantha tel Arlene she was tired and ask her how about the fol owing night. The phone rang again as Pix was getting out her quilting books. It was Ursula. Rebecca had agreed to stay the night, since Earl had promised to water the garden. So that's where he was, Pix thought. She'd been trying to reach him.
She started to ask her mother about Adelaide's wil and how big the estate might be, but Ursula cut her off, obliquely indicating Rebecca had attached herself limpet like and was at Mrs. Rowe's side every waking moment.
“I understand completely. Poor Rebecca! I know you can't say anything, but could you find out if she has any further thoughts about where that quilt might have come from'? And perhaps see if she knows what the provisions of Adelaide's wil are?”
Even though her mother would not be able to comment at length, Pix had expected a note of disapprobation to sound in her reply—Pix was prying—but Ursula said in an even tone, "Good idea, dear. I'l do that.”
It amounted to approval. Addie's death had changed things and it might just be that Mother was on the trail, as wel .
It was much too hot for a fire in the fireplace, but they sat in front of it, anyway, Pix with her quilting books and Samantha curled up on the couch with E. B. White. She was rereading Charlotte's Web, as she did every summer.
Charlotte had finished saving Wilbur's life the first time and Samantha stood up and stretched. She real y was tired, yet that was not why she'd put Arlene off until tomorrow. Fred wanted to go back to Duncan's and check out the trunk. He was convinced Duncan was responsible for what was going on at the camp, including the dead gul .
Arlene also hinted that Fred thought Duncan might be responsible for the other bizarre things happening on the island. "Fred's good and steamed," she'd told Samantha.
Samantha was afraid he might be right and she, too, thought they'd better look around the cabin some more, but she just couldn't handle it after everything that had happened today. She'd known the Bainbridges al her life and Addie had always been nice to her. At the moment, al Samantha wanted to do was read about Charlotte, Wilbur, and Fern until she fel obliviously asleep.
Pix found the pattern shortly after midnight. It had become an obsession. Samantha had long since gone to bed. Pix, though, remained wide awake and when the design jumped off the page at her, she was jolted into even-greater consciousness. Her mother's earlier words regarding Mitchel Pierce's kil er came immediately to mind. Whoever was responsible was not simply evil, but nasty.
The name of the pattern was End of Day.
Eight
The next morning Samantha left for work after a big breakfast of sour-cream pancakes and fresh strawberries.
Pix had picked the first ones in the garden, thankful the heat hadn't ruined what looked to be a bumper crop.
As soon as her daughter was out the door, Pix piled the dishes in the sink and went to the phone. As she dialed, it struck her that she was spending an inordinate amount of time on this instrument—especial y for Sanpere. Other summers when it did ring, it was usual y for one of the kids, and she seldom made many cal s herself.
Earl was in his office, as she had hoped. He'd recovered from whatever feelings of pique her actions at the Bainbridges' had engendered and said he didn't see any harm in tel ing her no cross of any color had been found on the quilt surrounding the corpse.
“Now whether the quilt's an old one or not, I can't tel you, because I don't know. The other one wasn't, though”
Pix was grateful for this confirmation of her suspicions.
“I thought I might do some more antiquing," she told him. "Maybe head up toward Bar Harbor. I'm hoping Jil wil come along." Pix had thought of asking Valerie, too, but decided that a third person would provide a further excuse for Jil to avoid talking about her love life.
“Wel , say hi from me, that is if she remembers who I am.”
Pix returned to what was obviously a more cheerful topic. "Do you have the results of the autopsy yet?”
“So far, al I've heard is heart failure."
“Then it may not involve any foul play?”
Pix was finding comfort in phrases like this. The alternatives were overly specific.
“Not necessarily. Could be something was given to her to cause the heart attack. But could also be she was due.”
Pix hung up, feeling better than she had for days. No mark on the quilt and the possibility that death was from natural causes. Addie's weight and eating habits—she disgustedly referred to salads and the like as "rabbit food"—definitely put her at risk. And as for the quilt, it was no doubt one Rebecca had simply forgotten about.
Next she cal ed Jil .
“Oh Pix, I would like to go. It's so horrible about Addie. I can't think about anything else, and if I don't get out of the shop today, I think I'l go insane”
Pix was surprised at the intensity of Jil 's reaction. She hadn't realized the two women were so close. Maybe Jil was some kind of niece, too.
“But I don't have anybody to cover for me. I can't afford to just close up. There are stil so many tourists in town.
Would you mind waiting while I try to find someone?"
“Of course not. Too bad Samantha's working at Maine Sail, but she does get through after lunch. We could go then if you don't find anyone sooner."
“That would be great. I'l cal you in an hour if not before to let you know what's happening.”
Pix was not in the mood to sit by the phone. "If you don't get an answer here, cal me at The Pines. I want to see how Rebecca is." And maybe get a few words with Mother, she added to herself. She also wanted to drive out to the Point on the way and inspect the foundation. There hadn't been any time yesterday to make sure Seth was doing as he had promised.
Seth and his crew were taking a break when Pix drove up. Nobody jumped up to greet her, but she didn't care. The sight before her eyes was greeting enough. The foundation and basement floor for the Fairchilds' house had been poured and the tart smel of fresh concrete fil ed the air. It was more fragrant to Pix than any number Chanel.