“Great idea," Faith replied, looked into the cradle, then moved toward the door.
Zoë was still sound asleep. She had roused briefly, drained a bottle, and immediately closed her eyes again. After a while even the nannies had become a bit bored with gazing at her cherubic, sleeping face and had taken Ben outside to play croquet. This was almost as hard as playing with flamingos and hedgehogs, since he chased all the balls and gleefully tossed them into the air. Between making sure he didn't concuss himself and trying to get their balls through the hoops, the girls were getting a fair amount of activity. They were happy to stop and eat. While they ate salad and what Faith had described as sandwich spread in order to make the terrine palatable, the two women sat on the porch.
“Why do we always sit on the steps?" Faith wondered. "Because wicker is basically uncomfortable and the overhang cuts out the view.”
It was after six o'clock, and everything was still. Hardly a leaf moved, and there was no activity on the water to ripple the surface. The sun hadn't set, but they could see the moon. The day's events seemed very far away.
But not too far.
“Pix, was that Sam who called? Did you get a chance to ask him about Roger's will?"
“Yes, I asked him the last time he called. Sorry, I forgot to tell you. Other things on my mind, I suppose. Anyway, it's public knowledge, all probated." She digressed, as was her habit, and Faith waited patiently for her to get back on the track. "You know it's hard being a lawyer's wife. Sam never tells me anything—and shouldn't—but there's so much I'd like to know. You probably have the same problem. Secrets of the confessional." She paused, then added hastily lest a whiff of incense escape into the Maine air, "Not that we have confession, of course.
“Anyway, it was as we thought. Everything goes to Eric. The only surprlse would have been a small trust set up for Bird. But now we know how he felt about her. He also left a thousand dollars to his sister and two thousand to his mother."
“He made the will last spring, right?"
“Yes. He must have wanted to provide for Bird. He may not have thought she was going to leave Andy then, and that's why it's a trust and not money outright, which Andy could have taken over."
“Exactly what I was thinking," Faith agreed. "But what happens to it now? Does it go to Zoë or Eric or even the state of Maine?"
“I have no idea, but Sam will know. If Bird made a will, which I doubt, it would probably go to her beneficiary. But even without a will, I think it might still go to Zoë.”
The day had seemed interminable, and Faith found it hard to believe that it was the same day she and Pix had taken the quilt to the post office. They went inside to eat. Sam called again, and then the phone was blissfully silent. The Fraziers had called earlier to tell them that Bill was at their house. They offered to take Zoë but quickly agreed that it would be better for her to stay where she was. Bill was in shock and refused to take the sedative Dr. Picot had prescribed. He had barely spoken since John had brought him to their house, except to refuse anything to eat or drink. "He seems very confused, almost as if he doesn't know where he is or who we are," Louise had added.
Pix was getting ready to drive Arlene home, although it hardly seemed worthwhile, since she and Samantha were virtually inseparable. Faith suspected Arlene's mother, who had uncharacteristically refused permission for Arlene to stay the night at the Millers', of wanting inside news of the murder.
The two girls went to take a last look at the sleeping baby. They had been disappointed that she hadn't awakened again while they were there.
“Can't we keep her, Mom?" Samantha pleaded. "She doesn't have any place to go, and you were just saying that the house will be so empty when we're all gone in a few years."
“Bird must have had a family, and they'll want her. Anyway, maybe I was looking forward to an empty house." Pix smiled. A fleeting image of time to herself with no car pools or soccer practices, and only Sam across a candlelit table, flickered across her mind.
“Mother!"
“Just kidding, dear. Now we have to get Arlene home."
“Ma would love to have her, Mrs. Miller. I can ask her tonight." Passion provoked Arlene to speak at length.
“I'm sure your mother has quite enough little Prescotts of her own underfoot—Arlene is the oldest of six," she explained to Faith. But Faith was focusing on the first part of her statement."Prescotts?" she asked.
“Yes, Arlene's last name is Prescott.”
Faith looked at the pictures of the quilt and the books spread out on the floor where they had been working—right under Arlene's eager gaze.
“Why am I not surprised?" she said to Pix with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Pix clearly had no idea what Faith was talking about, until she followed her vigorous nod. She shook her head slightly and shepherded the girls out the door. Faith looked at them dismally as they climbed into the car.
Maybe the girl hadn't heard about the quilt or wouldn't connect the pictures to it. Maybe she wouldn't mention them to anybody.
Maybe there wouldn't be any tides tomorrow. Or maybe it would snow. Or maybe . . .
7
The children were crying. They had come across a baby robin, fallen from its nest, lying dead beneath a large oak.
Princess Ardea came up quietly behind them. They hadn't realized she was near until she spoke. "Come, we will bury it in the garden." She reached into the pocket of her gown, drew forth a blue silk handkerchief—the same blue as the color of the egg the bird had hatched from—and gently wrapped it around the still body.
They walked back toward the castle grounds, and Paul pointed to a bank of day lilies in bloom. "This might be a good spot. " The princess nodded, and he dug a small hole with a stick.
“The bird never had a chance to live. It didn't even know it would have been able to fly someday," Julie said.
“It isn't fair. " Her brother scowled. "Why do things have to die?"
“To make room for other things," Prince Herodias answered as he approached from the river, where he had been watching the herons.
“And must everything die?" asked Julie.
“Yes, that is the way," he replied.
“Even you?" she persisted.
“Even us."
“But not for a long, long time?"
“No, not for a very long time. Time passes very slowly here. "
“Then he took her hand, and they went to stand by the others to lay the bird to rest.
Nightfall in Selega, WILLIAM H. H. Fox
Zoë slept through the night, which Faith had not expected. She had not expected that she would either, but aside from a brief time of semiconsciousness listening for the baby when she first got into bed, Faith slept too.
Now it was after breakfast and she was sitting on the lawn watching the two children communicate contentedly in a language all their own. She had spread a blanket and put an assortment of Ben's toys on top, but Ben seemed to think Zoë was the best toy of all. He had taken to crawling to keep her company after trying valiantly to pull her to a standing position before toppling over in a heap. Zoë was wearing another of Ben's shirts, which reached her ankles, and one of his hats. Although it was slightly overcast, Faith didn't want her to get too much sun. Ben was brown as a berry, and next to him Zoë reminded Faith of one of those Poor Pitiful Pearl Dolls before the transformation.