During the dessert course (some apple tarts baked by one of the bookstore's Green Smocks) Polly remembered the news from Purple Point:
"The Ledfields' nephew is coming for the Memorial Day weekend and bringing his fiancée! Doris and Nathan are delighted, having visions of the Ledfield name being continued."
"Did they mention the sketching of the barn?" Qwilleran asked, considering it of more importance than family bloodlines.
"Yes. The young man - I think his name is Harvey - said all he needs is an afternoon. Doris suggested Saturday afternoon, and I wanted her to call you and make the arrangements, but she's such a shrinking violet."
Qwilleran said, "I didn't know they had any of those on Purple Point."
Polly overlooked the pun. "She's a respector-of-persons and quite daunted by your connection with the K Fund and your ?Qwill Pen' column and your fierce moustache. Do you want to call her and confirm the date?"
"I wouldn't want to give the dear lady a heart attack," he said. "Why don't you call her and confirm it for Saturday afternoon? Then perhaps you and I could take the young couple to dinner at the Nutcracker Inn."
Polly said, "I think that's very gracious of you, Qwill."
"I'm only making sure I get a set of the sketches."
Then he brought up a subject that had long mystified him: Why do some persons live on Purple Point and others live in Purple Point?
The explanation: The long narrow peninsula extending into the lake was originally the location of shipyards where tall sailing ships were built, using 120-foot masts from the towering pine forests inland. When steamboats came in, the shipyards disappeared, and twentieth-century families built beach houses on the sandy peninsula. The occupants said they spent summers "on Purple Point." Around 1900, when fortunes were being made in mining and lumbering, wealthy families built mansions on the mainland within sight of the purplish haze that frequently shrouded the peninsula. They lived in the community of Purple Point.
Polly said, "There was - and still is - some class distinction between living in and living on. The Ledfields live in the community of Purple Point. I've never seen their house, but I'm told it's magnificent. Doris invited me, but when I was working at the library I never had time to socialize with my board members. Having dinner with the dear ladies once a month was all I felt obliged to do."
"Interesting!" he said. "Do you have any more of these tarts?"
When Qwilleran returned to the barn, he was greeted by an exuberant demonstration designed to attract attention. Koko chased Yum Yum up the ramp and down again, after which he fought a battle with a scrap of newspaper. He clutched it, drooled over it, and tore it with his fangs - all in good fun, apparently. When Qwilleran finally retrieved the soggy wad of paper, it proved to be the missing photo of Harvey Ledfield.
"What's this all about, young man?" Qwilleran demanded. Koko never did anything without a motive. There was some reason why the cat took exception to the Ledfield heir.
Qwilleran lost no time in ordering his birthday present from the young widow in Kennebeck, as recorded in his private journaclass="underline"
Saturday - Today I met the Kennebeck Knitter. Ordered a sweater - sleeveless. V-neck, tan with brown borders. My birthday gift from Polly, who also coached me.
Rule One - Call her Veronica. She doesn't like being called "Mrs." Does it bring back painful memories?
Rule Two - Don't mention her weather predictions. She thinks of them as an embarrassing disease.
For some reason I expected something spooky about the lady, but she's attractive, has a winning personality and a mellow speaking voice. Polly says she's a contralto. She reads the "Qwill Pen" and knows all about Koko and Yum Yum. Her cat is a gray tiger named Tiger. I gave her a yellow "Qwill Pen" pencil, and you'd think it was a gold-plated Parker pen.
She told me that her church is planning a fall concert with Uncle Louie MacLeod as director and she hopes Polly will bring me.
She also gave me some of the crunchy home-baked treats she makes for Tiger, but when I put them on the cats' plates under the kitchen table, they sniffed them and walked away. Twice I saw them return to inspect them, and the third time they gobbled them up! CATS!
Chapter 5
There was no such thing as business as usual in the days prior to the barn sketching. Pat O'Dell's cleaning crew scoured the interior top to bottom. Then Mrs. Fulgrove came in to dust, polish, and do what she called fluffing up - not forgetting to leave one of her unique notes:
"One of the kitties' dishes has a crack in it, which you should get a new one."
As for the two "Qwill Pen" columns, Qwilleran employed well-known tricks of the trade.
On Tuesday he would reprint Cool Koko's Almanac with bright catly sayings, such as "It's a wise cat that knows which ankle to rub" and "If at first you don't succeed howl louder."
On Friday he would reprint "by popular demand" witty letters from such readers as Dr. Bruce Abernethy, the pediatrician in Black Creek; Mavis Adams, attorney with HBB&A, and Bill Turmeric, Sawdust City schoolteacher.
Everyone loved these reprints - except Arch Riker, but his grousing was all an act, since everyone knew the K Fund owned the newspaper.
Next Qwilleran called his friend John Bushland. Bushy was a prize-winning photographer who had a portrait studio and darkroom in his home and also accepted freelance assignments from the newspaper and anyone else willing to pay. For Qwilleran he always forgot to send a bill. "I owe you one," he would say, referring to a hair-raising experience they had shared.
Phoning the photographer, the newsman said, "Bushy, I'm in the soup! Koko destroyed a photo I was supposed to return to someone in Purple Point. I won't go into details, but I'm taking a group to dinner at the Nutcracker Inn on Saturday night, and I wonder if you'd be there to photograph them. We'll arrive at seven o'clock."
"I have a shoot at eight o'clock, but I can squeeze it in. Any instructions?"
"I'm chiefly interested in a full-length portrait of the guest of honor - a tall young man with shoulder-length hair, unless he's had it cut lately. In any case, I'll be there to point him out. You can also shoot the group as a whole. I'll explain later. . . . And Bushy, send me a bill; I'll take it out of Koko's allowance."
On Saturday morning as Qwilleran groomed the Siamese, he said, "It's not every day we have guests from California, so be on your best behavior. If you mind your manners, you might be included in one of his sketches."
The cats were quite calm. As for Qwilleran, he appeared calm, but he was feeling more stage fright than he had felt since playing the lead in a high school production of King Lear.
A chauffeur-driven limousine brought the guests to the barnyard. That was typical of the well-bred, well-heeled old-timers who lived in Purple Point.
The young couple who stepped out of the car gazed up at the barn with unabashed awe.
Qwilleran showed the chauffeur the exit circle. Then he shook hands with Harvey Ledfield - tall, young, and serious in mien, with a healthy crop of shoulder-length hair in the tawny color of an Irish Setter. The young woman, who said she was Clarissa Moore, extended a hand with a businesslike grip that belied her dimpled smile and curly blond hair. Qwilleran thought, Wait until Joe lays eyes on her. He'll light up like Times Square!