“I hope so. But I don’t suppose it matters. She and Sir Alfonse did seem instantly besotted. Perhaps they’ll bring French cuisine back to The Waysiders. That might make it more appealing to Aunt Lulu if she could be persuaded to go for another stay. She’s a woman who will put up with a great deal for escargot.”
Mrs. Malloy had gone to stare out the window while waiting for the kettle to boil. “Was you joking Mrs. H.?” she asked without turning around.
“About what?”
“Them vans you was saying Freddy’s mother would have sent for?”
“Of course. Why do you ask?”
“Because there’s a whacking great van pulling up the drive?”
“Oh, no!” I sighed in anguish. “It’ll be the stuff from Ben’s study being returned from The Waysiders. I made the mistake of bringing up the subject with Ernestine just before you and I left Moultty Towers, and she must have got right onto it. Quick! We’ve got to get out there.” I propelled Mrs. Malloy toward the door. “They’ve started to unload.”
We were standing on the path when I heard the front door open and Ben’s voice calling to me from the hall. “Look,” I told Mrs. Malloy, “I’ll double your wages, I’ll even take on another detective case if you twist my arm, but get out to those men. See there are two of them, big burly types with fire in their eyes and their very own teeth from what I can see from here. Say anything, do anything to get them to load that stuff back into the van. If Ben should get a glimpse of what he loved and lost, even the computer may not be enough to hold him.”
“You’re asking me to sacrifice meself.” Mrs. M. was smiling as if her life was once more filled with promise.
“That’s right. And take all the time you like. Remember if you come inside I’ll make you scrub floors until your back breaks.” I kissed her cheek and raced back into the house to close the kitchen door behind me as I went into the hall.
“Hello, Ben darling,” I said as I went into his arms. “Did Mrs. Beetle like the book?”
“She was thrilled speechless.”
“And that makes you deserving of a reward,” I whispered against his lips.
“More new furniture?”
“Something better. Mrs. Malloy frightened me last night. She said you might become so keen on computers that you’d decide to buy another one to take to bed with you, and I’m going to show you why you don’t need to do that.”
“But isn’t she here? I thought I heard you talking to her when I came in?” If he hadn’t smiled at me in just that way while raising an enchantingly quizzical eyebrow I might have found the strength to tell him the truth. After all, hadn’t I vowed never to be anything less than up front and straightforward with him ever again? But on the other hand, why should Ernestine be the only woman in the world to be blown away by a look… a glance from the right man?
“What? Mrs. Malloy here… in the house?” I took his hand and led him toward the stairs. “Trust me, darling, that woman has better fish to fry on a lovely day like this.”
“It’s cold and getting ready to rain.”
“I know.” I turned back into his arms for a delicious moment before sprinting ahead of him three steps at a time. “What’s my prize if I race you under the covers?”
“I’ll let you play with my computer.”
“Perfect,” I said. What more could any wife ask of life? Except hope that other women everywhere were just as happy.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
This is Dorothy Cannell’s twelfth mystery. Her others include Bridesmaids Revisited, The Trouble with Harriet, The Spring Cleaning Murders, The Thin Woman, Down the Garden Path, and the Agatha Award nominee The Widows’ Club. Born in England, she now lives in Peoria, Illinois.
