After Carmen left, Harry said to Miranda, “I wonder what Barry found out.”
“Now, Harry, you know what Fair said: ‘Don’t jump to conclusions,’ ” Miranda said sternly.
“Oh, that was about the new post office. This is about murder.” Harry had already jumped to a conclusion, an accurate one.
17
Tazio Chappars, BoomBoom Craycroft, and Harry served on the Parish Guild of St. Luke’s Lutheran Church. Last year, after exhaustive dickering, the board raised the money to install new carpeting. In the process, Harry, Tazio, and BoomBoom drew closer to one another. In the case of Harry and BoomBoom this was an important development, since it meant Harry had finally forgiven BoomBoom for having an affair with Fair after they had separated. Harry had also forgiven Fair. The more difficult emotional task was forgiving herself for hanging on to resentment and anger. And sometimes in the quiet of a country night she thought that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t the warmest, most loving woman God had ever put on earth. Maybe Fair had strayed because of that.
The three ladies, along with Susan Tucker, who’d served on the board before Harry was elected, met at Harry’s farm. It was an impromptu gathering urged by Miranda Hogendobber, who reminded the ladies that July 17 would be the thirtieth anniversary of the Rev. Herbert Jones taking over the parish.
Outside, the late-afternoon light cast long golden shadows over the barn, the rolling pastures.
Harry had intended to shepherd the little group into the living room, but they all plopped down at the kitchen table. She opened the back door to the screened-in porch; all the windows were open and a fragrant breeze filled the house.
“. . . never happen.” BoomBoom rapped the table with the golden dolphin ring she wore on her right hand.
“Oh, Boom, don’t be a cynic.” Susan was at the kitchen counter helping Harry put together a plate of cold meats.
“I’m not a cynic, but this is Crozet and no one can keep a secret. I’m not even sure Claudius Crozet could keep one.” BoomBoom mentioned the famous engineer, a soldier in Napoleon’s army, for whom the town was named.
“What a life. Fight with Napoleon. Get captured on the retreat from Moscow. Napoleon marched into Russia with about a million men and only one hundred thousand survived, give or take a few.” Harry loved history. “Crozet must have been tough.”
“Harry, let’s not get off the track,” Tazio gently chided her.
“You’re right.” Harry put the plate on the table. “Cold cuts, and you’ll just have to make the sandwiches yourselves.” She set a huge jar of mayonnaise on the table, a pot of country butter, and a smaller jar of imported mustard. “Notice the lovely crockery.”
“First class, all the way.” Susan laughed as she set out a plate of cheeses. “Everyone have what they want to drink? Good. I’m sitting down, Harry; you, too.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Harry looked out the kitchen window to watch Brinkley, Tucker, and the two kitties, ferociously puffed, taking turns chasing one another. “We’ve got a hot game of tag out there.”
“I can never thank you enough for talking me into taking Brinkley.” Tazio spread butter on whole-grain bread. “And can you believe how handsome he is?”
“Gorgeous,” Susan agreed, as she well remembered the starved half-grown puppy Tazio had rescued as a terrible winter storm crept over the mountains.
BoomBoom got up and walked to the refrigerator.
“What did I forget?” Harry stood up.
“Pickles. I can get them. You forgot them so you wouldn’t have to share.”
“You put pickles on your sandwich?” Tazio feigned shock.
“On my good days. On my bad days I use olives.” Jar in hand, BoomBoom rejoined them. “Plus, Harry loves pickles.”
They chatted, teased one another, and devoured their sandwiches.
“I was hungrier than I realized.” Susan patted her mouth with her napkin.
“Save some room, there’s dessert.” Harry had picked up a carrot cake as well as brownies on her way home.
“Well, let’s get back to the subject at hand.” BoomBoom dueled with Harry, both having their forks in the pickle jar. “There is no way we can keep this thirtieth-anniversary bash a secret.”
“She’s right.” Tazio seconded this opinion.
“We could try.” Harry wanted to surprise her pastor and friend.
“But then it’s half baked.” Susan turned this over in her mind. “We probably should print up invitations. Do it properly. That’ll let him prepare himself. He’d prefer being prepared, I think.”
“Hmm, I hadn’t thought of that.” Harry hopped up to make another pot of coffee and to refill the creamer. “Tazio, you’re missing a good one. Mrs. Murphy has Brinkley’s tail and she won’t let go.”
Tazio couldn’t resist. She walked over to the window and, sure enough, Mrs. Murphy was clutching the yellow Lab’s considerable tail. He’d sat down to discourage her, but it wasn’t working. Mrs. Murphy, eyes big, was thrilled silly with herself.
“Girls,” Susan called them back.
Harry returned. “Do we know what we’re going to do? And remember, we have to present this to the rest of the board.”
“They’ll go along with whatever we devise,” BoomBoom said with assurance. “We saved them a meeting by having this one.”
“Picnic on the quad,” Susan suggested.
Tazio added to Susan’s suggestion. “The quad is a good idea, and lots of people will fit in there. Let’s decorate with green and gold, St. Luke’s colors.”
“Mary Pat’s racing colors,” BoomBoom mused. “I still can’t believe her ring showed up.”
They batted ideas back and forth with a few digressions, finally agreeing on a huge picnic. Once everything was settled and the dishes washed, they all walked outside to pet the horses. Harry ran back into the kitchen for carrots.
Poptart delicately took a carrot from Susan’s fingers.
Pewter watched this and said, “I don’t see how you can eat carrots.”
Gin Fizz, the older gray mare, replied, “I don’t see how you can eat mice.”
“She doesn’t. She’s too fat to catch them,” Mrs. Murphy sassed.
“Die, peasant!” Pewter whirled and chased Mrs. Murphy under the lilac bushes, through the small rose garden, and into the barn.
The two dogs thought this looked like fun, so they joined in.
BoomBoom said, “Harry, while Tazio is here why don’t you show her your old tractor shed?”
“Why? It’s on its last legs.”
“That’s my point. Maybe she can design something or think of something better.” BoomBoom headed in the direction of the tractor shed.
“Tazio, I can’t afford you,” Harry sheepishly said.
“You can if it’s free.” Tazio put her arm around Harry’s waist for a moment.
As they headed for the shed, Deputy Cynthia Cooper drove down the long driveway in her squad car. The dogs rushed up to greet her as she disembarked.
“Hey, Coop, there’s sandwich stuff left in the house.” Harry hugged her.
“Are you going on duty or off?” Susan asked.
“Off.” Cooper smiled. “But I thought I’d swing by to tell that we’ve been sifting through Barry’s things over at St. James. We found a bound notebook of Mary Pat’s.” Everyone looked at her expectantly, and Cooper continued. “It’s mostly her breeding ideas—what mare she took to whom. There’s a few scribbles in there about farm-machinery purchases. Odd, isn’t it?”
18
Looking good.” Fair beamed as he watched the ultrasound image on the small screen early Friday morning, June 11.
“Finally.” Sugar Thierry smiled.