Seeds of Deception (13 page)

Seth didn't look at her. “I'm not sure why you're doing it at all.”

“You don't think there's something fishy here?”

“Maybe, but I'm not sure it's our business.”

“I guess I feel it became our business if it stretches to Amherst.”

“I heard that ‘if,' Meg. There's no evidence it's connected to what happened here. Why can't you accept it as an unpleasant coincidence?”

“I don't know. I'm sorry—I'm not being fair to you, I know. This isn't the way either of us planned to use this time.”

Seth wiped out the sink and set down the sponge before turning to Meg. “Well, the first part was nice, and it's not over yet. And you're going to show me where little Meg lived in the morning. Do you still know anyone there?”

“Not a soul, as far as I know.”

“So it won't be a long trip. Are you ready to go up?”

“Yes. Shoot, I never gave you the grand tour. Did you find the room we're staying in?”

“Yes, because I took our luggage up a while ago. It's kind of hard to get lost in a house, you know.”

“I guess you're right. Then let us retire and you can look forward to a stroll through my childhood haunts, which aren't anywhere near as pretty as Granford.”

“I'll look forward to it.”

“This room is ridiculously big for a bedroom,” Meg said the next morning, after making sure Seth's eyes were open.

“My guess would be that it started as two rooms, with the back end a kind of solarium. Hence all the windows,” he told her.

“I hadn't thought of that. I like the window seat, though. Too bad that wouldn't fit in our house.”

“I have a feeling that the people who built and lived in our house didn't have time to sit in a sunny corner and read a book. Assuming they knew how to read.”

“Of course they did—I've seen some diaries, although they don't come from the original builders. But you're right—I doubt they were exactly literary people, Emily Dickinson notwithstanding.”

“Isn't it kind of early in the morning for ‘notwithstanding'?”

“I, sir, am a literary person. I'm also hungry. Are you still up for touring my childhood turf?”

“This is your turf, so it's up to you to decide. Are you trying to weasel out of it? Are you hiding something there? May I ask, though, how long you want to devote to this task of sorting out Enrique's death?”

“A fair question, and the answer is, I don't know. I've just started. If we were home I'd talk to Art and ask him to see what he could wangle from the state police, but I don't have that kind of access here. Am I making too much of all this, Seth? I mean, Daddy refuses to worry about it, or so he says, and Mother would really rather forget about it. Do I just wait until the next awful thing happens and then sit back and say, ‘I told you so'?”

“Meg, I think you're right to look into it. All I wanted to know was how long this might take. Or to take it from the other side, when would you like to get home again?”

“Give me a day or two, okay? If nothing new emerges, we can head back to Granford over the weekend. Deal?”

“Works for me. I'll grab a shower. Are your folks up, do you think? This house is so solidly built, it's hard to hear other people moving around in it.”

“Probably. They were always morning people. I'll go down and see what's what while you shower.”

Meg ambled down the stairs, which was not a short walk: down a few steps, across a landing that ran the width of the hall below, and down a longer flight. Then back to the kitchen, where she found her mother sitting in the nook with a mug of coffee in her hand, staring into space. Meg
could almost see Elizabeth shake herself when Meg walked in.

“Good morning, darling. Did you sleep well?” Elizabeth said brightly.

“Just fine, although I guess I missed all those animal noises, like the goats. Not to mention a cat jumping on me at random intervals. You?” Meg thought her mother didn't look any more rested than she had the night before.

“It always takes a bit to settle down after coming home from a break,” her mother said.

That sounded evasive to Meg, but she didn't feel like pushing. Maybe this was her obsession, and there really was nothing going on. Her personal wild-goose chase. “I wouldn't know—I haven't had a lot of opportunities to find out lately.”

“I suppose you don't have much opportunity for vacations, do you, dear?”

“Not hardly. It had never occurred to me that raising any kind of crop could be so demanding. I'm glad I didn't decide to try raising milk cows—that never seems to end.”

“So I understand. Are you still planning to go to Madison today?”

Meg helped herself to a cup of coffee and a piece of coffee cake. “Yes. I want Seth to see the place, although I don't feel a lot of connection to it anymore. But I live in the midst of many generations of Chapins, so I guess I want to stake out a little ground of my own. Did you keep in touch with anyone there after you moved?”

“Not really. You know, once you were out of school, and then out of the house, there didn't seem to be any reason to keep in touch with people there. That was before
our bridge-playing era, though.” Elizabeth summoned up a smile. “I forget—do you play?”

“If I say yes, you promise you won't draft me?”

“Of course.”

“Then yes, I played some in college—it seems like bridge playing comes and goes in and out of fashion. But I haven't played since. I haven't heard ‘bridge' mentioned at all in Granford. If I have spare time, I'd rather use it exploring local history and our family tree. You haven't been bitten by that bug yet, have you?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “No, I'll leave that to you.”

Seth appeared, looking cheerful. “Found you—I followed the smell of coffee. Good morning, Elizabeth. Meg, the shower's all yours.”

Meg swallowed the last of her coffee cake. “I'll take my coffee with me. Where's Daddy?”

“He said he wanted to look at something at his office—it's not far,” her mother answered. “But you two probably won't be back for lunch?”

“I doubt it,” Meg told her. “I'm keeping my options open. I won't be long in the shower.”

*   *   *

Fifteen minutes later
Meg descended again, ready to face dragons. Maybe showing Seth her former hometown would jolt her out of her worries. She tried to remember the last time she'd been there—it must have been close to a decade now.

In the kitchen, Seth and Elizabeth were both chattering happily, and she realized that Seth was making a deliberate effort to cheer her mother up, which was sweet of him. She watched from the doorway for a moment before they
noticed her. Her mother and her husband. She was struck once again that she had never thought much about the day-to-day realities of being married. Had she given up expecting to marry? When had that happened?

Some movement must have caught her mother's eye, and Elizabeth smiled. “You look ready to go. You know the way?”

“I think I can find it, Mother. What are your plans for the day?”

“Unpacking. Laundry. Checking the mail for bills. All those exciting things.”

“You could come with us if you like. You certainly knew Madison better than I did.”

“No, darling, you go and show it to Seth in your own way. I'd probably be horrified at the things you noticed that I didn't. Or the things you never told me about.”

“Probably. Seth, why don't I drive, since I know the way?”

“No problem.” He fished into his pocket and handed her the car keys. “Elizabeth, we'll see you later.”

“I'll give you a call when we know when we'll be back, Mother,” Meg said. “Maybe we could eat out tonight?”

“That sounds lovely, dear,” Elizabeth said absently. “Now go and enjoy yourselves.”

Meg retrieved her purse and coat, and she and Seth went out the back to the car and got in. “I'm glad it's not snowing—then we'd be stuck in the house.”

“You drive in snow all the time,” Seth said.

“Yes, but not in places I only half remember, that may have changed anyway.” She started up the car and rolled slowly backward down the driveway, then pulled out into the street. “Any overnight epiphanies?”

Seth turned to look at her. “Even though I know what
‘epiphany' means, I don't think anything like that popped up overnight. Not even a germ of an idea. I was tired.”

“I didn't do any better. I still think Mother looks worried, if not about this, then about something.”

“I would agree with that. Any health problems for either one of them?”

“Not that they've shared with me. Thank you so much for giving me something else to worry about.”

“That wasn't my intention. But at least you can ask. Wouldn't it be better to know than to worry?”

“I think I'll embroider that saying on a sampler—just as soon as I learn to embroider. In my spare time.”

The trip to Madison was indeed short, and there was little traffic. As they approached the town center, Meg launched into an abbreviated summary. “Madison, formerly known as Bottle Hill after a famous—or infamous—tavern whose site we are about to pass. Founded in seventeen-I-don't-know-what. Population about fifteen thousand, and that's been holding steady for years. One main street, one big intersection with a traffic light. Commuter rail line to the City, which always means New York. Borough hall is a pale pink marble pile built by the local lords of the manor, the Dodge family, who also built the train station and gave the land for the high school. The town next door to the school is called Florham Park in honor of Florence and Hamilton Dodge.”

“Pink?” was Seth's only comment.

“It's marble, but it really does have a pinkish cast, especially when it's wet. The police department is housed there, and there are a couple of holding cells in the basement—some friends and I got brave in high school and asked to take the tour. If I recall correctly, the police showed us
how to take fingerprints, back when they still used ink. There was a nice old library building next to the tracks, a little farther down, but it's a museum now—there's a newer library at the other end of town, but that dates from after my time here. One elementary school, one middle school in what started out as the high school, and one high school.”

“Did you like growing up here? Because that's not exactly a warm and fuzzy description.”

“I guess I did. It was a nice town—safe, clean, accessible. I had friends. I did well in school, played on the girls' sports teams, took art and guitar lessons for a while.”

“But you're not smiling as though you remember all that fondly.”

Meg didn't answer Seth's question as she went through the town center and then took the turn toward the high school. “Anthony Wayne was billeted in a house along here during the Revolutionary War. That was when Washington was staying in a grander house over in Morristown.” She arrived at the high school and pulled into the deep semicircular driveway that led from the street down to the front entrance, then back to the street. There was a parking lot past the school building, overlooking the football field, and Meg pulled in there and parked. She shut off the engine and turned to Seth.

“Was I happy here? I don't know. I was one of the invisible kids, but there was a nice group of us. I went through the usual teenage angst, but mostly I remember wanting to get out, go to college, and get on with my life. I never dated. I had a couple of close friends—what I guess you'd call ‘BFFs' today—but those friendships didn't last. I made new friends in college, and after.”

“Tell me, Meg, did you ever have a screaming, knockdown battle with your parents, singly or together?”

Meg looked down her nose at him, which was a challenge since he was taller than she was. “The Coreys do not scream. Neither do they cry. Neither do they air their dirty laundry in public. Stiff upper lip and all that. So the short answer is no.”

“Did you feel that when you were growing up here? That there were things you couldn't say or do?”

Meg shrugged. “Every family is different. This was what I knew. If I'd had siblings things might have been different. I knew they both loved me, but they had trouble showing it.” She turned away from Seth and looked out at the football field, now brown and barren. She'd gone to every game the last two years of school. So had a lot of the town. “Is that what this is about? My difficulties in showing affection? Or accepting that somebody loves me?”

“Meg, I didn't mean to open a huge can of worms. You know my family history, and it wasn't picture book, either. I never got along with my father, and he resented that I ended up going to what he called a fancy-schmancy college, even if he never had to pay out a dime for it. I hated the way he treated my mother, and I hated the way she let him. My brother, Stephen, you know about. I think Rachel turned out the most normal of all of us. But we did have some pretty blazing battles, although my mother tried to stay out of them.”

“So sound and fury equals caring in your book?”

“Maybe. It shows that you care enough about something to fight for it. Assuming, of course, that you're not just a bully.”

“Would you like to have a fight and see how it goes?” Meg asked, not sure if she was serious.

“No, not really. Certainly not here and now. Meg, I love you. I hope you know that.”

“I do, Seth.” She reached over and pulled him close and kissed him, a kiss that went on for a while. When she came up for air she said, “I never thought I'd be necking in my high school parking lot. Chalk up another first.” Then she sobered. “Are you saying that I'm trying to prove something to my parents now? Or make them pay attention to me?”

Seth shook his head. “No, because the body of Enrique Gonzalez is undeniably real. Maybe it is irrelevant to your family. Maybe not. You asked the right questions, and to me it looked like they didn't like those questions.” He hesitated for a moment before going on. “But having listened to and talked with your parents over the past day, I think there is something going on that either they don't acknowledge or they don't want to think about. Having said that, I don't know that it's up to us to fix that. Leave it to them and to the police.”