Seeds of Deception (4 page)

Meg wondered when that had begun. Her father had always been very wrapped up in his practice, leaving her mother to fill her time with volunteer functions. How did she feel about this change of heart? “Are you thinking of retiring, Daddy?”

“No, no, nothing like that, not yet anyway,” he blustered. “Just being a bit more selective about the cases I choose to take on. And I do want some time to smell the roses.” He reached out and took Elizabeth's hand, and she twined her fingers with his and smiled back at him.

What had happened to her parents? Meg couldn't remember the last time she'd seen them be this demonstrative in a public place.

But now was not the time to ask. The coffee arrived, along with one dessert and four forks, and they made short work of it. Finally Elizabeth said, “Phillip, perhaps we should call it a night? Particularly now that we know we can look forward to seeing Meg and Seth again soon.”

“You're right, my dear.” Phillip made a subtle gesture
and the check miraculously appeared and was settled quickly. They gathered up their coats and moved toward the door. The restaurant was now nearly empty, although it appeared that many of the patrons had migrated to the bar, which was still noisy. Once outside, Phillip inhaled deeply. “Nothing like New England air on a winter's night to clear the head. Maybe a nightcap at the hotel bar?”

Meg looked at Seth, who somehow conveyed that it was her decision. “A short one, maybe. We've still got to get back and pack for tomorrow. We want to get an early start.”

The walk back to the hotel didn't take long, and when they entered the spacious bar, there was yet another fire burning in a fireplace. Definitely a winter-friendly place. Phillip looked happy to be there, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “What would you all like?”

They settled on drinks: Meg opted for an Irish coffee, while Seth settled for plain coffee. Meg checked the time and was surprised to find it was approaching ten. But the ride back to Granford would take them the better part of half an hour, and there were still things to be done . . .

“Meg?” her mother's voice interrupted her. “Are you still with us?”

“Oh, sorry. Just thinking. It's been a long couple of weeks.”

“Then we should let you go, especially now that we'll be seeing you again.”

“I'll get this,” Seth volunteered, and went over to the bar to settle the tab.

When Seth returned, Phillip asked, “Where are you two parked?”

“Out back, sir,” Seth informed him.

“Seth, please drop the ‘sir.' You make me feel ancient, and anyway, you're family now. I'm Phillip. But never Phil, please. We'll walk you out—that is, if you don't mind, Elizabeth?”

“That's fine. A bit of air will help me sleep.” Feigning secrecy, she leaned toward Meg and said in a loud whisper, “He really only wants an excuse to smoke a cigar.”

“Daddy! I thought you quit smoking years ago!”

“I allow myself the occasional cigar after a fine meal, my dear. And I like the aroma—I don't inhale.”

It wasn't worth arguing about
, Meg decided. “Well, I'm glad you put tonight's dinner in the ‘fine meal' category. Thank you for asking us.”

They retrieved their coats once again, and left by the side entrance to go around back. Phillip was occupied with the arcane cigar ritual that Meg remembered from her childhood when Elizabeth said, tugging at her husband's coat sleeve, “Phillip, we may have a problem.”

Phillip turned to follow her gaze, toward the back of the parking lot. Their car was parked away from any lights, but even in the near-dark Meg could tell that the back bumper was crumpled.

“Oh, dear. That can't be good,” Meg said, trying to suppress childhood memories of some of her father's more memorable rages.

Phillip didn't speak immediately, but even by the dim light in the parking lot Meg could see that his face darkened. She could almost visualize smoke coming from his ears. But when he spoke, his voice was tightly controlled. “Elizabeth, why don't we go back inside so I can have a word with the management? Since this is their lot, they must share some responsibility. Meg, Seth, you two go on
home—you have a busy few days ahead of you. We can take care of this.”

“Are you sure, Phillip?” Seth said. “I know some good mechanics around here, if you need to find one quickly.”

Phillip replied curtly, “Seth, don't trouble yourself. I'm sure we can work things out. Go! Yesterday was your wedding, and I'm sure you have better things to do than talk to auto repair shops.”

Elizabeth nodded. “We'll handle it. Meg, Seth, it was wonderful spending this time together, and we'll look forward to seeing you in a week or so. Just give us a ring when you know what your plans are. Now, shoo!”

They all exchanged hugs, then Seth led Meg back across the street to where his car was parked, now almost alone in the other lot. He paused and turned back to the hotel's parking lot.

“What?” Meg asked.

“I wonder if there were any cameras on the lot that might have seen who ran into your father's car. I don't see any.”

“The hotel will take care of things, won't they?” Meg said. “They have an excellent reputation.”

“How much of a fuss will your father make?”

Meg considered how to answer that. Seth had spent only a few hours total in her father's company, so he didn't know Phillip well. She didn't want to prejudice him. “He's a lawyer, remember? He'll know what to do. By the time he's done, the hotel may offer to replace the entire car. He thrives on that kind of thing.”

Seth ignored her comment. “There are a couple windows overlooking the lot—maybe someone noticed when something hit the car.”

“Seth? It's regrettable, but it's not our problem. Can we go now?”

Seth seemed to come back to the present situation. “Oh, sorry. Of course.”

As Meg climbed into the car she saw her mother and father still looking at the damaged car, and her father was shaking his head, and looking up at the hotel much as Seth had.

Sunday morning Meg awoke before the sun was up and started running mentally through lists—and realized there really was nothing essential left to do. It had simply become a habit. There were clean clothes in suitcases; credit cards were sorted; the car was tuned up; the weather was cooperating (as if she could control the weather!). They could leave any time after they'd eaten breakfast, and after assuring Lolly and Max that, yes, they would be back, after some unimaginable length of cat or dog time.

Meg turned to Seth to see him watching her. He smiled. She smiled. Then she asked, “Do you think Mother and Daddy will be all right?”

“Without us to hold their hands? I think so, Meg. They're adults, and they've survived this long without our help—well, maybe with one exception—and they're not
exactly decrepit. Why on earth are you worrying about them at this moment?”

“Because I can't find anything else to worry about? I know. That sounds completely ridiculous. And you and I are going to go see interesting things and play. Maybe it's all my Puritan ancestors insisting that enjoying oneself was immoral.”

“And that's why you're torturing yourself? You're right; that is ridiculous.”

“Yes, and I know it. It'll pass, I'm sure. Let's go make coffee.”

They were finishing up breakfast, and the sun had finally risen over the horizon, when Bree stumbled into the kitchen. “You haven't left yet?”

“Almost ready,” Meg replied. “We were fortifying ourselves for the journey. I've left you a list of things that need to be done . . .”

Bree filled a mug with coffee and dropped into a chair. “Meg, I am neither an idiot nor a child. I think I can keep the place going for a week or two. Please, feel free to take two weeks. Have fun. See the sights. The orchard will still be here when you get back.”

“I know. I guess I'm just keyed up. Seth, are you ready?”

“I am. Is your suitcase closed?”

“No. Let me check it one last time, and then I can put it in the car.”

“Go!”

Packing really and truly finished, Meg checked to be sure she had her tablet and her maps in her roomy bag, and took one final look around the bedroom. Everything looked fine. Why did she feel as though she was setting off on an expedition to the North Pole? Heck, they were
headed toward warmer weather, and they were going to see things she'd been hoping to see for half her life. Time to hit the road.

Downstairs, Seth was waiting for her in the kitchen, leaning against the wall. “Ready?”

“I hope so. We're aiming to get to Mystic before lunch, right?”

“Yes. Do not decide you need to pack a complete lunch in case we get hopelessly lost in the wilderness that is Connecticut. You do have your cell phone, right?”

“Yes, and the charger. And the backup charger.”

“You have enough warm clothes, in case the next ice age arrives fast?”

“I do. Jackets of three different down ratings in the backseat.”

“Then may we please get going?”

As if on cue, Bree came down the back stairs. “What he said. Go! Now!”

“Yes, ma'am,” Meg said meekly and followed Seth out the door.

Once they were settled in the car, luggage safely stowed, Seth pulled out of the driveway and headed toward the back route that led to the turnpike. “It's not too late to change your mind.”

“About what? Marrying you? Driving halfway down the East Coast?”

“Take your pick. You're acting kind of weird.”

“I'm excited. And maybe nervous, I guess. I remember taking road trips with my father when I was about ten or twelve. He was always an impatient driver. He would lecture the other drivers on the road, not that they could hear him, telling them what they were doing wrong, and then
he'd whip around them, which half the time scared the other people to death. He had some weird theory about efficient gas consumption.”

“No accidents?”

“No. He was either careful or lucky. Or both. Anyway, my mother would make soothing noises, but that was about all. I sat in the backseat and kept my mouth shut and tried to pretend I didn't know either one of them.”

“Your mother never drove?”

“Nope. No doubt Daddy would have lectured
her
on what she was doing wrong, and that would have been even worse.”

“May I point out that I am not your father, Meg?”

“So I've noticed. Two hours to Mystic?”

“About that. You've got the map.”

“So I do.” And a sheaf of printed directions, which gave the details for local roads once they got off the main highways. She carefully unfolded and refolded the appropriate map so she could follow their progress. “I told you, I love maps. I like to follow where we've been, and what distance we've covered. A GPS is not the same, and that voice keeps yelling at me that I've done something wrong and it has to recalculate. I don't like to be judged by my electronics.”

“Seriously?” Seth said.

“Yes. Anyway, do you know where you're going? Or should I prompt you?”

“Only in time to get off at the right exit.”

“Do we know where we're staying tonight?”

“I made a reservation. Should I have consulted you first?”

“Not necessary. I trust your judgment. What are we going to see?”

“Ships?”

“I think I could have figured that out myself. It's probably called a seaport for a reason. More than one ship?”

“So I'm told. Quite a few, actually.”

“Anything else?”

“A re-created nineteenth-century village, but with more sea-oriented shops than Sturbridge. You want more?”

“No, that sounds good. I like stepping back in time, and I like boats.”

“Do you know much about boats?”

“Not big ones. More about the smaller ones—we used to take sailing lessons when we went on vacation at the Jersey Shore. And my father likes fishing, as you know. He took me out a time or two, but it really wasn't my thing.”

“Was it the worms?”

“No, it was getting the poor wriggling fish off the hook.” She shivered at the memory. “And I don't hunt, either, but neither does my father.”

“But you like the ocean?” Seth asked.

“Yes, I do, although I have to watch out for sunburn. But I like swimming, not sitting on the beach pretending to read and getting sand in my hair. You have seen an ocean, right?” she ended dubiously. One more thing she had never asked.

“Of course, but not often. One year my father had a little extra cash, so he took the family on a weekend trip to Cape Cod. We stayed in the cheapest motel he could find and he still grumbled about the cost. And I also went to the Cape in college with some of my friends, when I wasn't working for Dad. Although my memories of that trip are rather fuzzy—I believe there was a certain amount of drinking involved.”

“I'll keep an eye on your consumption on this trip. So you really are a novice at vacationing?”

“Looks like it.”

Meg laughed. “What a pair we are! We have no clue how to relax. Oh, and since we're both self-employed and small business owners, if we look at apples and old buildings, does that mean this trip will be tax deductible?”

“I won't say no. You're the financial genius—you tell me.”

“I'll make a mental note of it, to consider come April. So we'd better pay attention and take lots of pictures to show what we did in case the IRS wants proof.”

The first—and shortest—leg of the trip passed quickly. The highways were all but empty on a Sunday afternoon in winter. They had no trouble locating Seaport, and the grounds weren't crowded, either. Seth hadn't been kidding about the ships, which ranged from whalers to tugboats to schooners to lobster boats and more. Many were in working order, although there wasn't time to take a quick sail. Meg made another mental note to think about that for a later date, maybe in the summer, now that she knew how easy it was to get to the place. Seth looked like a little boy, almost drooling over the wooden timbers in the earlier ships and how all the structural pieces were fitted together, running his hands along planes and over joints when he could. Meg hoped he wouldn't decide to start building a boat out in the barn.

They stopped for a quick bite to eat, then strolled companionably through the re-created village. Meg was fascinated by the ropewalk. “I never thought about what went into making rope, but they must have needed a lot of it, right?”

“You saw the ships,” Seth reminded her. “All that rigging?”

“Yes, of course. But what I don't understand is why rope stays twisted at all. Why doesn't it come apart?”

“Think of it as very large yarn. You know how to knit, right?”

“I can do it, but badly. You're saying knitting yarn and rope are the same structure, but on a different scale?”

“More or less. You take your fibers, which once were hemp but later manila because it was more durable, and you twist them together to make yarn. Then you take multiple lengths of yarn and twist them together to make a strand. And
then
you take three strands and twist them together in the opposite direction, which creates a tension that holds the rope together—the bits are trying to unwind but in different directions. This ropewalk is only a part of the original, which could have been a thousand feet long, because the rope makers had to do their twisting in a straight line to make it work.”

“Wow! And why is it you know all this, Seth?”

“I like to know how things work, and this was basically a simple process, just large. Interesting, isn't it?”

“It is. And thanks for the explanation. I'll never look at rope—well, natural fiber rope—in the same way again.”

Arm in arm they strolled past the other structures. They knew they had limited time before the place closed, but neither of them felt compelled to see everything, for which Meg was grateful. She had never enjoyed manic sightseeing, and was glad that Seth didn't seem to, either.

As four o'clock neared, Meg was beginning to feel chilled, as the wind blew in from the water. Seth was quick to notice. “Seen enough?”

“I think so. I'd like to come back someday, now that I know how close it is.”

“That could be arranged. Let's head for the hotel.”

Settled in the car, Meg turned up the heat. Seth seemed to know where he was going, so she didn't volunteer any directions. It took him only a few minutes to pull into the parking lot behind a handsome hotel near the center of town. “This is where we're staying?”

“I've booked a room. Unless you hate it on sight?”

“Not at all—I think it's lovely.”

The inside proved as charming as the outside; their room had sweeping views of the river—and a fireplace for warmth. Once they'd dropped their luggage, Meg was drawn to the windows: the sun was sinking, and the river looked like polished pewter. Seth came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “This is nice,” he said quietly.

Meg smiled to herself. “Which part? The room? The view?”

“Being here with you. Do you realize, this is the first time we've spent a night together in a place that wasn't home?”

“It feels kind of illicit, doesn't it?” Meg said.

“Kind of. Even though we're completely legal, not that it matters much these days.”

“It matters to me.” Meg pivoted in his arms so that she faced him. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For existing. For being unflappable under pressure. For knowing what I need even when I don't. For loving me.”

“The last one's the easiest part.”

Their kiss started slowly but then picked up steam, and
when they pulled apart after some unknowable interval, Meg said, “I should call my parents.”

Seth looked at her incredulously, then burst out laughing. “
That's
what you're thinking about at a moment like this? I am mortally offended.”

“Don't be. I thought I'd call them so they don't interrupt us later, when we might be, uh, busy.”

“Well, in that case, call them and be done with it. Then we can go searching for food and drink, before we get too busy.”

“I'll do that.” Reluctantly Meg peeled herself away from Seth and went to retrieve her phone from her bag. She hit the speed dial for her mother's number.

Elizabeth answered quickly. “Meg? Everything all right?”

“Everything is just fine. Why wouldn't it be?”

“Because you're calling me on your honeymoon, darling. Don't you have better things to do than talk to your mother? I did give you the birds-and-the-bees lecture a while ago, didn't I?”

“Yes, you did. I just wanted to make sure you got the car business worked out.”

“More or less. As you might guess, it was hard to find a shop that was open on Sunday, and when we did, with the help of the hotel, it didn't have all the parts in stock, so they have to order them, which they can't do until tomorrow morning. We're still in Massachusetts, but I think we're going to rent a car tomorrow, if the parts don't arrive, and drive home and let them find a way to ship the car to us. But don't worry about us. You and Seth have a lovely time. You'll call us later in the week if it looks like you'll be
stopping in New Jersey? Not that you have to, if something better turns up.”