Read The Body in the Bouillon Online
Authors: Katherine Hall Page
The Body in the Bouillon (8 page)
“And now, please eat, drink, and enjoy yourselves, though as your doctor I am bound to warn youânot too much.”
He sat down and the applause continued. Donald stood up and raised his glass. “To my father, the memory of my mother, and to Hubbard House,” he said.
Someone cried, “Hear, hear,” and everyone drank a toast.
Dr. Hubbard rose again and held his glass up. “The evening would not be complete without a toast to absent friends. Let us stand and remember.”
The man was a consummate artist. Faith felt a lump in her throat. If Dr. Hubbard was as good at medicine as he was at public speaking, she thought they ought to beg him to take them on as patients.
Tom echoed her thoughts. “Quite a guy. Think what a different life most elderly people would have if there were more dedicated people like Roland Hubbard.”
Two people whom the Fairchilds had not yet met smiled across the table. “He isn't a plaster saint; he's as genuinely caring as he seems,” the woman said.
Denise came out of the reverie she'd been in since they'd sat down, and evidently recalled her duties as hostess.
“Please let me introduce all of you. This is Julia Cabot”âshe motioned toward the woman who had just spokenâ“and her husband, Ellery, Hubbard House residents. Then my dear neighbors, Joan and Bill Winter, and the Reverend Thomas Fairchild and my new best friend, Faith Fairchild. Joel was supposed to escort me, but tickets to some revolting rock concert proved more interesting. I can't imagine why.”
“Please let me introduce all of you. This is Julia Cabot”âshe motioned toward the woman who had just spokenâ“and her husband, Ellery, Hubbard House residents. Then my dear neighbors, Joan and Bill Winter, and the Reverend Thomas Fairchild and my new best friend, Faith Fairchild. Joel was supposed to escort me, but tickets to some revolting rock concert proved more interesting. I can't imagine why.”
Everyone laughed and began to tell stories about their children. Faith felt a cold sweat starting as it did every time she contemplated the thought of Benjamin the teenager. It didn't matter that the Miller teenagers next door had always seemed at least somewhat reasonable and Pix averred it was not just in public. But hormones run amok could produce any number of catastrophes. Though even if they were disagreeing, at least they'd be able to have a conversation, something rather difficult at present. It was a vaguely comforting thought.
Tom and Faith danced some more and the evening meandered along pleasantly. Faith told Tom he ought to dance with Bootsie and tell her what he thought of her son. He replied that one cross to bear was enough, and in any case he made it a rule never to dance with women named Bootsie.
Denise's table proved to be an agreeable mix of people. Those who were dancing switched partners easily. Julia Cabot, in particular, was a superb dancer and thanked Tom so heartily at the end of her spin that he immediately engaged her for another. Her husband looked up at her affectionately. “Poor Julia doesn't get much dancing out of me anymore, I'm afraid. A problem with these May/December romances.” Julia kissed him and told him to stop talking nonsense, then waltzed gracefully away. She was an attractive woman with light-brown hair piled up on her head and dressed in a long, full-skirted emerald-green satin gown. Ellery addressed the rest of the tableâquite proudly, Faith noted. “I'm eighty-two and I'm not supposed to say
how old Julia is, but let's just say I was doing my damdest to make the freshman crew team at Harvard when she was born.”
how old Julia is, but let's just say I was doing my damdest to make the freshman crew team at Harvard when she was born.”
With Tom busy dancing and the others chatting away, Faith thought she would take the opportunity to work the room a little in the hopes of picking up some information. Now that she knew who they all were, she'd go directly to the Hubbard table and see how they were doing. She wandered over to where the family was sitting. Dr. Hubbard was dancing with Sylvia Vale, and they swept energetically by in a near imitation of Arthur and Katherine Murray. As Faith approached, she was greeted warmly by Muriel, who was sitting with her brother and Charmaine.
“Mrs. Fairchild! How splendid that you could come. Do sit down and meet my brother and his wife.” Was it Faith's imagination or were the words “and his wife” in a lower register?
“Mrs. Fairchild and I have already met, thank you Muriel. She's working in the kitchen,” Charmaine told her husband, making Faith feel not unlike Cinderella at the ball.
Donald took Faith's hand in both of his. It must be a family trademark, she thought. He was actually quite attractive, with a slight cleft in his chin that his father didn't have. It made his face very much his own. He dropped her hand gently. “My father mentioned that you were so kind as to pitch in during our flu epidemic, and we're very grateful. I'm sure this is a busy time for you and the Reverend.”
“I'm glad I could do it,” Faith said, then wondered what to say nextâsomething like “We're all friends here. How about telling me what's really going on at Hubbard House?”
Charmaine reached under the table and pulled out a purse that would have proved ample for a polar expedition and prepared to redo her face. She caught Muriel's disapproving glance and said, “If you'll excuse me,” and left.
A few yards from the table she stopped to talk to
Denise's earlier dancing partner. She was tossing her hair around and he had one arm casually flung around her waist. Faith looked back at Donald and Muriel. She was not surprised to see a look of deep disgust on Muriel's face, but she was stunned by the look of intense anger that had transformed Donald's kindly expression. He looked as though he wanted to kill someone.
Denise's earlier dancing partner. She was tossing her hair around and he had one arm casually flung around her waist. Faith looked back at Donald and Muriel. She was not surprised to see a look of deep disgust on Muriel's face, but she was stunned by the look of intense anger that had transformed Donald's kindly expression. He looked as though he wanted to kill someone.
Charmaine and whoever it was broke apart, and the man continued on toward the table.
“Good evening, Muriel, Donald, and I don't believe I know this beautiful lady,” he said.
It was clear Donald wasn't going to make any introductions, although a mask of indifference had replaced the one of hatred. Muriel, ever mindful of her manners, did.
“Faith Fairchild, Edsel Russell. Mr. Russell is in charge of the buildings and grounds at Hubbard House.” Then she added, “Mrs.”âand this time there was no doubt about the emphasis on the wordâ“Mrs. Fairchild is a volunteer.”
Edsel Russell gave something between a nod and small bow toward Faith. “Please call me Eddie. Everybody does. My mother, God rest her soul, thought Edsel was classy, but then she had never seen the car.”
Faith laughed. “Well, I hear they are becoming highly collectible. I suppose it's another example of if you wait long enough, whatever you're holding on to will come back in fashion.” This was not one of her maxims but Tom's, and in his case it was more like continual use, rather than stockpiling, say, one's old Diors until hems went up or down again.
“Could I âcollect' you for the next dance, Mrs. Fairchild?”
It wasn't that he was unattractive, and he was probably a good dancer. Men like Eddie usually were. But Faith didn't feel like giving him the satisfaction of an acceptance. It was clearly why he had come to the table. Besides, the line was too corny.
“Perhaps later, thank you. I'm a bit tired now,” she told him.
“Time to go to the bench then. How about you, Muriel?”
The man was either a cad or an oaf or both. Donald was drinking a glass of champagne and his hand trembled. Faith half expected him to fling the contents at Eddie and declare, “That is my sister, suh, whom you impugn!” She also expected Muriel to declineâpotitety of course but, Faith hoped, with some frostiness.
None of these things happened. Donald put the glass down and Muriel rose with alacrity and danced off in Eddie's arms.
That left Faith and Donald, and just as she was about to ask about Eddie Russell's dutiesâhe being clearly the first real fly in the ointment she'd found at Hubbard HouseâDonald excused himself. Faith got up quickly, since there is nothing so pathetic as one person sitting alone at a table with a lot of partially consumed food and drinks, and made her way back to her own table. She passed Eddie and Muriel. His eyes were half closed and he was humming along to the music; hers were wide open.
She sat down next to Tom.
“Where have you been? They played âWindmills of My Mind.'”
Tom could be very sentimental. He still thought
A Man and a Woman
was one of the greatest movies of all time and got choked up when Kermit sang “The Rainbow Connection.”
A Man and a Woman
was one of the greatest movies of all time and got choked up when Kermit sang “The Rainbow Connection.”
“I was talking to the Hubbards and met the guy who's in charge of buildings and grounds at Hubbard Houseâ”
Whatever Faith was going to say about Eddie was lost as the Oval Room plunged into sudden darkness. A woman screamed, and almost as quickly as they had gone off, the lights went on again. It was as if a reel of film had broken in the middle and, when the projector started again, it started in a freeze frame. Everyone stood poised in position.
Most were facing the direction of the scream. Since her mouth was opened for another, Charmaine was the obvious source. Perhaps she saw Muriel's palm ready to slap her sillier, or perhaps she decided Camille was a more touching act. Whatever the reason, she snapped her lips closed and swooned into a chair. Donald bent anxiously over her. Faith's first impulse was to dash over to the Hubbard table, lift the cloth, and search for a body beneath. Instead she looked around to see who was where. There was general movement now, and Dr. Hubbard was striding over to the microphone. Donald was attending to Charmaine. Muriel was watching her father. Eddie was nowhere in sight. No one was missing from Faith's table with the exception of Denise.
Most were facing the direction of the scream. Since her mouth was opened for another, Charmaine was the obvious source. Perhaps she saw Muriel's palm ready to slap her sillier, or perhaps she decided Camille was a more touching act. Whatever the reason, she snapped her lips closed and swooned into a chair. Donald bent anxiously over her. Faith's first impulse was to dash over to the Hubbard table, lift the cloth, and search for a body beneath. Instead she looked around to see who was where. There was general movement now, and Dr. Hubbard was striding over to the microphone. Donald was attending to Charmaine. Muriel was watching her father. Eddie was nowhere in sight. No one was missing from Faith's table with the exception of Denise.
Dr. Hubbard had the microphone and his voice was bracingly reassuring. “One of the staff has been a little overzealous in turning down the lights for our pudding procession,” he told the crowd. “I think we're ready to begin now.”
The lights dimmed appropriately and waiters suitably liveried marched out bearing silver salvers of flaming plum pudding surrounded by holly wreaths. The pale-blue flames reflected in the mirrored doors that encircled the room, and the effect was lovely. An appreciative murmur echoed throughout until someone started clapping, and the applause spread. One pudding was placed on Dr. Hubbard's table and the others were lined up on the buffet. The last flame wavered and faded, and the lights went on again. The orchestra struck up “We Wish You a Merry Christmas,” and the crowd moved toward the figgy puddings for a taste.
Everything was apparently fine.
Faith was not a big fan of plum pudding, although she liked looking at it. Too rich and cloying. Only the Englishâand she was excepting those English like Elizabeth David in this caseâcould have thought to pair it with hard sauce, that dense mass of white sugar spiked with too little brandy.
While Tom went to join the queue, Faith thought back
over the evening and watched the scene in front of her. Muriel was dancing with her father, stretching her arms up high to reach. In earlier days she would have stood on his shoes. Maybe she still wanted toâDaddy's little girl?
over the evening and watched the scene in front of her. Muriel was dancing with her father, stretching her arms up high to reach. In earlier days she would have stood on his shoes. Maybe she still wanted toâDaddy's little girl?
She had learned more about the Hubbard family, Faith realized, but nothing earthshaking. Sure, Muriel did not seem to be a fan of Charmaine's, but then what sensible person would be? Donald was apparently besotted with her, but maybe they had great sex. Who knew? Eddie Russell presented some possibilities, and he seemed to be very friendly with Charmaine. It was possible that Howard Perkins had stumbled on this hanky-panky, but Howard was a New Yorker, and a little nooky in the linen closet or wherever was not going to cause him serious concern. It might be something with Eddie, though. That felt right.
Tom came back with a wedge of pudding large enough for the whole Round Table and some
friandises
for her.
friandises
for her.
“What are you thinking about so earnestly? I could see your beetling brows all the way across the room. Have you solved Chat's case? Does Dr. Hubbard have his hand in the till? Although from what I understand about the finances of places like Hubbard House and how difficult it is to keep them going, there can't be much to spare. Farley told me Roland Hubbard has never asked anyone to leaveâeven when the money ran out.”
“I think that's why we're here tonight. It's kind of a scholarship fundraiser. As to what I have been thinking about, you're right. I'm still looking for the skeleton in the closet.”
Tom took a last colossal bite of pudding and said, “Let's tread a few measures, then go home. I know Samantha is spending the night and we don't have to rush, but I'd like to get to bed myself.”
“Me too,” Faith answered demurely.
It was handyâno, more than handy, definitely a gift from the godsâto have a baby-sitter next door, and Faith
prayed unabashedly that Samantha's devotion to Ben would continue for years to come. After all, there were lots of excellent colleges in the area. Since tonight was a school night, she was sleeping over. Faith shuddered as she remembered what Lizzie's mother, Arlene, had told her last weekâthat she had called twelve people and still not been able to find a sitter. Faith couldn't in good conscience wish zits or perpetual bad breath on Samantha, but she did wish that the fifteen-year-old would continue her pattern of infrequent dating or find someone steady and settle down immediatelyâpreferably in front of the Fairchild fireplace watching Ben.
prayed unabashedly that Samantha's devotion to Ben would continue for years to come. After all, there were lots of excellent colleges in the area. Since tonight was a school night, she was sleeping over. Faith shuddered as she remembered what Lizzie's mother, Arlene, had told her last weekâthat she had called twelve people and still not been able to find a sitter. Faith couldn't in good conscience wish zits or perpetual bad breath on Samantha, but she did wish that the fifteen-year-old would continue her pattern of infrequent dating or find someone steady and settle down immediatelyâpreferably in front of the Fairchild fireplace watching Ben.
Tom and Faith danced their last dance and prepared to take their leave. Tom was exchanging phone numbers with Bill Winter. They had both gone to the same high school on the South Shore, although a few years apart. New England was often like that, Faith had discovered. If it wasn't someone Tom had grown up with, then it was someone from college or a cousin of someone who knew his brother. A village.
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