play classical music and read to us. After that we’d sit around the table drawing or painting. Life magazine came and took pictures of us when I was seven.”
“Who was the best artist?”
“Not me! Rosa was good at making things look realistic.” We were passing her cottage and Bianca gave a censorious look at the clutter. “Regan only wanted to draw fairies and princesses, and Claude drew a lot of battle scenes with stick figures. They were awful.”
“What about Puck?”
“I’d like to say he was awful too, but he wasn’t. He inherited the family gift and my parents pinned their hopes on him to carry on the family tradition. The trouble was, his passion was music but he didn’t get any encouragement.” She laughed. “What’s the opposite of encouragement? Since my father died, he hasn’t picked up a brush. The concert Saturday night is his first public appearance. He’s nervous as a goat in a kid glove factory.”
I laughed.
“One of my father’s pet expressions. Pardon the pun.”
By my calculations, Puck was in his early thirties. How excruciating had the pressure been to set aside his dreams and become another Nate? Excruciating enough for him to end the situation and save his own life?
I shook away that thought. First Rosa and now Puck. Since I had decided that Nate and Morgan’s deaths were not accidental, I had been fitting people out for prison garb. There was nothing to suggest that a family member had been involved.
Then I remembered the burnt photograph in the fireplace.
C HAPTER T WELVE
I MADE SURE that I left the studio by twelve-thirty so I wouldn’t have to have lunch with the family. I was out of sorts and wanted to be alone. There was no way I could still be feeling Bianca’s poke in my back except metaphorically, but the more I thought about it, the more outrageous it seemed. Giving a friend a playful prod was one thing—but Bianca and I weren’t yet friends. If we would ever be. Maybe she had meant to be teasing, maybe Gretchen’s comment about Morgan had upset her, but coming from an employer it was out of line.
I picked up my bag while enumerating her offenses: She had decided I was her “collaborator” without even asking me. She hadn’t thought I was good enough to be invited to Puck’s concert. She—
Oh, come on . She just lost her father and her only child. Cut her some slack.
Fair enough. But I still wanted to have lunch on my own.
I made a clean getaway Wednesday. Thursday I was nearly to my van when Lynn, Claude’s wife, climbed out of a dark green Toyota. “Am I late?” she asked breathlessly. “I got held up at the shelter. Are you going in to lunch?”
“No, I have some errands. What shelter?”
“A Safe Haven. It’s for victims of domestic violence and their children. My job is to get the women happily settled into new homes with all the furnishings they need. I’m sorry you won’t be at lunch. We missed you yesterday too.”
“I know. Gretchen’s a good cook.”
“I was so afraid she wouldn’t stay on.”
“You mean after Nate?”
“There was so much bad feeling after it happened. Gretchen and Morgan had gone for a walk in the back woods, but Morgan ran ahead to the house and Gretchen couldn’t keep up with her. When she didn’t see Morgan, she didn’t think to look in the pool. Claude and Puck felt that if she had, or if she had kept Morgan under control, none of this would have happened.”
“Where was Bianca?”
Lynn’s face turned blank as an unprimed canvas. “I’m not sure. She was used to having Morgan’s au pair take care of her in the mornings, but that day she wasn’t— Anyway, it doesn’t matter. All I know is, when my son was little, I was the one who took care of him and got him ready for school.”
“I thought Eriksons didn’t go to school.”
She rolled her eyes. “Peter did. I threatened to take him and leave, otherwise, I’d seen what growing up wild did to the others. Nate and Eve finally
“Who was the best artist?”
“Not me! Rosa was good at making things look realistic.” We were passing her cottage and Bianca gave a censorious look at the clutter. “Regan only wanted to draw fairies and princesses, and Claude drew a lot of battle scenes with stick figures. They were awful.”
“What about Puck?”
“I’d like to say he was awful too, but he wasn’t. He inherited the family gift and my parents pinned their hopes on him to carry on the family tradition. The trouble was, his passion was music but he didn’t get any encouragement.” She laughed. “What’s the opposite of encouragement? Since my father died, he hasn’t picked up a brush. The concert Saturday night is his first public appearance. He’s nervous as a goat in a kid glove factory.”
I laughed.
“One of my father’s pet expressions. Pardon the pun.”
By my calculations, Puck was in his early thirties. How excruciating had the pressure been to set aside his dreams and become another Nate? Excruciating enough for him to end the situation and save his own life?
I shook away that thought. First Rosa and now Puck. Since I had decided that Nate and Morgan’s deaths were not accidental, I had been fitting people out for prison garb. There was nothing to suggest that a family member had been involved.
Then I remembered the burnt photograph in the fireplace.
C HAPTER T WELVE
I MADE SURE that I left the studio by twelve-thirty so I wouldn’t have to have lunch with the family. I was out of sorts and wanted to be alone. There was no way I could still be feeling Bianca’s poke in my back except metaphorically, but the more I thought about it, the more outrageous it seemed. Giving a friend a playful prod was one thing—but Bianca and I weren’t yet friends. If we would ever be. Maybe she had meant to be teasing, maybe Gretchen’s comment about Morgan had upset her, but coming from an employer it was out of line.
I picked up my bag while enumerating her offenses: She had decided I was her “collaborator” without even asking me. She hadn’t thought I was good enough to be invited to Puck’s concert. She—
Oh, come on . She just lost her father and her only child. Cut her some slack.
Fair enough. But I still wanted to have lunch on my own.
I made a clean getaway Wednesday. Thursday I was nearly to my van when Lynn, Claude’s wife, climbed out of a dark green Toyota. “Am I late?” she asked breathlessly. “I got held up at the shelter. Are you going in to lunch?”
“No, I have some errands. What shelter?”
“A Safe Haven. It’s for victims of domestic violence and their children. My job is to get the women happily settled into new homes with all the furnishings they need. I’m sorry you won’t be at lunch. We missed you yesterday too.”
“I know. Gretchen’s a good cook.”
“I was so afraid she wouldn’t stay on.”
“You mean after Nate?”
“There was so much bad feeling after it happened. Gretchen and Morgan had gone for a walk in the back woods, but Morgan ran ahead to the house and Gretchen couldn’t keep up with her. When she didn’t see Morgan, she didn’t think to look in the pool. Claude and Puck felt that if she had, or if she had kept Morgan under control, none of this would have happened.”
“Where was Bianca?”
Lynn’s face turned blank as an unprimed canvas. “I’m not sure. She was used to having Morgan’s au pair take care of her in the mornings, but that day she wasn’t— Anyway, it doesn’t matter. All I know is, when my son was little, I was the one who took care of him and got him ready for school.”
“I thought Eriksons didn’t go to school.”
She rolled her eyes. “Peter did. I threatened to take him and leave, otherwise, I’d seen what growing up wild did to the others. Nate and Eve finally
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