Miz Scarlet and the Vanishing Visitor (A Scarlet Wilson Mystery) by Sara M. Barton

library.”
    Bur was pulling out of the driveway when we returned,
on his way to Tony’s House of Pizza. I found the teenager in the
living room with Mr. Hornblower and the Googins girls.
    “Shall we set the table, Jenny?”
    “Sure.” She followed me into the dining room,
marveling at the massive table and its many chairs. At the moment,
Mr. Hornblower and Mrs. Blevins were our only guests, so we set the
table for eight. Tomorrow afternoon, the Reinharts would need a
ride from Bradley International. I’d move Jenny into Lacey’s room,
so they could sleep in the Red Oak room.
    “And this is the butler’s pantry,” I informed her, as
we walked through to the kitchen. “We keep this area for coffee in
the morning, snacks for guests, and even wine storage. Just so you
know, Jen, I’ll kick your fanny out of this inn if I catch you
doing anything illegal. Got it?”
    “Got it. How come you never had any kids, Miz
Scarlet?”
    “Oh,” I shrugged off the question. “Sometimes life
gets complicated. Motherhood just wasn’t in the cards for me.”
    “Too bad. You would have been a good one,” she
decided. “A little bossy, but good.”
    Even as my eyes flashed, I realized she was teasing.
That big grin on her face said it all.
    “So, it’s like that, eh?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Best subject in school,” I demanded.
    “Science, followed by English and math.”
    “Worst subject.”
    “Driver’s ed.”
    “Driver’s ed?” I was shocked. She seemed like a
fairly competent girl. How did she miss that? I asked.
    “My mother couldn’t take me on the road much, so I
didn’t get to practice. I never did get my license.”
    “Seriously?”
    “Seriously.”
    I made a mental note to check with an old colleague
of mine, Bob Horshak, at the local high school. He was an
industrial arts teacher and taught driver’s ed on the side. If
Jenny was going to stay with us, she’d need her license, especially
if we got her signed up to start nursing school in the fall. Maybe
he could tutor her so she could pass the Connecticut MVD test by
the end of August. I’d take her out for practice driving after Bob
gave me the thumbs-up.
    “Can you fill the two pitchers with water, please?” I
showed her the ice machine and the wet sink in the butler’s pantry.
“And then fill the goblets.”
    We all hung out in the living room after dinner,
chatting. Mrs. Blevins turned out to be a very funny woman, and she
shared stories of her years as a botany professor in the Midwest.
Mr. Hornblower was a retired businessman, who had a penchant for
gardening, so they discussed the pros and cons of genetic plant
engineering. Lacey and Laurel got in on the action when they
introduced the subject of the Four Acorns Inn bird garden and asked
Hilda to take a look at it and suggest things we could do to
improve it.
    By nine, my mother was ready to retire, so I
accompanied her to her bedroom. She maneuvered her wheelchair into
her bathroom. A moment later, I heard the whirring of her
battery-operated toothbrush.
    Ten minutes passed before she emerged, in floral
nightgown, and I helped her into her bed before stowing her
wheelchair in the corner.
    “Scarlet, there’s something not right about that
girl’s story,” my mother confided. I glanced down, unsure of what
she meant. “She’s clearly had a loving family.”
    “Why do you say that, Mama?” Curious, I handed Laurel
the ball and let her run with it.
    “When you observe her with other people in
conversation, she’s very interested, almost hungry for it. She’s
comfortable around adults, like she’s spent a lot of time with
them. She doesn’t have that normal teenage desire to get away from
the old fogies.”
    Time to share a little of Jenny’s story with her.
When I got to the part about Stepfather Steve, Laurel grimaced.
    “How tragic.” Two words. They summed up the last
couple years of Jenny’s life so succinctly. “What are you going to
do about it?”
    I was reminded of my