away.”
“They do, don’t they. Why don’t you bring what’s left and pour us some coffee?”
Not that Sarah couldn’t have poured her own coffee, but Charles did burn to be useful and it was generally safer to draw the boundaries while yet there was time. Charles might be a little tired of coffee cake by now, but that was just too bad. She’d better check the larder and make sure there was enough for them to eat during the next few days. Charles could do what shopping was needed down on Charles Street, it always gave the self-appointed butler a proprietorial thrill of satisfaction, and the exercise would do him good. He’d pass the time of day with some of his numerous cronies, then spend the afternoon doing some of the chores that Mariposa would have nagged him about before she left.
Sarah’s own plans were, first, to phone Miriam and find out whether Davy was homesick or enjoying the lake, then either go to pick him up or else stroll across Boston Common to the office, check the mail and the answering machine, and put in some work on the books while there was nobody around to interrupt her. She had appointed herself to the job shortly after she and Max were married. During the years with Alexander, she’d become quite capable at handling correspondence and keeping books for various charitable organizations in which her blind, deaf, keen-minded, and keener-tongued mother-in-law had been involved. After her remarriage, she’d turned her experience to advantage. Keeping the accurate records that Max hadn’t had time to maintain had become a major contribution to the smooth operation—relatively smooth, anyway, some of the time—of the Bittersohn Detective Agency.
They’d talked of hiring a bookkeeper; instead, Cousin Brooks, who could do anything, had set up a computer system and taught Sarah to use it. He himself didn’t mind putting in some time at the console when he had the chance, which wasn’t often because Brooks could always find some new challenge to his ingenuity. Sarah did wish he and Theonia would get in touch, but they probably wouldn’t. Charles had got the impression that they planned to remain incommunicado for much of their time away; they hadn’t told him why and he didn’t think it was a butler’s place to ask.
That was all right. Brooks and Theonia must know what they were about and Jesse was proving to be almost too resourceful. They’d break their silence when they felt the urge or the advisability. It was unlikely, Sarah thought, that they’d be needing any help from the home front, but somebody ought to be at hand to take their call if it came. At least she could do that much.
She spent a little time with Charles over the shopping list, then phoned the Rivkins at the lake and heard just about what she’d expected. Davy was down by the lake with Ira. He’d eaten up every bite of his breakfast and taken a piece of bread out to feed the minnows. He was wearing Ira’s old straw hat and one of Mike’s T-shirts to keep from getting sunburned. They were going to have a cookout on the beach at suppertime and surely Sarah wouldn’t mind if they kept Davy with them till Max got back, so that she could get her work done.
What could a mother say? That she’d talked with Max, who’d sounded hale and hopeful but there’d been trouble with the telephone so she couldn’t tell when he’d be back. That Mr. Lomax and Cousin Anne were minding the house at Ireson’s Landing. That Anne could phone Mrs. Blufert and tell her to stay home and nurse her bug now that Davy was with Miriam and Ira. Yes, Charles would be here to make sure that Sarah didn’t get kidnapped or burglarized. She wasted no breath on describing her visit to the Turbots’ and said nothing about Dolores Tawne’s sudden demise. She entreated Miriam to give Davy an extra kiss and hug from his mother. She began to feel too bereft, rang off and got down to business.
“Be sure to pick up a Globe while you’re out,
“They do, don’t they. Why don’t you bring what’s left and pour us some coffee?”
Not that Sarah couldn’t have poured her own coffee, but Charles did burn to be useful and it was generally safer to draw the boundaries while yet there was time. Charles might be a little tired of coffee cake by now, but that was just too bad. She’d better check the larder and make sure there was enough for them to eat during the next few days. Charles could do what shopping was needed down on Charles Street, it always gave the self-appointed butler a proprietorial thrill of satisfaction, and the exercise would do him good. He’d pass the time of day with some of his numerous cronies, then spend the afternoon doing some of the chores that Mariposa would have nagged him about before she left.
Sarah’s own plans were, first, to phone Miriam and find out whether Davy was homesick or enjoying the lake, then either go to pick him up or else stroll across Boston Common to the office, check the mail and the answering machine, and put in some work on the books while there was nobody around to interrupt her. She had appointed herself to the job shortly after she and Max were married. During the years with Alexander, she’d become quite capable at handling correspondence and keeping books for various charitable organizations in which her blind, deaf, keen-minded, and keener-tongued mother-in-law had been involved. After her remarriage, she’d turned her experience to advantage. Keeping the accurate records that Max hadn’t had time to maintain had become a major contribution to the smooth operation—relatively smooth, anyway, some of the time—of the Bittersohn Detective Agency.
They’d talked of hiring a bookkeeper; instead, Cousin Brooks, who could do anything, had set up a computer system and taught Sarah to use it. He himself didn’t mind putting in some time at the console when he had the chance, which wasn’t often because Brooks could always find some new challenge to his ingenuity. Sarah did wish he and Theonia would get in touch, but they probably wouldn’t. Charles had got the impression that they planned to remain incommunicado for much of their time away; they hadn’t told him why and he didn’t think it was a butler’s place to ask.
That was all right. Brooks and Theonia must know what they were about and Jesse was proving to be almost too resourceful. They’d break their silence when they felt the urge or the advisability. It was unlikely, Sarah thought, that they’d be needing any help from the home front, but somebody ought to be at hand to take their call if it came. At least she could do that much.
She spent a little time with Charles over the shopping list, then phoned the Rivkins at the lake and heard just about what she’d expected. Davy was down by the lake with Ira. He’d eaten up every bite of his breakfast and taken a piece of bread out to feed the minnows. He was wearing Ira’s old straw hat and one of Mike’s T-shirts to keep from getting sunburned. They were going to have a cookout on the beach at suppertime and surely Sarah wouldn’t mind if they kept Davy with them till Max got back, so that she could get her work done.
What could a mother say? That she’d talked with Max, who’d sounded hale and hopeful but there’d been trouble with the telephone so she couldn’t tell when he’d be back. That Mr. Lomax and Cousin Anne were minding the house at Ireson’s Landing. That Anne could phone Mrs. Blufert and tell her to stay home and nurse her bug now that Davy was with Miriam and Ira. Yes, Charles would be here to make sure that Sarah didn’t get kidnapped or burglarized. She wasted no breath on describing her visit to the Turbots’ and said nothing about Dolores Tawne’s sudden demise. She entreated Miriam to give Davy an extra kiss and hug from his mother. She began to feel too bereft, rang off and got down to business.
“Be sure to pick up a Globe while you’re out,
Similar Books
