Chapter Fifteen

“Great-Uncle Paul truly thought the girls were the victims of foul play?” Richard pulled his arm away from my chair and leaned forward.

“He seemed to believe it was a possibility.” Fiona smoothed back a strand of hair that had slipped free of her chignon. “He based his theory on some of the interviews he’d conducted with family members whose parents were alive at the time of the disappearance. He said that his journalistic sense told him that they were lying.”

“About anything in particular?” Aunt Lydia asked.

Fiona fiddled with her necklace, twisting one strand between her slender fingers. “He didn’t go into detail, although he mentioned something about the family covering up for someone’s rash actions. His working theory was that a parent or uncle tracked down the girls and killed them in a rage when they refused to return.” She released her grip on the necklace with a flick of her wrist. “It would’ve been considered unpremeditated murder, or perhaps even manslaughter, I suppose, but still … It was something the family wanted to conceal.”

A family member tracking down the girls makes sense, but not simply to avert a scandal. They would’ve also wanted the girls to return the coins, or at least confess where they’d been hidden. I glanced over at Aunt Lydia. “The gold,” I mouthed at her.

She gave an almost imperceptible nod.

Kurt leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “He thought the girls never made it over the mountain?”

“Perhaps,” Fiona replied, eyeing Kurt with a look I recognized from Aunt Lydia—elbows never belong on the table.

“Ah, here comes dessert.” Kurt sat back as the maid entered the room bearing a tray laden with crystal bowls. “I hope you enjoy ice cream. My chef is a master at whipping up unusual but delicious flavors.” He focused on the maid as she placed the bowls in front of all the guests. “What do we have this evening, Cheryl?”

“A coffee ice cream laced with black walnuts and a hint of spices, Mr. Kendrick.” The maid gave him a pert smile.

He winked at her. “Make sure you get some before it’s all gone.”

“Oh, I already had a bowl, and it’s delicious,” she replied, leaving the room with a flounce of her full, crinoline-enhanced skirt.

Aunt Lydia widened her blue eyes as she met my amused gaze.

“So, Amy,” Fiona said, staring intently at me as I sucked in my upper lip to silence a burst of laughter. “I understand that you knew the girl who disappeared as well as the woman who was killed.”

“Only superficially,” I said, my spoon hovering between my bowl and my mouth.

“Amy was helping the professor with some research,” Richard said. “And the girl was a student working on the professor’s project.”

“How unfortunate for you. Was that related to the professor’s studies on the mountain lights?” Fiona absently stirred her spoon through her ice cream, turning it into slush.

I tasted some of my own ice cream. It was delicious, and I intended to enjoy it, even if Fiona Muir was examining me in a way that indicated she’d like to offer up an impromptu lecture on calories and carbs. “That’s right. I had to be involved because the Taylorsford town council funded Ramona Raymond’s research. The mayor’s trying to increase tourism and asked Mona to offer a special presentation as part of a May Day event.”

Aunt Lydia daintily scooped up a spoonful of ice cream. “I wonder if they plan to go forward with the celebration.”

“They do,” Richard said.

I turned to look at him. “You know this for a fact?”

“Yeah, because … Well, you’ll see.”

I wrinkled my nose at him. “More secrets?”

He shrugged. “If you must know, Mayor Blackstone asked me to coordinate the dance portion of the festival. The maypole dance in particular. I recruited some of my female students, who were happy to participate.”

“Really? A dance around the maypole?” Fiona eyed Richard, her dark eyebrows arched. “That’s quite the pagan custom, you know.”

“It is, but supposedly it was a traditional event in Taylorsford until about fifty years ago.”

“That’s right,” my aunt said. “I remember the festival from when I was a child. They held it at the elementary school, and one of the older girls played the May Queen. They also had a court of princesses chosen from each grade. I was selected one year but wasn’t allowed to participate.”

Mom sighed. “Grandma Rose didn’t approve.”

This didn’t surprise me, given the stories I’d heard about my great-grandmother. “But your parents were still alive then, weren’t they? Wouldn’t they have made that decision?”

“Grandma Rose always had the final word,” Aunt Lydia said, sharing a look with my mom.

“If what my friend Mary tells me is right, Ada Frye and Violet Greyson disappeared immediately after the 1879 May Day celebration,” Kurt said. “I tend to believe her, as Mary’s an expert on the folktales associated with Taylorsford. Storytelling is her avocation, and she’s collected quite a bit of local folklore over the years.”

I finished off my ice cream before replying. “I think that’s why Ada and Violet’s story got tangled up with the tale of the mountain lights, along with fables about fairies and that sort of thing. The festival, with its pagan and folklore roots, bled into the story of their disappearance.”

My dad tapped his chin with one finger. “And it would’ve been convenient for the family to encourage that idea if they wanted to hide the truth.”

Bingo, I thought. Score one for Dad.

“You know, Richard,” Kurt said, setting aside his empty ice cream bowl. “The fae luring people into their underground kingdom sounds like a great concept for a piece of choreography. You could use folk music from the region for the score.”

Richard smiled. “That is a good idea. I may have to explore that.”

Jim Muir muttered something under his breath that sounded like “a whole lot of nonsense.”

“We should discuss it. I might be interested in underwriting such a work.” Kurt turned his laser-sharp gaze on Jim Muir. “That’s how these things get done in the arts, Jim. A little different from your work, but it’s still business.”

“Don’t waste your breath. You’ll never convince my dad that dancing is anything but a ridiculous waste of time.” Richard crumpled his napkin in his fist before tossing it onto the white linen tablecloth. “Trust me, I’ve tried.”

Fiona clutched her necklace again. “Now, dear, don’t go getting all dramatic on us.”

“I’d consider investing in such a production a risk, Kurt, but perhaps you have enough money to take the chance.” Jim’s spoon clanged as he dropped it into his empty bowl.

Kurt shrugged. “It would simply be good business. As I mentioned before, Richard is a master in his field. I’m sure any money I invested would be repaid and then some.”

“If you say so.” Jim Muir shot Richard a sharp look before focusing on Kurt. “But I have to wonder how such sporadic opportunities will keep my son in his old age. Don’t get me wrong—I know some people can make big money in the arts, but I don’t see that happening with a dance career.” He leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head. “You know, I would’ve been happy to give Richard every advantage, if only he’d decided to pursue a field that made use of his intelligence. He could’ve been a scholar, or a financial expert, or any number of things. But he decided that he’d rather play pretend for the rest of his life. Flitting around with a bunch of … well, irresponsible types like himself.”

“A bunch of what?” Richard shoved back his chair and leapt to his feet. “Go ahead and say it, Dad. A bunch of gay boys, is what you mean. So say it. You might as well own your bigotry if you’re going to think it.”

Richard’s chest heaved as he faced off with his father. I cast a desperate glance at our host, who’d also risen to his feet.

“Perhaps we need more ice cream to cool off.” Kurt said.

As my gaze flitted around the table, I noticed that my aunt’s face was scrunched up like she’d just smelled something spoiled, while my parents’ faces were frozen in expressions of dismay.

And disapproval. My brother Scott was openly gay and had been since high school. I was sure my mom and dad, already taken aback by Richard’s father’s rude dismissal of his own son, were appalled by his display of open bigotry.

“Don’t worry, Kurt, I’m not going to cause a scene.” Jim dropped his arms as he fixed Richard with a cold glare. “As my wife said, my son tends to be a bit overdramatic at times. I’m sure he’ll apologize to both of us presently.”

“I’ll apologize to Kurt, but as for you …” Richard rubbed at his jaw with the back of one fist before lowering his hands to his sides. “That will be a cold day in hell.”

Aunt Lydia rose gracefully to her feel. “Kurt, I expect Debbie and Nick would love a tour of your home. And Jim and Fiona as well.” She turned to Richard’s parents. “Kurt has the most amazing art collection. You simply must see it.”

Fiona cast my aunt a grateful smile. “Oh yes, that sounds delightful. Would you do us that honor, Mr. Kendrick?”

“Of course,” he said, inclining his head. “Just follow me.” He strode toward the hall, followed in quick succession by my aunt, Mom, Dad, and Fiona.

Jim Muir didn’t move from his chair. “I think I’ll pass.”

“Dad doesn’t have much use for art,” Richard said in a tone sharp enough to etch diamonds.

Fiona lingered in the doorway until Kurt took her arm and led her away.

“You should probably join the others, Amy,” Jim said. “It seems my son and I have once again revived a tired old argument.”

I stood and moved next to Richard. “No, I don’t think I will.”

Jim Muir rose to his feet with great deliberation. “No offense, young lady, but this really isn’t any of your business.”

As I pressed closer to Richard, his barely contained rage vibrated through his arm and into mine.

“Now let’s get one thing straight,” he told his father. “You can talk to me however you want, but never speak to Amy that way again.”

“I mean no offense to your girlfriend, son. I just think this is something that needs to be ironed out between us. It doesn’t involve her.”

Jim Muir rolled his broad shoulders and flexed his large hands. I stared at him, struck by the knowledge that his polished appearance couldn’t hide his true nature. He was obviously someone who always had to be right, who’d always demand blind obedience from his family and friends. In short, he was a bully, and no amount of tailoring and expensive haircuts or handcrafted shoes could hide that truth. Not for long, anyway.

You couldn’t bend to the will of a bully. Richard obviously understood that. And so did I.

“I do have every right to be here, Mr. Muir, and I will tell you why,” I said, reaching for Richard’s hand.

“Really?” Jim looked me up and down. “We’ve just met, and so far, I’m not impressed. The best I can say is that at least you’re female.”

“For heaven’s sake, Dad …” Richard tightened his grip on my fingers.

I was not about to be silenced by some man in a suit, no matter how much older he was or how much more money he had, or even how much he might end up disliking me.

“Mr. Muir, just so I’m clear on this”—I gave Richard’s hand a final squeeze before pulling away and stepping up to the table—“you’ve truly never seen Richard dance?”

Jim shoved his hands in the pockets of his trousers and rocked back on his heels. “No, I haven’t. Well, other than watching him swoop around the living room when he was a kid.”

“Or watched any piece he’s choreographed?”

Richard’s father shook his head. “I’m just not interested …”

“In what? Your own child? You’ve never been interested in his accomplishments, in what matters to him, in the very essence of who he is?”

“Amy, don’t bother.” Richard moved up behind me and laid a hand on my right hip. “It’s a lost cause. Let’s just go join the others.”

“No.” I crossed my left arm over my body and covered Richard’s hand with my trembling fingers. “I want to tell your father how I really feel.”

Jim Muir snorted. “I know—you think my son is fantastically talented and oh-so-charming and I should be happy with that, despite the fact that he’s squandered his life on senseless pursuits.”

“No, that isn’t it.” I leaned back against Richard, drawing strength from the warmth of his body. “I don’t care what you think about Richard’s career in dance or how little you appreciate his many accomplishments. That’s all on you, no matter how wrongheaded it is. No, here’s what I really feel for you, Mr. Muir—sad. That’s right, I feel sorry for you. Because you’ve been blessed with one of the best men in the world as your son and you can’t see past your own prejudices to enjoy that gift.” I met Jim Muir’s openmouthed stare without flinching. “So go ahead—wallow in your own anger and disappointment. The rest of us will happily enjoy your son’s company and talent for as long as he chooses to share it with us.”

“Quite a speech,” Jim Muir said with a bravado that I didn’t see reflected in his eyes. “I suppose I should admire your loyalty to Richard. Although I doubt I’ll have to put up with such talk from you for much longer. My son’s relationships never seem to make it past the two-year mark.”

Richard’s arms wrapped around me. “You’re wrong there, Dad. You’d better get used to her talk, and the rest of her too. She isn’t going anywhere, and if she ever does—I’m going with her.”

*   *   *

Shortly after the others returned from their tour, Fiona claimed exhaustion and asked Richard to drive her and Jim back to his house.

“Wish I could see you later,” I told Richard when he leaned in to kiss me goodbye.

He stroked the side of my face. “Hang out in the sunroom around eleven. My parents will be in bed by then.”

I nodded and kissed him again, right as Jim Muir strode past us on his way to the front door.

“Already gave my thanks to the host, so let’s go if we’re going,” Jim said, cutting his eyes at me.

“As you wish,” Richard called out, but tapped my nose before stepping away. “Eleven.”

Aunt Lydia and my parents and I stayed and chatted with Kurt a little longer, but I kept close tabs on my watch and made sure that we left in time to get home around ten thirty.

True to my prediction, Mom, Dad, and Aunt Lydia headed into the sitting room to discuss and dissect the evening’s events. I joined them for a few minutes but slipped away as soon as I could to wait in the sunroom.

At eleven, a pebble hit the back porch door.

I peeked out and motioned for Richard to sneak inside.

“Hey, you,” he said, after wrapping me in his arms.

I tipped my head to look up into his face. “How do you stand it?”

“By keeping my distance. I plan infrequent visits which include numerous excursions for various, unspecified reasons.” He gave me a grim smile. “I find that limited interaction works best.”

I caressed the side of his face with my fingers. “It must be tough, though.”

Tough enough to explain why he latched on to a friend like Karla so tightly when he was young. And why it’s so hard for him to let go of her.

“It is, but I can manage. Especially since I have a new family now.” He lifted my hand and kissed my fingers, one by one, as he recited names. “You and Lydia and Sunny, and even Kurt. And your parents, I hope.” He smiled, genuinely this time, as he lowered our clasped hands. “I like them.”

“And they like you. I can tell.”

“Good. Now I just have to win over your brother.”

“Well, despite being a bit younger than me, he is very protective.” I grinned at the touch of concern that creased Richard’s brow. “But he will love you, I’m sure.”

Richard took a step back and looked me over. “By the way, I forgot to tell you how much I like that dress.”

I quirked my eyebrows at him. “Thanks, but your mother seemed very dismayed by my bare legs. I don’t think she approved.”

“I wouldn’t let that worry you. She doesn’t approve of much.” Richard rested one hand on my waist. “I, on the other hand, think your legs are stunning. Just like the rest of you.” He pulled me close. “Thanks for standing up for me back there.”

“Of course,” I said, resting my head against his chest. “But I suspect that your dad now despises me.”

“More like a mild dislike. He never allows his feelings to rise above a tepid disinterest, except where I’m concerned. Sadly, despite his reaction tonight, he’s not likely to spare you much thought.”

“Which is fine by me, only”—I gazed up at him—“I wonder what will happen in the future. I mean, if we’re still together …”

“We will be.”

“Okay, but how will we deal with your parents? They may never like me very much.”

“Then you’re in good company, because they don’t like me much either. They love me in their own way, I guess. But they definitely don’t like me.” Richard slid his hands down to rest at my waist. “Again, very infrequent visits will help. Also, I’d advise you to continue to stand up for yourself. My dad may admire that, eventually.”

“I hope so.” I tipped my head back and studied his stoic expression for a moment. “I’ve been thinking …”

“As you always do,” Richard said with a grin.

“As I always will. Anyway, I think you should follow Adele’s advice and contact Karla again.”

“I just might. If only to please you and Adele. Now, the important stuff—my parents are leaving tomorrow morning, so if you want to come over sometime later in the day, after your parents take off …”

“That sounds like a good idea.” I flashed him a wicked grin. “I do miss Loie.”

“Oh, is that what you miss?” Richard pulled me closer and whispered in my ear. “Nothing else?”

“Can’t think of anything,” I said, then gasped when he spun me around and plopped me down onto the glider.

“Let’s see if I can refresh your memory,” he said, before kissing me again.

I didn’t bother to come up with a snappy reply.