14

Parking in the center of town had not improved since Meg’s time. There were two choices: one was a narrow slice that ran between the stores on the main street and the railroad tracks behind, accessed through narrow single-lane gaps at either end; the other was on the opposite side of the main street, and it was larger. Meg opted for the smaller one, since it was closer to the things she remembered and wanted to share with Seth. Luckily there were few occupants at the moment, so Meg had no trouble finding a space.

They climbed out of the car and wrapped their scarves more firmly around their necks. “Now where?” Seth asked.

“Let’s just go over to the main street and stroll, and see what’s survived since my day. I don’t know what stores are here anymore, but people have to eat, so I assume there are restaurants. We can walk out the way we drove in, so you can admire the former library.” She held out her hand, and Seth took it. They paused on the sidewalk for a minute to look at the nineteenth-century building that had once housed the library, although Meg couldn’t remember using it. Then they turned right and walked around the corner and paused again so Meg could explain the layout. “This is—wait for it—Main Street. There is one significant cross street, which goes under the railroad tracks. That’s down at the far end of this block. There used to be a decent restaurant on the block beyond that, which I think was an old inn. The cool kids used to hang out at the Friendly’s down a mile or so farther. I went in there once with a couple of friends, and we didn’t receive what I would call a warm welcome.”

“Teenagers are pretty tribal. If you’re an outsider, they’ll eat you.”

“Exactly.” Walking slowly down the main street, Meg commented about what was there now and what had been there when she lived in the town. She hadn’t spent time in Madison for over fifteen years, and there had been quite a few changes. Mostly for the better: there were more restaurants, and they looked—and smelled—good. Or maybe she was just hungry. They reached the single big intersection and Meg pointed toward the underpass. “The train station is over there toward the left, and across the street from it is town hall. Do you feel a burning need to see either of those?”

“I think I can live without them. Do we walk back on the other side of Main Street?”

“Sure. And I think I remember a fair restaurant there.”

They crossed at the corner and located the restaurant Meg could recall in the middle of the next block. It was still early for lunch, but Meg was happy to see a good range of food choices. Seth was equally happy to see a variety of local craft beers. “I’m not going to be driving, am I?” he asked plaintively.

“No, go ahead and sample. I’ll settle for coffee.”

Once they were seated and had ordered, Meg asked, “So, what do you think?”

Seth took a swallow of his beer. “Nice town. Not so different from Granford, but more tightly packed. I’m guessing there’s more money here. More stores, obviously, and not low-end chains.”

“And you’d be right. I haven’t looked at property values, but I’d bet a lot of the houses up the hill would be worth seven figures.”

Seth whistled. “I guess you can’t come home again.”

“I never wanted to,” Meg told him.

Their food arrived and they devoted appropriate attention to it. Meg didn’t think the town had been as much of a gourmet haven when she lived in town, not that she had explored many places as a teenager, but things were definitely looking up. When the food had disappeared, Seth said, “Where to next?”

“You haven’t seen enough?”

“You haven’t shown me your old house.”

“If you insist.”

They started walking back to the parking lot, but Meg stopped suddenly in front of one store. “I can’t believe this is still open,” she said. “Joe’s Sporting Goods. This is where all the teams at the high school got their stuff. I had a hockey stick that came from here. Mind if we go in?”

“Go right ahead,” Seth said, opening the door for her.

Meg walked toward the center of the stop and halted. “It hasn’t changed. It’s like a time warp.”

“Meg? Meg Corey?” A voice called out from behind the counter at the far side.

Meg turned to see a man of her own age approaching. “Joe? Wow, I’m amazed you remember me. We didn’t exactly hang out with the same people.”

Joe waved a dismissive hand. “Hey, you were one of the brainiacs. There weren’t a lot of them, so you were easy to remember. What goes on in your life?”

“Well, I just got married,” she said, belatedly reminding herself that Seth was standing behind her. “This is my husband, Seth Chapin. We live in Massachusetts now. Seth, this is Joe Caffarelli—we went to school together.”

“Good to meet you, Seth,” Joe said, in a salesman voice. “What do you do?”

“I have a small home-renovation business, mostly historical restorations.”

Joe nodded. “Cool.” Then he lost interest; Seth was not about to buy a load of sports equipment.

“You own this place, Joe?” Meg asked.

“My father used to—he was the Joe on the sign. You probably didn’t know him. He turned it over to me a coupla years ago so he could retire to Florida and fish.”

“You married?”

“Sure am. You remember Linda Giordano? We got married a year after graduation. Three kids, all boys. You got kids?”

“Wow, three kids! No to the kids for us—we only got married last week.”

“Hey, you guys took your time. Better get started. Your father still practicing law?”

“He is,” Meg said nodding. “You’ve got quite a memory. He has his own practice now, and he and my mother live in Montclair. Why on earth do you remember him?”

“My dad was one of his clients, years back. I was cleaning out the basement just last week and stumbled over the file. Talk about coincidence! Here you are, just a few days later.”

“I don’t think my father ever mentioned him, but he never talked about his work at home, or maybe I tuned him out. What was that all about?”

Joe shrugged. “I only looked at it long enough to figure out what it was. I think Dad wanted to sue one of his vendors for not delivering, and for inflated billing, and your father helped him out.”

“So it all worked out for your father?”

Joe nodded. “Sure did. Like you see, the business is still here.”

“I’ll tell my father you remembered him, Joe.”

“Ah, don’t bother. It’s been a long time, and I’m sure he’s handled plenty of cases since. Good to see you again, Meg. If you ever need any sports equipment, you better think of me. Oh, what is it you do?”

“I run an apple orchard.”

That stopped Joe cold for a couple of beats. “Wow! I never would have expected that—Meg Corey, a farmer. I knew you went off to college somewhere else. You like what you’re doing?”

“I do, actually. I was as surprised as you are, Joe. Nice talking with you.”

When they were outside, Seth said, “Did you know him well?”

“Vaguely. Of course, our class wasn’t all that big, so it wasn’t hard. As I recall, he was an okay guy. Played on some sports teams, although I can’t tell you which ones, since the only games I went to were football. I never did see a high school basketball game.”

They retrieved the car, and Meg drove the few miles to the house she had grown up in. “As you can see, it’s not exactly close to the center of town. This is ‘The Hill,’ for obvious reasons. The house itself is on a cul-de-sac, and when I lived there, there were plenty of young kids and very few cars, so it was safe. This is it.” Meg pulled up to the curb on the far side of the street and stared. “I think they’ve done some ‘improving’”—Meg made air quotes—“since I lived here, mostly in the direction of pretentious. I don’t remember it looking like this.”

“You mean all the pillars and stuff? I’d agree. I think the core house was built in the 1940s. Seems nice enough. What’s your single favorite memory from this place?”

“What is this, a quiz?” Meg thought for a moment, rifling through her memories. Finally she said, “When I was about four, a bird got into the house and was flying around the living room running into things—it couldn’t find a way out. The room had a plate-glass picture window overlooking the back lawn and the bird kept flying at it, thinking it could get through. My father trapped it against the window with a hat—a fedora, I think—and took it outside and released it. I thought that was very heroic.”

“Nice.”

“It was. I wonder if he remembers it? Oh, and he used to love to plant blue morning glories, over there on an old stump. Where the swimming pool is now. I have no idea why, because he didn’t like gardening much. Mother did most of it. It was only that single kind of flower.” Meg studied the front of the house one last time. “I could name the kids that lived around the block—we used to go to one another’s birthday parties, and go trick-or-treating together, at least for a while. Long time ago.” She sighed. “You ready to go? Anything else you want to see? Can I tempt you with Washington’s Headquarters in Morristown? Or maybe Fort Nonsense?”

“Are you joking?” Seth asked.

“Nope. Fort Nonsense was an earthworks built in 1777 by Washington’s order. It was a good vantage point, and it may have been used for signal fires. And there’s nothing much to see there now except the view.”

“Will you be mortally offended if I pass on that?” Seth said.

“Of course not. But don’t say I didn’t offer you up the finest of our local history. You ready to go back to Montclair?”

“I think so.” She thought briefly about calling her mother, then decided they’d be home early enough to make any plans for the evening. She was happy to leave, in case there was any afternoon traffic to beat—it had been so long since she had spent any time in the area that she didn’t know what the patterns were. And she had seen—and shared—all that she cared to. Madison was her past, and she didn’t feel any need to dwell on it. She didn’t have any misconceptions about her idyllic youth. It had been fine but not memorable, with few crises and no disasters. She had long since moved on.

Had Seth? Effectively he had never left home. She had no idea what that would be like, although he seemed content enough. But had he never wanted more?

The ride back to Montclair took less time than Meg had thought, and it was barely three o’clock when they pulled up her parents’ driveway and parked. She noticed quickly that her father’s car had appeared in the driveway, all visible damage repaired. “That should make Daddy happy,” Meg said, pointing. “At least one thing worked out.” She turned off the engine, but she found she was in no hurry to get out. “Anything else you want to do or see while we’re in the area?” she asked Seth.

“I hate to say it, but I’d really like to leave it. Head home,” he said.

“I know. I’m sorry I dragged you into this. I’d like to do that too, so we can get back to our own lives. I’m not usually all that involved in my parents’ lives, as no doubt you’ve noticed by now.”

“I’d say that’s true. Are you implying I’m too involved with my family?”

She wondered if she had offended him. “No, not at all. You all live in essentially the same community. It would be weird if you weren’t involved with them. Besides, I like your family.” Except Stephen, of course, but they didn’t talk about that, even with Seth’s mother, Lydia.

“And you don’t like your own?” Seth asked.

“It’s not that, exactly. Look, I’ve had friends whose families were horrible—demanding, domineering, unreasonable, and impossible to please. I have nothing to complain about. We’re just not particularly close. That’s the way we’ve always been.”

“Well, if I see you shutting me out, I’m going to do something about it.”

“I want you to, Seth.” Meg leaned against Seth, and he pulled her close.

They sat like that for several minutes, until Meg finally said, “I suppose we should go in. We sort of made vague noises about going out for dinner tonight, as I recall.”

“Fine with me. Okay to leave the car here?”

“Sure. If we decide to go out again, we can move it.”

Seth climbed out of the car and waited for Meg to join him, then they headed for the back door. Does anyone use the front door anymore? Meg wondered. She fished out a key and opened the door, stepping into the back hallway. “Mother?” she called out. She was surprised when her mother didn’t answer. She walked through the kitchen toward the main hall. “Mother?” she tried again.

“Maybe she’s taking a nap?” Seth suggested.

“She’s not a napper. Or I should say, she didn’t take naps when I was around, but I guess she is getting older.” She decided to check the living room before going upstairs, and was surprised to see her mother sitting on the couch, staring blindly into space. Again. What had happened to her energetic, focused mother? “Mother? Are you all right?”

It took Elizabeth a moment to come back from wherever her mind had wandered, and she turned and looked up at Meg. “No, I don’t think so.”

Meg quickly sat next to her on the couch. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s your father,” Elizabeth said, then stopped again.

“What—he’s sick? Hurt?”

“No, neither. You know he went into his office this morning? He thought he should check in, see if there was anything important he should attend to. He’d given his secretary time off while he was away, and his partner had decided to take a vacation too, while he had the chance. It seems that not many people seek legal help right before the holidays.”

Meg was becoming impatient. “So what’s going on?”

“Your father is at the police station. When he arrived at the office, he found his partner Arthur on the floor there, unconscious. He wasn’t even supposed to be in town.”

“Is he all right? Arthur, I mean?” Meg racked her brain to try to remember if she had ever met Arthur and came up blank. “Was it a stroke? A heart attack?”

“No, he was attacked. Just like Enrique. By someone who didn’t expect to find him there, apparently.”

A string of questions raced through Meg’s mind, and she tried to sort out which were the most important. “Daddy found him?”

Elizabeth nodded.

“Is Arthur all right?” Meg asked.

“He was still unconscious, the last I heard. Which was some time ago.”

“Why is Daddy at the police station?”

Elizabeth took a deep breath. “When your father found Arthur, he immediately called 911, and waited until the paramedics arrived. Then he followed them to the hospital. Arthur’s a widower, so Phillip has as much personal information about Arthur as anyone around here. He was still at the hospital when the police arrived—apparently the paramedics had told them that Arthur had some injuries that were suspicious. Since there was nothing more that Phillip could do for Arthur, they adjourned to the police station. He was on the phone with me just as they arrived, which is the only reason I know anything about what is going on.”

“When was this?”

“About eleven.”

“And you haven’t heard from him since?” Meg asked.

Elizabeth shook her head.

“Did he say when Arthur was attacked? I mean, yesterday? This morning?”

“Most likely this morning. The, uh, blood was still wet.” Elizabeth shuddered. “Like your father, Arthur just couldn’t stay away from the office.”

Meg sat down and put her arm around her mother. “I’m so sorry. Can I get you something? A cup of tea, maybe?”

Elizabeth leaned slightly against Meg, which for her was a major display of emotion. “That would be nice, dear.”

“I’ll do it,” Seth said, and headed for the kitchen before anyone would say anything.

Meg didn’t want to say out loud what she was thinking: that her father might be suspected of attacking his business partner. But why would anyone think that? Still, she knew nothing about Arthur, or about her father’s relationship with Arthur, professional or personal. And he had been associated with more than one recent crime, one of those violent. And if Arthur had been attacked this morning, he had no alibi. If she had been a police officer, or perhaps one particular Montclair police officer, she probably would have taken him in as well.

Apparently her mother had arrived at the same conclusions. “Oh, Meg, I’m afraid the police think Phillip attacked Arthur.” And then she burst into tears.

Meg fought off her initial shock: she couldn’t remember ever seeing her mother cry, much less loud, sloppy, messy crying like this. She quickly drew Elizabeth closer. She could feel her whole body shaking.

Did Elizabeth believe Phillip had done this? Holding her sobbing mother, she couldn’t be sure. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t over yet.