Clare was finishing a tomato and mayo sandwich when she heard Elizabeth de Groot’s voice calling from down the hall. “Clare? We’re back, and we have a visitor!”
Clare stuffed the rest of her sandwich in her mouth, felt something wet give way, and managed to get her hand up in time to keep a blob of mayonnaise from staining her blouse. Unfortunately, she wasn’t deft enough to prevent the stream of tomato juice and seeds from hitting her right on her bosom, which was larger, since she was nursing, than it had been at any other time in her life.
She was rubbing her chest with a paper towel when Elizabeth stepped in. “Really, Clare.”
“Sowwy,” Clare mumbled around the remains of her sandwich.
“Get yourself presentable and come out to the sanctuary. Joni’s mother is here, and we want her to be impressed.”
Clare wiped her hands and tossed the paper towel into the wastebasket. She showed her teeth to the deacon. “Okay?”
Elizabeth sighed. “Good enough. Don’t grin too much.”
As they approached the sanctuary, Clare could hear Joni repeating the same history-of-St.-Alban’s tour she had been given two days ago. When Clare and Elizabeth entered, her intern was at the back of the church, pointing out the “unique herringbone pattern laid with reclaimed Civil War–era bricks.”
“Hello,” Clare said. She didn’t have to raise her voice: the church had been designed to carry sound in an era before microphones and speakers. “I’m Clare Fergusson.”
Joni’s mother bore a striking resemblance to her daughter; tall and athletic with an angular face and a thick swoop of hair that was probably kept red at great expense. “Audrey Langevoort.” She held out a hand that still had dirt beneath clipped fingernails. “I’m so pleased to meet you.”
“The pleasure’s mine.” Clare shook hands, feeling more relaxed about her tomato-scented blouse. Mrs. Langevoort’s outfit was very much like Margy’s summer uniform: cropped jeans, a T-shirt, and a light shirt thrown over all. Several sizes smaller than Clare’s mother-in-law’s, and it didn’t come from Kmart, but Clare recognized the look of a passionate gardener.
“I had to pick up some things at the Agway,” Mrs. Langevoort said, “and I thought I could stop by so we could meet before Friday night.”
“Thank you so much for being willing to open your home on such short notice.”
“I’m glad Joni thought of it. We had already planned a get-together honoring Kent’s successor; this gave me an excuse to open the party up to our delightful neighbors instead of just having stuffy financiers.” She gestured toward the rose window above the brass-and-marble high altar. “What a lovely church.”
“Thank you,” Clare said. “We have a wonderful congregation to match.”
Mrs. Langevoort smiled. “We’ll have to join you some Sunday before we go back to New York.”
Clare gestured to the center aisle, and they walked toward the front of the church. “Are you headed home soon?”
“Usually the county fair marks the end of our summer—we head south to the city the weekend it closes. This year, I’ll be staying on. We’ve almost completed construction of a house on Lake George, and I need to be here for the final punch list. And of course, Joni will be here to work on the internship.”
“You’re building a new house? Year-round?” The older Adirondack camps were almost never winterized; they became uninhabitable by late October or early November.
“The camp belongs to the company,” Mrs. Langevoort said.
“Dad’s retiring soon,” Joni added. “He and Mother wanted to stay on in the area.”
“Have you lived here through a winter?” Elizabeth sounded skeptical.
Mrs. Langevoort laughed. “No, but we’ve been here for skiing quite a bit. And believe me, the city in January is no picnic.”
“So Joni will be living in the new house in Lake George?” Elizabeth asked.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got four-wheel drive and good winter tires.”
“It’ll be a great help to us.” Mrs. Langevoort squeezed Joni’s arm. “We’d like to have the place ready by next summer, which means we need someone there for the painters, carpet-layers, paper hangers—”
“Furniture delivery, finish carpentry, landscapers…” Joni grinned at her mother.
“Oh, we’re not even thinking about landscaping until next year!”
The pieces of the Langevoort family dynamic began to fall into place. Joni spends the summer in the city while her father is in the North Country, the two of them overlapping at their camp for a scant few weeks. Mrs. Langevoort, meanwhile, creates the perfect opportunity for Joni to stay out of her father’s way until her December operation, and be useful to the family to boot. An internship in the area must have been the missing part of the plan; something that enabled Joni to continue to work toward her MDiv degree.
Clare smiled. No wonder Audrey Langevoort was amenable to their fundraising dinner.
Joni tugged her mother’s hand. “Mom, come and see the undercroft. It’s amazing. The basement has a basement.”
“Oh, darling, I’d love to stay and get the insiders’ tour, but Bors has the car, and he’s picking me up”—Audrey looked at her watch—“well, just about now.”
“Oh, Bors.” Joni drew out the name until all Clare could picture was a herd of wild swine. She looked inquiringly at her intern. “Bors Saunderson is the new crown prince. No, wait, I mean princeps imperialis.”
“Be nice,” her mother said. “And technically speaking, princeps would be the equivalent of imperator.” She pressed her fingers to her lips, trapping a laugh as she looked at Clare’s and Elizabeth’s expressions. “Bors is going to take over the company from Kent. Who insisted Joni study Latin all through her school years. After drilling her on those innumerable tenses, I got better at it than she was.”
“Has it helped you any with Hebrew or Greek?” Clare asked.
“Not one little bit.”
Audrey gave her daughter a sideways hug. “Anyway, your dad’s been taking him around and introducing him to the area, and today it’s my turn.” She held out her hand to Clare. “Reverend Fergusson, I look forward to seeing you again Friday.”
“Clare, please.” Clare shook her hand. “Thank you again for the invitation.”
“You’re doing us a favor. Hearing your husband speak in person will give us something besides business to talk about. We saw him on the evening news!”
Clare and Elizabeth waved goodbye, identical stiff smiles on their faces.
“That went well,” Elizabeth said.
“Right up to the part where she said she saw Russ putting his foot in it on Channel Eight. We’re going to spend the entire dinner explaining the 1972 case, aren’t we?”
“Cheer up.” Elizabeth’s voice was dry. “The days when being associated with a crime made you persona non grata are long gone. Nowadays, just being on television is enough to make you a celebrity, never mind what for. Who knows, maybe you can raise more money with a little whiff of scandal.”
“What he’s hoping is that he can raise a few informants with that little whiff of scandal.” Clare sent up a brief prayer. “As much as he hated it, I think he’d go on TV every night if he could just get some clue as to who that poor girl was.”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “Well. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”