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Authors: Katherine Hall Page

The Body in the Wardrobe (17 page)

BOOK: The Body in the Wardrobe
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“No, you!” She couldn't wait to see whether he loved the prints she had had framed as much as she did.

He did and there was a time out for more of what Uncle Paul called “canoodling” before Will said, “Come on, Sophie. Your turn.”

She smiled broadly as she opened the box. It appeared to be filled with shredded paper. “I hope I don't have to paste all this together to find out what it is!”

“Would I do that to you? Keep digging.”

She did, expecting a small box buried at the bottom. Earrings or something else that Will had picked out. Much as she was pleased by the jewelry that had belonged to his mother and grandmother—who wouldn't be?—Sophie knew she would treasure more modest pieces selected by Will just for her.

But there was no box. Just an envelope with a lump at one end.

“Open it!” Her husband was clearly tickled with himself.

Sophie tore the flap and pulled out a sheet of paper. A key dropped out. She took one look and threw her arms around him, giving a little shriek of joy. The paper was the listing for the house on Habersham.

“Will Tarkington Maxwell! You didn't! You didn't just go and buy the very house I wanted in all of Savannah?” She had suddenly developed a Southern accent, she noticed.

“I guess maybe I did, although it's going to be in your name, too. Haven't closed on it yet. But they did accept my offer.”

She pulled him to his feet. “Can we go see it now? Oh, of course we can't.” She frowned. “They haven't moved out yet, right?”

Will shook his head. “But they
are
away for the holidays and they did say I could bring you by.”

Sophie was already at the bottom of the stairs. “Let's get going! We don't have to be at your parents' open house or any of the others until this afternoon, right? Oh, Will, I can't believe you did this!” She had a sudden anxious thought, remembering Laura's words. “You don't think it's too small, do you? I mean we're both tall and there are only two bedrooms and two baths. But there's a garden and a garage.”

Will was following close behind and kissed the back of her neck. “Maybe we'll have to move after child number five, but for now it should do just fine.”

“Five!”

“Maybe six.”

On the way over Will told her that the only drawback was the move-in date. The current owners couldn't get into their new place until March, so that was a condition of sale.

“That's not far away at all,” Sophie enthused. “And it will give me plenty of time to pick out paint colors. Oh! Our very own house. Pinch me!” She had told him about the listing and how much she liked it, but that had been a while ago and he hadn't seemed to take it in.

There was a large magnolia wreath with a silver bow on the bright red front door. Two cast iron urns were filled with more greens. Sophie paused to admire the wrought iron balcony that stretched across the front of the house. It was all even more beautiful than she had remembered.

They stepped inside into the hall and faced an elegant curving staircase to the left just beyond a curved arch marked by two columns.

“You've probably noticed this kind of foyer in other houses. My family house has a large one. The design is intended to create the illusion of a tiny ‘yard' separating the rest of the house from the street. From the other side, looking out the open door, the columns frame the view. I should be carrying you over the threshold. We'll do that once it's totally ours.”

The house didn't feel small at all with its high ceilings. “I won't have to do anything,” Sophie said, almost disappointed. “These are exactly the colors I'd choose!” Celadon in the hall and butter cream frosting in the parlor, which also had a beautiful fireplace. The house was decorated sparsely for the holidays—no doubt because the owners were away—but there was a row of red amaryllis in bloom marching across the ornate mantel, reflected in the bull's-eye mirror above.

“Right away the house reminded me of the house I grew up in,” Will said. “I had the feeling I'd been in it before. It just felt like home. Come on—check out the kitchen. They redid it last year, but it's not all stainless steel and concrete counters.”

In fact it looked like an updated version of Lydia Scriven's. Sophie hadn't had a chance to tell Will much about her new friend and did so as they toured the rest of the house.

“I've seen her walking her little dog. Let's have her to dinner here. Have lots of dinners. Maybe get a dog, too.”

Will was in very high spirits.

The master bedroom was at the rear and there was a door to a screened-in veranda overlooking the small garden.

“Gloria can give y'all advice about these plantings. They seem
to be in good shape. But there isn't anything she doesn't know about gardens and any plant you can name. Dirt under her fingernails is why she never gets a manicure, she'll tell you. A waste of money when she's just going to be digging again.”

Sophie had assumed Gloria hired garden designers and others to do the actual work. She looked forward to showing off her own little plot and asking for help. She wanted lots of old-fashioned perennials.

The master bath had the original big claw-foot tub, but a modern rain forest shower. “Glad they didn't change this out,” Will said, pointing to the tub. “Think we can both squeeze in. Want to give it a dry run?”

She took his hand and then kissed him hard. They were going to be very happy here.

There was another veranda off the kitchen across the back of the house leading to the garden, and the garage was on one side.

“I don't have the key, but there's storage space above. It's large enough for another room. They had planned to put in a mother-in-law apartment. We could do that for guests and my mother-in-law. I'm very fond of Babs, and Ed can get plenty of golf in.”

“I can't wait to tell her about the house. Let's try calling before we have to go out.” Sophie gave a little sigh. Much as she enjoyed Savannah social life, and her in-laws, she wished they could have spent the day alone together—if not here in the new house, then in the borrowed one.

Will was looking at her, and it seemed he was thinking the same thing. “We'll have lots and lots of time for just the two of us. Now, let's go find us some of that mistletoe from Bells Mills Gloria has hanging all over the town house.”

Faith waved good-bye to Tom and Ben. They'd opened stockings in Amy's room early, enjoying eggs, bacon, and biscuits dripping with some of the honey Sophie had sent. The other presents waited until after church, and now her two men were off to the
South Shore for the Fairchild Christmas dinner. Faith didn't dare give them even a crumb that might spoil their appetites. Marian had been cooking all the family favorites for days, starting with the blue cheese and scallion spread on Melba toast and pigs in a blanket that had appeared as hors d'oeuvres probably since the first Fairchild set foot upon some sort of rock. There would be turkey with all the trimmings and, late in the day, pies, fruitcake—a palatable one—and that New England staple: Indian pudding. Faith was not sure which tribe had passed the recipe along and suspected it might have been one associated with a recipe on the back of a cornmeal box, but no Fairchild holiday was complete without the warm golden brown pudding chock-full of molasses, brown sugar, ginger, nutmeg, cinnamon, and topped with vanilla ice cream. It had taken her awhile, but she had come to enjoy it—or maybe it was just eating it with the whole family amid their chorus of “yums.”

There was a knock on the kitchen door, and she darted to the back of the house. Amy hadn't wanted to move downstairs and was asleep now, biding time until she could Skype with Daisy on the West Coast to tell her about the best Christmas present ever that she'd found in her stocking.

Pix was at the door, carrying a tray covered with plates wrapped in aluminum foil. “Since you can't come to Christmas, Christmas is coming to you. I was pretty sure you would just make a sandwich or eat cornflakes!”

Pix knew Faith didn't eat packaged cereal, but the thought behind the comment was dear. She hadn't planned on cooking anything. “You are a love! And Merry Christmas! This smells delicious. Do you have time to sit down and have a glass of wine or are you about to have dinner?”

“We're still waiting for Samantha and her new boyfriend. They had to go to his parents first. Poor babies. They'll be stuffed by the end of the day—two Christmas dinners!”

Faith took a bottle of prosecco from the fridge. “Cassis or au naturel?”

“A drop of cassis sounds very celebratory.”

They talked for a bit, and as Faith was pouring refills—the flutes were small—she stopped suddenly.

“Pix! I just remembered something! These last days have been so eventful that it went completely out of my mind. Millicent wasn't at the D.A.R. luncheon Monday.” She filled the glasses to the brim and sat down.

Pix looked stunned. “And she wasn't in church last night or this morning. But then she often goes to her own church at the holidays, even though she considers herself an unofficial member of First Parish.”

“Has your mother said anything about her? Now Ben has been meeting Millicent at the library for whatever she's doing on the computer, but not since last weekend. He's leaving for France in a few days and busy getting packed, although from what I can tell it's all fitting into a small knapsack. He may not realize he has to pack clothes in addition to his iPad, phone, and power converters.”

“Ursula hasn't said anything. I'll ask her as soon as I go back. But, Faith, this is serious. Millicent would never miss a D.A.R. event, especially not the holiday luncheon!”

“I can't leave Amy. Maybe when Tom gets back he can go over, but it could be late.”

Millicent kept New England hours, rising with the birds and going to sleep with them. Faith still hadn't gotten used to the fact that any call after eight o'clock at night meant an emergency in Aleford.

“I'll go now,” Pix said. “She may not be home. I think she usually goes to some cousin in Weston for Christmas Day. I can make up a plate of desserts as an excuse.”

“Add some of these. I know she doesn't like sweets, but these pralines that Sophie sent have a little kick.” Faith transferred some of the confection from the large box to a Ziploc bag. “And call me.”

After Pix left, Faith sat down to eat. The smells were tantalizing, and while Pix tended toward meals from cartons that had
HELPER
written on them, she could cook a turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, creamed onions, and gravy with the best of them. The cranberry sauce with orange peel was Faith's own from the jar that she'd given Pix on Sunday.

She slowly sipped the rest of her wine. What on earth could be going on with Miss McKinley?

They'd decided to start with the open house at Will's parents, and from the sounds that greeted them as they walked in, so had most of Savannah. Carlene, resplendent in Christmas, or more likely University of Georgia, red velvet, was the first to greet them. “Merry Christmas y'all!! I swear, Sophie, where do you get such gorgeous dresses?”

Now that she was here, Sophie was glad. She wanted to celebrate—being in such a wonderful family, wonderful marriage, and now wonderful new home. She told Carlene, who squealed appropriately, grabbing a spoon to tap her glass for quiet. “Hey! Will and Sophie have bought a house! Best of all it's right around the corner from Randy and me!”

This brought congratulations and hugs from people Sophie knew and many she didn't yet. Standing next to Will, she was bursting with joy. Then Laura appeared. She moved in close to Sophie and hissed, “So you got your way. I told Will the place was too small, but he was dead set on making you happy.”

Like that's a bad thing? Sophie thought to herself, realizing that Laura knew of the purchase before Sophie herself because Will would have used Laura as the Realtor. Even if she hadn't actually shown the house, it was multilisted, and for better or worse, Miss Belvedere was their agent.

It was Christmas, and in that spirit, Sophie said, “You'll have to come for dinner once we've moved in.”

“Sure”—the acceptance sounded somewhat halfhearted—“now I have to go home or my family will about kill for not helping with our do. Y'all be sure to come to us next. You've never seen the house. It's the big old Savannah gray brick on the corner by Telfair.”

There was a definite emphasis on “big.” Sophie just smiled. Nothing could bother her today. Not even Laura.

She moved into the back parlor—the pocket doors were open to make one large space. A flash of bright green caught her eye: Ruth Stafford, in a brilliant emerald dress that left no doubt about how toned the body beneath was. She was talking to Randy, and the blinking holiday-tree-light earrings she wore were sending tiny bits of color across her animated face.

“Hey, Sophie,” Randy called out. “Or I should say ‘neighbor'?”

She went over, and after giving her a hug, Randy said, “Something is very wrong here. There is no glass in your hand. Don't move an inch; I'll be right back to fix this terrible calamity.” He moved off into the crowd.

“I am surely not in Illinois,” Ruth said, looking after him fondly. “It was lovely of your family to invite me today.”

“Maxwell and Maxwell is like family,” Sophie said, happy that someone had remembered to include Ruth and chastising herself for not thinking of it. The firm's associates and significant others were all here. But then it wasn't her house. Or was it? According to Laura, it was Will's. And what was his was theirs. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. She didn't want any house except the very one she now had.

She turned her attention to Ruth. “Did you do the Christmas run this morning?” Sophie asked.

“Yes, it was wonderful! Afterward we all crowded into the Sentient Bean for breakfast. It's a great coffee shop near Forsyth Park.”

BOOK: The Body in the Wardrobe
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