Make No Mistake (2 page)

A moment later the three girls were saying hello to Carson Drew and Mrs. Adams. They tried not to stare too openly at the young man with Carson as he introduced him.

“I'd like you to meet my daughter, Nancy,” Carson said. “Nancy, this is”—he hesitated before saying it—“Matthew Glover.”

Nancy knew her father didn't necessarily believe the stranger's identity, but what else could he call him? Nancy realized that she, too, had already started to think of him as Matt, even though she wasn't convinced he was the
real
Matt.

Whoever he was, his smile was easy and unforced. Up close Nancy could see that he had Matt's deep blue eyes and dark lashes. Bess was right about one thing—he
was
great looking!

“Nancy Drew,” he said. “I knew you'd grow up to be beautiful.”

For a second she thought he was trying to flirt with her. But then he smiled in a friendly, direct way. When Carson introduced him to Bess and George, he was just as charming with them.

“It's great to see you again,” Bess told Matt. Nancy could almost see stars in Bess's eyes. “I always kept up a tiny hope that you'd come back.”

“Thanks, Bess. That means a lot to me,” Matt told her as he flashed her one of his big smiles.

Nancy had the distinct feeling that someone was watching them. Glancing over Matt's shoulder, she met the intense gaze of a man who was staring at them from the steps of the church. He had short blond hair and was wearing a green parka with a hood. Nancy had the feeling that she'd seen him before.

Then she remembered—he was an environmental activist. Giralda, that was his name. Tony Giralda. She had seen his face on posters for a campaign to clean up River Heights's Muskoka River.

Matt's voice drew Nancy's attention back to the conversation around her. “I'd like you all to come back to Glover's Corners,” he was saying. “Rosemary has prepared enough food to feed an army.” He gazed at the housekeeper affectionately, but she didn't return the look. She continued staring straight ahead, slightly dazed.

“Poor Mrs. Adams,” Nancy said a few minutes later as she, Bess, and George climbed into Nancy's blue Mustang.

“What do you mean?” Bess asked. “She must be having one of the happiest days of her life. She was like a mother to Matt.”

George stared at her cousin. “I didn't exactly see her falling all over him,” she said dryly.

“That's because she's too stunned,” Bess retorted.

They swung out onto the main street and followed the stream of cars heading toward the outskirts of River Heights. Glover's Corners lay between two heavily wooded areas and was bordered by a low brick wall. The entrance drive curved into the property from a tall, wrought-iron gate. The gate stood open, but the house itself was well hidden behind some gently rolling hills.

“This is just as I remember it,” George said as Nancy turned onto the twisting drive.

After rounding a few curves, they could see the house. Built of rose-colored brick, it was huge, with a main hall and two wings stretching out on either side of it. The wings curved slightly toward the front, circling a large garden. The pond was barely visible at the foot of a gentle slope behind the house. The old stables and the pond, Nancy remembered, were behind the house.

Nancy parked behind the other cars and climbed out to crunch over the gravel path toward the front door. Other people were also making their way toward the house, and Nancy noticed that one of them was Tony Giralda. He was getting out of a battered-looking van a few cars in front of Nancy's Mustang.

“Pretty impressive,” George said, once they were inside. The entrance hall was huge. Directly in front of them was a stately mahogany staircase. There were two curved archways leading to the two wings of the house to the right and left of the hall.

“The guests are all going this way,” Bess said, pointing to the left.

“That's right,” said Nancy. “As I remember, the other way leads to the more private areas.”

There were several open doors along the hallway, and the girls peeked into them as they passed. There was a paneled library, a living room, and a smaller sitting room, all elegantly furnished. Most of the guests had collected in the formal dining room, so the girls went in there.

“Mrs. Adams sure seems to be a lot happier now,” George commented.

The housekeeper was rushing around, seeing that the big urns were full of coffee and tea, fussing over the plates of cold meats and bowls of salad. Nancy saw that the color had come back to her face, and there was even a smile on her lips now.

“I don't know about you guys, but I'm starving,” Nancy said, eyeing the long table that stretched along one wall. It was piled high with food.

The girls got in line and took plates. Nancy was just spooning some pasta salad onto hers when a deep voice spoke up right behind her: “I can't tell you how it feels to be back.”

She turned to see Matt standing there. “It must be kind of weird for you,” Nancy said. “How
does
it feel?”

Matt gave a deep sigh. “Wonderful and strange
at the same time. In some ways I feel as if I've never been away.”

“Oh, but you have,” Nancy said. “Five years is a long time.” It was almost creepy to be talking to him again. If he really was Matt, she reminded herself.

He ran a hand through his thick black hair. “I guess so. I just wish I could have figured out who I was before  . . .” He broke off.

Nancy gave him a sympathetic look. “Your father was a wonderful person,” she said sincerely. “We'll all miss him.” After a pause she asked, “How did you find out who you were?”

“I saw the obituary in the Chicago
Clarion,”
Matt explained. “There was a photo of my father, and as soon as I saw it I had to sit down. I knew he meant something to me, something very important. I read the obituary three times, and each time things came back more clearly. I don't think you can imagine what it felt like, Nancy.”

“Very few people could,” she admitted. “But then, very few people have amnesia.”

“That's what your father said. I was talking to him before you got here. He said he's never run across a case in all the years he's practiced law.”

This might not be amnesia, either, Nancy thought, if he's not the real Matt Glover. Almost instantly she felt aggravated with herself for raising the doubt so automatically. Lighten up, Drew, she scolded herself.

“I'm starving,” Matt said, breaking into her thoughts. He filled his plate, then started to make himself a thick roast beef sandwich. As she watched him, Nancy suddenly remembered something.

Everyone had always teased Matt about the huge mounds of mustard he added to just about everything. She paid close attention, holding her breath as he clamped the top piece of bread over the beef.

Matt didn't bite into it, though. Heading for the silver bowls filled with brown and yellow mustard, he opened his sandwich and plastered the beef with mustard the way the real Matt Glover would have.

Nancy shook herself for being so untrusting. So far there wasn't really any reason to doubt him. Matt was speaking with Bess now in a completely casual and natural manner.

Seeing her father across the room, Nancy crossed to him, but as they talked her eyes kept straying to Matt and Bess. Bess seemed to be doing most of the talking, and from the smiles on both their faces, they were enjoying each other's company quite a bit.

“Is something bothering you, Nancy?” her father asked. “I just asked you a question, and you didn't even hear me.”

Nancy felt herself blush. “Sorry, Dad. I was just thinking, it's pretty amazing about Matt
coming back. Maybe it
is
him.” She told him about the mustard.

Carson Drew followed her gaze. “A really clever impostor would know all about the person he's pretending to be,” he replied, sounding thoughtful. “I honestly don't know what to think about him, Nancy. If you asked me whether that guy is Matt Glover or a con man, I couldn't give you an answer. Not yet.”

Nancy took a bite of her pasta salad. “I guess the important thing is not to be biased either way.”

“One thing's sure—he knows the house inside and out. When he first came here today, Rosemary said she asked him to get two trays for her from the second pantry. He got them in record time—not a false move.”

Nancy thought of the huge kitchen with its many storage rooms and pantries in the back hall. It wouldn't be easy for a stranger to find the second pantry so quickly—unless he'd studied a blueprint of Glover's Corners.

“What's this about false moves?” George asked, coming up to Nancy and her father.

“We were just talking about Matt, and how he hasn't made any yet,” Nancy told her.

“If he's an impostor, you mean,” George added. “Well, so far he has two definite fans.”

“You don't have to tell me who one of them
is,” Nancy said with a laugh, nodding toward Bess. “Who's the other?”

“Mrs. Adams. I just heard her say something like, 'Maybe dreams
do
come true.' ”

“She'd know better than anyone,” Carson Drew commented. Putting his arm around Nancy's shoulders, he said, “I'm worn out. You girls won't mind if I leave early, will you?”

“Poor Dad,” Nancy said. “Settling Mr. Glover's estate has been a lot of extra work for you, hasn't it? Here, I'll get your coat.”

Out in the hall, Nancy paused to glance out the windows on either side of the front door. The day appeared to be colder and grayer than ever, and the cars lining the winding drive were covered with a frozen mist.

Shivering slightly, she went to the front hall closet and pulled her father's heavy overcoat from its hanger. She was just slinging it over one arm when a noise behind her made her pause.

Nancy swiveled around and saw someone emerge from the shadows near the front door. She recognized Tony Giralda's lean, wiry form as he strode toward her.

“So, you've been taken in by him, too,” he said. Nancy saw that he had brown eyes, and there was a look of intense anger in them. In fact, it seemed to Nancy that his whole body was tense with a kind of nervous energy.

“What do you mean?” Nancy asked him.

“You're some kind of detective, right?” he
asked, but his angry voice made it sound like an accusation.

Nancy nodded.

Giralda's hands balled into fists at his sides. “I knew Matt Glover,” he said, drawing the words out. “I knew him like my own brother. And that guy's not him.”

H
OW CAN YOU TELL
?” Nancy asked Tony. “What kind of proof do you—”

“I've got to go,” he said suddenly. “If you want to talk, you can find me at my office. Giralda's Environmental Action.”

“Tomorrow?” Nancy asked immediately. If Tony Giralda had any proof that the man inside wasn't Matt Glover, she wanted to know what it was as soon as possible.

He nodded. “Hours are noon until eight. I'll be there all afternoon.”

When Nancy went back into the library with her father's coat, Carson Drew was nowhere in sight. George was just putting her empty plate with some others at one end of the long table.

“Did you see where my dad went?” Nancy asked, going over to her.

George pointed toward a doorway at the rear of the dining room, which Nancy knew led to the kitchen. “He went back there with Mrs. Adams.”

The two girls found Nancy's father in the kitchen, holding Mrs. Adams awkwardly in his arms and patting her back. The housekeeper's eyes were red rimmed, and she had obviously been crying.

When Mrs. Adams saw Nancy, she said, “Oh, dear, please excuse me. I feel like smiling and crying at the same time.”

“Rosemary is feeling a bit overwhelmed,” Nancy's father said.

Straightening herself, Mrs. Adams stepped away from Carson Drew and wiped her eyes with one end of the kitchen towel she was holding. “At first I couldn't be sure that young man was really Matt, and yet I wanted him to be. I wanted it so much.”

She sat down at the long oak table. “Mr. Glover was a very fine man,” she went on after a long pause. “He took it so hard when Matt disappeared. My heart ached for him. He was a wonderful employer, but things were never the same here after Matt vanished. You remember, Nancy, dear, how happy the atmosphere at the Corners was. The picnics and barbecues, the skating . . .”

“Yes,” Nancy said in a comforting voice. “My friends and I were talking about it earlier. Mr. Glover
continued to invite us out here, but it was never the same after Matt died.”

“We have to stop saying that now, of course,” Mrs. Adams said, smiling. “Matt didn't die, thank goodness, and now he's come home. It's just wonderful, isn't it? If only his father could have lived to see him again.” She looked as if she might start crying again, but then she clapped one hand over her mouth and said, “Silly me, it was only because of Mr. G's death that Matt remembered who he was.”