Dorothy was silent for a second and then rushed him again. Maggie,’ she whispered, and a tear slipped down her cheek. She straightened quickly, as if regaining control. ‘Ever since I saw her, after what happened, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, how you must feel.’
Sartoris sat down heavily and reached for a beignet. ‘That’s astonishing. You thought of me?’
'Of course. Maggie spoke of you the very night . . . ’ her voice trailed away delicately.
The old man snorted. ‘Touching.’ He broke the beignet gently and nibbled at one piece.
Dolly’s face set as if she smelled something bad but was too polite to say so. She sat down, looked at Nick, and winked. He was shocked. Did she think Sartoris was so senile she could mock the old man practically to his face?
‘If you don’t want to speak of it, we won’t,’ she said soothingly. She reached out to pat Sartoris’s hand, at rest on the table.
He withdrew his hand from her reach, and gestured at Roger. Who’s that?’
Roger jumped, his hand held out.
‘This is my friend, Roger Tinker,’ Dolly introduced him hastily.
The old man looked Roger up and down and then employed his free hand to reach for a cup. Ethelyn Blood jumped to fill it.
Dolly gave Roger a chilling look; he dropped his hands into his pockets and slunk back into the corner, a blush heating his cheeks.
‘You can't stay here,’ Sartoris said abruptly. He pushed the remains of the beignet away. ‘Very nice,’ he told the housekeeper. She beamed.
‘The helicopter won’t be back until tomorrow,’ Dolly protested. ‘Why not? This house has eighteen rooms if it’s got one.’
‘No room for you. I didn’t invite you. Don’t want your crocodile tears, either. Call the helicopter and tell it to come back right away. It’s probably not as far as halfway back to Bar Harbor by now.’
‘This is impossibly rude of you, Sartoris,’ Dolly scolded. She cast an appealing glance to Nick. ‘Nick, can’t you talk to him? You handle him better when he’s like this.’
The old man hissed. He struggled to his feet. Mrs. Blood moved quickly to his side, her face set and angry.
‘My father knows his own mind,’ Nick said mildly.
Dolly gave way all at once. ‘Very well. Would you allow me the courtesy of having a word with my daughter-in-law and seeing my grandchildren?’
‘Mrs. Douglas’s business is, of course, her own,’ Sartoris growled.
‘Well?’ Dolly challenged Nick.
Nick crossed his arms over his chest and whistled tonelessly. He wasn’t about to interfere even marginally in Lucy’s business, and she knew it.
‘Better ask Lucy,’ he said. ‘But I warn you. She knows her own mind, too.’
Dolly sat down, victorious on at least one front, i’ll just wait here for her.’
i’ll bring you a phone,’ Nick offered, ‘while you’re waiting. You might catch that helicopter yet.’
He detoured to Lucy’s room. The cots were made up, she was tucking neatly folded pajamas under the pillows. She looked up when he entered; he mock-leered at her. She laughed.
‘Urgent call?’ she said, indicating the phone in his hand, if it removes Dolly from our midst, I’d guess so. Sartoris had shown her the door. But she has to call the air taxi. Fair warning: She wants to talk to you.’
Lucy, scooping sun-screening lotion and sunglasses from an open vanity case into the commodious pockets of her one-piece sunsuit, grimaced.
‘Yuk,’ she said.
She put on a big straw hat.
‘There’s something else.’
She cocked her head, listening.
‘Sartoris. He seemed tired. I’m a little worried.’
She nodded, if you think we should go home, it’s all right. As a matter of fact, I’m capable of getting myself and my kids home on my own stick, if you think you should stay.’
‘No, no. Let’s all stay a little longer. I think he’ll be fine, if Dolly will get on her stick and fly away. He seems happy enough to see you and the kids.’
They walked down the corridor, holding hands.
‘Where are my old buddies?’ Nick asked.
in Mrs. Blood’s pantry. She set them to looking for buckets and spoons appropriate to the beach.’
When they arrived on the terrace, they found Sartoris and the housekeeper had retired. Nick guessed Mrs. Blood was fussing a little over the old man, and perhaps, for once it was necessary.
A long conversation with the airport at Bar Harbor ensued, broken by static into an archipelago of discreet shouting. The helicopter was on its way to another job. It would come, barring any change in the weather, at eight-thirty or nine that evening.
Dolly hung up, satisfied. The delay meant that Sartoris would be compelled to serve them lunch, and she would have most of the day her way. Roger was half-asleep in his corner chair, stirring only to burp and fish another antacid tablet from his pocket. He had wolfed the beignets as soon as they had been left to him, and washed them down with most of the coffee, while she glared at him.
Lucy had dawdled after saying hello, through half the phone call, and then left for the beach with the children. She had shrugged apologetically at Dolly; the kids were restless, and with lard cans and old soup spoons, apt to be noisy.
With satisfactory arrangements made, Nick excused himself and disappeared into the house. Reporting to daddy, Dolly thought.
She kicked off her shoes and began to wiggle out of her pantyhose.
Roger applauded. ‘Take it off,’ he hooted.
She ignored him. He was being thoroughly awkward, just like a spoiled child, because she had insisted they follow Lucy here and that wasn’t what
he
wanted. The last thing she was going to do was let him spoil her fun.
i’m going after Lucy. Down the beach. If you’re coming, you’d fetter take off your shoes and socks and roll up your pants. And keep your distance. This is private. Between Miss Lucy and myself.’
'Oh.’ There wasn’t much Roger could say to that.
He bent to unlace his shoes, wondering if there were things in
the sand that might bite his feet. It was a beautiful place; no doubt it had its nasty secrets. He was sorry he had hooted at Dolly. If he’d shut his stupid mouth, she might have played to him a bit. More than that, if he was going to get her off this island without her messing up, it was necessary to stay in her good graces. He stuffed his socks in his shoes and paired them neatly on the wall of the terrace. Dolly was already picking her way across the dunes. He jumped up and trotted after her.
‘Lucy!’ she called. The sand tugged at her feet. It was still wet from the high tide. ‘Zachary John! Laurie!’
Lucy, walking a few yards down the beach, turned and waved. Laurie and Zach, a few yards beyond her, dropped their tin pails and spoons and raced back to their grandmother, shouting.
Lucy and Roger, from different vantage points on the beach, watched Dolly scooping up the children in turn, hugging them, babbling at them. Their eyes met briefly, long enough for each to be astonished at the second of open disbelief they saw in each other’s faces at Dolly’s exhibition of grandmotherly love. Roger colored immediately, and stared quickly out to sea. Lucy, stunned, could only stare at him.
Dolly led the children back to Lucy and released them; they flew back to their pails and spoons and clanked off down the beach, stooping to pluck small, indistinguishable objects from the beach, announcing each find ecstatically.
Lucy and Dolly fell in behind them, walking much more slowly. Panting, Dolly made fun of her own exertions, saying, ‘I don’t know how you keep up with them.’
The salt air was invigorating but she wasn’t dressed for a romp along the beach. She couldn't very well sit on the sand in her white linen tunic, belted over a pleated navy blue skirt. It was a rare misstep for her to arrive anywhere in the wrong clothing. Roger’s fault, really, for being a pain in the ass and distracting her. Mocking herself, she twitched the pleats of her skirt.
‘Can you imagine? Wearing this on a beach?’ She admired Lucy’s yellow swimsuit. ‘You’ve got the right idea. That’s perfect.’
‘Thank you,’ Lucy said. ‘I hope you don’t mind just walking along. I want to keep close to the kids while they shell hunt.’
‘No, not at all. I can’t sit down, for sure.’
They glanced back at Roger, dawdling down the beach. He too was poking at the sand in search of some kind of treasure, with a long crooked stick he’d picked up crossing the dunes.
‘Should we wait?’ Lucy asked politely.
Dolly dismissed Roger with a laugh. ‘Heavens no. Roger can amuse himself.’
The two women moved on. Laurie bolted back to show her gleanings. Zach, stolidly advancing as his pail banged against his short legs, gave his attentions to the matter at hand, as usual.
When Laurie had moved out of hearing again, Lucy said, ‘I have to admit I was surprised to see you this morning.’
‘Yes, I noticed.’ Dolly paused. ‘Your father told me where you were. Well, I had to pay a condolence call on Sartoris anyway.’ ‘You saw Nick’s mother that night, didn’t you?’ Lucy was mildly curious but had taken the police reports at face value. If they said Dolly knew nothing about the disappearance of Lady Maggie and her nurse, then they had solid reasons for ruling out any involvement.
Dolly put on her funeral face again. ‘It was traumatic. She was an old friend, you know. The summer after my father’s presidency was stolen from him, she took my mother and I in. Something of a silly old woman, but very kind. I go back a long way with the whole family, dear. That’s why I’m really so pleased that you and Nick are getting along so well. And now he’s got all his mother’s money, not that he needs it. Pity about that necklace. It was everything it was said to be.
‘And then, Sartoris painted my portrait. I was barely fifteen, just a child.’ There was a trace of pride in Dolly’s voice. ‘I was so flattered.’ She smiled at Lucy,jas if she were confessing a small, amusing weakness. ‘But it was a nasty crude leering thing. A joke. Typical of the old bastard. You won’t like me telling you this, but Nick has some of the old man in him, too.’
Lucy, seething under the tight lid of her children’s presence, kicked viciously at the sand.
‘Sartoris was always perfectly awful. Living proof that age does not mellow, not if you’re a right bastard to begin with. Anyway, he’s failed shockingly since the last time I saw him. Gotten senile.’ ‘He seems fine to me. A little put-upon,’ Lucy objected. ‘Touche. You should have seen him on the terrace while you were dressing. Proper tantrum he put on. It’s not unusual, you know, for childish old people to have ups and downs. He was probably up when you arrived.’
‘Well, you’ve known him longer than I have. I’m marrying Nick, not his father.’
Dolly smiled. ‘How nice for you, dear. I must say I was surprised when I called your house, expecting to have to fight to drag you away from your workshop, and your father says you’ve
gone off with Nick. But love wins out, doesn’t it? I was surprised you brought the children along. It must cramp your style, a little.’ Lucy reddened. She fumbled her sunglasses from her pocket and put them on.
‘Excuse me,’ she said softly, ‘my private life does have some priority. I told you I’d look at the damage and I will. I will find somebody to do the repairs, if I can’t do them myself. I should think you know me well enough by now to know I keep my word. And that I don’t like to be pressured.’
The threat was explicit enough for Dolly. She had encountered the stone wall before in her dealings with Lucy.
‘Oh, dear,’ she moaned, addressing the sky, ‘have I said the wrong thing? Again?’
Lucy came to an abrupt stop and stooped to pick up a sea-and-sand-polished piece of glass. She held it up to catch the light, seemingly oblivious of Dolly and their conversation.
‘I know you think I’m jealous, of you and Nick. Really, I’m not, Lucy. A little concerned, perhaps. I hate to see you hurt. Nick’s charming, I’ll testify to that, but frankly, out of your league. But you have to do what you have to do, I know. To prove I’m really not out to interfere, why don’t you let me take the kids back to New York with me, and you and Nick could have a real vacation? Then, when you’re ready to pick them up, you could take a look at the dollhouse.’
Lucy looked at Dolly as if she too were a found object thrown up on the beach.
‘They’re no trouble here. Sartoris likes to have them around. He told me so. But thanks for the offer, anyway.’
Dolly shaded her eyes with the edge of her hand and stared down the beach at Roger.
‘The offer’s open, whenever you want, dear.’ She paused, and then wailed softly. ‘Oh, if you could see it, Lucy. It would make you sick. It makes me sick, just thinking about it.’
Lucy shifted from one foot to another. If every other word Dolly had spoken was a lie, or self-serving, this, at least, was true. Her mother-in-law was genuinely in agony over the state of the Doll’s White House. Lucy herself was more than just curious; it was her own work, in large part, that had been destroyed. It was distressing to her to think of the hours and the effort that went into the work, the beauty of its completion, now lost. She was afraid she might really be sick if she had to look at it.