she said. The encounter with the Batcheldors had been the prime topic of lunch conversation, introduced by Ben as soon as he saw his father emerge from the study. Faith had endeavored to downplay the whole event, while punctuating the salient details with various dramatic facial expressions whenever the kids became distracted by the tricolored fusili with Gorgonzola sauce sheâd made, Benâs totally unaccountable favorite.
âAre you sure they were ski masks, not woolen hats pulled down low?â Tom asked.
âOf course Iâm sure. I thought we had stumbled into the middle of some crazed neo-Nazi maneuvers. When they got close, I could see they werenât wearing fatigues, but they were all in green. Now knowing how nuts Margaret is, I wouldnât put it past her to dress up like a particular bird she was hoping to add to her list, the olive-colored, black-capped bog sucker or some such thing. But given the mood of the meeting last night, I donât think they were birding today.â
âBut what?â Tom looked extremely troubled. Nelson Batcheldor was a member of the Vestry.
âMaybe theyâre planning some way to blow up the bog if Joey goes ahead with his plans.â
âHow would that help them?â
âI donât know, Tom. This is all supposition, and as far as I could tell, the only thing resembling a weapon was Margaretâs heavy set of binoculars. Unless Nelsonâs camera is one of those James Bond types.â
âYou were in the woods, so they were coming from the bog itself. Maybe theyâre stockpiling things. Oh, this is too crazy. We know theyâre a little eccentric.â Tom looked at Faith and amended his words, âWell, very eccentric, and they probably dress like that for bird-watching all the time. Weâve just never seen them before. And it was cold early this morning. I would have worn a ski mask, too, if Iâd been out.â
âYou donât have a mask like that. Only robbers do. In fact, I wonder where youâd even get one.â Faith was getting sidetracked into a realm of speculation sheâd explored before. Youâre about to engage in criminal activity. Where do you shop? Walk into house-wares at Jordan Marsh and ask for a good, long, sharp kitchen knife? And these masks. Soldier of Fortune mail order? For those necessities not covered by the Victoriaâs Secret catalog? She was about to expound on all this when the phone rang.
Faith answered it, and whatever she had planned to say about the Batcheldorsâ proclivities went clear out of her mind.
It was Pix and she was definitely agitated.
âFaith, is Tom home? Iâve got to talk to you both right away! You know Samâs in California; otherwise I wouldnât bother you.â
This didnât sound either college-or middle schoolârelated.
âWhat is it? Whatâs happened?â Faith asked anxiously.
âIâve just gotten a poison-pen letter,â Pix answered, and burst into tears.
Three
Pix Miller was not a woman who cried without provocationâfunerals, illnesses, seeing The Yearling once again. As soon as Pix had arrived, Faith put her arm around her friend and led her to the couch with only a fleeting thought to the number of females who seemed to be drenching the parsonage with their tears lately.
âItâs the shock, I suppose.â Pix reached around in her pocket, produced a crumpled handkerchief, and dabbed her eyes. âI was opening the mail and there was this thin envelope, and at first I thought, Oh dear, Samanthaâs been rejected. Then I noticed there wasnât a return address, and I opened it andâ¦well, here it is.â
She handed the envelope, which she had clutched in her other hand, to Faith. Tom leaned over the back of the couch, reading over his wifeâs shoulder. It was a plain white business envelope addressed in ballpoint pen, block letters, to âMrs. Samuel
Maj Sjöwall, Per Wahlöö
Rylie Roberts
Lora Leigh
Terri Anne Browning
Brenda Pandos
Jen Rasmussen
Reneé Alexis
Logan Noblin
Bernhard Schlink
Gabrielle Lord