man,” he said finally. “I want you to find him and put him here.” He pointed to the opposite side of his desk, directly in front of the chair where Quill sat. “Right here. In front of me. There will be a discussion.”
Quill shook his head. “No.”
“No?”
“I will not spy on your daughter.”
“Investigate, not spy.”
“Semantics. You will have to find someone else. I cannot protect you and follow her. Ann should go. Perhaps if you ask Mrs. Stonechurch what she knows.”
“I already asked Beatrice. She says there is no one, but then she would. My sister-in-law’s first order of business is to keep the peace.”
“Yes. I would agree.” It was what made Ramsey’s sister-in-law an excellent sycophant. He did not say so. The wiser course here was to keep that to himself. It was whispered about as fact that Beatrice Stonechurch occupied one of the only two warm spots in what the miners acknowledged was Ramsey Stonechurch’s stone cold heart. Ann Stonechurch resided in the other by virtue of being his daughter. Mrs. Stonechurch came to be there by accident, the one that had killed her husband, Ramsey’s younger brother. Ramsey did not accept responsibility for the collapse of the Number 3mine that buried Leonard Stonechurch for two days and left him unable to walk or draw a deep breath without coughing blood, but that did not mean he did not grieve for his brother or not think the collapse had claimed the wrong Stonechurch. Quill had it from Ann that her father grieved the loss of his brother’s vitality, his humor, and most especially, his counsel, and it was during that time, when he saw Beatrice’s unwavering, selfless devotion to her husband, that his sister-in-law came to take up permanent residence in his heart. But, Ann had hastened to add, when her Uncle Leo died just short of a year after the accident, it had been her father who had retreated to his office and did not emerge from his work or his whiskey for a week, and her Aunt Beatrice who seemed to regard the passing as a relief.
Quill had more experience with suffering and death than Ann Stonechurch, but he refrained from telling her that her Aunt Beatrice probably
was
relieved. Any comment he could have made about people mourning differently would have seemed patronizing, and her motive for telling him any of it was to express her concern for her father’s health and not to cast aspersions on the aunt she loved dearly.
Ramsey snapped his fingers loudly enough to pull Quill’s attention. “That’s better,” he said when Quill’s blue-gray eyes refocused. “Now tell me what you were thinking.” He held up his hand when it appeared that Quill meant to object. “Do not deny it. You did not hear a word I said until I brought you out of your trance. That you can think so deeply that you are unaware of your surroundings is another thing that does not inspire confidence.”
“You were asking for a recommendation,” Quill said. “I heard you. I was thinking about Ann and how she has, from time to time, expressed concerns about you. I had not realized until now how long it’s been since she’s done that.”
“There is your proof that I am not the reason she won’t leave. I am no longer first in her affection. I knew it. I was right.”
“Maybe, and maybe she does not trust me to do right by you. No matter what you think, her concern is genuine.”
“I do not doubt that it is genuine. I am saying it is no longer primary. There’s a young man somewhere.”
“All right. But I stand by my decision not to be the one to find him. As it happens, I do have a recommendation.”
“Well? Out with it. I am supposed to be meeting with Raymond Garrison at the bank this morning. He does not like waiting, even for me.”
“Katherine Nash,” said Quill.
“Who is Katherine Nash?”
“I told you about her. The woman I met back in August when I was passing through Falls Hollow.”
“Mother of God. You mean Calico Nash? Calico
Quill shook his head. “No.”
“No?”
“I will not spy on your daughter.”
“Investigate, not spy.”
“Semantics. You will have to find someone else. I cannot protect you and follow her. Ann should go. Perhaps if you ask Mrs. Stonechurch what she knows.”
“I already asked Beatrice. She says there is no one, but then she would. My sister-in-law’s first order of business is to keep the peace.”
“Yes. I would agree.” It was what made Ramsey’s sister-in-law an excellent sycophant. He did not say so. The wiser course here was to keep that to himself. It was whispered about as fact that Beatrice Stonechurch occupied one of the only two warm spots in what the miners acknowledged was Ramsey Stonechurch’s stone cold heart. Ann Stonechurch resided in the other by virtue of being his daughter. Mrs. Stonechurch came to be there by accident, the one that had killed her husband, Ramsey’s younger brother. Ramsey did not accept responsibility for the collapse of the Number 3mine that buried Leonard Stonechurch for two days and left him unable to walk or draw a deep breath without coughing blood, but that did not mean he did not grieve for his brother or not think the collapse had claimed the wrong Stonechurch. Quill had it from Ann that her father grieved the loss of his brother’s vitality, his humor, and most especially, his counsel, and it was during that time, when he saw Beatrice’s unwavering, selfless devotion to her husband, that his sister-in-law came to take up permanent residence in his heart. But, Ann had hastened to add, when her Uncle Leo died just short of a year after the accident, it had been her father who had retreated to his office and did not emerge from his work or his whiskey for a week, and her Aunt Beatrice who seemed to regard the passing as a relief.
Quill had more experience with suffering and death than Ann Stonechurch, but he refrained from telling her that her Aunt Beatrice probably
was
relieved. Any comment he could have made about people mourning differently would have seemed patronizing, and her motive for telling him any of it was to express her concern for her father’s health and not to cast aspersions on the aunt she loved dearly.
Ramsey snapped his fingers loudly enough to pull Quill’s attention. “That’s better,” he said when Quill’s blue-gray eyes refocused. “Now tell me what you were thinking.” He held up his hand when it appeared that Quill meant to object. “Do not deny it. You did not hear a word I said until I brought you out of your trance. That you can think so deeply that you are unaware of your surroundings is another thing that does not inspire confidence.”
“You were asking for a recommendation,” Quill said. “I heard you. I was thinking about Ann and how she has, from time to time, expressed concerns about you. I had not realized until now how long it’s been since she’s done that.”
“There is your proof that I am not the reason she won’t leave. I am no longer first in her affection. I knew it. I was right.”
“Maybe, and maybe she does not trust me to do right by you. No matter what you think, her concern is genuine.”
“I do not doubt that it is genuine. I am saying it is no longer primary. There’s a young man somewhere.”
“All right. But I stand by my decision not to be the one to find him. As it happens, I do have a recommendation.”
“Well? Out with it. I am supposed to be meeting with Raymond Garrison at the bank this morning. He does not like waiting, even for me.”
“Katherine Nash,” said Quill.
“Who is Katherine Nash?”
“I told you about her. The woman I met back in August when I was passing through Falls Hollow.”
“Mother of God. You mean Calico Nash? Calico
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