Chapter 3 #2
"What we do not have yet," Rhoda said, "is news.
We do not know why this happened. We do not know how.
We are working on it, every one of us under this roof.
But I will not give you a guess and call it an answer, and I will not let you stand on my porch or inside when the work that will get your familiars home needs to be done. "
A witch began to push forward. "But…"
"I would like you, please," Rhoda held up her hand, "to go down into the town. The Boozy Cauldron is open. The Conjure House will feed you. The town will look after you while we look after your cats, and I will send word the moment we have news. Any news. Even bad news. I will send word."
For a long moment no one moved.
"Madam," the man with the spectacles said, breaking the long quiet. "Thank you. We are in capable hands. I shall return to the town." His voice was quiet and precise. He picked up his leather case. "Sirs," he said, with a small bow to Edgar and Lazlo both. "Good morning."
Edgar inclined his head. Lazlo smiled warmly. The others followed, all but one.
The Irishwoman did not move.
"Madam," she said.
"I won't change my mind." Rhoda shook her head.
"My cat is called Pepper. She's a tortoiseshell. She's me whole heart and she's been me whole heart for one-hundred and fourteen years, and I want to see her with me own two eyes before I go anywhere."
"I understand, but,"
"Do ye."
"I do."
"And?"
"And I'm going to ask you, my dear, to walk back down to the town and let me do my work."
The Irishwoman's jaw set. Her eyes filled, but she didn't let the tears fall. She gave Rhoda the smallest dipped nod, turned on her heel, and went down the steps.
Honey watched her go, from her post just inside the door. She watched her go all the way down the drive, past the wisteria-tangled oaks at the curve where the gravel turned. Honey watched the green velvet cloak vanish behind the third oak and not come out the other side.
On the porch, Rhoda let out a long breath.
"Bless them," she said. "Bless every last one of them. Now let's get the door closed before any of them think better of it."
"Or before another coach arrives," Edgar said.
"Don't even say it." Rhoda patted his arm.
"People love you, my dear," Lazlo said. "Did you see how they listened?"
"They listened because they're tired and they're frightened." Rhoda smiled, briefly, despite herself. She stepped back into her own front hall, and Edgar pulled the door closed behind them.
"Right," Edgar said. "Y'all sit down. I'm bringin' breakfast through."
Edgar disappeared into the kitchen. Roam went after him to help carry.
Rhoda and Lazlo and Honey moved together into the parlor.
The fire had been rebuilt in the grate and the room smelled of fresh applewood.
Lady Grey was perched on the back of the settee with her paws tucked and her tail drawn into a perfect comma, and she was murmuring something distressing about Hildegard's pastry habits.
The hum of the spilling was the weather of the house now. It rolled underneath every other sound.
Edgar and Roam came in then with the breakfast.
"Eat," Edgar said. "Y'all eat. Anyone tries skippin' on me right now's gonna get her plate filled up twice."
Lazlo accepted a plate, took two biscuits and a small slice of ham, and sat at the dark end of the settee.
He made his plate look full while eating very little.
Duchess, who had been somewhere all morning where no one had quite noticed her, materialized at his ankle, sat down with her tail curled tight, and surveyed the room with a crinkled nose.
Rhoda sank into her wing chair. Edgar took the worn red ottoman by her feet, plate balanced on his knee.
Honey perched on the arm of the chair Roam had settled into.
For one moment the Hadwin parlor was a Hadwin parlor.
Then the front door slammed open. The three brass bells did not jangle.
They were knocked clean back against the wall.
A wedge of cold air came in, and behind it, a small fierce woman in a green velvet cloak, red-cheeked and storming.
"I'll not be told," Maeve announced, to the entire house beyond, "to take meself off for tea while me Pepper is in here spillin' her wee soul out to strangers."
She did not wait for an answer. She came at them like a smaller weather system, storming into the parlor. And from somewhere under the wing chair, a small streak of tortoiseshell shot across the rug at speed.
"Pepper…"
"MISSUS."
Maeve dropped to her knees in the middle of the parlor rug with her cloak half on and her bonnet askew, and Pepper hit her hard in the chest. Maeve gathered her up. Pepper rolled belly-up in her missus's arms.
"Oh ye daft wee terror," Maeve said, her voice cracking. "Oh ye stupid, awful wee terror. Where did ye go. Where did ye…"
"MISSUS," Pepper said into her chest. "Missus oh missus, ye'll never believe what's happened to me. Oh missus, oh, and missus cries every Sunday when she finds the dead birds in the garden and she buries them under the lavender and sings the old prayer with the second verse her granny taught her."
"Pepper." Maeve was shocked.
"…and missus, oh missus, ye should hear the things going on here. Honey is a glittering young witch and the great tall lavender warlock has a voice like a mountain and the gentleman, has the saddest old eyes and is very kind and his cat is very rude and oh missus oh, missus is afraid of…"
Maeve's hand clamped over Pepper's small mouth.
"PEPPER."
"…mm mmphmph mm…"
"Don't ye dare." Maeve rocked back on her heels.
Pepper's spill finally went silent. Her eyes, above the small gripping fist, went wide and wet.
At Lazlo's ankle, Duchess's tail-tip flicked once. Lazlo's eyes went to Duchess for less than a heartbeat. Then he turned them back, to listen to whatever was next.
Maeve held Pepper one beat. Two. Three. "There's a good girl." She lifted Pepper into the crook of her arm, stood, and turned a slow circle in the middle of the parlor rug with her cat held tight to her chest like a child. Everyone was watching. Then Maeve looked at Rhoda.
"All right, Mrs Hadwin." Her chin was up.
Her eyes were dry. "Ye've got me and I'm not leavin'.
I'll sit in yer parlor till ye sort this.
I'll sit till the apples drop and the snow comes if I have to.
But if ye don't get this right by the bells of midday," She let it land.
"I'll silence the lot of them meself. Every cat and creature in this house.
I've a ward in me pocket that'll hold their tongues till Beltane, and I'll lay it down.
I'll not have me Pepper tellin' me whole life into a roomful of strangers another minute. "
Lazlo, on the dark end of the settee, had set down his plate. His thumb, in his coat pocket, had found the rabbit's foot.
"My dear lady," he said. "Take the chair by the fire. You'll be warm. The Hadwins will sort this they always do. And we," his hand turned in a small inclusive gesture toward the room, "we will help them however we can."
Maeve blinked then took the chair by the fire, settled Pepper in her lap, and folded her arms across her cat.
From the dining room came a single soft chime.
Rhoda set down her coffee. "Excuse me a moment." She crossed through to the dining room. The Copy Reveal Device above the sideboard had gone gold at the edges, a private call. She set her hand to the glass.
"Zelda."
"Heard you've got cats, sweetheart." The face in the mirror was small and freckled and entirely calm. "You holdin' up?"
"I'm holding."
"You need bodies, you say the word. I've got three boys here owe me a favor and a free week. They'd be on your porch in an hour."
Rhoda smiled into the glass for the first time that morning. "Thank you, sweetheart. Not yet."
"You sure. Call me."
"I'll call."
"You call."
The glass dimmed. Rhoda stood a moment with her hand on the sideboard, then went on through to the kitchen to put on more coffee.
From the wisteria, Dean Martin's head turned toward the lawn. The light caught the green of his feathers as he counted softly under his breath.
"Sugar," he murmured. "Three more in the grass. Just like that."
Honey jumped up. "More?"
"Sure thing," Dean kept singing, "And we got somebody else comin' up the steps."
The knock was three short taps. Not a slam. Not a fist. Three perfectly even raps.
Edgar set his coffee down. "Well, no rest for the weary. Honey, you get the cats. I'll take the visitor."
He opened the door on the man with the small round spectacles.
"Forgive me, sir. I would not have come back. But a thought has occurred to me which I believe may bear on your situation. I should not be more than a few minutes of your time."
Edgar studied him and stepped back from the door and gestured for the man to come inside. "There's a breakfast in the parlor. What's your name."
"Phineas, sir. Phineas Grove."
"Edgar Hadwin. Come on, Phineas. Join the party."
Phineas picked up his leather case and followed. Edgar closed the door with a careful click, and the two of them walked down to the parlor together.
Rhoda was just coming back from the kitchen with the coffee pot when they appeared at the parlor door. She looked at the spectacled man on her husband's right. She looked at her husband. She looked back at the man. Edgar's eyes were warm. He had decided about Phineas.
"Rhoda," he said. "This here is Phineas Grove. He's come back, sweetheart. He thinks he might be able to help."
Rhoda set the coffee pot down on the trivet by the fire and crossed the parlor with both hands out.
"Mr. Grove."
"Mrs. Hadwin. Madam, I am very sorry to come back when you have asked me not to."
"Don't you be sorry, sweetheart. Edgar's decided. That makes you welcome." Rhoda's hands came around his hands and squeezed once. "Sit down. Anywhere. We're a mess, but we have coffee."