The Body in the Gazebo Read Free Page B

Millicent’s remarks. The woman had never been married—“never cared to”—but brought her eagle eye to the institution. There was something to what she said, Faith thought. Tom’s parents and her parents liked one another, but contact was limited to things like a grandchild’s christening. They did live far apart, but Faith sensed it would be the same if the Fairchilds were a few blocks away down Madison in Manhattan or the Sibleys on the other side of Norwell, the South Shore town where Tom had grown up and his parents still lived. Their children had bonded to the point where they got married and that was enough for their elders.
    “It’s hard for Pix to go away now when her mother isn’t completely recovered, but she’s definitely going,” Faith said.
    “Problem is she won’t admit Ursula is getting to the point where she may not be able to stay here. This flu business should be a wake-up call.”
    Faith had thought the same thing herself. Pix had a severe case of denial when it came to her mother. Pix’s father had died suddenly in his early sixties, and for most of her adult life, Pix had had only Ursula. The idea that she wouldn’t be in this house forever, frozen at some age between seventy and eighty, was anathema to Pix. Faith had never brought up the subject of Ursula’s future. And Pix herself hadn’t. It was obviously too painful. She was the exception to Faith’s friends who were Pix’s age—in their fifties. The subject of aging parents had replaced aging kids, although Faith had learned some years ago from these same friends that you’re never going to be finished raising your children.
    “She won’t be able to do those stairs much longer.” Millicent was complacently going down a list she had certainly reviewed before. “However, the staircase is straight, so they could get one of those chair-elevator things.”
    Faith pictured Ursula regally rising up past the newel post. Not a bad idea. Millicent was barreling on.
    “The place is big enough for someone to live in, but she’d hate that. Could turn the library into a bedroom, but you’d have to put in a full bath.”
    “You seem to have thought this over pretty thoroughly,” Faith couldn’t help commenting.
    “One does,” Millicent replied, looking at Faith sternly. “ Semper paratus .”
    Millicent’s bedroom was on the ground floor of her house. Faith doubted it was foresight. More likely just plain “sight,” as in looking out the window past the muslin sheers.
    “She has a lot of friends at Brookhaven. She could go there,” Faith suggested, thinking two could play the preparedness game. Brookhaven was a life-care community in nearby Lexington.
    “You know she’d never leave Aleford,” Millicent said smugly.
    Match to her.
    This was true, Faith thought, and a problem for many of Aleford’s older residents. A group had tried to interest Kendal, the retirement and assisted-living communities associated with the Quakers, in coming to Aleford. So far, nothing had happened, and if it did, it would be too late for Ursula. Faith almost gasped as she thought this. Not that Ursula would be gone soon. No! But a decision would have to have been made. She had to admit Millicent was right—an admission she generally tried to avoid. This last illness had shown that Ursula really couldn’t continue as she had. Faith had been shocked to see the change in the woman after she’d come home from the hospital. It was dramatic, especially when Faith looked back at last summer. Ursula had climbed Blue Hill in Maine with them, setting a pace that left several gasping for a second wind.
    Blue Hill was close to Sanpere Island in Penobscot Bay, where the Fairchilds had vacationed, at the Millers’ urging, the summer after Ben was born—Pix was a third-generation rusticator. Eventually, enchanted with the island, the Fairchilds built a cottage of their own, an event that a younger Faith would never have predicted. “Vacation” meant