Catching the Wind(76)

“You better warn their waistlines,” he said.

“They could both stand to gain a pound or two.”

When he returned the laugh, Quenby rested back against the cool leather. Not only was his mind clear; Mr. Knight seemed to be in a jovial mood. And it comforted her, knowing that the man had surrounded himself with employees who were like family to him. Samantha, she suspected, had worked for him for a number of years, like Jack and Eileen.

The aroma of strawberries and espresso drifted through the cabin as Quenby recapped what she’d discovered about the Terrells. Mr. Knight didn’t speak until she was done.

“Where did Brigitte go after Olivia died?” he asked.

“I’m trying to find that out,” she said, but it was like the ocean itself had swept over Brigitte’s trail now, erasing it from the sand.

“If Mrs. Douglas was right, who do you think killed Eddie?”

“I suspect either Olivia or Lady Ricker asked one of Hitler’s men to do it.”

“You don’t think Brigitte—”

“Only if she was in danger,” she assured him.

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes sad again. “Whoever killed Eddie could have taken Brigitte’s life as well.”

The sadness of that thought lingered for a moment before Lucas spoke. “Quenby took some pictures of the cemetery and the Mill House this morning.”

She reached for her iPad and typed in the password for their private website. “I’ll post them right now.”

As she worked, Lucas told Mr. Knight about her odd visit from Evan Graham. Mr. Knight inched toward his computer, his face ballooning on their screen. “You have to be careful, Quenby. There are still Fascists in England today.”

“Mr. Graham isn’t a Fascist,” she said.

“But the Ricker family might go to great lengths to keep Lady Ricker’s secret.”

In her work, she knew that people did indeed try to cover things up, but she didn’t want to be paranoid. “The only way the Ricker family has threatened me is through legal action.”

“Then you’ll need a good lawyer.” Mr. Knight glanced between them. “In fact, I’d like Lucas to accompany you wherever you go this next week.”

When she looked at Lucas, he winked at her. Neither of them told Mr. Knight that he was already accompanying her almost everywhere she went—and that she had accompanied him to a Hough family dinner.

“Anything else before you enjoy Samantha’s cuisine?” Mr. Knight asked.

Lucas’s eyes were on her, and she fidgeted under his gaze. “Do you have anything else, Quenby?”

She swallowed hard, knowing she needed to ask Mr. Knight another question before they landed in Florida. One of the hardest questions she’d ever asked before.

“When we met at your house, you read from a file about me,” she said slowly. “Does that include more information on my mother?”

“It does.”

She took a deep breath. “Could I read it?”

“Certainly. Lucas should have the file with him.”

She cringed. Did Lucas already know what happened to her? If so, he was being extremely cruel in trying to coax her to visit Disney World.

When they disconnected, Lucas dug a white catalog envelope out of his messenger bag and held it out to her. Quenby stared at the sealed envelope like it was sprinkled with poison. Or bits of candy, leading right up to the witch’s front door.

She glanced out the window, at the blue wash of sea below them. “Have you read it?”

“No. Mr. Knight told me you’re the only person allowed to open it.”

She took the envelope and clutched it in her lap. “I’m not quite ready . . .”

He closed his eyes. “I can pretend to sleep.”

“No sleeping yet,” Samantha said beside them. “Not after I went to the effort of making these.” She held out two strawberry and yogurt parfaits in glass mugs, each one topped with Oreo Mickey Mouse ears.

“Very clever,” Quenby said, though she wished her stomach didn’t turn with every reminder of their destination.

“Would you like a latte with yours?”

“I believe I would. Decaf, though, if you have it.”

“Of course I have it.”

Samantha placed each parfait on a plate, both of them centered on the coffee table. Then Quenby dipped her spoon into the concoction and took a bite. It was as rich and sweet as it appeared with the layers of strawberries and honey. “You’re a master craftswoman.”

“And you’re my new best friend.”

Lucas laughed. “Quenby collects friends wherever she goes.”

“Along with a few enemies.”

After Samantha moved up toward the galley, Lucas searched Quenby’s face. “Why don’t you want to open this file?”

“It contains a minefield of memories.”

“About your parents?”

“About my mother,” she said, and in that moment, she decided to trust him with the ugliest part of her own story. “Her name was Jocelyn, and she left me alone when I was seven.”

“Left you at home?”

“No, she left me flying on Dumbo.”

He shook his head. “I don’t understand.”