Maggie Moves On(103)

Maggie was making progress in the third-floor bathrooms. The shower surround and new toilet were in place in the hallway bathroom, and the tile and vanity were ready to be picked up for one of the attached baths.

“I got a whole twenty minutes in there this afternoon before Keaton found me, and then Jim needed me for an almost-emergency, and then Dean demanded that I reshoot a one-on-one that didn’t have a chorus of circular saws in the background,” she told him. “Oh, and in the middle of all that, Wallace wanted to show me sixty pages of Campbell family scrapbooks he had Cody haul down from the secret room.”

Plate of steaks in hand, Silas nudged her toward the back door, and they moved their catch-up to the covered deck. “Anything noteworthy in the scrapbooks?” he asked.

“Not unless you count Wallace’s commentary on hemlines noteworthy.”

While he put the steaks on the grill, she grabbed the box of treasures and two beers before settling in a chair at the small table. “I talked to Dean today,” she said innocently, unpacking the box’s contents.

He looked up from the sizzling meat. “I talked to Michael today.”

They both grinned and left it at that.

He turned down the heat on the grill and joined her at the table. “How did Cody’s finals go?” he asked.

“We think they went well,” she said, handing him a photo in a protective plastic sheet. It was of three women in gowns staring at the camera. They were in some sort of fancy-looking drawing room, a fireplace and an octagonal window behind them. There was a fourth woman—or girl—dressed in a plain, high-necked gown standing off to the side. “He’s nervous, especially about the science exam, since it was comprehensive. But Dayana turned out to be a damn good tutor and helped him cram. Flip it over,” she instructed.

Silas did as he was told and saw the inscription written in a tight, loopy scrawl.

The Palmer Sisters and their lady’s maid.

There was a name after the word maid, but the ink was smudged. It looked like Ann or Anna.

“Did Cody get his grades yet?” he asked.

“The last three should be posted tonight,” Maggie told him. She handed him a page, in its own protective sheet, of the manuscript they’d found on the desk. “He promised to text as soon as he knows. He’s scared to death, but I feel good about it. He worked hard.”

“Well, get your party hats ready,” he said.

She leaned in and gripped his arm. “Do you have inside information? Does your dad know if Cody passed?”

“I may have asked him to hunt down a few of the late graders this afternoon.”

She surprised him by jumping out of her chair and throwing her arms around him. “Oh my God. He did it! He’s going to be thrilled. Now we definitely have to have a party. Did I tell you I was thinking about throwing a party?”

“You did. And we are. I already asked Mama B if she can make her pierogies.”

“We can have it at the house, and now that it’s official, he can ask his mom if she’ll come.” Maggie pulled out her phone to start making a list.

Silas covered the screen with his hand. “Uh-uh. No phones at the table during quality catch-up time,” he insisted. He took the phone, stuffed it in his pocket, and returned to the grill to flip the steaks.

“Mean.” She pouted.

He pinched the tongs in front of her. “You’ll just have to be entertained by me.”

“Well, there are worse things, I suppose.”

He closed the cover on the grill and sat back down. “What am I looking at here?” he asked, picking up the manuscript page again.

She put her beer down and leaned over. “Wallace spotted this. His glasses might be thick, but he’s got a good eye for things. Check out the handwriting.”

He examined it and then flipped the photo over again. “Looks pretty similar to me.”

“Wallace is going to dig into the Palmer family and see if they somehow connect to the Campbells. We’re still coming up dry on Ava Campbell. It’s like she was the first Dedman or something. The mentions of her family say her father was a banker, but short of scouring every census record for six decades, I don’t know how we’re going to track him down.”

“At least this is a lead. There’s got to be some kind of connection to the Palmer sisters if their photo showed up in Aaron Campbell’s study. Speaking of which, I finished Blood on the Moon on my lunch break. Good book, but I didn’t find anything that seemed like it would be helpful. Just a lonely cowboy.”

“I’m almost done with Into the Sunset, and nothing’s struck me as a key to the gold.”

They went through the rest of the box’s contents, poring over pictures of the Campbells and their children and the newspaper clippings that detailed Black Jack McGuire’s death and Samuel Espinosa’s arrest.

Silas pulled the steaks off the grill while Maggie grabbed the potatoes and salad.

They talked while they ate. About Keaton’s endless exploration of the “big house.” About Dayana’s first and only conversation with the apologetic Donald. She’d told him that he was welcome to call and talk to Keaton anytime, but any communication he wanted to have with her would go through their attorneys.

Maggie pushed her empty plate away and sighed contentedly. She glanced around them. “I like your place,” she said. “It suits you.”