She's Up to No Good(43)

She looked at Vivie again. Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead, she thought. Evelyn held a conspiratorial finger to her lips. “It’s still early—I don’t want to jinx anything.”

Margaret elbowed her playfully. “Come on.”

“Nope. You’ll find out eventually—assuming it goes the way I want it to.”

“She must be serious,” Gertie said to Margaret, swaying gently when the baby stirred. “Imagine Evelyn not bragging.”

“Hey!”

“Am I wrong?”

Evelyn grinned. “Not in the slightest.”

But when the rest of the house had gone to sleep, Evelyn climbed out of the bed and snuggled in behind Vivie on the floor.

“Missed you,” Vivie murmured sleepily.

Evelyn hugged her tightly. “Missed you too.”





The girls all helped prepare the Thanksgiving meal, taking turns rocking, feeding, and cooing over Gertie’s baby, who finally slept in a basket on the table, on top of a soft blanket that Miriam had crocheted. When dinner was ready, the family would crowd around Miriam’s elegant dining table, extended to its fullest with extra leaves but still not big enough for the addition of so many spouses and children. It would be Evelyn’s first year at the adult table.

Vivie was to be at the children’s table with Bernie’s three children, Helen’s three, and Gertie’s eldest. Vivie sighed as she counted the seats at the tables, and Evelyn saw the disappointment on her face.

“Mama,” Evelyn whispered to Miriam. “Move Vivie to the adult table.” Her mother looked at her. “Please?”

“She’s not an adult.”

“She’s not a little kid either.”

“She’ll help them behave.”

“Let her have this early. She’s only a year younger than me. Please, Mama.”

Miriam looked at Evelyn, watching to see if there was some ulterior motive. But she saw only love for the youngest child Miriam herself doted on and nodded her acquiescence. “It’ll be your job to arrange it.”

Evelyn kissed her mother’s cheek, surprising her. “You won’t even know we squeezed in a spot,” she promised. “Thank you.”

Miriam returned to the kitchen, smiling at the idea that a little heartbreak and some distance had helped her second-youngest daughter mature.

And the look on Vivie’s face when Miriam instructed her to sit between Evelyn and Sam made Evelyn’s heart swell.

Until Sam, tired of being the subject of ribbing over the impending family meeting with Louise the following day, changed the subject.

“How’s the new fella, Evelyn?” he asked. “You gonna bring him home soon?”

If looks could kill, Sam would have been six feet under. But Bernie, a couple of drinks in, turned to his sister. “New fella, huh? Another Portuguese, or is this one Irish?”

Joseph slammed a hand on the table, his fork clanging loudly enough to silence all conversation. “What do you mean, Bernard?”

Bernie glared at his father, suddenly sober. He had just been teasing, but clearly he had struck a nerve.

Evelyn held her breath.

Bernie didn’t answer, and an interminable moment ticked by with no one speaking.

“My Evelyn is a good girl,” Joseph said through clenched teeth. He looked at her as if daring her to say differently.

“Yes, Papa,” she said quietly as he and Bernie exchanged murderous glances.

“Enough,” Miriam said calmly but firmly, holding Joseph’s gaze until he looked away. He and Bernie did not speak to each other for the rest of the meal. Evelyn stayed focused on her food.





Louise came with her parents Saturday afternoon, leaving Miriam too distracted to be suspicious when Evelyn left to “see some friends in Gloucester.” Joseph handed Evelyn his keys, kissed her forehead, and told her to have a good time. She looked back at the scene of her family gathered in the crowded sitting room, laughing and joking and cooing at children, and felt a twinge of guilt. But who knew when she would find time alone with Tony again?

She drove the winding road toward the beach, making the three turns to the cottage. There was a light on in the big house at the end of their street—Mrs. Gardner lived there year round. She was a widow who had lost her only son in the same fishing accident as her husband, years earlier. If she had other family, no one ever saw them. The Bergman children did small errands and chores for her during the summer; she rewarded them with coins when they did well, with sharp words when they did not. But her hearing was terrible, and Evelyn didn’t think she would notice the two cars outside the cottage. Tony’s was already there when she arrived.

The air was cold, but Tony’s embrace was warm as she leapt into his arms, wrapped her legs around his waist, and kissed him in the darkness.

“Hello to you too,” he said, coming up for air.

She grinned and he released her, sliding her to the ground. “Let’s go inside. There’s no heat, but there’s also no wind.”

She had warned him about the lack of electricity in the off-season, and he pulled a kerosene Coleman from the trunk, along with a heavy down comforter and several crocheted afghans, then followed Evelyn up to the porch, where she used the key from Joseph’s ring to unlock the door that was never locked in summer.