Fortune's rocks_ a novel - Anita Shreve [162]
“Mr. Cote, did this letter make you angry?”
“It was disappointing, surely. And wrongheaded in its judgment, I might add.”
“But you went to Biddeford’s gala on August the tenth nevertheless.”
“Yes, I did. I had written that I would go, and I am a man of my word.”
“I am sure that you are. Mr. Cote, to your knowledge, was Olympia Biddeford ever wanton in public?”
“How do you mean?”
“Were she and Dr. Haskell ever demonstrative in public?”
“No, not unless you count that time in the chapel.”
“Was the chapel at all visible from any of the public rooms of the dinner dance?”
“No.”
“Did anyone else besides you and Mrs. Haskell see Olympia Biddeford and Dr. John Haskell together that night?”
“I do not know.”
“Mr. Cote, is it not a fact that Catherine Haskell did not just happen to look into the telescope the night of the dinner dance, but rather was invited to do so by you?”
“Certainly not, sir.”
“You who had been watching the couple all night and knew they had gone into the chapel?”
“No, Mr. Tucker.”
“And had, in fact, adjusted the telescope so that it was pointed directly into a window of the chapel?”
“No, Mr. Tucker, most certainly not! And I resent your scurrilous suggestion!”
“Your Honor, I have no further questions for this witness.”
“Very well, Mr. Cote, you may step down.”
“But, Your Honor, I should like to respond to the completely unfounded insinuation of Mr. Tucker.”
“I am sure you would. You may step down now.”
“Very well, but I do not like what has been said here.”
“No, I am sure you do not. Since it is so late in the afternoon, we will recess for the day and, if this dreadful weather permits, go to our homes. Mr. Sears, you have other witnesses?”
“Yes, Your Honor, tomorrow I shall have Mrs. Bolduc to the stand.”
“Very good. Now let us retire to our dinners.”
SHE FIGHTS her way through the slush, the skirt of her suit saturated with dirty snow, as she walks from the hotel to the courtroom, a distance of only three blocks. The sun is up, high and strong, and she can smell spring in the air — spring, which is only twenty-two days away now. Perhaps she will survive the winter after all. She has a sudden and intense desire to return to the cottage at Fortune’s Rocks, for by today, the snow will be melting on the front lawn, and quite possibly there will be some green beneath, new growth.
Olympia and her father dined at the Ely Falls Hotel last night and again this morning, the dining room shabby but their affection for each other not; and it was a joy to both of them to once again speak of the world outside Fortune’s Rocks. He said that he was most eager to know what she thought of Roosevelt and the controversy in the Philippines, and she teased him about finally installing a telephone. He confessed he had purchased a phonograph machine as well, and he rather thought that it was a French recording of the cellist Pablo Casals that had finally made Mother nearly well.
“Father, you should return home,” Olympia said when they were sitting in the library of the hotel after breakfast with their coffee. “I appreciate your having come, more than I can say, but Mother needs you more.”
“But do you not want support at the trial?”
“I shall manage with Payson Tucker. He is good support. And thank you for taking care of his fees. I promise I shall come to visit as soon as this is over.”
And I shall bring the boy, she thought privately.
“Very well,” her father said, “but only on the condition that you allow me to send Charles Knowlton over to the cottage to see what it requires by way of further repairs. If you are going to continue to live there, Olympia, certain aspects of the house must be altered. I do not know how you have survived the winter.”
“Actually, I have moved into the kitchen,” Olympia said, and her father laughed at this idea. And Olympia thought that if such a thing were possible, her father had grown younger in the twenty-four hours he had been in Ely Falls. Indeed, he seemed almost to be in high spirits when he left her for the train.