The Other Side - J. D. Robb [77]
“He fought in the Union cavalry during the war, and afterward I guess Paulton wasn’t exciting enough to come home to, so he joined a Wild West show and rode horses and shot guns and things. After a time, he formed his own theatrical company. He and my mother met when he hired her to play Eva in a musical version of Uncle Tom’s Cabin.”
Henry shook his head in awe. “Where were you born?”
“Where? In Wood River, Illinois. Wild Johnny’s had an engagement in St. Louis, but they never quite made it because I came a day early.” She smiled, thinking of all the times she’d heard her mother or her father tell the story, much embellished, of her untimely arrival. Even at birth, she’d been an inconvenience.
“So you grew up in a theatrical troupe?”
“Partly. Half the time I traveled with the company; the other half I stayed here with my grandparents.”
“Two different worlds.”
“Completely different.” His instant understanding prompted her to elaborate. “My parents never really planned to have a child. I’m not saying they weren’t fond of me, but in some ways they were children themselves, and I—well, I spoiled the wonderful party they’d been having.”
“So they sent you away.”
“But I was always longing to come home. My grandparents had their quirks, yes, but Willow House was a monument to peace and stability compared to—”
“A traveling musical theatre extravaganza.”
“Exactly. They used to try to put me in productions—once I had to play Little Nell! But I was no actress, as everyone soon realized, plus I was plain instead of beautiful, so that was the end of that. Thank God.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Henry said, eyeing her interestedly. “I can see you in both worlds.”
He must be remembering the dancing ghost. About whom the less said the better. “Oh, no,” she said quickly. “This is what I’m suited for, this is what I want—my little town, my independence, my music students. And my house,” she added, punching her fist into her hand. “I want my home back.”
“You’ll get it. When we’re through, no one will want to come near your smelly old house. Your cousin will offer it to you for a dollar.”
She laughed. “Then I’ll have to rehabilitate it. Can you exorcise ghosts as well as detect them?”
“You forget, I’m the president of the World Society for Harmonial Inspi-Rationality. I can do anything.”
“I almost believe you.”
He made a face, pretending to be hurt by almost. “You were about to tell me about phase two,” he reminded her.
“Oh, yes.” She found her pocketbook and took Lucien’s folded note from it. “We’ve been invited to my cousin’s house for dinner!”
“You don’t say. I could’ve sworn he didn’t like me.”
“I’m sure he detests you—he’s not that fond of me either—but this is really a dinner to pacify Mrs. Grimmett. She’s the key to everything, Henry, even more than an article in the Republic . If we can convince her Willow House is haunted, we’ll be home free.”
“Literally. So she’s that powerful?”
“She’s the gatekeeper to Paulton society—and don’t you dare say ‘such as it is.’ ”
“Never.”
“She only deigns to notice me because she’s also the president of the Paulton Garden Club, where my grandmother was worshipped as a goddess.”
“When is this dinner?”
“Saturday night. So I was wondering, do you, um, have a . . . ”
“A good suit?” he guessed.
She put her hand on his sleeve. “I’m sorry to ask, but it’s bound to be formal. Edwardia never misses a chance to show off her jewelry.” Now, that was a catty thing to say. What was it about Henry that made her want to skip past reticence, a lifetime of it, and tell the truth?
“Edwardia?”
She loved the way he pronounced that name, too. “My cousin’s wife. She’s . . . well, you’ll see.”
“You’re frightening me. And yes, I can probably muster up some duds that won’t embarrass you.”
“It’s not me—”
“I know.” He smiled with his whole face. “I know it’s not you,” he said, and she was caught up in the warmth of that smile, those guileless eyes that seemed to say, I like you. I admire you.