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  “Are you a city employee?” Meg asked, curious.

  “Yes, although that’s not easy these days, in Chicago. Of course, there’s never enough money to do half of what we’d like, but we keep trying. There are a lot of good people who care about kids in difficult situations.”

  “Why Chicago, rather than Boston?”

  Kevin shrugged. “I thought I could be more objective about a city I didn’t know. Not that I knew Boston well, but I knew ‘of’ it, so to speak. I wanted to start over, someplace fresh.”

  “Did you ever visit Aaron? Write to him?”

  “No. I can’t say I’m proud of that, but I couldn’t believe what had happened. Mom and Dad dead, and Aaron didn’t have a scratch on him? That didn’t seem right.”

  Kevin was not the first person to express that opinion, no matter what the underlying reality was. Poor Aaron had been damned because he wasn’t hurt? Meg tried to wrap her head around the image of a stoned Aaron sitting on the lawn and watching the house burn, with his family inside. And then passing out? Maybe he’d kept taking drugs while he watched. Had any been found on him? She’d have to check the police report—surely they would have noted that. Had they tested his blood for drugs?

  “Meg?” Kevin’s voice broke into her thoughts.

  Meg snapped back to attention. “Oh, sorry . . . My mind was wandering. I’m worried about Rachel—that’s Seth’s sister. She went into the hospital this morning, and we haven’t heard anything since. I don’t mind keeping the kids, but I need to know what to tell them.”

  “You said Rachel is your fiancé’s sister?” Kevin asked. He almost looked as though he cared about the connections between total strangers. “Older or younger?”

  “Yes. Younger sister. Their mother lives right over the hill, next to Seth. This house and their two were all built before 1800.”

  “But you haven’t lived here long?”

  Meg smiled. “Does it show? Let’s put it this way: my family built this house a long time ago, but the last descendant to live in it died over twenty years ago. After that it was a rental; my mother inherited it, but she almost never saw the place. Then I lost my job in Boston, and she thought this would be good . . . therapy, I guess. Working with my hands. And that was before we knew about the orchard. I’m guessing she didn’t expect me to stay, but here I am, and Seth and I are getting married in a couple of weeks.”

  “Are both your parents still alive? And Seth’s?”

  “Mine are. Seth’s father died a few years ago, and he took over the family business—that, you might remember from your time in Granford, if your folks ever had any plumbing done on the house.”

  Kevin shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. Kids don’t pay too much attention to stuff like that.”

  Meg was scrambling for a new topic of conversation when Bree and the children banged their way into the kitchen, followed closely by Seth. Meg felt a surge of relief. She silently mouthed, Rachel? to Seth, who shook his head. So no news yet, good or bad?

  The children were lugging small baskets of apples. “Look what we collected, Meg!” Chloe said triumphantly. “Are we staying for dinner? Can we make something with them?”

  “Let me talk to your uncle Seth a sec, okay?” Meg said.

  “I don’t want to cook,” Matthew said.

  Why is the kitchen suddenly so crowded? Meg wondered.

  “I’ve got some stuff to do upstairs,” Bree announced. “They’re all yours now.”

  “Okay, got it.” First things first. “Seth, this is Kevin Eastman, as you might have guessed already. Kevin, this is my fiancé, Seth Chapin.”

  “‘Fiancé’ is a silly word,” Chloe announced. “I mean, why does it have to be French? Aren’t there any English words?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know,” Meg told her. “What would you like to use? ‘Husband-to-be’? That’s kind of long and clunky. ‘Future partner’? Too vague. ‘Engagee’? That sounds almost as bad as ‘fiancé.’ Why don’t you work on it?”

  “I’ll think about it. How’s Mom?”

  “I don’t know, sweetie . . . I haven’t heard from her or your dad.”

  Chloe accepted that statement without comment. Meg worried that she was old enough to know something about the problems of having a baby, although there were far fewer now than there would have been a century or two earlier. How many babies had been birthed in this very house?

  “Seth, do you know where Aaron and Lori are at the moment? And if they’re together? I’m sure Kevin would like to see them.”

  “I haven’t seen either of them since last night,” Seth said. “I dropped Lori off at the house. Kevin, Aaron doesn’t have a phone, and I don’t have Lori’s cell number. Want to go hunting for them?”

  Kevin stood up. “Sure. It’ll feel good to stretch my legs.”

  “Why don’t you bring everyone back here for dinner?” Even as she said it, Meg was wondering what the heck to feed eight people, two of them children, but she could figure something out. Maybe having to be polite in front of the children would keep Kevin, Lori, and Aaron civil, at least for a while. Although Aaron and Lori seemed to have done well the night before, Kevin was a wild card.

  “Good idea,” Seth said, obviously relieved at having a solution presented to him. “Matthew, can you take care of Max while I’m gone? He could use some exercise. If you take him for a walk, maybe afterward Meg could show you how to feed the goats.”

  “Cool,” Matthew said.

  “And Meg and I will make dinner,” Chloe announced. “With apples.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Seth said, smiling. “Kevin, you ready to go?”

  “Quick pit stop first, if you don’t mind,” Kevin said.

  “Upstairs,” Seth replied. He turned to Matthew. “I’ll get you Max’s leash, but he knows you, so he won’t run too far. Can you handle him?”

  Matthew stood up a little straighter. “Sure, no problem.”

  Meg turned to Chloe. “So, what kind of apple dishes do you like? Pie? Cake? Baked apples?”

  “Can we make one of those ones with a weird name? Like grunt or slump? Mom makes those for guests sometimes, and they laugh.”

  “Of course. Ever since I found out I have an orchard, I’ve been collecting apple recipes. I’m sure we can find something. You know how to peel apples? With a peeler, I mean?” Meg had a quick vision of turning Chloe loose with a sharp knife—no, not going to happen.

  “Sure.”

  “Then why don’t you wash the ones you picked today, and choose the best ones, and start peeling?”

  Chloe complied. Matthew was kneeling next to Max, getting reacquainted. Meg approached Seth and said quietly, “Should we be worried?”

  “I can’t say. Mom should be home from work soon. Rachel told her she didn’t need her there, that Noah was enough of a crowd. Maybe she’ll call, or you can try her in a bit. You sure you’re okay with feeding the crowd?”

  “I’m hoping there’s something lurking in the freezer that I can expand. Like maybe last Thanksgiving’s turkey leftovers, or some of the Christmas ham. We’ll manage. At least we’ll have dessert!” She leaned forward and kissed him lightly. The children ignored them.

  Seth and Kevin had been gone for no more than fifteen minutes when Lydia appeared at the back door. She greeted her granddaughter warmly. Not surprisingly, Chloe’s first question was, “How’s Mom?”

  “I haven’t heard any news yet, but I’m sure everything is fine,” Lydia told her. “Meg, I passed Matthew and Max on my way over—they were playing a very energetic game of fetch. Matthew said the girls were ‘cooking—ick.’ That’s a quote.”

  “Chloe and I are making dessert. You want to join us for dinner? I warn you, we may have the whole Eastman family here. Or none of them. Seth took the older brother, Kevin, who showed up this afternoon, to look for the others, and I have
n’t heard whether he found one or both of them. I’m just going to make a big batch of something and hope for the best.”

  “Can I help?”

  “Go explore the freezer and see what you can find.”

  Matthew and Max came tumbling in not long after, and Meg listened with a smile as he recounted Max’s antics to his grandmother. He and Lydia fed Max; Lolly, who disliked crowds, was hiding somewhere else in the house and would eat later when the chaos subsided. Then Lydia found a couple of packages of mystery meat in the freezer, and she and Meg improvised a huge casserole. Chloe tasted along the way and made suggestions. The slump or grunt came out of the oven after an hour’s cooking time, and Meg slid in the casserole and shut the oven door.

  “Can we go watch TV now?” Chloe asked.

  Meg debated for about two seconds about insisting that she help wash the dishes she’d helped create, and decided that life lesson could wait for another day. “Sure. You know where it is. Take your brother with you. And don’t fight over what show to watch.”

  “Got it. C’mon, Matthew.” The children left the kitchen, followed by Max.

  Meg leaned against the kitchen counter. “I’m already exhausted. May I offer you a glass of wine, or would that corrupt the young ’uns?”

  “I’m sure they’ve seen it before.”

  Meg filled two glasses from the bottle in the refrigerator, and they sat at the table. “Should we be worried?” she asked Lydia quietly.

  “I don’t know, to be honest. Rachel’s first two deliveries were easy enough, but it’s been a while. But all her checkups went fine—or at least, that’s what she told me. Don’t borrow trouble, Meg. Noah will call us as soon as he can.”

  “I hope so!”

  “By the way, I did have one strange conversation with Rachel this morning. About that list of Eastman’s clients?”

  “Yes, she mentioned that to me, too. Why is that important now?”

  “Because she told me Jacob Patterson is on the list. I know the man. Seth’s father certainly did, as well. I think if I approached him, he’d talk to me.”

  “About the fire?”

  “Exactly. I can give him a call tomorrow. You want to go with me?”

  “Of course. But let’s leave the Eastman clan out of it for the moment.”

  “I agree.”

  And then Seth returned, followed by a row of Eastmans, and quiet fled.

  25

  Since dinner was already cooked, Meg could sit at the table and devote some attention to watching the three Eastmans interact. Aaron was still subdued, but Meg was happy to see that Lori was joking with him, and was rewarded with an occasional smile. Kevin, who’d had less time to get comfortable with his brother and sister, was more wary, watching the banter between the others and looking a little lost.

  Lydia’s phone rang halfway through the meal, and she stood up and walked to the window to answer it. When she turned, she was smiling broadly. “Baby girl, eight pounds ten ounces, mother and daughter are fine. Kids, I guess you’re spending the night with me.” Chloe and Michael cheered.

  Meg felt relief surge through her, and realized how worried she had been about Rachel. “When can she have visitors?”

  Lydia resumed her seat. “I didn’t think to ask. And I don’t know when they’ll send her home—it could be as early as tomorrow, the way health care works these days. So, kids, if you’re wondering, yes, you will be going to school tomorrow. Either your mom will be home by the end of the day, when you get out, or I’ll take you over to the hospital to visit after school. Got it?” They nodded in unison.

  Lydia turned to Meg. “I’ll . . . make that call in the morning, once I know what Rachel’s schedule will be. If possible, we could do it tomorrow—otherwise it may have to wait for the weekend.”

  “That’s okay, Lydia,” Meg told her. “Life has a habit of getting in the way of plans.”

  No one mentioned anything remotely controversial at the dinner table, which Meg credited to the presence of children, and for which she was grateful. Chloe proudly presented the dessert, which disappeared fast. It was close to eight when Lydia said, “Okay, school day tomorrow. I’ve got some of your clothes at my house, so we’ll be all set. I’ll drive you to school in the morning, and one of us will pick you up at school after, so don’t get on the bus. Is that clear?’

  The children seemed subdued, and only nodded. Lydia stood up. “Aaron, Lori, Kevin—nice to see you all. Meg, thanks for having us. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

  “Want a ride, Mom?” Seth volunteered.

  “No, I think we can use the walk. It’s a nice night. Ready, kiddos?”

  They were gone in five minutes, after Matthew had made a long farewell to Max. Meg quirked an eyebrow at Seth. “Where’s everybody staying tonight?”

  “Kevin, you can stay with me at Seth’s house,” Lori said quickly. “If that’s all right with Seth?”

  “Sure. I was going to suggest that,” Seth said.

  “I can drive you over there, Lori, since your car is at his house.” Kevin hesitated a moment. “You want to come, too, Aaron? We haven’t really had a chance to talk.”

  “Maybe tomorrow,” Aaron said neutrally. “How long were you planning to stick around?”

  “I’ve got a flight out on Monday. I need to be back next week to help out with the shelter’s Thanksgiving dinner.”

  “There’s time, then.” He stood up. “Thanks for the meal. I’ll be getting back now—I want to finish one long section of fence tomorrow. You know where to find me, Kevin.”

  Everyone was standing, as they sorted out who was going where and with whom, and made vague plans for the next day. Seeing them all together now, Meg was struck by how quickly they fell into old ways of talking to each other—despite time and distance, she could still see the familial connections. How odd. She waved them all off, then poured herself a last glass of wine and sat down again at the messy table. Seth followed the herd, offering last-minute suggestions.

  Lolly crept into the room to see if the coast was clear, then looked piteously at Meg. “Yeah, right, you want food. I’ve fed all the rest of Granford, so I guess I might as well feed you, too.” She dumped half a can of cat food on a plate and set it on the floor in front of Lolly, then resumed her place at the table. Still messy. Let Seth deal with it. Or it’d still be there in the morning. No sound from Bree . . . When had she snuck out? Meg realized she was actually alone in the house. When was the last time that was true?

  She sipped her wine, thinking about the Eastman mess. Dad had most likely been a high-end scammer. Lori had dropped out; Kevin had turned into a bleeding-heart social worker; Aaron had spent more than half his life in jail. The fire had been (a) an accident, (b) a murder-suicide perpetrated by Dad, (c) set deliberately by Aaron or started by accident by him, under the influence of who knew what drugs, or (d) started by somebody else altogether. But if (d) was the right answer, who? And why had the fire victims waited too long to get out? Or rather, why had Aaron managed to get out when nobody else did? And why had the police been so quick to point to Aaron, and why had they done such a cursory job of investigating?

  Was the solution that everyone had arrived at the correct one? Or was there something else going on that nobody had wanted to look at?

  Meg had reached this point in her thinking when Seth returned. “Any more of that?” he asked, pointing toward her glass.

  “In the fridge,” she answered. “Everybody set for the night?”

  “I think so. I can’t say I really care. They are adults, after all.”

  “What do you think is going to happen now? Is this the final farewell for the last of the Eastmans, and they’ll all go their separate ways?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “You’ve spent more time with Aaron over the past few days. Has your opinion changed?”

&
nbsp; Seth leaned back in his chair and sipped some wine before answering. “I think he’s telling the truth when he says he doesn’t remember. I believe he does want to remember, and not for any bad purpose, like revenge. Did he do it? That I can’t say. The man I see now, after a quarter century in prison, is pretty passive. I don’t know how much prison might have changed him. Maybe he was just a mixed-up kid in high school, and he grew up in prison. As far as I know, he never got into trouble there—I think Art would have told me.”

  “Then let me ask you, what’s the best-case outcome here?” Meg asked.

  “That the family comes to terms with what happened and manages to create some sort of relationship going forward.”

  “They do all seem kind of unattached—I mean, neither Lori nor Kevin seems to have any long-term relationship. Obviously Aaron is a different case. You think that’s the result of their upbringing, or the effect of the fire and the deaths?”

  Seth shook his head. “I can’t say, and I’m not going to guess. Can we table this for now?”

  “Sure.” Actually, Meg thought, it was kind of a relief not to have to think about it. “I ordered tiles today.”

  “Great! Will they deliver? That’s a lot of weight.”

  “Tomorrow, they said.”

  “If we can, we should go see Rachel and the baby tomorrow, before I start on the bathrooms. I’ll plan to stick around here and do the demolition work. I’ve already got all the pipes and blue board and such. And the permits—can’t do anything in Massachusetts without the right permits.”

  “I’d better warn Bree. I told her it was going to happen, and she might want to go over to Michael’s. So what’re the steps?”

  Seth outlined the process for opening up the walls, installing new pipes, fixing whatever wiring might need it, then replacing the walls. “And that’s when you come in. We leave the rough attachments for the fixtures until you get the tiles in—after the wiring and plumbing have been officially inspected, of course.”

  “Of course. And how long do the tiles have to dry or cure or whatever they do?” Meg asked.