“Sure.” I grab a wooden spoon hanging up above the aga and move a large cast iron pan to the stovetop, ready to receive the prepped vegetables. The warmth of the oven is a welcome contrast to the chill that seeps through the rest of Van Tassel Manor.
For a while, we work in companionable silence. But I can sense Meredith watching me, and I know exactly what she’s about to ask.
“How are you settling in?” Meredith says after a deep breath, breaking the quiet. Her voice is gentle, filled with genuine concern, unlike my father’s gruff approach last night.
I shrug, keeping my eyes on the bubbling stew. “It’s… different. I mean, it’s hard to go from London to this. Everything’s so quiet here. And cold,” I add, trying to keep my voice light.
“Yes, I imagine it must be quite a change,” she says, setting the knife down and wiping her hands on a towel. “And after everything you’ve been through…”
Her words hang in the air between us, and I feel my throat tighten. I’ve gotten better at thinking about Mum without bursting into tears, but having someone else try to talk about it feels like a knife pushing between my ribs.
“I’m okay,” I say quickly, even though we both know it’s not true. “It’s just weird not having her around, you know? She was always there.”
Meredith nods understandingly, her expression soft. “Of course. And she loved you very much. You were everything to her.”
“I know.” My voice comes out thick, and I blink rapidly, willing myself not to cry. “It’s still so hard to believe she’s gone.”
Meredith crosses the kitchen and puts a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Grief takes time, Kat. There’s no right or wrong way to feel. If you ever want to talk about her, I’m here. Always.”
I nod, unable to speak for a moment, just grateful for her kindness. For all the awkwardness I feel around my father, Meredith is a surprising source of comfort. She’s warm and understanding in a way that’s almost motherly, even if she’ll never replace what I’ve lost.
“Thanks,” I say, managing a small smile. “I appreciate it.”
She squeezes my shoulder before turning back to the chopping board. “I heard you bumped into Toby earlier. He’s quite shaken up about the lawyer, poor thing. I can’t believe it, two awful accidents so close together.”
Meredith still has her back to me, and I lift my head to look at her. Meredith seems so level-headed. Surely she can’t really think these are accidents.
I stir the stew absently. “Yeah, Toby said he was also beheaded, just like the doctor.”
Meredith’s hands still for a fraction of a second, but she quickly resumes her busy tidying. “Yes, it’s unsettling, to say the least. Sleepy Hollow has always been a quiet town, but lately…” She trails off, turning and picking up a tea towel to wipe her hands.
“I’d say it’s more than unsettling.” I set the spoon down a bit harder than I mean to and it clatters on the stove, sending amber spots of liquid flying. “It’s like something out of a horror movie. Two people, both killed in the same way, days apart. It can’t be a coincidence.”
Meredith’s lips press into a thin line. “No,” she agrees, her voice low. “It’s not.”
I turn to face her fully. “Do you think someone is doing this on purpose?”
She hesitates, glancing out of the kitchen window as though to check for unseen watchers. It seems as if she’s about to say something, but then thinks better of it. She shakes her head almost imperceivably.
“No, Kat. The police chief has looked into it and has said that they are just awful, awful accidents. I know it’s upsetting, but please try not to dwell on it too much.”
I eye her from across the kitchen. So she’s sticking to the accident story as well, then.
She wrings the tea towel between her hands. “And please listen to your father, Kat. He’s only trying to protect you. Please promise me that you’ll be careful and you won’t wander off alone, especially at night.”
What is it with the pair of them? Convinced these terrible things are only “accidents,” but at the same time worried for me to be out walking by myself.
“I’ll be fine,” I say, deliberately not agreeing to her request. Although the whole thing sends shivers down my spine, I’m not confining myself to this house, I’d go mad with boredom.
“And with your father working late at the university tonight, I want you to stay close to the house. No late-night adventures, understood?” she continues, her tone serious.
That catches my attention. Dad hadn’t mentioned he would be working late.
I roll my eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. “Okay, understood. Why’s Dad staying at the uni so late anyway? Is he working on some big project or something?”
Meredith nods, a hint of pride in her expression. “Yes, he’s overseeing a new historical research initiative. It just started a few days ago. It’s consuming most of his time, but he’s very passionate about it.”
“What’s it about?” I ask as I grab some paper towels to clean the stove where I’d dripped stew.
