“At least they had the good sense to stop at one,” Peter offered. “That alone is a miracle considering the number of gentlemen callers they’ve all entertained.”
“Calderwood Lane,” Kale pointed out, “was named after Mattie’s father who was supposedly an illegitimate great-great-grandson of Thomas Young, the village founder.”
“That’s never been proven,” Peter interjected.
“What does Matilda’s mother do?” Newton wanted to know.
Kale and his father exchanged a knowing look. “The oldest profession,” Kale said quietly.
“She’s a prostitute,” Polly piped up. “They say she uses drugs, too, but Matilda doesn’t do any of that stuff. She’s just that creepy kind of weird. Reads about witches and stuff all the time. She has a pentagram in her bedroom. It’s kinda scary but really cool and—”
When the room fell tomb-quiet, Polly realized she’d stuck her foot deep into her mouth. Her face flushed.
Kale groaned.
“And how would you know this, young lady?” Peter demanded.
“I . . . I . . . ah,” Polly stammered.
She looked to Kale for help. No way was he getting in the middle of this.
“Don’t you ever go back to that house again,” Ellen ordered. “Why, there was a nine-one-one call over there just yesterday.”
Newton’s radar visibly rose. “Someone sick?”
“Nooo,” Ellen said, dragging out the vowel. “Matilda’s mother claimed someone had broken in and taken some of her personal belongings, but she refused to say what exactly they took.”
“And you think that’s not quite right,” Newton suggested.
Ellen shrugged. “We all know there’s nothing in that shack anyone would bother with except what she couldn’t report.”
“Drugs?” Newton speculated.
“That’s what folks say,” Peter said with a somber nod. “It’s a very bad situation.”
“She lives on West Street,” Kale explained. “That was the call that held up Karen yesterday.”
“Polly,” Newton said, “where does Alicia go to church?”
Polly slid into the chair across the table from their guest. “Methodist. Same as the Harveys. Why?”
“Just curious.”
The topic of discussion shifted. Grateful, Kale went back to watching the lady from New York. As she smiled and nodded at his father’s every comment about the weather and life in general, Kale got the distinct impression that something about Matilda’s circumstances had struck a chord with her.
He didn’t know a lot about her history, but he had a feeling that the tough city-gal exterior was just a shield she used to protect herself. Most likely he was overanalyzing. She lived her life, trusted her instincts, and went after what she wanted with no regard to rules, social or otherwise. Somehow he was attracted to that. Quite possibly because she would be gone in a few days or a couple of weeks. There was no risk ... no expectations. Just the possibility of amazing sex.
What man still breathing wouldn’t be attracted to that?
Ellen set the steaming pot of beef stew in the center of the table. The rolls came next. She took her place beside her husband and sighed.“Kale, say grace and let’s feed this girl. She’s wasting away right before our eyes.”
Kale reached for his sister’s hand, then for Newton’s. She stared at him, then at his hand, and finally put hers in his. He smiled. She looked away. He wondered at that. Did the lady not like to be touched? Or did prayer unsettle her? More mystery to nag at his curiosity.
When all hands were joined, he offered the blessing, adding a plea for the safe return of Alicia Appleton and an extra outpouring of strength and courage for her family.
“Amen,” his father announced. “Now, Sarah, you’ll see what beef stew is supposed to taste like.”
Polly launched into a series of adolescent tales about the kids in school, particularly Alicia Appleton and Jerri Lynn Pope. Ellen gently scolded her from time to time for being less than sensitive toward her peers. Kale’s father shook his head and pointed out regularly that Polly was not to be sending text messages during dinner. Each time she would feign obedience and pretend to put her cell phone away. Kale wasn’t fooled. Like most teenagers, the girl was glued to that phone. She could probably text with her toes.
