“People are saying, `Where there's smoke, there's fire,' and that Alden wouldn't have brought the whole thing up if he didn't have something very specific in mind.”
Faith sincerely doubted anyone, even in Aleford, had said, "Where there's smoke, there's fire," but she didn't question the intensity, or the potential viciousness, of the whispers.
“What does Penny have to say about all this?" she asked. "Is she still refusing to issue a statement?”
“Yes, and that's why I'm here. She won't say any- thing, and Tom has got to make her.”
No wonder her husband looked weary.
“But Millicent .. " Faith thought she'd give it a try.
She was married to the poor man. "How can Tom possibly do this? f Penny doesn't want to talk about it, that's her business."
“It is not," Millicent shot back in no uncertain terms. "Penelope Bartlett is running for office in our town and she has a responsibility to respond. Besides, she's going to lose the election if she doesn't.”
This put a different light on the matter. Faith saw Ben and Amy tripping gaily off to school in what would amount to a trailer park, with forty children in a class and no books. No art or music. These were "frills." She found herself wishing, as Pix had, that they could use the encounter in the woods against Spaulding somehow, but it might backfire. Alden would claim he was exercising his constitutional right to walk freely in the town-owned wild, and his supporters would agree, making sure one and all heard that the minister's wife had a very dirty mind.
But they had to do something. They couldn't let Alden win!
“Tom ..."
“I know, I know. It's a heck of a dilemma, Millie." Tom and Charley MacIsaac were the only ones privileged to use the treasured childhood nickname. Faith envisioned her with iron gray pigtails on the playground, turning the double dutch jump rope faster and faster as her little playmates skipped to her tune, "Too fast, Millie! Too fast!”
Tom took another cookie. "f you can't convince Penny to clear the air, I don't know who can. I agree it would be better if she did write a letter to the paper or put out a flier, and I'll tell her, but ..”
A thought struck Faith. "Maybe there is nothing. Maybe this is just campaign dirty tricks." Aside fromwhat made sense in terms of an Alden Spaulding campaign, Faith was sure Millicent, of all people, would have known everything about Penny's blameless past.
“I wish it was." Millicent sounded almost pathetic. "Lord knows, I've tried to think what it can be and it is something. I've known Penny since we were children, and she couldn't tell a lie to save her life. I asked her straight out if there was any truth to what they were saying, and all she would say was, `Don't ask me that.' Oh, there's something all right."
“Could you figure it out from what they said the other night? What was the year they claim the taxes were fraudulent?"
“The Bartlett's taxes were never fraudulent!" Millicent spoke as if Faith had started the rumor.
Faith protested. "I'm not agreeing with them! I'm simply trying to remember what they said!" She looked to Tom for support. No wonder he was tired. She began to toy with the idea of leaving to check on the baby, but there was still the possibility she might miss something. Tom was notoriously bad at remembering conversations.
Millicent was somewhat mollified. "The Spaulding campaign is alleging that Penny and Francis did not report `certain financial transactions'—I believe those are Mr. Garrison's words—on their state and federal tax forms for the fiscal year 1971.”
Miss McKinley, on the other hand, could repeat conversations from thirty years back word for word.
“Nineteen seventy-one, about twenty years ago. Do you remember anything that might have happened to the Bartletts then? Did they seem to be in any financial difficulty?" Faith was fishing, but if Penny wouldn't tell them what was going on, they'd have to figure it out themselves.
“Francis was dying. It was a terrible strain on Penny. He had cancer of the liver and was in a great deal of pain. I used to go and sit with him to relieve her. She didn't have a nurse until the very end. That was in the fall of 1972”
Tom wondered aloud, "Do you think something could have been overlooked during his illness? They could have forgotten to report some income, but how would Alden have found out?"
“It's possible. Barry Lacey always did their taxes. He did mine, too, until he passed away. Playing tennis." Millicent raised an eyebrow as if the CPA had been en flagrante. "f they had missed something that year, he would have straightened it out for Penny the next. It's also extremely unlikely that Alden would ever have had access to the Bartletts' tax records."
“Unless he saw something on somebody's desk or went into somebody's file. Did this Mr. Lacey do his taxes, too?" Faith had visions of Alden, a stocking pulled over his pudgy face, with a flashlight.
“Barry did everyone's taxes," Millicent said smugly, not needing to add the "anyone who was anybody," since it was in her voice.
“Then Alden might have picked up on something and tucked it away for future reference, say to blackmail his sister. Was this when they stopped talking, too?" Faith thought she had the whole thing neatly tied up.
“No, that was earlier. I think when their father died, but they were never close even before then."
“Could they have quarreled over his will?"
“I doubt it—and that we would have heard aboutsince everybody knew Jared Spaulding divided the bulk of his estate equally between the two of them. Penny's mother died when Penny was in college. Jared seemed to have a penchant for fragile women." Millicent was slightly disapproving. To be once a widower was bad enough; twice was close to profligacy. She continued. "In any case, Penny would never have bickered over money.”
Faith knew what Millicent meant. It would have been beneath a lady like Penny, but then Francis Bartlett made a good living, and having money made it a whole lot easier to be noble about said commodity.
Millicent was positively loquacious on the subject of Penny and her half brother, especially in light of her closed lips the other day when Faith had been asking the very same questions.
“I never thought of Penny and Alden as brother and sister. They weren't really raised together. Alden is seven years older than Penny and he was mostly at boarding school and the university (this meant Harvard, Faith guessed) when she was growing up. Then when he came home to live, she was at school. She married Francis shortly after she graduated from college. It was such a lovely wedding—in the Wellesley chapel. Sue Hammond caught the bouquet ... and how we laughed. Poor Susan. Not the most winsome girl, but would you believe she was engaged before the year was out!”
Faith knew once Millicent got going, it would be impossible to change the course of the speeding locomotive that passed for conversation back to the matter at hand. She interrupted quickly and firmly.