Sadie shook her head. “It wasn’t the meeting. It was all those things Parker said about Poe. I just got to thinking about Peter, how bad off he was at the end, how a stupid misunderstanding set us apart all those years…”
“What misunderstanding? I don’t follow.”
“Well, I thought I had put this behind me, but…remember the night Peter died, as we were leaving his mansion? You left us alone to say goodnight…”
“I remember.”
“Peter actually asked me how ‘my husband’ was. The question took me by surprise. But Peter told me he’d read about my marriage in the Providence Journal—”
“Oh, yes! I remember that. You wrote me a letter about it while I was living in New York. The announcement said, ‘Sadie Thornton married’…Who was it?”
“Mr. Aletti, of the Quindicott Savings and Loan,” Sadie said. “The paper got the names wrong, printing my name instead of Sadie Thorners. I got ribbed about it for weeks—your friend Seymour was the worst. He’d just started his route that year. Kept saying he had a truck load of wedding gifts for the wrong bride.”
“So Peter Chesley read that announcement in the paper, and he thought—”
“He thought I was married.” Sadie shook her head. “That’s why he never contacted me again. Eventually I myself assumed that he was the one who’d found someone. I’d convinced myself he’d gotten remarried and simply decided to break all ties with me.”
Sadie brushed her cheek of a stray tear. “But the hardest part for me is…when I think back, to that time when we were so close, when were a couple, I can’t even recall what it was that broke us apart. Just squabbles and hurt feelings and misunderstandings…now it all seems so petty…so stupid. I can’t think why we didn’t try harder to work it out.”
I nodded, not knowing what to say.
“You can always tell yourself that there’s a chance, but when someone dies, when he leaves the earth…well, when that happens, it’s over. A door shuts forever. What am I saying? After what you went through in your life, Penelope, I don’t have to tell you that, do I, dear?”
I chewed my lip, knowing she was talking about Calvin, but wishing I could tell her about Jack.
“Well, it’s all water under the bridge now,” she said. “We have to focus on the here and now.”
And that’s what we did.
The store had only a few customers, so I pulled out a stack of trade magazines I’d let pile up and began to read through the book reviews, making notes in the margins. Sadie went upstairs to fix me a sandwich.
Good morning, baby.
“Hi, Jack…. I missed you.”
I’ll bet…. How was your night in stir?
“Unpleasant. And humiliating. And you were right.”
Yeah?
“I shouldn’t have gone outside. They didn’t have a warrant to enter the premises. By exiting the store, I set myself up for an arrest.”
That scam was old when I was in knee pants.
“Hard to imagine you in knee pants, Jack.”
These days, it’s hard for me to remember the day when I had knees, but at least nobody’s trying to bust them anymore. Jack paused. So…you ready to go to the mat yet?
“Huh?”
Are you ready to fight back?
“Against who? Against what?” I cried. Aloud, apparently.
“What did you say, dear?” Sadie asked. She’d returned with a plate in one hand and a full glass of milk in the other. She wore a puzzled expression.
“Sorry…nothing,” I said with a sigh. “I was just thinking out loud.”
“Have something to eat. You’ll feel better,” my aunt commanded.
When I sat down behind the counter, I saw a white envelope tucked next to the register. It had Brainert’s name on it, written in my aunt’s flowing hand.
“What’s this?” I asked between bites of my Virginia ham and Swiss cheese sandwich.
Sadie picked up the envelope and opened the flap. “Brainert and Seymour helped me pack up the chairs after the meeting last night,” she said. “A little while ago, when I was sweeping out the storage room, I found this…”
She dropped a heavy object into my palm—a quarter-inch black square of onyx with a gold crest set in the middle. I immediately recognized the coat-of-arms of St. Francis College, where Brainert was a professor.
“It must have fallen out of Brainert’s ring,” Sadie said. “You can give it to him when you visit him later.”
“Why am I visiting Brainert later?”
“He wants you to come by, after he’s had a chance to do more research on the Poe Code.”
I’d had my fill of Phelps, Poe, and the ridiculous code, but I kept silent, took a gulp of milk instead. I stared out the window a moment, at the people on the sidewalk, wondering how many of them I knew.
“I’m almost afraid to go out,” I said. “I feel like the police are watching me all the time. I’m afraid I’m going to get arrested again. Most of all, I’m worried about my reputation. Word is bound to get out.”
Sadie shook her head. “Don’t be silly, Pen. Hardly anyone knows what happened. It will be the Quibblers’ little secret.”
The chimes rang when a young man stepped through the door
“Here’s your Bulletins, ma’am,” he said, dropping a bundle of newspapers next to the door. He was delivering our store’s consignment of the Quindicott Bulletin, the town’s weekly pennysaver and local newspaper rolled into one.
“Thank you,” I called.
The youth’s friendly smile vanished when he saw me. He was out the door and down the street in a flash. Meanwhile Sadie pulled a copy from the stack, glanced at the front page, and exploded.
“Damn that Elmer Crabtree!”
“What’s wrong?” I cried. But I knew. I knew when the delivery boy gave me that look.
The main headline dealt with the beginning of the school year, including a photo of the kids arriving on the first day. The second story involved me, under the headline LOCAL STOREOWNER IMPLICATED IN THEFT.
The story was all of three paragraphs, obviously inserted just before the paper went to press this morning. Thankfully there was no mug shot. The article was factually incorrect, describing Rene Montour as a “Frenchman” who died in a “collision.” Editor Crabtree even managed to get our store’s name wrong, calling it “Buy Books Here.” Of course, he did manage to spell my name right, and give my age (not that I’m vain, but I wouldn’t want my weight or bank account information in the newspaper, either).
“I’d better have that talk with Spencer real soon,” I said.
Sadie folded the paper and tossed it into the wastecan. “Speaking of Spencer. Don’t you have a meeting with the new principal this afternoon?”
“I should cancel. I can’t leave you alone in the store—”
“Nonsense. Business is slow, Pen. And Mina is coming in an hour.”
“Mina? I thought Garfield was working today.”
Sadie shrugged. “He called me just after I opened the store. Said he switched days with Mina. Said it was all worked out and she would be in on time.”
I had yet to have that talk with Garfield about the missing key. Now I began to wonder if Garfield was avoiding me, or if he had something to hide.
That kid’s a gimp, for sure, said Jack. I’d peg him for a grifter, but one on a leash. If someone in the Platt family is in deep, I’d pin it on Garfield’s brother, the fish who’s fresh out of the joint.
“Just because someone went to prison doesn’t mean they’re a criminal. I was in jail last night, but I didn’t do anything wrong.”