calm voice or his smile or the joke about heavy lifting, but Tori relaxed slightly. Her voice faltered. “Welcome to my home.”
He stayed where he was, still smiling. “It’s beautiful. I’ve never been in a castle before.”
“It’s not exactly a castle.”
“Mac tells me you’ve created some beautiful scrapbooks.”
She brightened. “Did she tell you I once danced the part of Clara in
The Nutcracker
?”
“I can certainly see that, Mrs. Satterfield.”
“Please call me Tori.” She hesitated another minute. “Come in.”
Once she no longer perceived him as a threat, it didn’t take long for Tori to respond to Jerry’s lively manner. He listened patiently as she explained each clipping on the pages of her latest scrapbook, made admiring comments, and occasionally gave me a wide-eyed glance as if to say, can you believe this?
Tori finally came to the end of the book. “And what do you do, Jerry?”
“I work at Georgia’s Books. Sometimes I do magic tricks.”
“Do you really?”
“Sure. Watch this.” He took a quarter out of his pocket and made it disappear.
Tori was delighted. “How do you do that?”
“It’s not hard. It just takes a lot of practice. I could teach you.”
“I’d like that.”
“But you have to tell me one thing.”
“All right,” she said.
“Why is your castle named after a groundhog?”
She made a face. “Elijah Fenton thought ‘marmot’ was the French word for ‘marvelous,’ and no one had the courage to correct him.”
I thought “Marmot” was an appropriate name for someone who basically lived in a burrow.
“Mac, you ought to create a coat of arms for the castle: two rodents rampant on a field of gold.”
To my amazement, Tori gave a little giggle. “I suppose I could,” I said.
Tori’s gaze strayed back to the piles of paper. “Madeline, have you and Jerry been to the ballet lately?”
“I’ve been several times, but Jerry prefers the opera.”
She looked impressed. “I don’t believe I’ve ever been to a real opera. I’ve seen some on TV.” She glanced at the piles of trimmings on the table. I could almost see her mind formulating a new collection. “Do you have anything you could spare for my book? A program or a ticket stub? Anything?”
“I might have a few things,” Jerry said. “I’ll see what I can find.”
She clasped her fragile hands together. “That would be wonderful. Now, let’s go find the answer to that riddle.”
We started in the long hall that led from Tori’s hideout to the dining room. Jerry looked up at the frowning face in the first portrait.
“Who’s this?”
“Elijah’s sister, Eulalie Fenton.”
“She looks fierce.”
“She was.”
“And this guy?”
“Ellis Fenton, Nathan’s father.”
“Equally grim.” Jerry lifted the picture from its hook and turned it around. Nothing. We moved on to the next relative.
“Oh, this is nice,” Jerry said. “He’s got a little dog.”
“That’s Elijah’s grandfather, Hobarth, with Ticky.”
“Ticky? Was he full of ticks?”
Tori laughed. “No, no. I think he was ticklish.”
There was nothing behind Hobarth and Ticky. There was nothing behind second cousin Elizabeth or great-aunt Aubergine. As we searched, Tori became more animated.
We worked our way down one side of the hall and then took a break.
Tori dusted her hands. “Well, this is discouraging, but as you can see, there’s lots more.”
I looked at my watch. It was almost eleven. “I’ve got to meet someone, Tori. Can we come back later?”
“Yes, of course. You may come back any time.”
“How about tomorrow morning?”
“I look forward to it.” She showed us to the door, gave a little wave, and hurried back to her nest.
Jerry shook his head. “Man, that’s pathetic. We’ve got to get her out of there.”
“Only if she wants to, Jerry. I think she’s borderline agoraphobic.”
“All that newspaper and dust. It’s like being in a tomb. I need a
He stayed where he was, still smiling. “It’s beautiful. I’ve never been in a castle before.”
“It’s not exactly a castle.”
“Mac tells me you’ve created some beautiful scrapbooks.”
She brightened. “Did she tell you I once danced the part of Clara in
The Nutcracker
?”
“I can certainly see that, Mrs. Satterfield.”
“Please call me Tori.” She hesitated another minute. “Come in.”
Once she no longer perceived him as a threat, it didn’t take long for Tori to respond to Jerry’s lively manner. He listened patiently as she explained each clipping on the pages of her latest scrapbook, made admiring comments, and occasionally gave me a wide-eyed glance as if to say, can you believe this?
Tori finally came to the end of the book. “And what do you do, Jerry?”
“I work at Georgia’s Books. Sometimes I do magic tricks.”
“Do you really?”
“Sure. Watch this.” He took a quarter out of his pocket and made it disappear.
Tori was delighted. “How do you do that?”
“It’s not hard. It just takes a lot of practice. I could teach you.”
“I’d like that.”
“But you have to tell me one thing.”
“All right,” she said.
“Why is your castle named after a groundhog?”
She made a face. “Elijah Fenton thought ‘marmot’ was the French word for ‘marvelous,’ and no one had the courage to correct him.”
I thought “Marmot” was an appropriate name for someone who basically lived in a burrow.
“Mac, you ought to create a coat of arms for the castle: two rodents rampant on a field of gold.”
To my amazement, Tori gave a little giggle. “I suppose I could,” I said.
Tori’s gaze strayed back to the piles of paper. “Madeline, have you and Jerry been to the ballet lately?”
“I’ve been several times, but Jerry prefers the opera.”
She looked impressed. “I don’t believe I’ve ever been to a real opera. I’ve seen some on TV.” She glanced at the piles of trimmings on the table. I could almost see her mind formulating a new collection. “Do you have anything you could spare for my book? A program or a ticket stub? Anything?”
“I might have a few things,” Jerry said. “I’ll see what I can find.”
She clasped her fragile hands together. “That would be wonderful. Now, let’s go find the answer to that riddle.”
We started in the long hall that led from Tori’s hideout to the dining room. Jerry looked up at the frowning face in the first portrait.
“Who’s this?”
“Elijah’s sister, Eulalie Fenton.”
“She looks fierce.”
“She was.”
“And this guy?”
“Ellis Fenton, Nathan’s father.”
“Equally grim.” Jerry lifted the picture from its hook and turned it around. Nothing. We moved on to the next relative.
“Oh, this is nice,” Jerry said. “He’s got a little dog.”
“That’s Elijah’s grandfather, Hobarth, with Ticky.”
“Ticky? Was he full of ticks?”
Tori laughed. “No, no. I think he was ticklish.”
There was nothing behind Hobarth and Ticky. There was nothing behind second cousin Elizabeth or great-aunt Aubergine. As we searched, Tori became more animated.
We worked our way down one side of the hall and then took a break.
Tori dusted her hands. “Well, this is discouraging, but as you can see, there’s lots more.”
I looked at my watch. It was almost eleven. “I’ve got to meet someone, Tori. Can we come back later?”
“Yes, of course. You may come back any time.”
“How about tomorrow morning?”
“I look forward to it.” She showed us to the door, gave a little wave, and hurried back to her nest.
Jerry shook his head. “Man, that’s pathetic. We’ve got to get her out of there.”
“Only if she wants to, Jerry. I think she’s borderline agoraphobic.”
“All that newspaper and dust. It’s like being in a tomb. I need a
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