“That’s Audrey for you. My friends find her very strange and wonder why I keep her on.”
“Why do you?”
“Loyalty. She worked for my parents and was very good to me when I was growing up.” Marcy turned a page, then looked up. “You and I have something in common. I was adopted. Most people would consider it lucky to be me, adopted by a wealthy family like the Fairfaxes. It would have been, except that my mother later gave birth to a son, one who happened to look like the portraits of every firstborn male Fairfax since the seventeenth century. They nearly worshipped at the crib.”
“That doesn’t sound good, for him or you.”
“It wasn’t for me. Unfortunately, getting into trouble was the one way I could get my parents’ attention. Audrey looked past the stupid things I did. While the other servants enjoyed reporting those things to my parents and making our relationship worse, Audrey always tried to make it better. I guess she figured it was her job to save me and took me on as her mission in life.” Marcy smiled wryly. “I certainly kept her busy.”
“I hope she doesn’t make
me
her next mission. Marcy, are there other people in Wisteria who think Aunt Iris is in league with the devil?”
She thought about the question. “A few, probably, because of her reputation as a psychic. People fear anyone who differs from what is considered normal, and in a small town the idea of normal can be as narrow as the streets.”
“Did anyone fear my mother?”
“Why would they?”
“She was psychic.”
“I knew she lived with Iris and William, but I was away at college when she moved in. She died in a robbery, didn’t she? How old were you?”
“Barely three. I don’t really remember her. When Uncle Will asked me to come, he said he wanted to tell me about my family. He said there were some things that he needed to explain.”
Marcy nodded and turned a page, her eyes on the catalog. The fact that she didn’t study me with the overly concerned expression of a school guidance counselor encouraged me. “I need to ask you a question.”
She waited a moment, her pen holding her place on the page. “No point in backing out now.”
“Aunt Iris can get angry, crazy angry. You heard what the elf man said yesterday. Do you think she could have killed Uncle Will?”
“No.” Marcy circled an item in the catalog, then looked up. “I don’t believe Iris is capable of really harming someone. She’s just not that kind of person, Anna. I would worry about her health, but not that she’s a murderer.”
She flipped the page of the catalog. “Oh, my.” She broughtover the book to show me the picture she had been looking at. “How do you like these?”
“Leprechaun angels?”
“Handsome, aren’t they? I could probably sell a bushel of them and turn a nice profit, but I do have some pride.”
“I didn’t know leprechauns were that big an item.”
“It’s angels. People collect them. I could sell an angelic choir wearing fatigues and riding in Humvees.”
“I like the ones by Cindy Reed.”
“Me too, but I’m afraid that’s the last of them. Cindy took her newest set of Christmas figures to Jeanette’s Crafts, showed them to Jeanette before she showed them to me.”
I walked over to the shelf of wooden angels. I was hoping to buy one for Mom’s Christmas gift.
Marcy returned to her perch. “Loyalty is very important in retail. Sometimes it is the only thing one can rely on. Unfortunately, Cindy doesn’t know what I know. Jeanette’s lease is up next year and she’s planning to retire. Cindy will be out of luck—I’m not buying from her again.”
Having no experience in business, I wasn’t going to argue, but it seemed kind of senseless to me to stop carrying a product that customers bought, just because someone else got first choice.
Marcy laughed. “Your face is an open book. I admit, I havea healthy streak of pride in me, and I am the kind of person who likes to know
“Why do you?”
“Loyalty. She worked for my parents and was very good to me when I was growing up.” Marcy turned a page, then looked up. “You and I have something in common. I was adopted. Most people would consider it lucky to be me, adopted by a wealthy family like the Fairfaxes. It would have been, except that my mother later gave birth to a son, one who happened to look like the portraits of every firstborn male Fairfax since the seventeenth century. They nearly worshipped at the crib.”
“That doesn’t sound good, for him or you.”
“It wasn’t for me. Unfortunately, getting into trouble was the one way I could get my parents’ attention. Audrey looked past the stupid things I did. While the other servants enjoyed reporting those things to my parents and making our relationship worse, Audrey always tried to make it better. I guess she figured it was her job to save me and took me on as her mission in life.” Marcy smiled wryly. “I certainly kept her busy.”
“I hope she doesn’t make
me
her next mission. Marcy, are there other people in Wisteria who think Aunt Iris is in league with the devil?”
She thought about the question. “A few, probably, because of her reputation as a psychic. People fear anyone who differs from what is considered normal, and in a small town the idea of normal can be as narrow as the streets.”
“Did anyone fear my mother?”
“Why would they?”
“She was psychic.”
“I knew she lived with Iris and William, but I was away at college when she moved in. She died in a robbery, didn’t she? How old were you?”
“Barely three. I don’t really remember her. When Uncle Will asked me to come, he said he wanted to tell me about my family. He said there were some things that he needed to explain.”
Marcy nodded and turned a page, her eyes on the catalog. The fact that she didn’t study me with the overly concerned expression of a school guidance counselor encouraged me. “I need to ask you a question.”
She waited a moment, her pen holding her place on the page. “No point in backing out now.”
“Aunt Iris can get angry, crazy angry. You heard what the elf man said yesterday. Do you think she could have killed Uncle Will?”
“No.” Marcy circled an item in the catalog, then looked up. “I don’t believe Iris is capable of really harming someone. She’s just not that kind of person, Anna. I would worry about her health, but not that she’s a murderer.”
She flipped the page of the catalog. “Oh, my.” She broughtover the book to show me the picture she had been looking at. “How do you like these?”
“Leprechaun angels?”
“Handsome, aren’t they? I could probably sell a bushel of them and turn a nice profit, but I do have some pride.”
“I didn’t know leprechauns were that big an item.”
“It’s angels. People collect them. I could sell an angelic choir wearing fatigues and riding in Humvees.”
“I like the ones by Cindy Reed.”
“Me too, but I’m afraid that’s the last of them. Cindy took her newest set of Christmas figures to Jeanette’s Crafts, showed them to Jeanette before she showed them to me.”
I walked over to the shelf of wooden angels. I was hoping to buy one for Mom’s Christmas gift.
Marcy returned to her perch. “Loyalty is very important in retail. Sometimes it is the only thing one can rely on. Unfortunately, Cindy doesn’t know what I know. Jeanette’s lease is up next year and she’s planning to retire. Cindy will be out of luck—I’m not buying from her again.”
Having no experience in business, I wasn’t going to argue, but it seemed kind of senseless to me to stop carrying a product that customers bought, just because someone else got first choice.
Marcy laughed. “Your face is an open book. I admit, I havea healthy streak of pride in me, and I am the kind of person who likes to know
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