And what’s up with that hair?”
“He’s one of my mom’s students. I like his hair, but now I’m not sure how I feel about him. Tell me that you would stick up for me if somebody said stuff like that about me.”
“Of course. But I’ve known you for a long time. Didn’t this Andrew kid just meet Margaret?”
“Well, yeah. But it just seems—”
“Look, Soph, I think you’re thinkin’ too much about this.”
“You don’t get it. Livvy has powerful friends. She can make my life—and Margaret’s—miserable if she wants.”
“Powerful friends? Has the Mafia taken over St. Veronica’s?”
“Trust me, she will get even. The girl can be evil.”
I wait until early Sunday afternoon to give Margaret the icky update on Livvy. But other than the immediate impact on Mr. Eliot’s ill-conceived punctuation project, she doesn’t seem too concerned.
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” she says.
“But see, she’s hated you for years,” I say. “She didn’t hate me until last night.”
“Livvy is all squawk.”
Frankly, that’s what scares me. God only knows what kind of damage that big mouth of Livvy’s can do.
“Anyway, I think I might have a good lead on this new letter,” she adds. “I saw Malcolm and Elizabeth at Mass this morning, and we had a chance to chat for a while. Malcolm suggested I talk to Caroline about the newest code. In addition to all the puzzles and math problems her grandfather used to give her, they also used to make up codes and send messages back and forth. She even thought about majoring in cryptography. Since she’s going to be at Elizabeth’s this afternoon, he said I should drop by with the letter. You want to come?”
“Sure, as long as it’s not going to be late. I’ve been goofing off all weekend, and I need to do some work.”
“All right, I’ll call Becca and Leigh Ann, too. So turn off your computer and your phone, put your guitar away, and get to work.”
“Yeeesssss, Sis-ter Mar-ga-ret.”
Elizabeth greets us at the familiar red door of her townhouse with big hugs, followed by more squeezing, gushing, and questioning. (After we recovered the ring and became practically family, I agreed to start calling Elizabeth by her first name, but part of me still struggles with it.) It has been only a few weeks since that amazing night we handed over the Ring of Rocamadour to Malcolm and Elizabeth’s daughter, Caroline, but this already feels like a reunion.
And even though I met Caroline just that one time, I feel like I know her. After all, it was her birthday card that got the “treasure hunt” for the Ring of Rocamadourstarted. Caroline’s grandfather—Elizabeth’s father—had set up all the clues and hidden the ring as a gift for her fourteenth birthday, but then he died before he ever had a chance to even give her the card. When Elizabeth accidentally discovered the birthday card twenty years later, she turned to us for help, because by then, she and Malcolm were divorced and she hadn’t spoken to Caroline in years.
“We simply must have some tea,” Elizabeth says. “Malcolm, dear, make a big pot of tea. Flower Power is their favorite.”
Malcolm grins at us as he heads for the kitchen. “You see what’s happened to me? I’m the new Winnie!”
“Are you going to spy on us like she did?” Leigh Ann calls out after him. Elizabeth’s former housekeeper, Winifred Winterbottom—wife of the church deacon that we butted heads with—was always spying on us every time we visited Elizabeth.
“You can count on it,” he shouts from the kitchen.
“Oh, that Malcolm,” Elizabeth says. “He thinks he is so clever.”
“Is he at least a better housekeeper than Winnie?” I ask. On more than one occasion, Elizabeth told us of Winnie’s failures as a housekeeper, especially her unwillingness to vacuum under furniture. The horror!
Rebecca is her usual nosy, sassy self and starts her interrogation of Elizabeth. “So, what’s going on with
“He’s one of my mom’s students. I like his hair, but now I’m not sure how I feel about him. Tell me that you would stick up for me if somebody said stuff like that about me.”
“Of course. But I’ve known you for a long time. Didn’t this Andrew kid just meet Margaret?”
“Well, yeah. But it just seems—”
“Look, Soph, I think you’re thinkin’ too much about this.”
“You don’t get it. Livvy has powerful friends. She can make my life—and Margaret’s—miserable if she wants.”
“Powerful friends? Has the Mafia taken over St. Veronica’s?”
“Trust me, she will get even. The girl can be evil.”
I wait until early Sunday afternoon to give Margaret the icky update on Livvy. But other than the immediate impact on Mr. Eliot’s ill-conceived punctuation project, she doesn’t seem too concerned.
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” she says.
“But see, she’s hated you for years,” I say. “She didn’t hate me until last night.”
“Livvy is all squawk.”
Frankly, that’s what scares me. God only knows what kind of damage that big mouth of Livvy’s can do.
“Anyway, I think I might have a good lead on this new letter,” she adds. “I saw Malcolm and Elizabeth at Mass this morning, and we had a chance to chat for a while. Malcolm suggested I talk to Caroline about the newest code. In addition to all the puzzles and math problems her grandfather used to give her, they also used to make up codes and send messages back and forth. She even thought about majoring in cryptography. Since she’s going to be at Elizabeth’s this afternoon, he said I should drop by with the letter. You want to come?”
“Sure, as long as it’s not going to be late. I’ve been goofing off all weekend, and I need to do some work.”
“All right, I’ll call Becca and Leigh Ann, too. So turn off your computer and your phone, put your guitar away, and get to work.”
“Yeeesssss, Sis-ter Mar-ga-ret.”
Elizabeth greets us at the familiar red door of her townhouse with big hugs, followed by more squeezing, gushing, and questioning. (After we recovered the ring and became practically family, I agreed to start calling Elizabeth by her first name, but part of me still struggles with it.) It has been only a few weeks since that amazing night we handed over the Ring of Rocamadour to Malcolm and Elizabeth’s daughter, Caroline, but this already feels like a reunion.
And even though I met Caroline just that one time, I feel like I know her. After all, it was her birthday card that got the “treasure hunt” for the Ring of Rocamadourstarted. Caroline’s grandfather—Elizabeth’s father—had set up all the clues and hidden the ring as a gift for her fourteenth birthday, but then he died before he ever had a chance to even give her the card. When Elizabeth accidentally discovered the birthday card twenty years later, she turned to us for help, because by then, she and Malcolm were divorced and she hadn’t spoken to Caroline in years.
“We simply must have some tea,” Elizabeth says. “Malcolm, dear, make a big pot of tea. Flower Power is their favorite.”
Malcolm grins at us as he heads for the kitchen. “You see what’s happened to me? I’m the new Winnie!”
“Are you going to spy on us like she did?” Leigh Ann calls out after him. Elizabeth’s former housekeeper, Winifred Winterbottom—wife of the church deacon that we butted heads with—was always spying on us every time we visited Elizabeth.
“You can count on it,” he shouts from the kitchen.
“Oh, that Malcolm,” Elizabeth says. “He thinks he is so clever.”
“Is he at least a better housekeeper than Winnie?” I ask. On more than one occasion, Elizabeth told us of Winnie’s failures as a housekeeper, especially her unwillingness to vacuum under furniture. The horror!
Rebecca is her usual nosy, sassy self and starts her interrogation of Elizabeth. “So, what’s going on with
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