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Her daughter’s words didn’t do much to reassure Marge she’d made the right decision, but then again, what other choice did she have? She didn’t want to close up the library, and Marcie, who usually took care of the library when Marge was indisposed or otherwise engaged, had intimated she had stuff to do and couldn’t get away right then.

She and Odelia had walked the length of the path that led from the main house to the gamekeeper’s cottage and had arrived there to find the front door ajar.

It was a small cottage, as cottages go, and she wondered how anyone could live there.

Once they set foot inside, she saw that it consisted of the one space, with a small sleeping loft where a mattress had been placed and where presumably Fabio and Grace had conducted their torrid and sordid affair, as her husband had indicated.

Painted canvasses littered the main space, and on an easel in front of the window a large canvas had been placed with a work in progress. It depicted Grace, and Marge studied it for a moment.“She’s pretty,” said Odelia, joining her.

“Yes, Grace was always pretty. Prettiest girl in school, which is probably why Jock fell for her. She was also rumored to be easy, which was another reason she was so popular.”

“Ugh, high school gossip is the worst,” said Odelia with a shiver.

“Yeah, high school isn’t always the best time of your life, as everyone keeps insisting.”

“More like the worst time,” said Odelia.

Marge looked up in surprise.“Why? I thought you had a great time in high school?”

“Yeah, well, I had some issues of my own, Mom.”

This was the first she’d heard of this. “Issues? What issues?”

“You know, the usual. Boyfriend stuff, and jealous girlfriend stuff.”

“Boyfriend stuff? I didn’t know you had a boyfriend in high school.”

“Well, I had, and he was great, until I discovered he didn’t mind spreading around some of that greatness to other girls he assured were also his girlfriends, and then when I confronted him he asked me to go exclusive, which was great. Until I discovered he’d fooled me again, as he’d made that same promise to half a dozen other girls.”

“Nice. Who was this boy?”

“Oh, you don’t know him.”

“Try me.”

“Um, Larry Farnsworth?”

“Jock’s son? No way!”

“Yes, way,” said Odelia, looking a little shamefaced.

In spite of herself Marge had to laugh, earning her a prod in the ribs from her daughter.“It’s not funny, Mom! It was all very humiliating and very terrible.”

“Of course it was. Like father, like son, huh?”

“Looks like it.” Odelia smiled. “At least we all became good friends after we dumped Larry’s ass.”

“I’m sure he found other girlfriends.”

“Oh, sure. He went through the entire roster, only finally to settle on Janice Cooper. I heard they’re married with five kids now. So good for him, I guess.”

“And I heard Janice filed for divorce last month, so maybe not so good.”

“Oh,” said Odelia, surprised.

“Look at this,” said Marge, gesturing to a pair of earrings lying next to the window.

“Grace’s, you think?” asked Odelia as she crouched down to study the trinkets.

“Let’s take a picture and ask Alicia. She will know if they belong to her mother.”

Marge glanced around at the cluttered space. It was a mess, but that was probably to be expected. Painters are creative people, and order is not high on their list of priorities.

Clothes had been strewn about, and a canvas had been dumped to the floor. As she looked closer, though, something began to bother her with this picture.

“It almost looks as if… There’s been a fight,” she said now.

“You think so?” asked Odelia as she dipped her finger into a glob of paint. “Still wet. Though I have no idea if that means anything. How long does paint take to dry?”

Marge shrugged, then decided to climb the ladder to the sleeping loft.

Upstairs, the bed hadn’t been made, the sheets tangled up and shoved to the foot of the bed. Signs of a struggle, or a session of intense lovemaking? Hard to know for sure.

She suddenly noticed something sticking out from under the mattress and took it out. It was a phone, and when she fired it up, saw that it showed a picture of Alicia.

“I think I just found Grace’s phone,” she shouted.

“No need to shout,” said Odelia as her head appeared. “I’m right here.”

Marge showed her daughter the phone.“How likely is it that Grace would leave for Cabo and not take her phone?”

“Not very. Can you get in?”

Marge tried the usual combinations, but apparently Grace had opted for something more challenging.“No luck. And I should probably stop trying before the SIM locks.”

“Let’s ask Alicia. Maybe she knows her mother’s password.”

Marge slipped the phone into her pocket and checked around some more. There was a picture stuck to the wall behind the bed with Blu Tack. It depicted the cottage, and looked a lot cleaner and tidier than it was now. She studied the picture.“I think there’s been a fight of some kind,” she said finally. “Look at this.”

Odelia studied the picture.“You’re right. Which means Grace and Fabio didn’t elope. They were taken.”