Digging Up The Dirt

“I am, too,” Dickce said. “Although I keep thinking I want another piece of garlic bread.”

“There’s only the one left,” An’gel said. “If Benjy doesn’t care for it, go ahead.”

Dickce glanced at Benjy. He shook his head, smiling. Dickce picked up the slice of toasted bread and took a bite out of it.

“While my sister munches in peace,” An’gel said, “what are your plans for tomorrow, Benjy?”

“I’m going to continue my research,” he replied. “I’ll probably work some tonight. I want to see if I can track down this H. Wachtel person. I thought I might also try searching English newspaper archives to see if I can find anything on Coriander Simpson’s death.”

“Excellent. I hope you can find something,” An’gel said. “If you can’t, it won’t exactly prove that Coriander didn’t die in England, of course.”

“No, but a negative result will tell us something,” Benjy said. “I might have to pay to get into some of the archives. Is that okay?”

“Certainly,” Dickce said. “Use your credit card.” They had given him his own card recently, but he was careful about using it unless he discussed it with them first.

“Thanks.” Benjy stood and began to clear his side of the table.

“We’ll take care of the rest,” An’gel told him. “You go on and see if Clementine left anything in the fridge for dessert.” She winked. “Then go and research.”

Benjy laughed. “I shouldn’t eat anything more, but Clementine’s desserts are hard to resist. I guess I’ll say good night then.”

An’gel and Dickce both wished him good night, and he left the dining room humming.

“It’s wonderful to see the change in him since we first met him three months ago,” Dickce said. “He’s become so much more confident, and he smiles a lot.”

“Having a home, good food, and people who actually support him and pay attention to him has made a huge difference.” An’gel smiled. “I’m glad you talked me into making him our ward.”

Dickce picked up her glass and stared into it. An’gel waited. She knew Dickce had something on her mind, but there was no point in rushing her.

After a moment, Dickce said, “I’ve been thinking about that, having him as our ward. We use that term, but there’s really nothing legal behind it to define the relationship.” She paused. “I want to adopt him.” She held up a hand toward her sister. “And before you tell me that’s a ridiculous idea, a woman my age adopting anyone, I’m pretty determined about this.”

“I’m not going to say it’s a ridiculous idea,” An’gel replied. “I’ve been thinking about it myself. We have no direct heirs, and when we’re gone, I want someone who will appreciate Riverhill to have it and take care of it. I think Benjy could be the right person for that.”

“I do, too.” Dickce smiled, obviously relieved by her sister’s words. “I’m so glad you agree.”

“My only stipulation is that we wait until Benjy has been with us a year,” An’gel said. “We need more time to get to know him, and he to know us. At the end of a year, we can sit down and talk about it. Will you agree to that?”

“I suppose you’re right,” Dickce said. “I know I shouldn’t be too hasty with a decision like this.” She thought for a moment. “Okay. A year it is, but I’ll hold you to it.”

An’gel laughed suddenly. “We’re certainly optimists, aren’t we? At our age, talking about what we’ll do nine months from now.” She sobered. “Still, I think it’s best that we wait.”

“Agreed.” Dickce stood and began to gather dirty utensils and plates to take to the kitchen.

An’gel knew her sister was bothered by the mention of their ages, but they had to be realistic. They were both in excellent health, but so many things could happen to change that, and quickly. She’d had a lucky escape today, thank heavens, and she didn’t care to think about how bad it could have been.

She forced her thoughts away from that subject. Time to focus on something else. She thought about Callie Partridge and how easily—or so it seemed—she had slipped from their lives. They hadn’t questioned it among themselves, at least not seriously. Gossip had quickly provided an answer, but as it turned out, not the correct one. Callie had lain in a grave at Ashton Hall all these years.

An’gel was struck by an odd thought. There were two women missing: Callie and Coriander. What if those weren’t Callie’s remains they’d found? What if they’d belonged to Coriander instead?

CHAPTER 28

An’gel followed as Dickce pushed the serving cart, now laden with the remains of their dinner, dirty plates, and utensils, back to the kitchen. Could she possibly be right? she wondered. She debated whether to share her idea with her sister. Dickce might think she was being foolish to think such a thing. After all, An’gel thought, what motive could there have been to murder Coriander Simpson?

She continued to play with the idea in her mind while she and Dickce rinsed the dishes and put away the meager leftovers of the chicken tetrazzini. When they finished their tasks, Dickce declared she was going to the front parlor for a glass of postprandial brandy.