Alan felt a distinct chill between Carolyn and Eileen as Eileen led them to a large round table near the fireplace, that, even on this warm early-summer evening, was ablaze with the false warmth of poorly designed gas logs.
“This is totally tacky,” Tracy announced as they spread themselves around the table. “No wonder Grandmother never comes here.”
“How is Mrs. Sturgess?” Alan asked immediately. Out of the corner of his eye, he’d seen Phillip opening his mouth to admonish his daughter, and all his instincts told him that if he let that happen, Tracy would do her best to make the meal as difficult as possible for all of them. And for Beth, it would become sheer misery. As if to confirm his feeling, he saw Carolyn shoot him a grateful look.
“Much better,” Phillip replied, his attention diverted from Tracy. “In fact, she’s doing her best to make life miserable for everyone at the hospital, which, for Mother, is a good sign.”
“Did she say what happened?” Alan asked warily, still certain the woman’s experience in the mill had to be the reason she now wanted to talk to Beth.
Phillip hesitated, but shook his head. “Not really. She said something in the basement frightened her, but she couldn’t say exactly what.”
A nervous silence fell over the table, which Alan finally broke with an attempt at a lightness he didn’t feel. But he still wasn’t ready to discuss Abigail’s request with Beth, so he tried to put it off with black humor. “Aside from the darkness, the smell, and the rats that live down there, what’s to be scared of?”
It didn’t work. Beth, who had said nothing until then, turned serious eyes to him. “Smell? What kind of smell?”
Alan winked at his daughter. “The smell of dirt, damp, and age. That place was closed up so long, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to get it aired out.”
“Of course you will,” Phillip replied. “It’s just a matter of getting a decent furnace in, and letting it dry out.”
“It might not be that simple,” Carolyn said quietly. “With the mill, it seems that nothing is as simple as it appears, doesn’t it?”
Alan eyed his ex-wife carefully. “Do I hear a note of skepticism?” he asked. “Don’t tell me you’ve joined forces with your mother-in-law and decided the mill shouldn’t be reopened.”
Carolyn shot him a look of annoyance, but then decided that under his bantering tone, he’d meant the question seriously. “It has to do with a lot of things,” she replied. “Aside from the history of the place, it just seems to me that Westover isn’t big enough to support the kind of shops that always go into places like Ye Olde Mill.” In an attempt to take the sting out of her words, she purposely pronounced the final E in “olde,” and was relieved when Phillip joined in Alan’s chuckle.
But then Phillip’s laughter died away, and when he spoke, his voice was serious. “I’m afraid that despite what everyone else thinks—including my wife—I’m still convinced it’ll be a success. If it turns out the way Alan and I have planned it, I’m hoping it will draw people from the whole area. And that could give the entire town a boost.”
“Well, God knows Westover could use that,” Alan sighed. He picked up his menu, and glanced at the list of appetizers. “How does escargots sound?”
“Here?” Tracy asked. “You’ve got to be kidding.” Her father shot her a warning glance, but Tracy ignored it. “Why couldn’t we have gone to a nice restaurant?”
“There’s nothing wrong with this place, Tracy,” Phillip said quietly.
Tracy’s eyes narrowed, and her mouth set into a sullen pout. “If Grandmother weren’t in the hospital, we wouldn’t have had to come here at all.”
“We’re here because we want to be,” Phillip replied, and though his voice remained quiet, it had taken on a certain edge.
Carolyn seemed to be doing her best to ignore the exchange, and Alan, certain that anything else he said—no matter how innocuous—would only exacerbate the situation, concentrated on his menu even though he was quickly losing his appetite. And this, he thought as he began eliminating entrées to narrow his choices, is what Carolyn and Beth have to put up with every day. He felt a flicker of sympathy for Carolyn, and wondered if this marriage, like their own, was also going to be a failure for her. If Tracy had anything to do with it, he was certain it would be.