O' Artful Death - By Sarah Stewart Taylor Page 0,56

I think it went beyond that for Emily. I think she found all of us hard, I think it was the colony.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I think what I mean is that almost all of the colony children have had trouble of some sort. We thought we were giving them the best possible life, culture and interesting people and art and more art, and it turned out what they wanted was some kind of midwestern suburban life they could reject in the end.”

They walked in silence for a few minutes, Electra leaning against Sweeney’s proffered arm.

“It seems like Ruth Kimball must have been a nice woman,” Sweeney said awkwardly.

“Well, you know, Ruth Kimball also had a difficult time with all of us, I think. I feel badly about it now. We all do, despite our appalling show at dinner the other night. But she didn’t like us much, had this idea that the colony had exploited her ancestors or something. I really feel so sad about what happened to her, that we were the last people she saw. Poor Ruth. She was so strange that last day that we saw her.”

“What do you mean, strange? What was it about her that was strange?”

“Well, of course we didn’t actually talk to her, but Rosemary spotted her across the field, walking toward the cemetery. And then we realized that she had dropped her hat. Most unlike her, really. She wasn’t the sort of person who dropped things. So I thought that she must have been hurrying or quite worried about something to have dropped it. We called out after her, but she was too far away to hear. It was quite inconvenient for us. The weather had gotten bad, and Rosemary had to go leave the hat on the back porch, so it wouldn’t get buried by the snow. We almost got caught out in the storm. Of course, it all made sense later when we heard what had happened.”

Sweeney was pondering this as they arrived at the front door of Electra Granger’s big, federal-style house. Sweeney got her safely inside and was about to go when she looked down into the older woman’s empty eyes and saw an unguarded nervousness pass across the pale, lined face. She wondered suddenly if blind people, unable to see emotions flit across other faces, sometimes forget to check their own facial reactions.

“My dear. I wonder if I couldn’t give you a word of advice? Before you go?”

“Of course.”

“We’re very proud of our past here. Too proud sometimes, I think. We’re also very protective of it. Be careful as you look around for skeletons in closets.”

Sweeney was trying to think what to say when Electra Granger smiled, her face placid again. Then she raised her eyebrows impishly as she said, “It was lovely to chat with you. I’ll see you Saturday at the Christmas party, when the Byzantium colonists come out in all their glory.”

SEVENTEEN

SABINA DODGE STOOD at the window in the study, watching Sweeney and Electra walk down the driveway. Nice girl, smart, a bit uptight, but interesting just the same. “Very unique,” Gilda would have said, with a raise of her eyebrows. Unique, pronounced with a bit of a French flourish, had been Gilda’s highest form of praise and indication that she wanted to bring someone into their social circle. There had been a time when Sabina had felt jealous of those new girls, inevitably younger, prettier, breezier, so in awe of Gilda. But after a time, they had ceased to affect her much. She remembered one visit in particular, when a young sculptress had come to stay with them. Gilda had staged a seduction and been rebuffed. Sabina had never felt more powerful than when she had comforted her that night, Gilda had not handled aging particularly well. Anyway, she would have gotten a kick out of Sweeney.

Sabina straightened a bowl on the bookshelf and looked up at the wall. Seeing Gilda’s paintings there calmed her, as though she was right up there, looking down on Sabina, winking the way she always had when they were in public. That private wink. It had been a truth of their relationship that no matter how left behind and ignored Sabina felt at Gilda’s art openings or parties, a wink always brought her back, made her feel loved. She looked up at the wall again. Funny how Sweeney had picked out the relief right away, asked about it.

Sabina pottered around the room, neatening up the surfaces