“We’ll go down after you recover from de Sade.” He gave Abra a nod, then turned to Hester when she took the flowers out. “You don’t have to push so hard.”
“You forget who you’re talking to. Pushing hard is what gets things done. I’m glad you came, glad you brought Abra.”
“It’s not as hard to come into Boston now.”
“We’re working on healing, both of us.”
“I didn’t push very hard in the early days of it.”
“Neither did I. We had to get some traction first.”
He smiled. “I love you, Gran.”
“You’d better. Your mother should be home in about two hours, though your father won’t until after six. Are you going to stay to see your mother at least?”
“That’s the plan, then we’ll head back. I have a house and a dog to look after.”
“Looking after things is good for you. We’ve come a long way, both of us, in the last few months.”
“I thought I’d lost you. We all did. I guess I thought I’d lost myself.”
“Yet here we are. Tell me how the book’s coming.”
“I think it’s coming okay. Some days are better than others, and sometimes I think it’s just crap. But either way being able to write makes me wonder why I haven’t done it all along.”
“You had a talent for the law, Eli. It’s a pity you couldn’t make that your hobby, or we could say a sideline, and writing your vocation. You could do that now.”
“Maybe I could. I think we all know I’d have been lousy in the family business. Tricia was always the one to follow in those footsteps.”
“And damn good at it.”
“She is, but even though it wasn’t for me, I’ve been learning more about it, or its history. Paying more attention to all its roots and beginnings.”
Her eyes lit with approval. “You’ve been spending time in the library at Bluff House.”
“Yeah, I have. Your grandmother-in-law ran whiskey.”
“She did. I wish I’d known her better. What I do remember is a feisty, hardheaded Irishwoman. She intimidated me some.”
“She must have been formidable to do that.”
“She was. Your grandfather adored her.”
“I’ve seen photos—quite the looker—and found more poking around Bluff House. But the roots of Landon Whiskey go back a lot further, to the Revolution.”
“Innovation, the heart of gamblers, the head of businessmen, risk and reward. And the understanding people enjoy a good stiff drink. Of course, the war helped, as cold-blooded as that is. Fighting men needed whiskey, wounded men needed it. In a very true way, Landon Whiskey was forged in a fight against tyranny and a quest for liberty.”
“Spoken like a true Yankee.”
Abra came back with a vase of artfully arranged flowers. “They’re absolutely beautiful.”
“They really are. Should I put them in here, or in your bedroom?”
“In here. I’m spending more time sitting than lying down these days, thank God. Now that Abra’s back, why don’t we talk about what you really want to know.”
“You think you’re smart,” Eli said.
“I know I am.”
He grinned, nodded. “We’re winding around what I really want to know. My way of thinking is the history of the house, of the business, might have some part in the whole. I just haven’t figured it all out. But we can jump forward a couple of centuries.”
“I can’t see his face.” Hester fisted a hand in her lap. The emerald she often wore on her right hand fired at the gesture. “I’ve tried everything I can think of, even meditation—which, you know, Abra, I don’t do particularly well. All I see, or remember, is shadows, movement, the impression of a man—that shape. I remember waking up, thinking I heard noises, then convincing myself I hadn’t. I know I was wrong about that now. I remember getting up, going to the stairs, then the movement, the shape, the impression, and the instinct to get downstairs and away. That’s all. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Eli told her. “It was dark. You may not remember a face because you didn’t see it, or not distinctly enough. Tell me about the sounds you heard.”
“I remember them better, or think I do. I thought I’d been dreaming, and may very well have been. I thought, Squirrels in the chimney. We had them once, long ago, but we put in guards, of course, since then. Then there was creaking, and half asleep I thought, Who’s upstairs? Then I woke up fully, decided I’d imagined it and, restless, finally decided to go downstairs for some tea.”
“What about scents?” Abra asked.
“Dust. Sweat. Yes.” Eyes closed, Hester