Part 52 (1/2)
”And they have these really fine dances. They're holding this one at the Dock House Inn.”
”Wonderful.” Matthew moved his king.
”I can't believe you did that! What's wrong with you?” The black rook captured Matthew's last knight.
”I'm trying to get it through my mind that you've joined a social club. I thought you were so dead-set against those! I thought you said they were a foolish waste of time!”
”No, Matthew,” Effrem replied. ”That's what you said. Your move.”
”Now wait a minute, just wait. You want to ask Berry? Why?”
Effrem laughed. ”Are you insane, Matthew?”
”I wasn't before I sat down at this table.”
”Listen.” Effrem slid a p.a.w.n forward. ”Haven't you looked at Berry? Haven't you talked to her? She's a beautiful girl, and she's got a lot of...a lot of...well, I don't know exactly what it is that she's got, but whatever it is I like it. She's different, Matthew. She's...exciting, I suppose is what I'm trying to say.”
”Exciting,” Matthew said. He countered the p.a.w.n with one of his own.
”Yes, absolutely. I saw her sitting there on the wharf one morning, doing her drawing. That was the morning I stepped on that d.a.m.ned black cat and fell in the drink, thank you very much for laughing, but it was what brought us together. She helped me climb out. I sat...we sat...for a long time, just talking. I like the way she laughs, I like the way she smells, I like-”
”Well when the h.e.l.l did you smell her?”
”You know what I mean. You just get a whiff sometimes of a girl's hair, or her skin. It's a nice smell.”
”The last time I smelled her, it wasn't so nice.”
”Pardon?”
”Nothing.” Matthew tried to force his concentration back to the game and failed miserably. Suddenly he seemed not to be able to tell any difference at all between p.a.w.n, rook, or king.
”My original question,” Effrem plowed on, ”is whether or not you think she'd go with me if I asked her.”
”I don't know. How should I know?”
”You live in the house right behind her! You take almost every meal in the kitchen with her sitting across the table! What's wrong with you?” He smacked the rook down. ”Checkmate.”
”That is not!” Matthew objected, but then his vision cleared and he saw the deadly triangle trap of black p.a.w.n, rook, and knight that had converged upon his king. ”d.a.m.n!”
”I'm thinking of giving her flowers when I ask her,” said Effrem. ”Do you think she might like that?”
”I don't know! Give her weeds, for all I care!” And then Matthew took a good long look at Effrem. He realized why his friend was suddenly so well-dressed in his nice dark blue suit, white s.h.i.+rt, and waistcoat and his brown hair with the gray streaks at the sides was no longer such a bird's-nest but so well-combed and he had the scrubbed appearance of a young lion with places to go and a bright future as a New York tailor.
If Effrem was not yet in love with Berry Grigsby, he was on the way.
”Pah!” Matthew said. He grabbed his cider and swigged it.
”What? Really, Matthew, you're not making any sense. The flowers, now. What kind of flowers should they be?”
”Flowers are flowers.”
”Granted, but I thought she might have...possibly...told you what kind she liked. Roses, or carnations, or lilies, or-” He shrugged, lost. ”I have no idea.” A quick adjustment of his gla.s.ses, and he leaned forward. ”What kind would you get her, Matthew?”
”I don't know anything about flowers.”
”Just think. Surely there's something she might like.”
Matthew thought. It was ridiculous, asking this of him. Absurd. He rubbed a hand across his forehead and winced because some of the scratches there were still tender. ”I suppose...I might get her...” What? he asked himself. ”Wildflowers.”
”Wildflowers?”
”Yes. Just pick them from a field somewhere. I think she'd prefer wildflowers to roses, or carnations, or...any of those.”
”That's a grand idea!” Effrem slapped his palm down on the table for emphasis. ”Wildflowers it is, and they won't cost any money, either. Now: what color would you suggest?”
”Color?”
”Color,” Effrem said. ”Blue, yellow, red...what color might she like?”
Matthew considered that in his years of knowing Effrem this was the strangest conversation they had ever shared. Still, one could tell from Effrem's expression-his s.h.i.+ning excitement, as it were-that for some reason Berry Grigsby had impressed him and come to have a meaning for him. As outlandish as that was. Those two together! A couple! Dancing at a Young Lions Ball! And maybe more than dancing, given time and the curve of Cupid's bow.
”Any ideas?” Effrem urged.
”Yes,” Matthew said after a moment's reflection. He stared at the chessboard, at the pieces that had trapped his king, but he was seeing fifty feet of rotten pier and the sun s.h.i.+ning down upon a green pasture across the river in Breuckelen. ”Have you ever looked into a blacksmith's forge?”
”I have. Once I had a sty on my right eye, and you know the heat is good for bursting them. If you stare into the forge long around, you feel the sty...” He stopped. ”What's a blacksmith's forge have to do with wildflowers?”
”Those are the colors,” Matthew said. ”The heart of the earth.”
”The what?” Effrem's brows came together. ”I think you may have had one cider too many.”
A slim brown box about ten inches long and wrapped with white ribbon was suddenly placed on the table in front of Matthew.
Fifty-One.
Startled, Matthew looked up into a craggy face with a formidable nose, deep-set eyes dark as tarpits, and the left charcoal-gray eyebrow sliced by a jagged scar.
”Good evening, Mr. Greathouse,” said Effrem. ”Would you care to join us?”
”No, thank you, Mr. Owles. I'm just pa.s.sing through. As I know your haunts by now, Matthew, I figured I'd find you”-he gave the chessboard a disdainful glance-”doing whatever it is you do in here. I wanted to bring that to you.” He nodded toward the box.
Matthew picked it up and shook it, making something s.h.i.+ft within. ”What is it?”
”A gift from Mrs. Herrald. She bought it for you before she left. Asked me to hold on to it until that situation with the lady was over. Mrs. Swanscott, I mean. I suppose I wanted to wait until I saw how you did on your second problem.”
Matthew nodded. He had no idea what was in the box, but as for Matthew's second problem, he'd just solved the mystery of the Eternal Maidens Club and their coconut pies. It seemed that the Eternal Maidens had put their money together to buy a very expensive ”pharaoh's nut,” a coconut, and the best cook of the club-Granny Farkason-had baked two pies from it. The pies had been put on a windowsill to cool and lo and behold they vanished. A neighbor known to eat her weight in biscuits was accused. Matthew had traced crumbs and clues to a travelling troubadour who had made camp in the shadow of the windmill on Wind Mill Lane and whose trained monkey, unbeknownst to him, had learned to slip his chain and go galavanting about town while his owner slept. The monkey had already disposed of one of the purloined items and had hidden an uneaten portion of the second in a hollow log. A gratis performance for the Maidens was arranged, including a great deal of flirting from the handsome troubadour that made several of the elderly maidens rethink their obligations to the club, and things ended as happily as possible when money, a monkey, and two coconut pies are involved.