I made a wry face.
“I can always find something to do at home,” I said. “Laundry, cleaning, cooking, letting Stanley out, letting Stanley in, looking after Bess, Bill, and the boys . . .” I let Bess seize my index finger and pull it into her slobbery mouth for a good gumming. “Don’t get me wrong, Dimity. I enjoy taking care of my family. But I’ve also enjoyed the past few days.”
You’re allowed to enjoy both, you know. Too much routine is as wearing as too much hustle and bustle. True contentment lies at the midway point between the two.
“It’s all about balance, eh?” I said.
I believe so. And while you’re engaged in your household chores, you can devise a strategy for your meeting with Marigold.
“Any suggestions?” I asked.
You might begin by telling her that you’re interested in Rose Cottage and Ivy Cottage.
I threw my head back and laughed.
“I wouldn’t even be lying,” I said as Bess laughed with me. “I am interested—very interested—in the empty cottages.” I gave another hoot of laughter. “She’ll probably give me a sales pitch.”
I hope she does. Her sales pitch would be quite revealing.
“I’ll coax one out of her,” I promised. “Marigold may be able to bamboozle her clients, but she won’t bamboozle me.”
I should think not. You’re a Finch-trained snoop!
“I shall do my utmost to live up to my training,” I said, inclining my head graciously toward the journal. “In the meantime, however, I have to get dinner ready and throw another load of diapers into the wash. I’ll let you know what happens with Marigold.”
Thank you, my dear. Good luck!
Twenty
As Aunt Dimity had predicted, I took a great deal of pleasure in resuming my disrupted routine. I wasn’t an obsessive homemaker, but I liked to bring a certain degree of order to the chaos of living with two little boys and a baby. I plunged into my chores with a gusto I hadn’t felt in ages.
I took over the school run as well because Bill had been thrust into his pre-Bess routine by Didier Pinot, who’d decided to tear up his old will and create a new one from scratch. Oddly enough—or, perhaps, not oddly at all—Bill didn’t mind. His inadvertent return to the office had allowed him to get back in touch with a profession he loved. Though he intended to keep his vow to spend more time at home with his family, he was not averse to becoming reacquainted with his clients.
“It’s all about balance,” I reminded Bess wisely, as I carried a teetering tower of sneakers up to the boys’ room on Wednesday.
I telephoned Amelia after Thursday’s school run for an update on the situation at Fairworth House.
“I believe William is taking his sisters to Stratford today,” she informed me.
“You believe?” I said, puzzled. “Aren’t you going with them?”
“Sadly, I can’t,” she replied. “I’m needed in Oxford.”
“Ah, yes,” I said as the penny dropped. “Your exhibition. I imagine you’ll be extremely busy over the next couple of weeks.”
“I will,” she declared unequivocally. “I’m afraid I won’t have much time to get to know William’s sisters better during their visit.”
“Oh, I think you know them well enough already,” I said dryly.
“You and Bill are still coming to dinner on Saturday, aren’t you?” she asked with a hint of anxiety in her voice.
“We’ll be there,” I assured her, “but I don’t think we’ll eat much. Have fun in Oxford.”
“It’s work, Lori,” she said.
“Of course it is,” I said. “I’ll see you on Saturday.”
I then telephoned Deirdre Donovan.
“William and the two tartars are on their way to Stratford,” she confirmed. “Declan’s driving them. I feel sorry for him, but I won’t mind having Fairworth to myself for a while.”
“How are you holding up?” I asked.
“My jaw’s a bit sore from gnashing my teeth,” she said, “but other than that, I’m fine. Will we see you and Bill on Saturday?”
“You will,” I said. “You’ll see Bess, too. We’re leaving Rob and Will at Anscombe Manor with Emma Harris, but we’re bringing Bess with us.”
“Good,” said Deirdre. “You and I can take turns hiding in the nursery.”
“That’s the plan,” I said, grinning, and returned cheerfully to my housework. The thought of waiting hand and foot on Bill’s aunts for three solid weeks made my own chores seem positively delightful.
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