I’d planned to spend the morning in the study, giving Aunt Dimity the latest news about Finch’s tumultuous affairs, but after reading Bill’s note, I decided to pursue a more active agenda, one that would have won his disapproval had he known of it. My husband was the light of my life, but he could be just a tad overprotective.
I took a quick shower, downed a hurried breakfast, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, and wrote a note on the back of Bill’s, informing him that I’d gone to Finch. As I closed the front door behind me, I felt for the first time a surge of anger toward the meddlesome puppeteer. Thanks to his interference, I wouldn’t be able to pedal my beautiful Betsy down the sun-dappled lane while listening to birds twitter in the hedgerows because I couldn’t work her hand brakes. I was irked with him for throwing my village into turmoil, but I was furious with him for keeping me off my blue bicycle.
“When I get my hand on you, string-puller,” I growled, “I’m going to smack you silly.”
I had to drive Bill’s Mercedes because he’d taken the Range Rover and I had to steer without the aid of my mummy thumb, but I made it to Ivy Cottage in one piece. I had no intention of engaging in manual labor, but I couldn’t abandon Team Ivy without a word of explanation.
The front garden was a hive of activity. Mr. Barlow was in the driveway, measuring a trellis panel, Jack and Bree were pounding stakes into the ground, and Emma was connecting one stake to another with lengths of string. Though the sound of pounding hammers made me shudder, the absorbed expression on Emma’s face delighted me. She looked like a pig in clover.
“Are you making a maze?” I asked from the gateway.
Mr. Barlow raised his hand briefly to acknowledge my presence, but the others dropped what they were doing and rushed over to greet me. I thanked Emma for the soup and the grapes and the lilacs, told her how much I’d enjoyed seeing Peter and Cassie, and assured her that my menfolk and I would be at the homecoming party. I thanked Bree and Jack, too, for driving me home from the humpbacked bridge in my hour of need.
“Bree and I swung by your place yesterday afternoon to find out how you were,” Jack said, “but Bill told us you were not to be disturbed.” He ducked his head guiltily. “I’m sorry we spent so much time faffing about in Upper Deeping, Lori. If we’d come back sooner—”
“You’re not to blame for my lack of coordination,” I interrupted. “Your mission was to find the perfect birdbaths and mine was to repair the bird tables. I hope one of us succeeded.”
“Emma approves of our birdbaths,” Bree informed me. “And we’re not making a maze, we’re marking out borders and flower beds.”
“We’re implementing Emma’s grand design,” said Jack.
I felt like a complete heel for walking out on my team when they had so much work ahead of them, so I said with as much sincerity as I could muster, “If there’s anything I can do . . .”
“Bill told me you were as weak as a kitten,” said Emma, eyeing me suspiciously. “Does he know you’re out and about?”
“He will when he reads my note,” I replied evasively.
“I thought so,” said Emma. She lowered her voice. “Bill read the riot act to Mr. Barlow after you hurt yourself, and he made our young friends here feel pretty small for leaving you alone with a toolbox full of dangerous weapons. He’d drive a stake through my heart if I put you to work, so run along.” She folded her arms and regarded me sternly. “You are officially relieved of duty.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll see you tonight. Good luck with the grand design.”
Relieved at having been relieved, I drove Bill’s car over the humpbacked bridge and parked it in front of the Emporium. The right-hand window display, I noted, had been thoroughly dusted and the rusty cans of baked beans had been replaced by shiny new ones. Jasper Taxman, Peggy’s mousy, soft-spoken husband, stood in the left-hand window, adding a new C to the crumpets sign.
“Thus endeth the ‘rumpets’ sale,” I murmured, and got out of the car. I tapped on the shop window to get Jasper’s attention and he motioned for me to come in. The sleigh bells affixed to the front door announced my entrance.