“Go ahead,” Rob coaxed. “You can do it.”
“But not too fast,” Will cautioned.
“You don’t want to spook him,” said Rob.
I raised my hand with infinite care until it was close to Toby’s nostrils, and the old pony rubbed it gently with his velvety nose.
“He likes you,” said Will.
“He rubs people he likes,” Rob added earnestly.
And for some reason I will never understand, I believed them.
Kit came up behind me, put his hands on my shoulders, and said quietly, “Here endeth the fi rst lesson.”
I felt an unexpected twinge of regret when the boys led me away from Toby, and before I left the stables, I turned back to give him a little wave. He snuffled again, as if to say, “See you later!” and a tiny part of me began to believe that learning to ride him might not be an irredeemably bad idea.
Since it was just past noon and the farrier had several more horses to shoe, the boys were not ready to leave the stables. I told Annelise that I’d see them at home and headed for the Mini.
Mr. Barlow had left the keys in the ignition, but before I got into the car, I placed a hand on its rusty roof and vowed solemnly that I Aunt Dimity: Vampire Hunter
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would never drive it down Lizzie’s lane. It must have sensed my good intentions, because it started right away and puttered along without a squeak or a groan as I cruised down Anscombe Manor’s curving drive.
I stopped when I reached the end of the drive, and looked in both directions. A left-hand turn would take me to the cottage, but if I turned right, I’d soon be in Finch. I tapped the steering wheel thoughtfully.
I’d had plenty to eat at Aldercot Hall, so I wasn’t hungry, and the Mini’s heater was already drying my trousers, so I wasn’t in a hurry to change clothes. Annelise and the boys wouldn’t be home for several hours, so I didn’t need to put dinner on the table for a while. I could, in fact, think of no compelling reason to go straight back to the cottage. So I turned right.
I watched carefully for Leo as I negotiated the lane’s winding curves, paying particular attention to the hedges and ditches, in case he’d had an accident and was lying by the side of the road, injured. I even stopped the car once, to peer into the ditch Bill liked to call mine, but I made it all the way to Finch’s humpbacked bridge without seeing a soul, which wasn’t unusual. Even on a gorgeous spring day, there was rarely any traffic on my lane.
As I drove over the bridge, all of Finch lay before me, looking rather damp and deserted. Rain gushed out of downspouts and rushed down the cobbled street, and a small pond had taken shape just below the war memorial on the village green. No one was window-shopping or bench sitting or doing anything outdoors, except for Jasper Taxman, who was scurrying from the Emporium to the greengrocer’s shop next door, with a bucket of mauve paint in one hand and several paintbrushes in the other.
The Emporium, which served as Finch’s general store as well as its post office, was owned by the all-powerful Peggy Taxman. Peggy had recently purchased the greengrocer’s shop from old Mr. and Mrs. Farnham, who had retired and moved to Derbyshire to be near
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their three grown daughters. To judge by Jasper’s harassed expression, it looked as though Peggy had assigned to her husband the task of redecorating the latest addition to her empire.
Jasper paused beneath the shop’s green awning when he saw me, and I drove over to crank my window down and say hello.
“Keeping busy?” I said, looking pointedly at the paintbrushes.
“You don’t know the half of it,” he replied with a heavy sigh.
“But better busy than bored, I always say. How is life treating you?
I haven’t seen your face in Finch for quite a while.”
“I was at the Guy Fawkes Day committee meeting on Thursday,” I told him, experiencing a flutter of déjà vu. Hadn’t I said the same thing to Mr. Barlow just last night?
“Were you?” said Jasper. “I must have missed you. How are the boys getting along at Morningside?”
“They’re doing great,” I replied. “They couldn’t be happier. Listen, Mr. Taxman, I was wondering—have you seen a stranger in town today? An older man, with white hair and blue eyes. He would have been riding a bicycle.”
Jasper shook his head. “I don’t think so, Lori, but I’ve been so busy running back and forth that I may have missed him.”
“Better busy than bored, eh?” I teased.
“That’s right.” Jasper held up the can of mauve paint. “And I’d best get busy or Mrs. Taxman will have something to say about it.”
“Thanks, Mr. Taxman,” I said.