“We’ll be on our way, then,” Mac said. “I’ll call you later,” he whispered to me as he brushed a kiss across my cheek.
I waved to Neila and waited until she had closed her door before I got in the Buick and followed Mac back down the driveway. It wasn’t until I was halfway back to the reception that I remembered I had gone there to find out what Neila was doing in town. And why Mac had decided to rescue her.
29
I returned to the reception without trouble. Mom and Vi didn’t even suspect I had been gone, but Seth kept eyeing me as if I had excluded him from a fun adventure. Dad had spent enough years with Vi and my mother to have adopted a low level of curiosity as to the activities of his family members. He took the keys back in silence and nodded pleasantly while sipping his drink.
By the time we got home, had walked the dogs, and provided yet another “routine” treat for them, I was ready for bed. I fell asleep almost immediately and didn’t dream.
Friday morning I was well rested and ready to start on a new angle. Bea had seemed so proper when I met her the other night. I was surprised to see her with an angry anti-Wiccan group, especially since her daughter was a member of Rafe’s coven. What I had seen earlier when she was spying on Skye (and we were all spying on Lucan) had me wondering what was going on at the Paxton house. Plus, if Seth was going to be gallivanting with one or both of the sisters, I decided I should have a talk with Bea.
After the usual morning dog-walking and breakfast, I reminded Seth that my dad was going to pick him up at lunchtime, made sure he had homework to do, and set out on my own to find Bea Paxton. Diana had told me she was a preschool teacher at Covenant of Grace Church, which was located between Crystal Haven and Grand Rapids. I Googled it and got directions.
The building itself was gorgeous, and old. It was made of stone with a beautiful bell tower and stained glass. It reminded me of something that would be a tourist stop in Europe. But the growing congregation had needed to expand, and a large, utilitarian, rectangular addition jutted out of the back like a tumor. I wondered how they had gotten it past the historical society. The parking lot was in the rear by the new addition. According to the signs, the offices and a small chapel were in the old building while the classrooms and large sanctuary were in the new. I didn’t pay much attention to such things, but I did know that this was one of those megachurches sweeping the Midwest, with multimedia church services and a charismatic preacher. I walked around to the front of the building and up the steps to enter what was originally the front of the church leading into the chapel. Hand-lettered flyers announced the preschool was “now enrolling” and the women’s group would sell candied nuts throughout the month of November. By following helpful arrows I found the offices. I wanted to be sure I could go to the preschool area without sending up an alarm.
The woman at the desk was about my mother’s age but much more padded and wearing a 1970s-era prairie dress. It had a ruffled collar and her reading glasses rested on her ample chest. A nameplate on her desk read: GLADYS.
“May I help you?” she said.
“I’m Clyde Fortune. I was hoping to speak with Bea Paxton if she’s available.”
“Are you interested in enrolling your child in the preschool? We have openings.”
“Well, I—”
“I know it’s hard to answer that until you’ve seen the place. You know the preschool is only open Monday, Wednesday, and Friday?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but she kept going.
“The church is closed on Tuesdays and Thursdays unless there’s an emergency. Are you new in town? I haven’t seen you in services, but we’re growing so fast, I don’t get a chance to meet all the newcomers.”
“Not really, I—”
“Just getting back to your roots now that you have a child?” she interrupted again. “It happens all the time. People wander and explore and then they come home when it’s time to start a family. We’re very family oriented around here.”
“You see—”
“You aren’t wearing a ring. I assume you’re married, if you have a child?” Her tone became frosty with the last comment and I decided the truth wasn’t something this woman wanted to hear.
“I . . . was gardening . . . and forgot to put it back on.”
“Oh, your husband must be very tolerant. You should be careful—a pretty young woman like yourself. There’s no telling what kind of trouble you might attract if the men don’t know you’re taken.” She shook a finger at me, but smiled.
I scanned the room for hidden cameras. Surely she wasn’t real?
“Can you check on Mrs. Paxton, please?”
Gladys nodded and slipped her glasses onto her nose. She ran her finger down a row of phone extensions that had been taped to her telephone.