She played with the hem of her dress. Stubborn. “My uncle is into antiques. The house changes all the time. Does it really matter?”
Whatever was going on, she wasn’t going to tell me about it right now. “Okay, then. Do you mind if I look around?” She frowned, but didn’t say anything. I got up from the table, and walked over to the next salon. It was set up like a small study, with settees, a fireplace, and a few small writing tables. Boo Radley was lying in front of the fire. He started to growl the moment I set foot in the room.
“Nice doggy.” He growled louder. I backed up out of the room. He stopped growling and put his head down on the hearth.
Lying on the nearest writing table was a package, wrapped in brown paper and tied with a string. I picked it up. Boo Radley began to growl again. It was stamped Gatlin County Library. I knew the stamp. My mom had gotten hundreds of packages like this one. Only Marian Ashcroft would bother to wrap a book like that.
“You have an interest in libraries, Mr. Wate? Do you know Marian Ashcroft?” Macon appeared next to me, taking the parcel out of my hand and eyeing it with delight.
“Yes, sir. Marian, Dr. Ashcroft, she was my mom’s best friend. They worked together.”
Macon’s eyes flickered, a momentary brightness, then nothing. It passed. “Of course. How incredibly dull-witted of me. Ethan Wate. I knew your mother.”
I froze. How could Macon Ravenwood have known my mother?
A strange expression passed over his face, like he was recalling something he’d forgotten. “Only through her work, of course. I’ve read everything she’s ever written. In fact, if you look closely at the footnotes for Plantations & Plantings: A Garden Divided, you will see that several of the primary sources for their study came from my personal collection. Your mother was brilliant, a great loss.”
I managed a smile. “Thanks.”
“I’d be honored to show you my library, naturally. It would be a great pleasure to share my collection with the only son of Lila Evers.”
I looked at him, struck by the sound of my mother’s name coming out of Macon Ravenwood’s mouth.
“Wate. Lila Evers Wate.”
He smiled more broadly. “Of course. But first things first. I believe, from Kitchen’s general lack of din, that dinner has been served.” He patted my shoulder, and we walked back into the grand ballroom.
Lena was waiting for us at the table, lighting a candle that had blown out in the evening breeze. The table was covered with an elaborate feast, though I couldn’t imagine how it had gotten there. I hadn’t seen a single person in the house, aside from the three of us. Now there was a new house, a wolf-dog, and all this. And I had expected Macon Ravenwood to be the weirdest part of the evening.
There was enough food to feed the DAR, every church in town, and the basketball team, combined.
Only it wasn’t the kind of food that had ever been served in Gatlin. There was something that looked like a whole roast pig, with an apple stuck in its mouth. A standing rib roast, with little paper puffs on the top of each rib, sat next to a mangled-looking goose covered with chestnuts. There were bowls of gravies and sauces and creams, rolls and breads, collards and beets and spreads that I couldn’t name.
And of course, pulled pork sandwiches, which looked particularly out of place among the other dishes.
I looked at Lena, feeling sick at the thought of how much I’d have to eat to be polite.
“Uncle M. This is too much.” Boo, curled around the legs of Lena’s chair, thumped his tail in anticipation.
“Nonsense. This is a celebration. You’ve made a friend. Kitchen will be offended.”
Lena looked at me anxiously, like she was afraid I was going to get up to use the bathroom and bolt. I shrugged, and began to load my plate. Maybe Amma would let me skip breakfast tomorrow.
By the time Macon was pouring his third glass of scotch, it seemed like a good time to bring up the locket. Come to think of it, I had seen him load up his plate with food, but I hadn’t seen him eat a thing.
It seemed to disappear off his plate, with only the smallest bite or two. Maybe Boo Radley was the luckiest dog in town.
I folded up my napkin. “Do you mind, sir, if I ask you something? Since you seem to know so much about history, and, well, I can’t really ask my mom.”
What are you doing?
I’m just asking a question.
He doesn’t know anything.
Lena, we have to try.
“Of course.” Macon took a sip from his glass.
I reached into my pocket and pulled the locket out of the pouch Amma had given me, careful to keep it wrapped in the handkerchief. All the candles went out. The lights dimmed and then spluttered out.
Even the music of the piano died.
Ethan, what are you doing?
I didn’t do anything.
I heard Macon’s voice in the darkness. “What is that in your hand, son?”