The Family Way (Molly Murphy, #12)

Then on the afternoon of the third day I received a letter from Gus.

Molly, as usual you make the most brilliant suggestions. As Sid said, we have already enjoyed the ocean this summer. It should surely now be the turn of the river and the way you describe it, it does sound inviting. Added to which we can visit you and take a trip upstream to relive our happy time at Vassar. I seem to recall we spent the night once at a delightful little village called Tarrytown. It had a magnificent view across the river where it widens into the Tappan Zee. I presume the inn is still there—can’t remember its name, but it was something charmingly romantic and rural like Green Gables or Sleepy Hollow—didn’t Washington Irving live nearby? Either way, I’m sure we’ll be able to locate it, or one like it. So expect to hear from us in a few days. I can’t remember how close you are to Tarrytown. Would you be able to take a look for us and see if our inn is still there?

By the way, we finally saw your industrious husband and told him that we were thinking of staying on the Hudson ourselves. He said it was a capital idea but we were to make sure you did nothing too strenuous. So you see, Molly, we have been charged with watching over you.

I heaved a sigh of content. Now that my friends were expected in a few days, I permitted myself one small stretching of the truth.

I came out to the porch where Mrs. Sullivan was resting on the swing after another session of jam making. I sat beside her. “You remember my friends—the two women who were my bridesmaids? Misses Elena Goldfarb and Augusta Walcott?” I mentioned the names to remind her that Gus came with family connections and my strategy obviously worked as she nodded and said, “Of the Boston Walcotts, wasn’t it? Such a charming young woman. Such good manners.”

“Well,” I continued. “I believe I mentioned to you that they were thinking of coming to stay on the river nearby. I’ve received another letter from them. They wondered if I could check on a little inn they remember in Tarrytown. Unfortunately they can’t recall its name but have described it to me. Tarrytown is not too far from here, is it?”

Mrs. Sullivan’s lips pursed in a gesture I had seen all too often. “Do your friends know of your condition?”

“Of course.”

The pursed lips remained in place. “I don’t call it very considerate of your friends to want you to go running all over the place for them in this heat.”

“Oh, I’m sure they wouldn’t want me to exert myself,” I said hastily. “It’s not as far as Irvington, is it? Only a mile or so? So if you could spare Jonah one morning, maybe I could do marketing for you at the same time and thus save you a trip into town.”

She was still frowning but at last she said. “Well, we are running low on sugar. And there is a butcher in Tarrytown who provides excellent chickens. I thought we might treat ourselves to a roast chicken after our industrious jam making.”

“I’d be happy to run those errands for you,” I said. “Would you like me to go in the morning?”

“I think that would be all right,” she said. “You could take Bridie with you. You know how she loves the river and she has been such a willing little helper with the fruit picking.”

I could find no good reason not to take Bridie, but I didn’t want her reporting back to Mrs. Sullivan that I’d been to a convent. Maybe I could send Jonah off with her to get an ice cream while I snooped around. But at least I’d succeeded in the first part of my plan. By this time tomorrow I’d know the truth about where Maureen O’Byrne had gone.





Thirteen

I chose to set off early so that we would be back before the heat of the day. It was another pleasant ride, shaded by trees the whole way. Bridie chattered excitedly about what we were going to see and whether one could swim or catch fish in the river.