The Family Way (Molly Murphy, #12)

“Just you make sure that you don’t tire yourself out,” she said. “If those friends want to take you off on jaunts all the time, you tell them no.”


I smiled. “I will. But don’t worry. They are very considerate, and they like nothing better than to sit writing and painting. I may take my own sketchbook with me. This will be my last chance to improve my painting skills, I fear.”

I ate a hearty breakfast and then I went upstairs to pack.

“Can I come with you?” Bridie asked as I crossed the hall. “I want to go back to the river.” She stood there looking so plaintive that my heart went out to her. Of course she wanted to be with me and she had had such a good time at the river. But how could I possibly do any investigating into Maureen if I had a child with me?

“I don’t think Molly will want to be bothered with looking after you,” Mrs. Sullivan said, and I saw Bridie’s face fall even more.

My good nature won out. “Of course it would be no bother to have her with me,” I said. “If I take a room at the inn, there’s no reason a little person like Bridie can’t share it. If you can spare her for a couple of days, that is?”

Mrs. Sullivan put an arm around Bridie. “There now. See how lucky you are that you’ve such kind people around you. Go upstairs and pack yourself some clean undergarments and hose. And put on the fresh white pinafore too. We don’t want you going away looking like a ragamuffin.”

Bridie bounded up the stairs with such glee that I was glad of my decision, however inconvenient it was going to be for me. An hour later we were ready with a carpetbag packed.

“I want to go swimming, but I don’t have any kind of bathing costume,” Bridie said. “The boys were swimming in their underpants. What can I swim in?”

Mrs. Sullivan looked appalled. “Young ladies do not swim in the river, Bridget,” she said using her proper name. “Whatever were you thinking?”

“Then when can I swim?” Bridie asked. “It looks as if it would be fun. The boys were having fun. They were squealing and laughing when they jumped off the dock.”

Mrs. Sullivan’s lips pursed. “The only time we are permitted to swim is at the seashore, when there is a proper bathing machine and we do not have to risk exposing our legs.” She gave us a frosty stare. “Remember what I told you, that a lady never shows even an ankle. It is not seemly.”

“No, Mrs. Sullivan,” Bridie said. She looked at me and I winked.

“And make sure you wear your sun hat at all times, Bridget,” Mrs. Sullivan called after us as we went toward the trap. “If you don’t you’ll get freckles and no man would want to marry a woman with a freckled face.”

As we climbed into the trap together I whispered, “We’ll see if we can find you a bathing costume in Tarrytown. Maybe they have one at the dry goods store. Only you have to promise not to tell Mrs. Sullivan.”

She gave me a wide-eyed smile. “I promise,” she whispered.

This time the journey seemed to take forever, although it was only a mile or so. The mare plodded along slowly until Bridie and I were both bursting with anticipation. And not just because I had escaped from my mother-in-law’s scrutiny and was about to see my dear friends, but because I finally would have a chance to find out exactly what happened to Maureen O’Byrne. Jonah drew up outside The Lighthouse Inn and we went into the cool reception area, where the smells of a recent breakfast—coffee and bacon—mingled with that of furniture polish and fresh flowers. Jonah carried in our bags and the stout innkeeper came bustling out of the kitchen when I rang the bell, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Are Miss Walcott and Miss Goldfarb available?” I asked.

“They went out about half an hour ago, ma’am,” the lady innkeeper replied.

“Do you have any idea where they might have gone? I’m their friend and have come to meet them.”

She glanced out of the glass-paneled front door. “They took their sketchbooks with them and I think I heard them say that they were going to paint by the river.”

“Then we’ll go and see if we can locate them in a minute,” I said. “But before we go, I wondered if you might have a room for the two of us. We’d like to stay here for a few days so I can enjoy the company of my friends.”

She looked worried. “Oh, dear. I’m afraid we’re rather full at the moment,” she said.

I reminded her that my two friends from New York were staying with her at my recommendation and I had hoped to give them a surprise and join them. Her face softened. “Well then,” she said. “If you don’t mind a small room and two flights of stairs I’ve a single room in the attic and I could probably squeeze a cot in for the young lady.”

She led us up two steep flights of uncarpeted wood stairs that twisted and turned until we came out to a narrow landing. She was breathing as hard as I was as she opened a door.