“You’re a Scot. That trumps all,” Josiah added. “That means you’re perfect.”
“Of course,” Quinne agreed. She fit right in, and Andy had been right, she was perfectly at home in a family of Victorian ghosts. Sybil couldn’t imagine another girl who would be. They had lucked out. And Andy was happy with her, and was talking about staying in Scotland while she went to medical school, but that was still a few years away, and Sybil didn’t want to think about it.
It was late by the time all the young people went upstairs, and Quinne and Andy went back out for a nightcap at a bar in the Mission that stayed open late, and they slept in the next day. When Quinne emerged from Andy’s bedroom, Alicia got a fright when she saw her hair, but Quinne was very polite, and she whisked down the stairs in denim shorts with a leopard sweater and camouflage combat boots.
“Madre de Dios,” Alicia said, shaking her head. And when she went to vacuum the third floor, she could hear Sybil talking to herself again in her office. Gwyneth had come by for a few minutes, to gossip about Quinne, and both women agreed that they liked her. Other than the hair, she seemed perfect, and Andy was crazy about her. The only thing Sybil didn’t like about her was that she was afraid Andy would stay in Scotland to be with her.
“Can’t he convince her to come here?” Gwyneth asked her.
“I don’t know. I think he likes it there. I’m going to blame Angus if he stays.”
“You just have to convince her to move to the States, if he marries her,” Gwyneth said.
“He’s a long way from that. But you never know.” There was always something to worry about with kids. Gwyneth was equally worried about Bettina staying in France.
“I don’t think she will,” Sybil reassured her. “She’d miss all of you too much.”
“She’s bored here,” Gwyneth said realistically, “and if she meets a man there…” Gwyneth’s voice drifted off, and Sybil tried to forget what she already knew, that Bettina did meet a man there, and married him. But she and Blake had agreed that they had no right to tell them the future. It had to unfold, and if destiny changed it, that was different, but they couldn’t influence what would happen. They didn’t have that power anyway. And why upset Gwyneth?
—
Quinne had brought small, thoughtful gifts for everyone, and they all spent a beautiful Christmas Eve together. Christmas Day was sunny and warmer than usual. They sat in the garden together and talked, and had dinner again that night, informally. All the men wore black tie. Andy took Quinne away for a few days after that, to the Napa Valley and Lake Tahoe to show her the sights, and have some time alone together. They shared a lovely few days in beautiful places. Sybil liked Quinne more and more. She got along with everyone, and Augusta was enchanted by her. Angus was not entirely sure who she was, but commented that she had great legs and a very handsome bosom, which made everyone laugh except his sister, who scolded him soundly when they left the table, and told him he sounded like a masher.
—
Their New Year’s Eve together was exceptionally nice too. It wasn’t as dramatic as the year before, when Josiah had returned from the war. Max Walker arrived to spend the evening with Caroline, and Sybil had warned Gwyneth. Neither of them was sure how Augusta would react to all these strangers coming and going. But they were young and guests of the Gregorys, so Augusta came to dinner and ignored Max completely. He wasn’t Scottish and his father didn’t have a title, so he was unworthy of her notice. But the other Butterfields were there too and welcomed him warmly. Caroline had explained to him that they were ghosts, which he found hard to believe at first. But once he met them, he loved them. They celebrated Lili’s first birthday two days later. Bettina had decided to leave for France a month later, in February, and had booked passage on the White Star Line’s Baltic.
At dinner after Lili’s birthday party, Gwyneth noticed that Augusta was coughing and looked feverish.
“Are you all right, Mother?” she asked, as she observed her through dinner. She didn’t look well, and Sybil agreed.
By the time they left the dining room after dinner, Augusta seemed unsteady on her feet. Sybil remembered then from Bettina’s book what it was, and suggested to Gwyneth that they call a doctor immediately. She nodded, and asked Bert to do it. The doctor came an hour later. He was the same doctor she’d had for fifty years, and he looked serious when he came downstairs. They were all waiting for him in the drawing room, which they seldom used.
“Is she all right?” Bert asked. He and Blake had been drinking some very fine brandy they’d found in his wine cellar.
“I believe it’s the Spanish flu,” he said ominously, “but hopefully a very mild case.” The Spanish flu had been ravaging the United States and Europe for several months. Some survived it, but many didn’t, and the death toll was beginning to compete with the war dead, and people feared it would exceed it. It was an epidemic of epic proportions, and none of them wanted Augusta to become one of its victims or fatalities. She was not a young woman.
The doctor recommended bed rest, keeping Augusta warm, and what medicines they had to combat it. But so far, little was known about the disease. Death could occur very quickly, even in healthy young people, and particularly among the elderly or infants, so Augusta was at serious risk.
Gwyneth volunteered immediately to nurse her, as did Bettina. They forbade Lucy to go near her, and Sybil volunteered her services too. There was no danger for her, and all three women were adamant about wanting to care for her. They wouldn’t allow Angus to enter his sister’s room, and when Quinne and Caroline offered to help too, the older women declined. But Sybil knew there was no chance of their catching any illness from a ghost.