When I did not speak Adah added, “None of them worked.”
I nodded. “Then don’t tell me.”
“We went back. The boat wanted the rest of its money, the entire amount, but I didn’t think it deserved it. Its owners got in touch with me and threatened to sue me for it, but—”
“Before all that, didn’t you question your boat about the one that had taken your husband away?”
“Oh, yes. I don’t believe it knew a lot, and it had trouble expressing what little it knew. It said the other boat had been a lugger.” Adah Fevre paused. “That’s just another kind of sailboat, as I understand it. There had been several people on it, men and women. It had come close to us and had told our boat to heave to—reverse the engine so as to stop and so on. Barry had gone to the rail and talked to the people on board. After a minute or two he had gone over the side and into the boat … into this lugger. Then they pushed off and sailed away with him. I asked whether Barry had taken a bag, and the boat said it didn’t think so; but one of Barry’s bags was gone.”
“Just one?”
She nodded. “There was a big fight with the owners when I got back here. I didn’t want to pay them anything, and they were going to sue. I talked to their lawyer, and we agreed on a certain amount for each day we had been at sea. I paid that—it wasn’t as much as the full fee—and that settled it.”
“Do you know the name of the boat?”
Mrs. Fevre tried to remember it for so long that I almost interrupted her with another question. At last she said, “The Third Sister. That was it—or anyway I think it was.”
I said, “Please tell me about finding this book. The map was already glued in back when you found it?”
“Yes. Yes, it was. There’s a little hotel here. It’s not even a chain hotel, an independent I suppose you’d call it, the Polly’s Cove Inn. Barry and I had stayed there until Barry found the boat—it had a name, something about women. I’ve been trying to think of it.”
“The Third Sister? That’s what you said.”
“I—I don’t think so, Mr. Smith. Your name is Smith, isn’t it? Like that other one?”
“Yes, with a final E. I take it you went back to the Polly’s Cove Inn after you left the boat?”
“I did. I stayed there for a week, I think. I kept thinking that I ought to go back to High Plains alone and—and explain about Barry; but I kept hoping he’d come back. Another day. Just one more day … How long has it been now? Year and years. I’m afraid I’ve lost track of time, but I’m still waiting.”
“Where were you living when Chandra was born?”
“Here. Not in the Inn. Here, in this house. I remember bringing her home. I was thinking—I kept thinking over and over that there was no one I could show her to, but I was wrong. Mrs. Heuse was waiting for us. Standing there in the doorway, waiting for us. I showed her Chandra, and I was so proud. So proud and happy! I thought—I still tried to believe that Barry would come back any day, and then I would show her to him. Tell him he had a daughter. Only…” Adah sighed.
“Yes?”
“He never came back. He will, though. I’m quite certain of that, Mr. Smithe. He’ll come back when he can. Just as soon as he can.”
I said, “You must have left the Polly’s Cove Inn and bought this house.”
Mrs. Fevre’s head moved slowly from side to side. “I rented it. I rent it still—it’s very cheap. I have an eephone, and Chandra calls the people for me. I authorize a withdrawal. I sold our house in High Plains. I had to, and it brought a great deal of money.… Homes are so costly there.”
“Because of the university, I suppose.”
“We had a very nice house. It wasn’t as large as this one, though. This one has a great many rooms; I’ve never counted them. They’re empty. Most of the rooms are almost empty. This is my furniture. I bought it.… I’m sure I bought it. Nearly certain…”
I said, “I’m tiring you, I know. You must have opened your husband’s bags, the two he had left on the boat. Was this book in one of them?”
“Yes. The Third Sister. That was the name of our boat. The Third Sister.”
I asked another question but received no reply. Adah Fevre was asleep.
5
A COLD TEA PARTY
Chandra was waiting in the hall when I opened the door. I cleared my throat and told her, “I see you were listening. I thought you might be.” If it sounded grown-up and not at all friendly, well, I tried.
She nodded silently and would not meet my eyes. There wasn’t the ghost of a grin.
“I’m going to the kitchen now, and you might as well come along.” She was a good kid, so I tried to make it kind, adding, “That will be more dignified, and I’ll be glad to have you along.”
We found Mrs. Heuse sitting on a three-legged stool at the little kitchen table and looking thoughtful. I knew, or at least I thought I knew, as soon as I got a good look at her face; when I had gotten settled in the rickety old ponticwood chair across the table from her and had a chance to study her face, I knew for certain: she was a reclone, like me. Some people say there are tiny facial flaws that get fixed before birth for fully human kids but not for us; still, people seldom notice ours consciously. Maybe that’s the truth, but whether it’s true or not I don’t consciously notice the flaws most of the time. In case you ever need to know for certain and can’t find any flaws, here’s a surefire test: if the left side of the face mirrors the right side perfectly, that’s a fully human. Guaranteed.
Trying to make it friendly, I said, “I imagine you’re mulling over what to make for lunch.”
Looking up, she shook her head. “No, sir. Are you a guest here? A guest of Mrs. Fevre’s? Lunch is already in the steamer, but if you have special needs I’ll be happy to see what I can do.”
I shook my head. “I’m a reclone, Mrs. Heuse. Mrs. Fevre sent Chandra to borrow me from the Polly’s Cove Public Library. I have no special requirements, and you wouldn’t be obliged to satisfy them if I did. Do you by any chance know Millie Baumgartner? The woman who wrote so many cookbooks? I’m a friend of hers.”
Chandra stepped in. “He’s all right, Mrs. Heuse. I’m pretty sure we can trust him.”
“I know about Millicent Baumgartner’s books.…” Mrs. Heuse hesitated, wanting to call me sir but knowing I was no better than an equal. “I have two of them, and from time to time Chandra brings me others from the library. Her book on pastries is really wonderful, the best I’ve ever seen.”
“There’s a copy of Millie herself in the library now. Not permanently, but on interlibrary loan. I thought you might have requested her.”
Mrs. Heuse shook her head, and Chandra said, “I didn’t, either.”
I said, “Technically, she’s a reclone. A moment ago I told you I’m one. You are aware of that, I’m sure.”
The answer came slowly. “Yes. I surely am.”
“Chandra would have called for you, presumably, saying that her mother wanted you. She could pick Millie up in the same way, I imagine.”