The star of the day turned slowly on a spit, and the mouthwatering scent of roasted pork made my stomach growl with anticipation.
It couldn’t have been a more perfect day.
The potluck was laid out across two tables dressed with Letitia Briard’s best tablecloths. I ran an appreciative finger across one of the floral batistes. Though I knew it was wicked of me, I envied her collection.
Merry snuck our plate of deviled eggs between offerings of custards and quiches with an amused smirk.
“God bless the fine hens of Amity Falls,” Parson Briard proclaimed, coming over to inspect the feast. His laughter boomed over the town square. It faded as he caught sight of the Fairhopes, hanging back from the tables and keenly aware of the many eyes upon them. “Ezra, Thomas. Good to see you both.” He shook their hands before turning to us. “And, ladies, how well you all look.”
Pleased to have her new hand-me-down dress noticed, Sadie spun in a circle, showing off the full skirts with a giggle. Merry smiled up at the parson, taming back a strand of hair.
“Is that a new frock I spy, Miss Ellerie?” he asked.
“It is. I made it myself over the winter.”
“What a unique color. Lovely, lovely,” he repeated, distracted as more families arrived. “Enjoy the social.”
“You made that?” Thomas asked. “All those little…what are those called?” he asked, gesturing to my bodice.
“Pin tucks.”
“Pin tucks.” He pronounced it carefully, tasting the sound of it. “I like knowing the proper names for things. The world truly seems more ordered when you know what to call everything, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” I admitted.
Sadie ran off, giggling and screeching with glee, the second she saw Trinity and Pardon. I helped Merry spread our quilt over a sun-dappled patch of grass. My heart twinged as I traced over the tiny lines of Mama’s stitches.
“Oh, you’ve got something caught in your hair,” Merry said, gently tousling my locks as she worked to free the squirming intruder. “There.” A ladybug crawled over her hand, twining round and round her fingers.
Thomas leaned in to see. “Coccinellidae. Seven spots too.” He smiled at me. “You’ve been touched by luck—feel any different?”
“I’ll let you know if I do.”
“You really can never have too much luck, you know,” Ephraim mentioned, settling into a comfortable spot. He took the ladybug from Merry. “I always keep a four-leaf clover on me—just to be safe.”
“So, Ezra…Ephraim…” I still was uncertain what I was supposed to call him. “What exactly are we looking for today?”
He raised his finger, letting the ladybug fly away, then squinted around the square. “We’re observing. Looking for things out of the ordinary. You know this town better than us. You’re more likely to see where things look different, look wrong.” He paused, waiting until Bonnie Maddin and her circle of friends crossed by. “And of course…if you happen to see that woman, you let me know.”
Hushed murmurs rose around us, growing in strength as everyone turned to see Amos and Martha McCleary making their way up the hill to join the picnic.
“He’s better,” someone whispered.
“He’s…alive.” I turned to see Alice Fowler, her jaw slack with wonder.
Amos nearly danced up the hill, smiling and waving and moving like a man twenty years his junior. He still relied on his cane, but his free arm assisted Martha with the climb. His skin had lost its sickly pallor and glowed with robust heartiness.
“Amos, Martha,” Parson Briard greeted, crossing to the couple. “We’re so happy you could join us.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Preacherman.” Amos’s voice was strong and clear, without a trace of wheeziness. “You can smell that hog all the way across town!”
“You’re looking much improved,” Briard started carefully.
“I feel like a new man!” Amos said, giving the parson a cheerful smack on the back. He took a deep breath, boisterously filling his chest as if to prove he could.
“Excellent, excellent.”
“Martha brought a custard,” Amos continued. “Where should we put it?”
The parson ushered them toward the buffet tables. We watched with interest until a shadow fell across our quilt.
“Ellerie Downing. I can’t believe your gall.”
Letitia Briard stood at the edge of our blanket, her hands pressed to her hips and a dangerous glint sparkling in her eyes. “I knew the thief would show themselves eventually, but I never would have dreamed it would be you!”
“Thief?” I echoed in confusion. “What are you talk—”
“That’s my dress!” she snapped. Her nostrils flared, making her narrow nose look even more pinched than before.
“It’s not,” I protested, though her accusation caught me so off guard, I had to glance down to be certain. “I made this. This winter. My sisters saw me design and cut it myself.”
“With cloth you stole from me!”
I shook my head, acutely aware of the attention her outburst was drawing. Prudence Latheton and her circle of friends stared with rapt attention. “You’re mistaken, Mrs. Briard. This voile came from the city.”
“It did! It came back with Jeb McCleary’s spring run. Specially ordered. I was going to make curtains with it last summer, but when I went to bring it in off the wash lines, it was gone.” Her voice cracked. “Clemency said the wind must have carried it off. But I knew—I knew—it was stolen.”
I raised my shoulders helplessly. “I don’t know what to tell you. It was a gift. Whitaker brought it back after he helped Mama and Papa get to town.”
“Lies!”
Ephraim held up his hand, trying to defuse her anger. “I’m sure there must be an explanation for all of this. Ellerie says she was given it, and I’ve never known her to lie. Perhaps we ought to be asking Whitaker where he acquired it?”
The parson’s wife scoffed. “As if we’d get the truth from a trapper.”
In a flash, Parson Briard was at her side, fingers circling her elbow. “Is everything quite all right here?”
“I found her, Clemency!” she hissed, picking at the fullness of my skirt and swishing the fabric about. “I found the thief!”
He glanced at my dress. “Can you prove with absolute certainty that it’s yours?” he asked his wife.