he happened to be on the boat. I don’t ever remember him so much as mentioning Uncle Horatio. Suddenly he’s chummy enough to be invited on this jaunt with Uncle Horatio’s other business associates. I’ll bet he’s been secretly buttering him up for years.“
“Thank God it didn’t work,“ Robert said. “Or we’d still be in the tenement.“
“Maybe it would have worked if Uncle had lived longer.“
“Which would mean he had a compelling reason to keep Uncle alive,“ Robert said. “Rats. I’d rather have him be a suspect.”
Lily rolled her eyes. “Robert, there might not be any suspects. But if you want some, you can keep Claude on your list.“
“How so?“
“Well, suppose Uncle Horatio got sick of being annoyed by Claude and told him he was the heir—just to get Claude out of his hair. Then Claude might not have minded too much hurrying him along on his way to the afterlife.“
“Hmm. It’s kind of a thin theory, much as I like it. The mental picture of Claude finding out we were the heirs warms the heart.”
They fell into a companionable silence while they strolled around the village green, looking for Mr. Prinney’s office. Voorburg was such a Dutch name that Lily had expected Dutch architecture—not that she really knew what Dutch architecture looked like. But Voorburg was a mix of New England styles—lovely little Cape Cods, a miniature saltbox or two and quite a few small-scale Georgian and Tudor homes. There was also a handful of houses and shops that had no identifiable style except as a reflection of some home builder’s personal taste—or lack of it.
The village green had shops along the east side, which was slightly elevated. Besides the gas station, there was a greengrocer, a butcher with rabbits and chickens hanging in the front window, and a milliner with a window display of unfashionable and rather dusty hats. Next door was a clothing shop that appeared to deal primarily in fairly good hand-me-downs. Mabel’s Cafe was there, too, and had the faintest air of suggesting that illegal booze just might be purchased by the trusted locals. A small door between the cafe and the milliner’s opened to a stairway. A sign on the door said, MISS PHOEBE TWINKLE, SEWING AND ALTERATIONS.
Lily could hardly wait to meet Miss Phoebe Twinkle.
Homes and offices converted from homes were along the two sides of the green. A post office and jail shared a small, dignified house. A hardware store occupied the first floor of another building with a notice in the window that a cobbler was available on the premises Mondays and Thursdays. There were a number of carefully refurbished rakes, brooms and shovels displayed in front of the shop.
They finally found Mr. Prinney’s office, which occupied half of the first floor of a large brick home. A secretary sat in the tiny entryway. She was an elderly lady who looked as if she had her hair in pin curls without the pins. It was either a wig or highly lacquered. Lily introduced herself and Robert, only to be told that Mr. Prinney was out calling on a client and was expected to return within the hour.
Lily and Robert debated going home, but decided to wait and roam around the town a bit more.
The fourth side of the green, the river side, had only two buildings. One was devoted to boats, oars, nets and various fishing tools. Attached behind it was a tall sail loft and to the side was a fish market. The other building, which was minuscule, was a boat rental and boat ticket booth. A sidewalk between the two ran to a steeply staired walking bridge that crossed the railroad tracks next to the river, presumably leading down to docks that weren’t visible from the green.
Lily turned slowly, savoring the warm, slightly salty, fishy smell of the river mixed with a divine fragrance of fresh bread from a bakery she’d failed to notice earlier. The people of Voorburg were probably suffering the same financial privation the rest of the country was enduring, but
“Thank God it didn’t work,“ Robert said. “Or we’d still be in the tenement.“
“Maybe it would have worked if Uncle had lived longer.“
“Which would mean he had a compelling reason to keep Uncle alive,“ Robert said. “Rats. I’d rather have him be a suspect.”
Lily rolled her eyes. “Robert, there might not be any suspects. But if you want some, you can keep Claude on your list.“
“How so?“
“Well, suppose Uncle Horatio got sick of being annoyed by Claude and told him he was the heir—just to get Claude out of his hair. Then Claude might not have minded too much hurrying him along on his way to the afterlife.“
“Hmm. It’s kind of a thin theory, much as I like it. The mental picture of Claude finding out we were the heirs warms the heart.”
They fell into a companionable silence while they strolled around the village green, looking for Mr. Prinney’s office. Voorburg was such a Dutch name that Lily had expected Dutch architecture—not that she really knew what Dutch architecture looked like. But Voorburg was a mix of New England styles—lovely little Cape Cods, a miniature saltbox or two and quite a few small-scale Georgian and Tudor homes. There was also a handful of houses and shops that had no identifiable style except as a reflection of some home builder’s personal taste—or lack of it.
The village green had shops along the east side, which was slightly elevated. Besides the gas station, there was a greengrocer, a butcher with rabbits and chickens hanging in the front window, and a milliner with a window display of unfashionable and rather dusty hats. Next door was a clothing shop that appeared to deal primarily in fairly good hand-me-downs. Mabel’s Cafe was there, too, and had the faintest air of suggesting that illegal booze just might be purchased by the trusted locals. A small door between the cafe and the milliner’s opened to a stairway. A sign on the door said, MISS PHOEBE TWINKLE, SEWING AND ALTERATIONS.
Lily could hardly wait to meet Miss Phoebe Twinkle.
Homes and offices converted from homes were along the two sides of the green. A post office and jail shared a small, dignified house. A hardware store occupied the first floor of another building with a notice in the window that a cobbler was available on the premises Mondays and Thursdays. There were a number of carefully refurbished rakes, brooms and shovels displayed in front of the shop.
They finally found Mr. Prinney’s office, which occupied half of the first floor of a large brick home. A secretary sat in the tiny entryway. She was an elderly lady who looked as if she had her hair in pin curls without the pins. It was either a wig or highly lacquered. Lily introduced herself and Robert, only to be told that Mr. Prinney was out calling on a client and was expected to return within the hour.
Lily and Robert debated going home, but decided to wait and roam around the town a bit more.
The fourth side of the green, the river side, had only two buildings. One was devoted to boats, oars, nets and various fishing tools. Attached behind it was a tall sail loft and to the side was a fish market. The other building, which was minuscule, was a boat rental and boat ticket booth. A sidewalk between the two ran to a steeply staired walking bridge that crossed the railroad tracks next to the river, presumably leading down to docks that weren’t visible from the green.
Lily turned slowly, savoring the warm, slightly salty, fishy smell of the river mixed with a divine fragrance of fresh bread from a bakery she’d failed to notice earlier. The people of Voorburg were probably suffering the same financial privation the rest of the country was enduring, but
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