The Body in the Lighthouse by Katherine Hall Page Read Free Book Online Page B

course we do, but that’s not how you can help the most right now. Pix is gone for almost the rest of the month and the woman who took her place has had to leave to take care of her mother, who lives in Paris.”
    Faith correctly assumed Jill meant the decidedly non-Gallic Paris, Maine. The state had a penchant for keeping foreign travel close to home. Norway, China, Lebanon, Poland, and other distant destinations were all well within its borders. This had occasioned one of Ben’s imponderables: “What do they call people who live in China, Maine? Chinese? People who live on Sanpere are called Sanpere Islanders. So what are these people called?” Faith made a note to ask someone, but not Jill, who was in the full flow of conversation about the play.
    â€œSince you have some time on your hands, you can step in.” Jill said these last words as if offering Faith not simply an opportunity but a very special gift. “You don’t have to learn any lines; they didn’t have roles, just production work.”
    â€œBut I don’t know anything about the theater. I’ve never been involved in putting on a play,” she protested, watching the treasured time on her hands slip between her fingers like grains of sand.
    â€œNone of us did at first. Roland Hayes reworked the play and is the director. He retired from the high school English Department in June and is great, a pro. You can’t imagine the performances he’s getting from everyone. Because of work schedules, it’s hard to rehearse all at once, so we’re doing it piecemeal; that’s why someone who can be there consistently is so important. With the shop and the wedding, I haven’t been able to do much.”
    Making a last-ditch effort, Faith said, “It’s beenyears since I read any Shakespeare. I think Romeo and Juliet was in ninth-grade English.”
    Jill wasn’t buying. “Think of the pool. Think of everyone on the island learning to swim. Come on, Faith. You know the drill. Balcony/tomb: love/death.”
    There was no escape.
    Â 
    â€œSo nice of you to help out with the play,” Ursula commented.
    She and Faith were sitting on the porch after supper, watching Tom teach Ben to row while Amy sat in the bow like a miniature figurehead. The Pines had a large lawn that gave way to a rocky beach and pier. Ursula’s father had replaced the original dock with this larger one to serve all the houses. The Rowes kept a variety of craft moored offshore, among them the small wooden dory Tom had picked for the lesson.
    Faith had not mentioned a word of her capitulation—or Capuletion, she thought punnily to herself—to anyone. Jill had left the supermarket when she had and presumably went straight home to prepare the feast for her fiancé. Ursula seemed to be able to read the ether, and Faith was not at all surprised by the remark. But she did have to know.
    â€œWho told you I was going to do this?”
    â€œJill was stopped at that blueberry stand near the causeway just as Serena was driving me home. I thought I’d pick up some berries, too.”
    â€œAnd besides, you and Serena had to hear allabout Jill going down to Portland,” Faith said, teasing her.
    â€œOf course we would be interested, but she didn’t have much to say about it. She was mostly talking about you and how providential it was that you bumped into each other—literally, I take it. You’ll have fun.”
    Faith doubted this. The Miller/Rowe family’s ideas of fun and hers differed markedly. When they were home in Aleford and Pix said, “Let’s go have some fun today,” she meant grab a PB & J, then head for Mount Misery, her favorite walk in nearby Lincoln. Faith, on the other hand, thought more in terms of lunch at Figs and a leisurely troll through the antique shops on Charles Street, finishing up at Savenor’s Market for something tasty to cook for dinner. She was