The Roswell Legacy Frances Statham (mini ebook reader .txt) 📖

the trip from Braxton in the smoking car, discussing not only their children, whom they had delivered back to the school, but a wide range of subjects as well.

“I’ll never be able to thank you enough, Charles, for finding Pinky.”

“We both have Ginna to thank for that, Quincy. I doubt I would ever have thought to look for them in Chicago.”

“Well, they’re safe now. And I think Pinky has learned his lesson about running away. He seemed quite contrite.”

Charles laughed. “But you really have to admire the little fellows and their ingenuity in getting to the fair.”

“Yes. I guess that’s the reason I can’t be too hard on my boy, even if he did scare ten years’ growth out of his mother and me. It was something I might have done at Pinky’s age.”

From the platform, the two men claimed their luggage, found the Boswell carriage driver waiting at the front of the terminal, and within a half hour they were home.

“We’ll have to meet for dinner at my club sometime soon,” Quincy said, as Charles stepped down from the carriage in front of his house.

He nodded. “Good night, Quincy.”

“Charles.”

Hearing her father, Ginna rushed to open the door for him. “Did you get Nathan back to school all right, Papa?”

“Yes. But I’m afraid he and Pinky are going to be little celebrities among their classmates. Only two of the teachers and Dr. Pemberton know they actually ran away. The official records state that Mr. Boswell and I took them to the fair and got them back two days late for classes, which they will have to make up.”

“I’m glad Nathan’s not going to get into any more trouble.”

Following Charles down the hall, Ginna said, “Mummy and I waited supper for you, Papa. So while you wash up, I’ll help Clara put it on the table.”

“When did your mother get home?”

“An hour or so ago. She said Cassie and the baby are doing fine.”

Fifteen minutes later, Araminta, Charles, and Ginna were seated at the round dining table covered with embroidered white linen. In the center of the table, Ginna had placed a hurricane candle globe with a garland of fresh flowers from the garden.

And Clara had outdone herself, with freshly baked bread, broiled chicken, fruit salad, and fresh green beans, with blackberry preserves and iced tea.

As a hungry Charles finished several bites, he turned to Ginna. “It looks as if we might be celebrating something special tonight, Ginna,” Charles said, for the care she had taken with the place settings and the menu was obvious.

“We have a lot to be thankful for,” she answered, smiling at her father and then at her mother. “Cassie’s baby. Nathan’s safety.”

“And don’t forget your upcoming marriage to Jonathan,” Charles added.

Araminta looked at Charles. “No, Charles. The marriage is off. Ginna will remain in this house.”

With a determined set to his jaw, Charles said, “The wedding is still scheduled in three weeks, Araminta.”

The warning signs of one of Araminta’s classic temper tantrums were taking shape. Her face turned beet red, her eyes blazed, and her lips became rigid against her teeth.

“Over my dead body, Charles. Cassie and I both know it’s no good aligning ourselves with Allison again. We never liked her. And we don’t like her son, Jonathan, either.”

“It really doesn’t matter what you and Cassie have decided, Araminta,” Charles retaliated. “It’s Ginna who will be marrying him, and she has my blessing to do so.”

Like an embarrassed bystander, Ginna listened to the heated exchange between her parents. The conversation would have devastated her earlier. But now she knew there was nothing her mother could do except cause a little extra unpleasantness. For she and Jonathan were already husband and wife. That was what Araminta had seen in her—the happiness that she was trying so hard to keep to herself.

“I think we need more bread,” Ginna said. “I’ll take the tray to the kitchen.”

By the time she returned from the kitchen, her father had left the table. “Where’s Papa?” she asked.

“He’s gone to the clinic. Men are like that, you know. They always leave rather than face any unpleasantness.”

“Do you think he’ll be back soon? Clara and I made his favorite dessert.”

“I don’t know or care, Ginna, whether he comes home tonight at all. So don’t keep asking me about him.”

“I’m sorry, Mummy.”

Ginna sat down at her own place, but she had lost her appetite. She watched as her mother continued to eat.

“And why are you staring at me like that, Ginna? Haven’t you ever seen anyone eat before?”

Ginna did not respond. She sat in silence, trying not to do anything that would upset her mother even more.

“I’ll tell you one thing, miss. You act as if you have your father wrapped around your little finger. But, in the end, I’ll get my own way. I’ll see to it for sure that you and Jonathan Meadors never get together again. And you might as well remove his ring right now.”

As if her mother had never spoken, a disheartened Ginna said, “I think I’ll go and see how the dessert is coming along. You would like some, wouldn’t you?”

Araminta nodded. “And tell Clara not to be so stingy with the whipped cream this time.”

When Ginna returned to the dining room, she took her place again. “Clara is whipping the cream now. She’ll bring in the dessert just as soon as she finishes.”

There was no response from Araminta except for a strange wheezing sound.

“Are you all right, Mummy?”

Araminta’s eyes widened and she tried to speak even as she reached out toward Ginna. But no other sound came except the terrible wheezing.

“Mummy?” Ginna jumped up from the table to go to her mother just as Araminta slumped over with her head in her plate.

“Clara!” Ginna screamed. “Come quick! Something’s happened to Mummy.”

“What’s wrong, Miss Ginna?”

“I don’t know. She might be choking on something or maybe having a seizure.”

Clara wrung her hands and cried, “Lordy, sweet Jesus.”

“Come and help me get her on the carpet,” Ginna said, “and we’ll