“It’s not something to be proud of,” Joyce said. “It was a sordid affair.”
“I did some reading about the Salem witch trials yesterday,” Kim said. “There’s a lot of material available. But Elizabeth Stewart is never mentioned. I’m beginning to wonder if she was involved.”
“It’s my understanding she was involved,” Joyce said. “But let’s leave it at that. How did you happen to come across her portrait?”
“I was in the castle,” Kim said. “I went to the compound on Saturday. I have it in mind to fix up the old house and live in it.”
“Why in heaven’s name would you want to do that?” Joyce asked. “It’s so small.”
“It could be charming,” Kim said. “And it’s larger than my current apartment. Besides, I want to get out of Boston.”
“I’d think it would be an enormous job to make it habitable,” Joyce said.
“That’s part of the reason I wanted to talk to Father,” Kim said. “Of course he’s not around. I have to say, he has never been around when I needed him.”
“He wouldn’t have any idea about such a project,” Joyce said. “You should talk to George Harris and Mark Stevens. They are the contractor and the architect who just finished the renovation in this house, and the project couldn’t have gone any better. They work as a team, and their office is conveniently located in Salem.
“The other person you should talk to is your brother, Brian.”
“That goes without saying,” Kim said.
“You call your brother from here,” Joyce said. “While you’re doing that, I’ll get the phone number of the contractor and the architect.”
Joyce climbed out of her chaise and disappeared. Kim smiled as she lifted the phone onto her lap. Her mother never ceased to amaze her. One minute she could be the epitome of self-absorbed immobility, the next a whirlwind of activity, totally involved in someone else’s project. Intuitively Kim knew what the problem was: her mother didn’t have enough to do. Unlike her friends she’d never gotten involved in volunteer activities.
Kim glanced at her watch as the call went through and tried to guess the time in London. Not that it mattered. Her brother was an insomniac who worked at night and slept in snatches during the day like a nocturnal creature.
Brian answered on the first ring. After they had exchanged hellos, Kim described her idea. Brian’s response was overwhelmingly positive, and he encouraged her to go ahead with the plan. He thought it would be much better to have someone on the property. Brian’s only question was about the castle and all its furnishings.
“I’m not going to touch that place,” Kim said. “We’ll attack that when you come back.”
“Fair enough,” Brian said.
“Where’s Father?” Kim asked.
“John’s at the Ritz,” Brian said.
“And Grace?”
“Don’t ask,” Brian said. “They’ll be back Thursday.”
While Kim was saying goodbye to Brian, Joyce reappeared and wordlessly handed her a scrap of paper with a local phone number. As soon as Kim hung up from Brian, Joyce told her to dial the number.
Kim dialed. “Who should I ask for?” she said.
“Mark Stevens,” Joyce said. “He’s expecting your call. I phoned him on the other line while you were speaking with Brian.”
Kim felt a mild resentment toward her mother’s interference, but she didn’t say anything. She knew Joyce was only trying to be helpful. Yet Kim could remember times when she was in middle school and had to fight to keep her mother from writing her school papers.
The conversation with Mark Stevens was short. Having learned from Joyce that Kim was in the area, he suggested they meet at the compound in half an hour. He said he’d have to see the property in order to advise her intelligently. Kim agreed to meet with him.
“If you decide to renovate that old house, at least you’ll be in good hands,” Joyce said after Kim had hung up.
Kim got to her feet. “I’d better be going,” she said. Despite a conscious attempt to suppress it, Kim felt irritation returning toward her mother. It was the interference and lack of privacy that bothered her. She recalled her mother asking Stanton to fix her up after telling him Kim had broken off her relationship with Kinnard.