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The guy has a point.
Are you saying you don’t want me to come to school?
No—I just meant—
Macon looked at me. “Present company excluded, of course.”
The more he spoke, the more curious I was. Who knew that Old Man Ravenwood would be the third-smartest person in town, after my mom and Marian Ashcroft? Or maybe the fourth, depending on if my father ever showed his face again.
I tried to see the name of the book Macon was holding. “What is that, Shakespeare?”
“Betty Crocker, a fascinating woman. I was trying to recall what it was that the local town constituents considered an evening meal. I was in the mood for a regional recipe this evening. I decided on pulled pork.” More pulled pork. I felt sick just thinking about it.
Macon pulled out Lena’s chair with a flourish. “Speaking of hospitality, Lena, your cousins are coming out for the Gathering Days. Let’s remember to tell House and Kitchen we will be five more.”
Lena looked irritated. “I will tell the kitchen staff and the house keepers, if that’s what you mean, Uncle M.”
“What are the Gathering Days?”
“My family is so weird. The Gathering is just an old harvest festival, like an early Thanksgiving. Just forget about it.” I never knew anyone visited Ravenwood, family or otherwise. I’d never seen a single car take that turn at the fork in the road.
Macon seemed amused. “As you wish. Speaking of Kitchen, I am absolutely ravenous. I’ll go see what she has whipped up for us.” Even as he spoke, I could hear the pots and pans banging in some faraway room off the ballroom.
“Don’t go overboard, Uncle M. Please.”
I watched Macon Ravenwood disappear through a salon, and then he was gone. I could still hear the clip of his dress shoes on the polished floors. This house was ridiculous. It made the White House look like a backwoods shack.
“Lena, what’s going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“How did he know to set a place for me?”
“He must have done it when he saw us on the porch.”
“What about this place? I was in your house, the day we found the locket. It didn’t look anything like this.”
Tell me. You can trust me.
She played with the hem of her dress. Stubborn. “My uncle is into antiques. The house changes all the time. Does it really matter?”
Whatever was going on, she wasn’t going to tell me about it right now. “Okay, then. Do you mind if I look around?” She frowned, but didn’t say anything. I got up from the table, and walked over to the next salon. It was set up like a small study, with settees, a fireplace, and a few small writing tables. Boo Radley was lying in front of the fire. He started to growl the moment I set foot in the room.
“Nice doggy.” He growled louder. I backed up out of the room. He stopped growling and put his head down on the hearth.
Lying on the nearest writing table was a package, wrapped in brown paper and tied with a string. I picked it up. Boo Radley began to growl again. It was stamped Gatlin County Library. I knew the stamp. My mom had gotten hundreds of packages like this one. Only Marian Ashcroft would bother to wrap a book like that.
“You have an interest in libraries, Mr. Wate? Do you know Marian Ashcroft?” Macon appeared next to me, taking the parcel out of my hand and eyeing it with delight.
“Yes, sir. Marian, Dr. Ashcroft, she was my mom’s best friend. They worked together.”
Macon’s eyes flickered, a momentary brightness, then nothing. It passed. “Of course. How incredibly dull-witted of me. Ethan Wate. I knew your mother.”
I froze. How could Macon Ravenwood have known my mother?
A strange expression passed over his face, like he was recalling something he’d forgotten. “Only through her work, of course. I’ve read everything she’s ever written. In fact, if you look closely at the footnotes for Plantations & Plantings: A Garden Divided, you will see that several of the primary sources for their study came from my personal collection. Your mother was brilliant, a great loss.”
I managed a smile. “Thanks.”
