“Not quite, not yet,” I said. “I’ve a long way to go.”
Diana laughed again. “I like to think of you as a woman of substance for the nineties.”
“Let’s hope so. I’ll tell you this, Diana, I do love retailing. Every aspect of it, in fact. Getting the shops here running properly has been tough, but doing it and getting it right has given me a lot of satisfaction.”
“Meeting a challenge usually does,” Diana answered. “And in my opinion there’s nothing quite like hard work. It helps to take our minds off things, and certainly it gives us a great outlet for our energies. I know at the end of the day I’m ready for bed, and I fall asleep immediately, I’m so exhausted.”
“I’m the same way,” I said.
Diana fell silent, studied me for a moment, and then asked in a careful voice, “How are you really, darling?”
I sighed. “Well, there’s not a day goes by that I don’t think of them, of course, and the sadness and the grief are there, deep inside me. But I’ve forced myself to keep going, to function. And as we both know, being so incredibly busy works wonders.”
“I learned that myself a long time ago,” Diana murmured. “It was the antique shop and my business that saved my life, after Michael died. Work is a great cure-all for anyone with problems.”
“Talking of work, I’d like to show you something,” I said, getting up and walking across the administration office I’d created in a corner of the big red barn.
Opening one of the filing cabinets, I took out a couple of manila folders; then I returned to the seating arrangement in front of the window, where Diana and I had been having coffee.
Sitting down opposite her, I went on, “Last May at Kilgram Chase, when I had the idea of opening the shop-café, it also occurred to me that I could start a catalogue, that this would be a natural outgrowth of the shops.”
“You didn’t mention it,” Diana said, settling back against the quilted throw pillows and crossing her legs.
“No, I didn’t, because I thought you’d think I’d gone totally mad, that I was being too ambitious.”
“Nobody can be too ambitious, as far as I’m concerned.”
“That’s true,” I agreed. “Anyway, the shops have been so successful, such good money earners in such a short period of time, I’ve decided to go ahead with the catalogue. I’ve already designed it, created the mock-up. Sarah and I have done it together, and she’s putting up some of her own money. We’re going to be partners in this venture.”
“I’m delighted to hear it, Mal. You’re so close, and who better to have as a partner than your best friend? Besides which, I’m sure her input will be invaluable.”
“It has been already, and she’s helped tremendously with the shops as well. I thought it only fair to ask if she wanted to participate. I suggested it months ago, when I’d already started to create the catalogue, and she jumped at the opportunity.”
“Is she going to leave Bergman’s?”
“No. The catalogue will be a sideline for her.” I joined Diana on the sofa and showed her the catalogue.
She took out her glasses, drew closer to me, then looked at the cover. This featured the red barn where the kitchen shop and the café were housed, and underneath the picture, a painting I had done especially for the catalogue. It said: Indian Meadows, and on the next line: A Country Experience. The third line read: Spring 1991.
“So you’re not going to bring it out until next year?” Diana asked, raising a brow.
“No, it wouldn’t work before then. I’ve got to stockpile a lot of merchandise to begin with, and then I’ve got to do a mailing. We’ve already purchased several mailing lists for key areas across the country, and Eric and Anna have compiled a local list. We’ll mail out the catalogue early in January for the spring. There’s a lot of planning involved when it comes to a catalogue, you know.”
“I can well imagine.”
I flipped open the catalogue to reveal the inside cover. “Here’s a more detailed painting of the little compound of barns, the pastures, and the stables, and on the page facing is my letter telling them about Indian Meadows,” I explained, and handed Diana the dummy of the catalogue, continuing, “It’s divided into three comprehensive sections, as you’ll see. The first is Lettice Keswick’s Kitchen, featuring the jams and jellies and bottled items, as well as a good selection of products from the kitchen shop. All of the things we sell there, such as cookware, pottery, porcelain. The middle section is called Indian Meadows Boutique and offers clothing, accessories, and American quilts, that kind of thing. The last part is Kilgram Chase Gallery, presenting decorative items with an English flavor.”
Diana opened the catalogue and began to look through it, exclaiming about the clever way we had presented everything. When she had perused it carefully for a few minutes, she gave it back to me and said, “I’m very impressed, Mal, very impressed indeed.”
“Thank you. Mom and David thought it was pretty good, too. Very inviting, with appealing merchandise. My mother said she could buy half of the things without batting an eyelid. But come on, I want to show you two places you haven’t seen yet.”
“More surprises! How wonderful,” Diana exclaimed, as always enthusiastic about everything I was doing.
I led her across the barn. “As you know, I divided this floor of the barn into separate areas. There’s the office, where we just were, and this is the packing room,” I explained, opening the door and taking her inside.
“The helpers pack everything which has to be mailed out in here, on these trestle tables. Then the packages are stacked up over there, ready for UPS, who already pick up every day.”
“Do you still get a lot of orders that people want sent?”
“Yes. As you know, we’ve always had a good number of mail orders, ever since we opened in the spring. They have steadily increased, and that’s what made me believe a catalogue would work very well.”
I guided Diana next door, into one of our storage rooms. “This is where the kitchen merchandise is stored.”
“And all of the Lettice jams and jellies are in the basement of the house, that I do remember,” Diana added.
I nodded. “On the floor above this, which I had built last summer, we store clothing, soft toys, table linen, that kind of thing.”
We strolled back to the administration office and sat down. Diana said, “You seem to have covered everything. And let me say it again, Mal. You’ve worked miracles here.”
“Thanks, but I will need some extra storage space soon. That’s my only real problem left to solve. In fact, when she arrives tomorrow, Sarah is going to talk to my neighbor, Peter Anderson.”
“The stage director?”
“Yes. He owns the big pasture opposite the entrance to Indian Meadows, on the other side of the road, where there are two big barns. He doesn’t use them. Sarah’s hoping we can buy the land and the barns from him, but I don’t think he’ll sell.”
“Perhaps he’ll rent to you.”
“We’re hoping so, and if anybody can persuade a person to do something they don’t want to do, it’s Sarah.”
An affectionate expression slid onto Diana’s face. “She can charm the birds out of the trees, that’s true, and I am fond of her; she’s such a special woman.”
“The best, and I don’t know what I would have done without her. She’s been a rock for me.”
“Has she met anyone nice lately?” Diana asked.
I shook my head. “I’m afraid she hasn’t. Travel the world though she does, an attractive man has remained elusive.”
“I know what you mean,” Diana responded, giving me a rueful little smile.
I stared at her, and before I could stop myself, I said, “Whatever happened to the man you told me about years ago, the one you thought was special? You said he was separated but not divorced, and was therefore verboten to you.”
“He’s still in the same situation.”
“So you don’t see him?”
/> “I do occasionally, yes. But only for business.”
“Why doesn’t he get a divorce, Diana?” I asked, riddled with curiosity, as I had always been about the situation.
“Religion.”
“Oh, you mean he’s a Roman Catholic?”
“Good God, no, not my Calvinistic Scotsman! It’s his wife who’s a Catholic and won’t divorce him.”
“Oh,” I said, and fell silent, not wanting to probe any further.
Diana was also silent. She stared out the window for a second or two, her face pensive, her eyes sad. Then, rousing herself, she swung her face around to me and said quickly, “You’ve met him, you know.”
“I have!”
“Yes, of course.”
“Where?”
“In the shop, when you were in London with Andrew. In November of 1988. Robin McAllister.”
“That tall, very good-looking man?” I asked, staring at her.
Diana nodded. “I was showing him some tapestries, if you recall.”
“I remember him very well. He’s the sort of man who leaves an impression.”
“True.” Diana glanced at her watch and stood up. “It’s one o’clock. Shall we go and have lunch in the café? I’m feeling a bit hungry.”
“Let’s go!” I exclaimed, also jumping up, realizing she wanted to change the subject.
* * *
“Won’t you need a lot of extra help to fulfill your catalogue orders?” Diana asked, taking a sip of her iced tea.
“Not at first, since we’re doing our initial mailing in January, for the spring,” I replied. “When I started the shops this year, my busy days were Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, so that leaves Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday for the staff to pack and wrap orders. That is, in the early spring. Everybody’ll pitch in at first, and then I’ll just take it from there. The summer months are obviously more difficult, and we’ll have to adjust things. I’m going to play it by ear.”
Glancing around, I added, “It’s only Wednesday, and look, the café is already very busy.”
“And you had quite a lot of people in the Kilgram Chase Gallery earlier, I noticed,” Diana said. “But take it one step at a time, one day at a time, Mal, that’s always been my motto.”
“The thing that’s surprised me is the success of the café,” I said. “It’s been a hit ever since it opened. We’re doing a lot of business, and people actually call up to make reservations.”
“It’s a charming place, with these little green tables, the fresh flowers, and all the plants scattered around. And the products on display make a statement. It reminds me of a big country kitchen,” Diana remarked. “And it does smell delicious.”
“The food’s delicious too. You’ll see in a minute.”
“And Nora’s doing all the cooking?” Diana asked.
“Her niece comes to help her on weekends, when it’s really busy, otherwise she’s alone except for Billy and Eric. Guess what is her most popular hot dish?”
“Cottage pie, recipe courtesy of Parky,” Diana said, winking at me.
“Yes. And the rest of the things on the menu are quiche, soups, and sandwiches. However, she now wants to do a few salads, and I think she’s right, in view of the popularity of this place. And speaking of Nora, here she comes.”
Nora glided over, drew to a standstill at our table, and thrust out her hand. “Nice to see you, Mrs. Keswick.”
Diana shook her hand and said, “And it’s wonderful to see you, too, Nora. Quite a success you’ve got here. Well done, Nora, well done.”
“It’s all Mal,” she answered quickly. “She’s the brains.” But nonetheless, she looked pleased. She gave Diana one of her rare smiles. “I hope you’ll stop by and see my kitchen later. Now, what can I get you?” she asked, handing Diana a menu.
I said, “I’m going to have one of your pita-bread concoctions, Nora, please.”
“Don’t tell me. You want sliced avocado and tomato.”
“However did you guess?”
Nora shook her head. “Oh, Mal, there’s not a lot of nourishment in that. Let me put chicken in it as well.”
“Okay,” I agreed, knowing it would please her. “And I’ll have another iced tea, please.”
“And I’d like to have the avocado and shrimp on pita bread,” Diana said. “And another iced tea, too, please, Nora.”
“Back in a minute,” Nora said and hurried away.
Diana asked, “Is she waiting on the tables as well, Mal?”
“No, she just wants to serve you. She’s sort of proprietary at times, possessive, especially with the family.”
Diana smiled. “She’s always been very devoted. And who’s Iris, the young woman who looks after the house now? She seems awfully pleasant. She couldn’t do enough for me this morning.”
“That’s Nora’s other niece. Iris’s sister, Rose, is the one who helps out in the kitchen on weekends. I had—” I broke off as Eric came hurrying toward the table, carrying the tray of iced teas.
“Here we are, Mal, Mrs. Keswick,” he said, giving us each a glass.
We both thanked him.
He half turned to go back to the cash register, which he had made his station, but hesitated.
“What is it, Eric?” I asked, looking up at him.
“Sorry to trouble you now, Mal, when you’re at lunch. But I’ve just had a call from one of our customers, a Mrs. Henley. She wants to know whether or not we do private parties.”
I frowned. “Do you mean catering?”
“No. She wants to have a private party here. In the café. A sweet-sixteen party for her daughter and the daughter’s young friends.”
“When?”
“In September. On a Friday night.”
“Oh, I don’t know, I don’t think so, Eric, that’s bound to be a busy time, people will want to come in for cold drinks—”
“Don’t say no quite so quickly,” Diana interrupted, putting her hand on my arm. “It could be quite profitable to have private parties, and it helps to get the place better known than it is already.”
Eric bestowed a huge smile on Diana. “I agree with you, Mrs. Keswick.”
“All right, Eric, tell the lady yes, but that you’ll have to get back to her about the cost.”
“I will, Mal,” he said, giving me a little salute, which was a new habit of his, before he disappeared.
“I do like him,” Diana said to me. “He’s the salt of the earth.”
“Just like Joe, Wilf, and Ben,” I said.
After we had eaten our pita-bread sandwiches, I sat back in the chair, regarding Diana for a moment. Finally, I said, “I have a proposition for you.”
“You do! How wonderful!” she exclaimed, then paused and viewed me intently. “I thought you didn’t want any partners.”
“I don’t, in the shops. But this is something else.”
“Well, it can’t be the catalogue. Sarah’s your partner in that.”
“It’s an idea I had months ago, but I’ve only just managed to think it through properly,” I explained. “I want to start a small publishing company, and I’d like you to become my partner in it.”
Leaning back in her chair, her head on one side, my mother-in-law studied me for a moment or two, then asked, “Isn’t publishing rather dicey?”
“I think it can be, yes. But I’m talking about a small country press, publishing only a few specialty books, for sale only through my catalogue and here in the shops.”
“It sounds interesting, Mal, but don’t you think you have enough on your plate at the moment?”
“I am doing a lot, that’s true, Diana. But I’m not thinking of starting the publishing company until next year, and I’m not asking you to put up any money.”
“Oh, I see. But you did say you had a proposition for me.”
“I do. I’d like you to become my partner, as I said, publishing only four books to begin with, in fact, we might never publish anymore, after that.”
“
Which books?” she asked, giving me a speculative look.
“Your books, Diana. The two Lettice Keswick diaries, her cookbook, and her garden book. Later we might do Clarissa’s Victorian cookbook, but I’m not sure. If we went ahead, I would publish the Lettice diaries first, then her cookbook, and finally her garden book. It would be a special series, and therein lies its appeal, in my opinion. Eventually, once they’d all been published, the series could become a boxed set, a gift item. I really think it’ll work.”
“Where will you get the money? You say you don’t want it from me.”
“Only because I don’t think I’ll need very much,” I pointed out. “Look, you own the books, and you’re going to give me the rights. I can type up her text and do copies of her drawings. My only cost will be the printer and the bindery.”
“I’m willing to give it to you.”
“Thanks, Diana, but by the time I do it next year, I may well be able to finance the publishing project myself.”
“Whatever you want. But in any case, I think the idea is brilliant, Mal! Just brilliant! I’d love to be involved. In any way you want.”
I reached out and squeezed her hand. “Thanks. By the way, I’m going to call it Kilgram Chase Press. Is that all right with you?”
“I love it! How clever you are, darling.” She stared at me for a moment, and then she began to shake her head wonderingly. “What I said earlier is perfectly true, Mal. You are going to be a woman of substance for the nineties.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CONNECTICUT, MAY 1992
I lay in bed, staring at the clock in the dim light of the room. I could see that it was only four-thirty.
I had awakened sooner than I usually did. Although I was an early riser, and always had been, I generally slept until six. Lingering in bed for a while, I let myself drift with my thoughts. Then I remembered what day it was: Monday, the fourth of May. My thirty-seventh birthday. Thirty-seven. That didn’t seem possible, but it was true.
Sliding out of bed, I went to a window, opened a blind, and stood peering out. It was still dark. But far off, beyond the trees and the wetlands, the horizon was tinged with a green luminescence, and wisps of pale light were trickling up into the sky. Soon it would be dawn.