Page 31 of A Lullaby for Witches

But as soon as she stepped out of the archives onto the busy streets of Boston, she was glad for the break. It was like stepping out of the past and back into the present. They wove through groups of tourists and college students, the aroma of roasted nuts and fried dough hanging in the crisp air. As much as she loved the quaintness of Tynemouth, there was an energy to the city that made Augusta feel as if anything was possible. Coupled with her newfound singleness, walking across the Boston Public Garden with Leo beside her gave her a heady sense of freedom.

The Thai café Leo had recommended was mostly empty, so they slid into a big booth in the back. It was dimly lit and cozy, with soft instrumental music playing, and Augusta had to remind herself that this wasn’t a date.

“So, did you find anything good? Any Margaret sightings?” Leo asked after the waiter had taken their orders.

“Well, not exactly,” she admitted. “But—” She pulled out one of the photocopies that Lori had made for her and handed it to Leo “—I did find this. It’s the Harlowe household ledger from 1858.”

She tried to hide her excitement as she watched him scan the document. “What am I looking at exactly?”

“Right here,” she said, leaning across the table and tapping at one of the entries. “It’s an expense for five bolts of fabric. Then if you look down here—” she craned her neck, trying to find the other entry upside down “—there’s a dressmaker’s charge for ‘girls’ dresses, times five.’”

Leo looked up, and she could tell by his expression that he understood the significance. “There were three brothers, so why would Jemima and Clarence Harlowe be buying girls’ dresses unless...”

“...unless they also had a daughter,” Augusta finished for him.

“Wow.” Leo leaned back, his appreciative gaze making her shiver. “That is some amazing detective work.”

Their food came and Margaret was momentarily forgotten. The noodles smelled amazing, but she’d picked at that giant doughnut in the car already, and she was probably way over her calories for the day. She’d have some of the bean sprouts on top, maybe a piece of the tofu, but that was it.

Leo was tucking into his curry. “God, this is so good. How’s yours?”

“Good,” she said, though she hadn’t actually taken more than a nibble.

She could feel Leo watching her, wanting to say something. She was used to that from friends and family, always commenting on her eating habits, and it only heightened her self-consciousness around food. Why had she agreed to lunch?

He slid her plate closer to her. “Go ahead, I promise you it’s good.”

She hesitated. What was she going to do? Just sit there staring at her plate like she’d never seen food before? All she had to do was lift the fork to her mouth, yet it felt as if her hands were made of lead.

When she looked up from her plate, she found that he had resumed eating. No, not just eating,inhalinghis food, noodles dripping out of his mouth. He smacked his lips loudly and grunted. It was like watching a three-year-old trying food for the first time. “This isreallygood.”

Aghast, she flicked her glance around at the mostly empty restaurant. “What are you doing?”

“I’m eating,” he said around his mouth full of food.

“That’s how you eat?”

“Yeah—” he paused to swallow “—is that howyoueat?”

“I—” She stopped as his meaning became clear. He was trying to put her at ease, trying to show her that she didn’t have anything to feel self-conscious about. “No...” she said carefully.

Leo was suddenly absorbed in his phone, and she had the feeling he was doing it for her benefit. Taking a deep breath, she picked up her fork and took a bite. He had been right; the noodlesweregood. She would figure out the calories later, when it wouldn’t spoil her precious time with Leo.

When they had finished and Augusta had gotten a container for her leftovers, Leo flagged down the waiter and asked for the check. She couldn’t be sure, but the card he slipped into the billfold didn’t look like the Harlowe credit card.

“So, what’s next?” Leo asked, signing the check. “More Margaret hunting?”

“Yeah, I want to go back a few years earlier and see if I can find anything about her before the charges for the dress.” Because something still wasn’t right with the numbers. She had easily been able to find evidence that matched up with all three births of the brothers, but there had been nothing that even hinted at the birth of a fourth child. A daughter wouldn’t have needed dresses until she was at least a couple of years old. So where was the proof of her birth? Where had Margaret Harlowe come from?

17

Margaret

The love that I have chosen I’ll therewith be content

And the salt sea shall be frozen before that I repent.

—“The Lowlands of Holland,” Traditional Folk Song

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