Page 120 of The Dead Come to Stay
“More like a funeral,” Jo said, and MacAdams choked wine.
“Sorry?” he asked after a minor coughing fit.
“Check, I won’t call it that,” Jo said, nibbling Brie. “It’s just that we haven’t buried Evelyn yet. And I also want to celebrate Violet, her daughter. And introduce Arthur. Maybe I should call it a baby shower?”
“That might likewise confuse people,” MacAdams said. Hestood up and walked about the gazebo. “You’re bringing Evelyn home. You could call it ahomecoming.”
He’d completed a circuit and now stood just in front of her chair. His tie had fluttered to one side. Jo stood up and straightened it.
“James?” she asked. “That’s perfect.”
Chapter 34
A Sunday in August
Longside Cemetery had never seen a party like it. Probably it had never seen a party, period, though Jo didn’t know why. It offered lovely rolling grounds, mature trees and the bonus of carved headstones going back several hundred years.Herparty was taking place under the long-stretched arms of an English oak, and almost everyone she knew had turned up.
“Ready when you are,” Tula said. She’d come with Ben—and with Lina. Foley’s estate, or what remained that hadn’t been confiscated by police, had come to Tula as his (until death) lawful wife. It had been enough to sponsor Lina, who now lived with them at the Red Lion, where Tula had transformed the attic into future nursery space. The baby, expected to be a girl, was—so she said—the “only good thing to come of Rhyan Flannery.” But she said it with the pride of an expectant grandmother.
Jo walked to the tree’s broad trunk. She could see Arthur in the front, wearing the ring and sitting next to Emery, whowas pointing it out to Rupert with great enthusiasm. Roberta had chosen her seat next to Gwilym, but had to share him with Chen: tweeds next to waistcoat next to sherbert chiffon. Green was there with her wife, and Kate Gridley and Teresa, Tommy Andrews and a box of doughnuts. There was also a smiling, apple-cheeked woman in the center aisle trying to keep track of two small children with the aid of her equally smiling partner. That, she knew, was Annie and Ashok, because they had introduced themselves like a thunderclap and shaken her hand so much she felt slightly seasick.
“I’m ready,” she said to MacAdams. He was standing by, ready to remove a red cloth from a brand-new headstone. Jo took a breath, then let it out through puckered lips. Then she stepped forward.
“We’re here today to celebrate Evelyn Davies—and Aiden Jones,” she said, and MacAdams drew away the cloth. Underneath, pink granite had been carved into a bouquet of flowers. “Abington is Evelyn’s home now. We’re her family.”
Arthur and Gwilym stood from their chairs and stepped forward to pick up a mahogany box just large enough to hold Evelyn’s skeletal remains. They carried it forward in silence, then lowered it into the space beneath the stone.
“She was survived by her daughter,” Jo went on. “Violet. And Violet was survived by daughter Olivia, and son Emile.”
Arthur lay roses into the grave. Gwilym left violets specially procured by Annie for the day.
“Aiden Jones was my uncle. He’s the reason we know what became of Evelyn. He rescued her painting and left her at Ardemore for me to find. So, I think he belongs to Abington, too.” Jo wasn’t going to do it, but could scarcely help herself. She hazarded a glance in MacAdams’s direction.“Just like me.”
***
It wasn’t anything like as draining as the Jekyll Gardens speech, but she might have received wilder applause for it. And, because of Teresa’s tea tent, there was almost the same amount of cake.
“Brilliant,” Gwilym said around several mouthfuls of it. “Bloody brilliant as ever.”
“You’ll keep looking for Violet’s children, won’t you?” Teresa asked as she handed over milky tea.
“I think so. I’m not sure,” Jo admitted.
“Everyone needs a hobby,” barked Roberta. “You’re backing up the line.” She thumped her stick against the ground, but no one moved much faster. Jo found her way to MacAdams’s table, under a string of party lights.
“You don’t need any more hobbies,” he said.
“No, Gwilym doesn’t need any more hobbies. I just need fewer murderers to get mixed up in mine.”
“Fair.” He reached out and gave her hand the briefest squeeze. “What’s next, then? Now that this is complete?”
“Well. I could take up antiquing.”
“Please don’t.”
“Or I could rent the cottage attic again.”
“Antiques seem like an excellent choice,” MacAdams agreed. Green had just found them, and gave Jo a wave.
