Page 61 of The Gallagher Place
Marlowe mulled over Henry’s contradiction. He hadn’t needed to say her name—she remembered now. Those were Nora’s blue mittens holding the looped twine in an iron grip at the front of the toboggan. If Nate were present, he would set the record straight. He’d loved those sledding days so much, he likely recalled every single run they ever made down the North Field.
“The snows were always better back then,” Marlowe said, but they had already turned away from her, absorbed in their tasks again.
“Marlowe?” Her father’s voice came from the study. “Is that you?”
Marlowe laid the doll on the table and walked down the hall.
“Hi, Dad, I was just out for a drive.”
Frank was at his desk, sifting through papers.
He looked up at Marlowe leaning against the doorframe and smiled.
“They’re praying for more snow out there, eh?” He chuckled and it sounded too close to a cough. “Remember how you used to sing ‘White Christmas’ over and over, because you thought you could conjure snow on Christmas Eve?”
“I remember.” Frank used to pick her up and swing her around as she sang, raving that she was so clever to know all the words. He had been so tall and fit and strong. “Can I get you anything, Dad? A cup of tea?”
“I must really look weak if my Marlowe is offering to serve me.” Frank grinned.
She smiled down at him in return. “Really, Dad, I’m going to make tea anyway.”
“It’s fine,” Frank said. “I’m just fine, here in this house, surrounded by all of you. It’s all I ever wanted.”
Marlowe nodded and turned to leave the study, thinking how she’d always been sad for girls who didn’t have fathers like hers.
Her father stopped her. “You love it here, don’t you?” It was a common line of inquiry from Frank, as if he wanted validation that they belonged on this land and in this house.
“Yes, of course,” she said.
He also seemed to want to know, the older he got, which of his children loved it the most. Frank was clear that he never wanted to divide up the land. It was supposed to remain whole. But Marlowe had a theory that one sibling was going to get more and outweigh the other two when it came to decisions about the property. One ofthem would have a head start on buying the others out, if it ever came to it.
“I’ve never been able to leave, not really,” Marlowe said. “Or at least, whenever I leave, I always know I’ll come back here, one way or another.”
She supposed her brothers would say the same thing. The difference was, Marlowe didn’t have anything else. And if that made her father pity her enough to give her the extra percentage, she would take it gladly.
“I know,” Frank said with what looked like a twinge of sadness in his eye.
Marlowe leaned down and hugged her father before drifting out of the study and to the kitchen, empty now that Stephanie had joined the others by the tree. Marlowe didn’t make a cup of tea. Instead, she poured two fingers of whiskey into a mug, then filled the rest with eggnog. She carried the mug past the revelry around the tree and down to the basement, where she opened her computer.
There was an email from Mike Cameron, Nate’s old college buddy. She opened the message immediately.
Hello Marlowe,
Hope you are well. I can talk today. Let me know what time would work.
Best,
Mike
She quickly typed out a response, telling him that she was available now or anytime that afternoon, and she included her number.
Mike Cameron didn’t keep her waiting long. Within ten minutes, her phone rang.
“Marlowe, hello.” His voice was unrecognizable.
“Hi, Mike.” Marlowe cradled the phone against her ear and set down the eggnog. “I know my email might have come out of the blue.”
“It’s about Nora, isn’t it?” He got straight to the point. He hadn’t been like that when he was young. She supposed a few decades in the medical field would do that to a person. “The detectives did reach out to me. I was glad to get your email, because I was feeling I should let someone in your family know.”
