Hanging Hannah (10 page)

Jane stepped farther into the foyer, and as she did, Nick and Florence appeared from the dining room, faces bright.

“Happy birthday, Mom!”

“Yes, many happy returns, missus.”

“Why, you devils,” Jane said. “When I called and said I'd be late, you knew all about this.”

“Of course we did, Mom.” Nick looked extremely pleased with himself. “Winky wanted to come, too, but I told her she couldn't.”

“I see,” Jane said solemnly. “Well, we'll have to make sure we don't stay too late. It
is
a school night.”

“Oh,
Mom
. It's a party. Lighten up!”

Before she could respond, the doorbell rang. Jane turned and saw Louise hurrying to answer it. When Louise opened the door, Audrey Fairchild stood framed in the doorway, tall and blond and elegant in an ivory silk pants suit, and behind her hovered darkly handsome Elliott, looking uncomfortable. The Fairchilds lived across the street from Jane. Jane was fond of them but was surprised to see them here because she knew they'd been having marital problems. In fact, Audrey had confided to Jane that they were seeing a marriage counselor.

Audrey looked over Louise's head and waved at Jane. “Whoo-ooo! Happy birthday, doll!”

Elliott visibly winced. “Louise, I'm sorry we're late. I know you said to come at seven-thirty so we could surprise Jane, but . . . we ran into some difficulties.”

Audrey, hearing this, rolled her eyes and swept into the foyer, leaving Elliott standing in the doorway with Louise.

“No problem,” Louise told him softly. “It's just nice to have you here.”

Audrey hurried up to Jane.

“So? Were you surprised?”

“Totally,” Jane said. “This really is wonderful.”

Audrey stroked her sleek honey blond head. “I have a little something for you,” she said softly. “But I felt I should give it to you privately.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I didn't want to embarrass anyone.”

Jane knew exactly what Audrey meant. The Fairchilds were quite wealthy—Elliott, a cardiovascular surgeon, had recently been named director of the New Jersey Rehabilitation Institute—and Audrey's gift to Jane was no doubt excessively lavish.

“Thank you, Audrey,” Jane said graciously. “It was sweet of you to get me something.”

“Well, of course, doll! You're my neighbor! You're my pal!”

Neighbor, yes. Pal? Jane wasn't so sure about that. She thought not, but just smiled.

Greenberg stepped up to Jane and Audrey. Audrey immediately turned, as if she had a built-in man detector that had activated, and quite unabashedly looked him up and down.

“Hello,” she said brightly.

“Audrey,” Jane said, “I would like you to meet my friend, Detective Stanley Greenberg.”

Audrey raised her perfectly tweezed blond brows. “I knew you looked familiar. You're with the police here in the village.”

“That's right,” Greenberg said. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Fairchild. I've seen you around town.”

“Have you now?” Audrey said, moving closer to him.

Jane realized that Audrey wouldn't have seen Greenberg here on Sunday, because Jane hadn't invited Audrey and Elliott to Nick's birthday party. She hadn't felt they would have been interested. Now she felt a pang of guilt about that. Audrey did, after all, consider Jane her pal.

Audrey's face grew serious, and she said to Greenberg, “I'll bet you've got your hands full these days.” She cocked her head in the direction of the dining room and the inn's backyard beyond.

“Uh . . . yes,” he replied, looking uncomfortable.

“A cake!” Jane exclaimed, happy to rescue Greenberg. She walked to the dining-room table, where a large white sheet cake covered with pink-and-yellow frosting roses sat beside plates, forks, and napkins. On the sideboard Louise had set out a selection of sodas and mineral waters, along with coffee and tea.

“Isn't this lovely?” Jane said to Nick, who had followed her. Behind him came Louise.

“Louise, you've outdone yourself.” Jane gave her a hug. “Thank you so much.”

Louise waved the thanks away. “Thank Ginny,” she said, looking out to the foyer, and Ginny, hearing her name, turned. She excused herself from Laura and Daniel and came into the dining room.

“What did I do now?”

“Was this your idea?” Jane asked.

“I confess,” Ginny said.

Jane kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you.”

Ginny looked pleased with herself. “When you were in New York having lunch a week ago Monday, I went to see Daniel at your office and asked him to help us plan this party. It was really all of us in the club who thought of it. We felt you needed a boost.”

“So Daniel was in on it from the beginning,” Jane said.

“Absolutely. He loved the idea. He said he'd find some way to get you here at the right time without your suspecting.”

“Ah,” Jane said. “Laura's sweater.”

“Ginny!” Laura called from the foyer. “You didn't finish that joke!”

Ginny laughed. “Be right back.” And she hurried away.

“Feel better now?” Daniel asked.

Jane turned to him; she hadn't heard him come up behind her.

“You sneak,” Jane said. “I didn't think it was in your nature to lie.”

“It is, for the right reasons,” he replied, and winked at her. “But all I did was get you here. Your club friends planned it all.”

“So I heard.”

“Ginny and I planned it while you were having lunch with Bertha. Then on my way home after work I stopped at Whipped Cream to help her with the guest list.” His brow creased and he looked thoughtful. “You know, I really like Ginny. I never knew her very well. There's something about her—something very straightforward. And she's always so—upbeat.”

“Who's that?” Laura asked, appearing beside Daniel. “Talking about me again?”

Daniel grabbed her by the waist and pulled her close. “No, honey, for once I'm not.”

Jane smiled at the couple. It occurred to her that Daniel might not have told Laura he had confided in Jane about the pregnancy and upcoming wedding, so Jane decided to say nothing, and just kept grinning.

“Over here, everyone!” Louise called out. She stood over the cake, lighting candles—too many of them for Jane's liking.

Everyone moved into the dining room and crowded around the table. Louise finished lighting the candles and turned to Jane. “Now don't forget to make a wish, and promise never to tell it to anyone or it won't come true.”

“I promise.”
I wish for someone in my life who will take away my loneliness
. . . Melancholy swept through her at this thought, but she kept smiling, took a deep breath, and, with some effort, managed to extinguish all the candles. Everyone cheered and then broke out into a loud rendition of “Happy Birthday.”

Gazing about the large table at all her friends, Jane felt her eyes well with tears and chastised herself for thinking she was lonely.

“Now the birthday girl gets to cut the cake,” Ernie said, and handed Jane a knife and plate.

“I want the first piece, Mom!” Nick cried, and everyone laughed.

“How can I say no to that?” Jane cut him a nice corner piece piled high with frosting roses. She cut more pieces and people dispersed again to chat in scattered groups.

“Lovely, just lovely,” Jane said, putting down the knife when she was sure everyone had cake.

“Jane—” Louise said softly.

Jane turned to her. She looked troubled, her brow wrinkled, her lips pursed.

“Yes, Louise?”

Louise licked her lips nervously and took Jane's arm, leading her over to the window where they could speak quietly. “Jane,” she said in a low voice, looking around to make sure no one overheard. She appeared to be close to tears. “I truly hate to bother you with this now—at your own birthday party—but I need your help with something. There's no one else I feel I can turn to.”

“Of course you can turn to me, Louise, anytime,” Jane said, concerned.

Louise let a tiny smile of gratitude appear on her face, but it quickly disappeared. “I want to show you something. Come with me.”

Louise, clearly trying to look casual, walked slowly out of the dining room and wove her way through the clusters of guests chattering in the foyer. She walked to the corridor at the back of the foyer that led to the kitchen, and Jane followed.

“In here?” Jane asked softly.

“No.” Louise opened a drawer, took out a flashlight, and headed for the servants' staircase at the back of the kitchen. She flipped a switch on the wall next to the stairway's entrance. “Up here.”

Jane, puzzled, followed Louise up the stairs. They were narrow and steep. Single bare bulbs at intervals in the low ceiling cast a weak light. The air was still and had an atticky smell of old wood and dust.

The staircase turned on itself twice before a door to the inn's second floor came into view. Louise walked right past it.

“Is this a stress test for my birthday?” Jane joked, but Louise, clearly not in a joking mood, turned and quickly shushed her. Where on earth were they going?

The stairway ended at a door to the third floor, and Louise pushed it open, holding it so Jane could walk through.

Louise switched off the flashlight. More bare bulbs at intervals in the ceiling illuminated a narrow corridor that appeared to run the length of the inn. The walls were plain, and a number of doors opened off it on each side.

“Don't make any noise,” Louise whispered. “Some of the help live up here.”

Jane, remembering Yolanda, followed Louise to the end of the corridor, where Louise opened a door on the left. They entered a small room, bare of furniture. Elaborate wainscoting ran around the lower half of the room, carved square panels within panels.

“Louise, what was it you—”

“Sh-h-h!” Louise walked to the room's right wall and switched on the flashlight. Abruptly she dropped to her knees and, with her free hand, pushed on one of the panels of the wainscoting.

“Louise Zabriskie,” Jane whispered, “what the devil are you doing?”

“Jane, shush! Just wait a minute.” Louise pushed some more, and to Jane's amazement, the panel swung inward. Jane watched in stunned silence as Louise pushed the panel all the way in. It was an honest-to-goodness secret door. Now Louise dropped onto all fours and started crawling through the square space. “Follow me,” she whispered.

Jane did, crawling after her. Beyond the door, Louise was already standing, shining the flashlight around a small space, a tiny room about eight feet square. Jane got up. “All right, now will you tell me what we're doing? What
is
this place?”

Louise walked to the secret door and pushed it almost completely shut. Then she turned to Jane.

“Have you ever heard of the Underground Railroad?”

“Yes, of course. Nick studied it in social studies last year. It was a network of places where people opposed to slavery hid escaped slaves on their way to the north or Canada.”

“Right. William Hadley, the man who originally built this house, was a staunch abolitionist and became part of the Underground Railroad. He had this secret room built to hide slaves. The only people who know it exists are Ernie and me . . . or so I thought.”

Jane frowned. “This is very interesting, Louise, and I appreciate your showing it to me. But
why
are you showing it to me?”

Wordlessly Louise pointed the flashlight at the far right corner of the room. There, a rumpled sleeping bag lay rolled out on the floor.

“Whose is that?” Jane asked.

“Ernie's.”

“Ernie's? But why would Ernie bring his sleeping bag in
here
?”

“So no one would know who he's sleeping with,” Louise said, and watched Jane.

Suddenly Jane got it. Her jaw fell, and she closed it. “You mean Ernie—He's been having—In this room? How did you find out?”

“I don't know if you've noticed, but Ernie's been acting strange lately, kind of nervous and secretive.” Louise laughed ruefully. “I know him so well. One day a couple of weeks ago I was outside hanging our clothes on the line, when Ernie came outside for no apparent reason. He could see I had a big basket of clothes to hang, and he remarked that I'd probably be at it for a while. I said that was true, and he nodded and went back inside. I waited a few seconds. Then I secretly followed him up here.”

“But who was the woman?” Jane asked with trepidation.

“I don't
know
,” Louise said, frustrated. “I followed Ernie to the outer room and watched him through the door from the corridor. I watched him crawl in here, and suddenly I realized the woman was already here! I . . . heard them.” Her face contorted pitifully and she started to cry.

“Oh, Louise,” Jane said. “I'm so sorry. That . . . rat!”

“And I have absolutely no idea who it could be.” Louise took a handkerchief from her skirt pocket and wiped her eyes and nose.

“I know how much it must hurt,” Jane said.

Louise gave a couple of quick nods. “I've suspected Ernie of fooling around for some time, but I'd never had any proof. I'd even begun to tell myself I was imagining things.”

Jane was still unsure why Louise had shown her all this. “So you wanted to confide in someone?”

Louise turned to Jane with an odd expression of puzzlement. “Don't you get it, Jane? The woman Ernie was seeing—I think she was the woman hanging in the woods.”