"She received her mail as 'Annie Quincy,'" Fred noted. "And that's the name she wrote on her clothes."
"I have a better scenario," Cynthia said as she poured herself a cup of coffee and joined them. "Perhaps the reverend was the one who found her. He read the note and was so overcome with grief he covered up what she did, falsely reported her death and gave her a decent burial. Then he wrote her sister Rachael in Boston affirming her lies."
"And he visited her grave weekly, instead of her bed," Dean added, with just a hint of sarcasm.
"Don't be so insensitive, David. This was a very romantic story."
Amid a banging door and stomping feet, Gladys Turnbull entered the kitchen. Her face bore a Christmas morning smile.
"Might I speak to you, Mrs. Dean?" she said, hardly glancing at the menfolk as she tried to catch her breath. Cynthia rose, and after a whispered conversation, Gladys left and Cynthia returned, a smile on her face.
"What was that all about?" Dean asked as Fred left to change for yet another dinner engagement with Miss Worthington.
"Our guest, Miss Turnbull, has a boyfriend." Dean just looked at his wife. "She's met a gentleman, struck up a 'literary conversation,' as she tells it, and he's asked her to drinks and dinner."
"So why the whispered conversation?"
"She doesn't want us to worry if she sleeps elsewhere tonight!"
"Kind of beating the horse to the front of the pack a bit early in the race, isn't she?"
"Gladys says they really got along great," Cynthia said, with a smile.
Dean laughed. "I suppose if she has a chance to get lucky, she should jump on him, so to speak. I don't imagine she has a long line at her door."
"Be nice," Cynthia answered. "I think it's sweet. She says he's captivated by her writing. He's a real fan of sci-fi occult, whatever that is."
Cynthia looked down at the coded notebook, but the sounds of the returning guests caused her to reluctantly put it aside. The Deans joined the ice climbers and others in the living room for afternoon snacks and chatter just as Edith Shipton descended the stairs.
Dean was startled by her appearance, not even sure at first who it was. She was now a blonde, with her hair pinned high to the top of her head.
"I decided to change my hair color," she said. Then she added, as if dismissing the importance of so dramatic a change, "After all, if I'm starting a new life, I might as well change everything." At least she wasn't wearing the Annie Quincy white dress.