The maid was trembling and her eyes watering. “I shall tell everyone! I shall tell them all the truth!”
“No—please! Mercy, I love you—I would never hurt you!” Freya said, buttoning her blouse while James quickly got dressed behind her. “You must understand—this is… he is…”
The girl stepped back, lifting her chin challengingly. She took in a deep breath, her face flushed, and her lips quivered as she spoke. “You are a liar, Freya Beauchamp! A liar, you hear me! A liar and a witch! I will tell them all!” She swung around and ran off through the field, leaving Freya and James alone in the dusky meadow.
“What do we do now?” she asked. She had lived long enough in Salem Village to know what would happen next. “They will kill us.”
“Run,” James said, tugging on his boots and handing her hers. “Run away as fast as we can.”
north hampton
the present
valentine’s day
chapter twenty-six
The Hammer Strikes
Hudson held up a tiny pink one-piece with a tulle tutu to show Ingrid. There was a decal of a piglet doing a pirouette in toe shoes on the chest.
“What do you think?” The light flashed against the lens of his tortoiseshell glasses.
“Um, Tabitha is having a baby boy?” she said.
They had snuck out on their lunch break at the library to shop for Tabitha’s baby shower at the nearby boutique Tater Tots.
“So?” Hudson looked at it sadly and put it away. “You’re right. Why isn’t she having a girl? This is so cute.”
Hudson was impeccably dressed as usual; only he could make a thick down jacket look slim and elegant, but something was different. A few months ago, he had finally come out to his mother, and while things had been frosty for a while, the grand Mrs. Rafferty had finally come around to the reality of the situation and had even agreed to meet his boyfriend. It turned out that as long as any discussion of politics was assiduously avoided, Hudson’s mother and Scott got along swimmingly—to such a degree that Hudson felt a bit left out at times. He occasionally brought up politics just to put a little wedge between them.
Ingrid grabbed the tutu. “Let’s get it! Why not? I mean babies are babies. Can’t you just dress them up however you want? They’re kind of like dolls, right?”
“Um, not really. Put it back, Ingrid,” Hudson instructed, being the voice of reason now. “If he wants to wear pink tutus that should be his decision when he’s ready to make it.”
She exhaled a sigh, putting the tutu back on the rack, then continued to flip through the pint-size clothes.
“I don’t know,” Hudson said wistfully, “doesn’t this make you feel like…”
She turned to him with a look of horror. “Like what? Like having a baby?”
“Yeah…”
She shrugged. She hadn’t ever really thought about it.
“Yeah, me neither!” He went back to searching through the rack, his fingers moving fast and adeptly. “Just testing you.” He held up what looked like miniature lederhosen but were made of soft green terry cloth. “You’ve got to admit these are extraordinarily cute, and it’s just fun shopping for baby clothes.”
She eyed him suspiciously but let it go. “I need to talk to you about something,” she said.
Hudson made a tsk-tsk sound. “I knew something was up and you were keeping me in the dark. You’ve been distracted today—and not a good distracted. I know that look. What’s up?”
“I ran into them at that new café, Matt, Maggie, and, um, Maggie’s mom, Mariza. His ex-girlfriend? They looked so perfect together, and perfectly happy. Mariza’s a knockout. She’s built like an Italian screen goddess and—”
“I know where this is going—stop right there!” warned Hudson, holding up a hand. “First of all, the M names? Totally dorky! And second of all, Matt chose you, not Sophia Loren. He could have married her by now if he wanted to make it work. He didn’t. The reason they appear intimate is that not only do they have a history, but they also have a child together, so they’re friends—friends being the operative word here.”
“Friends.”
“You have to be if you’re going to be good parents, and from what you’ve told me, the kid is awesome, right? Well, that takes a lot of maturity on her parents’ part.”
“I suppose.”
“You have nothing to worry about.”
“Okay,” she agreed morosely. Though Hudson’s advice was always sound, she still had her doubts.
By the time they made it to the cashier, their arms were full. They couldn’t help but get the tutu and also the terry lederhosen, a hooded hippo robe, and a trendy stuffed toy that was supposed to put babies in a good mood—and various other items that seemed absolutely necessary.
Outside, a chilly breeze blew against their cheeks, and there was a dusting of new snow on the sidewalks. She and Hudson strolled along the sunny side of the street. He proposed a round of cocktails after the frenzied bout of shopping, which had left him thirsty. Ingrid reminded him they had jobs to get back to and weren’t rich housewives. Besides, they had a baby shower to plan.
“Speaking of hausfraus and marriage and babies,” said Hudson as he walked jauntily along, “I forgot to tell you: Scott and I are thinking about tying the knot!”
Ingrid stopped mid-sidewalk. “Now you tell me? As if I’m the one withholding all the information!”
“Well, we’re just considering it. Now that it’s legal in New York and all. We thought we’d do a weekend in New York City at Hotel Gansevoort in the Meatpacking District—after City Hall, of course. Although I’ve heard that doing it in Brooklyn is better, less busy than in downtown Manhattan. So—”
“No!” said Ingrid irately.
“Excuse me!” said a tall man standing behind Ingrid, whom neither she nor Hudson appeared to hear.
Hudson glared incredulously at his friend. “What do you mean, no?”
They had created a jam on the narrow sidewalk, and the young man in front of them cleared his throat to get their attention. “Excuse me!” he repeated. Politely. He was attempting to get past them on the skinny sidewalk with all of their Tater Tot shopping bags. But Ingrid and Hudson did not budge.