Chapter 16: The Odds

On Wednesday a deputy drove me back to the house by the water.

The court had given me one hour to collect Maisie's clothes, her school things and anything that was hers.

The housekeeper's replacement opened the front door.

She was a thin woman in a new apron, and she looked at the deputy and not at me.

"Mr. Carraway is on the terrace," she said. "He has guests."

I walked through the front hall past the staircase where Maisie had stood in her pajamas.

The long dining table was set for lunch.

The silver bowl sat in the middle of it.

I stopped.

Through the glass doors, Philip stood at the head of the terrace in shirtsleeves, with a drink in his hand.

Eight of his friends sat around him on the wicker chairs.

The man in the red tie was not among them.

Philip had called them to show everyone the ballroom was a misunderstanding.

He had ordered lobster.

"Rosalind," he said as I came out. "You're early for lunch."

"I'm here for her things."

"Her things are upstairs. Take them." He raised his glass to the table. "My wife has been under strain. She's staying with a friend."

Nobody lifted a glass back.

A woman in a linen jacket looked at the tablecloth.

"Staying with a friend," I said. "I'll say it plainer. I'm staying where I'm not given fifty dollars."

Someone coughed.

I went upstairs.

Maisie's room smelled of her shampoo.

I packed her pajamas, her books, her school folder and the sketchbook with the drawings of sea animals.

I packed the single shoe box under the bed where she kept the shells.

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