"I'm sure," he said. He stared at the magazine as if he couldn't let go of it, couldn't stop looking at the picture. He flipped to the front again and reread the fine print. "Charlie Dunn could probably find out more about this for us," he said. He looked up at me. "Charlie's a friend of mine in Boston who is big in advertising."
"What do you expect him to find out, Ken?" Holly asked. I caught the way she moved her eyes toward me to suggest he was doing something wrong, but Kenneth was intrigued on his own and not just for me. I could see it in his face and in the way his eyes continued to look at the pictures.
"Just to settle our minds about it," he replied softly. "When the pictures were done. Was this Haille?"
"I thought you said it was," Holly said.
"Nothing's for sure, but it sure looks like her to me, especially that turn in her lips, the way her cheekbones stand out, the way she's holding her head just a little to the right."
He went quickly to a drawer in the table and riffled through some papers before coming up with a photograph. He placed it beside the pictures on the catalogue page and studied the two. I drew closer. The picture he took out of the drawer was a picture of Mommy taken on Judge Childs's dock.
"The face in this picture is about the same size," he muttered. He began to make some measurements with a thin ruler and then nodded again. Apparently, he knew Mommy's face so well, he remembered the inches between her nose and mouth or across her forehead. "If it's not her, there was a twin I never knew about," he concluded.
"When are you going to call this friend of yours in Boston?" I asked softly.
He thought a moment, looked at his sculpture and then shrugged.
"How about right now? It's time for a break," he said. "Let's go down to the Mermaid and have a brew while I call Charlie. You can have a root beer," he told me and smiled.
"What? You're actually going to set foot out of this studio during my lifetime?" Holly kidded.
"Is this still your lifetime? I thought we were already living another spiritual existence," he replied and went to change his shirt and wash his hands and face before we drove into town in his jeep.
I found myself holding my breath every time my thoughts went to the catalogue and the things Kenneth had said. Mommy had never written to tell me she had modeled for this catalogue, nor had she mentioned it the few times we had spoken on the telephone. Wouldn't she have been proud of it? Perhaps it was as Holly thought: someone who just happened to have a close resemblance.
The Mermaid was a small pub on a side street. I had never actually been inside, although I knew Kenneth went there whenever he spent any time in town. There was a short bar on the right with thick, cherry wood tables and captain's chairs on the left. Everything looked worn and weathered, presenting the illusion that this tavern had been here to greet the first pilgrims. There were whale bones on the walls, pictures of fishermen and sailors, sailboats and trawlers. A net filled with fishing gear and accessories dangled from the ceiling, and there was a large ship's bell at the far corner of the bar. There were only a half dozen customers, all of whom knew Kenneth and gave him a warm, loud greeting. He ordered a mug of amber ale for himself and Holly and told the bartender, a short man with curly light brown hair, to give me a cold root beer.
"Sure she's old enough, Kenneth? Our root beer has a bite to it, you know?"
"Just give it to her with none of your jokes, Clancy," Kenneth said and winked at us. Holly and I sat at a table in the corner as Kenneth went to the rear to use the pay phone. All of the drinks had been delivered to our table when he returned.
"Charlie's doing the research for us and promises to call back within the hour. He knows this company well," Kenneth said. He spread the catalogue before him and stared down at the pictures. "Tell me about the man your mother went off with," he asked and I described Archie Marlin and how as soon as we left Sewell, I was instructed to start calling him Richard.
Kenneth sipped his beer and listened, his eyes taking on a deep, dark glint as I spoke.
"Changing his name sounds suspicious, doesn't it, Ken?" Holly asked. Kenneth nodded and then shook his head.
"Haille was gullible, trusting, eager to believe in fairy tales," he said, "especially if the teller of the tale made her the princess. So," he said, sitting back, "Olivia told Sara and Jacob what she wanted you to do?"
"Yes." I described what it had been like when I returned to the house. "Uncle Jacob practically salivated at the prospect," I added and Kenneth laughed.
"It sounds as if you will be better off at your grandmother's, Melody," Holly said.
"She's not really my grandmother. My real grandmother is shut up in that home. I'm sure it won't be easy living with Grandma Olivia, no matter what she promises," I added.
Kenneth and Holly exchanged looks but Kenneth said nothing. I had no reason to blame him, I thought. A teenage girl is quite a responsibility to take on at this point in his life, and he would be the first to say he wasn't stable enough for it. He was a free soul. Right now if he had the artistic impulse to drive off and stay away for days, he would do so. He couldn't if he had me to watch over.
A little over a half hour later, we heard the phone ring and the bartender called Kenneth.
"It's for you," he said. As Kenneth got up and w
ent to the rear of the tavern, my heart started thumping again. Holly smiled at me and put her hand over mine.
"I'm sure this is all going to be easily
explainable," she said.
I nodded, but my heart felt as if it had doubled in size and would soon hammer itself through my chest. We watched Kenneth as he listened. He nodded, turned his back, spoke softly, and then he cradled the receiver and just stood there without turning around.