Music in the Night (Logan 4)

"Ma!" Robert called from the hallway. We heard what sounded like a collapsing tower of pots and pans and then a curse. "Uh-oh," Robert said. He widened his eyes and held on to my hand as we continued down the hallway toward what had to be the kitchen.

Robert's mother was sitting on the kitchen floor, her face buried in her hands. Pots and pans were scattered around her. She wore a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt knotted at the bottom, the sleeves rolled to her elbows. Her hair, Robert's color, was tied in a ponytail. When she lifted her face from her palms, I saw she had the same soft, perfect features as her son. Even though she was obviously upset at the moment, she had the complexion and youthful glint in her eyes that made her seem ten years younger.

When she focused on us, she smirked, and leaned back on her hands.

"Welcome to the Sea Marina," she said. "Dinner," she continued in a style imitating an English butler, "will be slightly delayed due to

catastrophe."

"What happened?" Robert asked.

"Those shelves I put up decided I had put them in the wrong place and rebelled," she explained and pointed to where the brackets had come out of the wall.

"I told you I would do that today," Robert said.

"I didn't think it was going to be a big deal. Obviously, I underestimated the weight of my cookery." She gazed at me and then smiled. "Are you the new cook?"

"What?"

"Ma, you know who this is," Robert said impatiently. "Oh? Oh," she added and jumped to her feet, brushing off her jeans. "The lobster girl."

"What?"

"Ma!"

"Hi, I'm Jayne Royce," she said, coming forward to shake my hand. "Robert has told me everything about you, so I don't have to ask you a single question."

"Ma."

"Ma, ma. He sounds like a confused sheep. It's ba, ba, Robert. Come on," she said, taking my hand, "let me show you my jewel."

I looked back helplessly as she pulled me along, back through the hallway and into the dining room, so far the only finished room I'd seen. It had a long, dark maple table with very comfortable-looking captain's chairs. There was a silver candelabra and very pretty placemats that looked hand-stitched. There were two teardrop chandeliers that sparkled like ice in the sun, and a large oil painting of a whaling vessel in pursuit was on the far wall. Hanging across the room was another oil painting that I recognized as one of Kenneth Childs's earlier works. It was a beach scene with terns just starting their turn toward the setting sun.

"Well?"

"It's beautiful, Mrs. Royce."

"Please call me Jayne. I call my mother-in-law Mrs. Royce."

I laughed as Robert came up beside us.

"You want to see the dock?" he asked.

"Why would she want to see the dock? It's uglier than a one-eyed bulldog in heat."

"Ma."

"Maybe we should help your mother with those shelves, Robert," I suggested.

"Now here is a girl I could grow to adopt. When you're ready to run away from home, this is the place," she said. "She's very pretty, Robert. You didn't exaggerate."

"Mmm--"

"Don't say it. Wait a minute, Robert," she said, pressing her forefinger into her cheek as she feigned deep thought. "I have it. Why don't you call me Mrs. Royce," she suggested and I laughed. "Come on," she said, taking my hand again, "we'll go back to the kitchen and you can tell me all about life on Cape Cod while I pick up my pots and pans."

I looked at Robert, who shrugged.

"I guess we'll help Mrs. Royce," he said and we all laughed.