LITMIR.BIZ

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Keith asked.

      “Only what your sister has been kind enough to tell me,” he said sincerely.

      Keith stared at Melody. “Huh.” He grinned suddenly. “Well, I know what we should do after dinner.”

      “What?” Melody asked dubiously.

      “A DVD glut.”

      She cast her head to the side and smiled slowly. “History and pop culture.”

      “Excuse me,” Jake said. “A DVD glut?”

      Melody groaned. Her brother began a scientific explanation.

      “I see,” Jake said.

      Keith rose. “Time for dinner. I came to fetch the two of you. Can’t be late for Mom’s nouvelle cuisine.”

      “We’re having stew, I believe,” Melody said.

      “Whatever,” Keith said. Then, “Stew? Oh, no. God knows what she puts in those Crock-Pots.” He grimaced. “She thinks she has powers.”

      “So Melody said. Maybe she does,” Jake said.

      “Forget it, forget it,” Melody said, rising. “My mother does not have powers. Please, don’t go encouraging her to think that she does! Come on, let’s get home.”

      Keith had brought his car. He encouraged Jake to ride with him, telling him that he could explain the workings of the vehicle much better than Melody might ever manage. She decided to let the two of them go—there was nothing that Keith didn’t know already, so whatever Jake said to him, it wouldn’t matter.

      She reached the house first and Keith and Jake pulled in right behind her. Other than the fact that his hair was long—easily understandable, if he made his living as an historic interpreter—Jake looked as if he belonged right where he was.

      That was good.

       Oh, Lord, she was beginning to fall for his fantasy!

      She shook off the thought as she headed for the house. Before she reached the door, Brutus was howling out a welcome. She entered the house quickly. One good thing about Brutus—no one would ever come sneaking up on the house. Brutus was louder than the most obnoxious doorbell ever created.

      Wheels for legs did not prevent the basset from having a tail that wagged so hard it was like being whacked when it hit ya.

      “Lovely!” her mom called, coming from the kitchen. Now she looked like Stevie Nicks in an apron. “Dinner is on.”

      “Yeah? So what’s in it? Eye of toad and leg of newt?” Keith teased.

      “Oh, you!” Mona protested, giving him an affection tap on the shoulder. “Don’t you dare go scaring our guest!”

      “I’m not scared,” Jake assured her.

      “She does add all her own herbs,” Keith warned.

      “We’re having stew. Beef stew. And I’m afraid, other than the herbs, the ingredients are store-bought,” Mona said. She brightened. “But I do buy only organic.”

      Jake looked at Melody.

      “She loathes the idea that food might have pesticides in it,” Melody explained.

      “She’s quite right I guess,” Jake said.

      “And quite expensive,” George Tarleton said, joining them in the living room.

      “Dad, you might want to find a lint brush. You’re wearing more of Cleo than Cleo wears of herself, I think,” Melody pointed out.

      “Oh, yes, well, excuse me, I’ll find the lint brush,” her father said.

      “Come into the dining room, sit, sit,” Mona encouraged.

      The dining room was probably the most traditional room in the house—the large dining table and chairs were early American, as were the buffet and china closet. The back wall offered a bay window with a built-in bench seat that looked out over the lawn, and it was enhanced by warm, deep blue cushions and handsome throw pillows. There was a fireplace in here as well—the house boasted eight—and at Christmas, more than any other time, Mona kept the fires burning. She was also a huge fan of scented candles, so the room smelled deliciously of stew and spices.

      Jake paused in the doorway, breathing in. His eyes scanned the room, and she thought once again that she saw a look of pained nostalgia on his face that couldn’t be feigned.

      She felt her heart going out to him, and then she was irritated with herself. She just had to pick up a crazy who was completely charming, dignified and capable of somehow seducing her into his fantasy. He’d been in costume—the man was an actor, in a way. She had to keep remember ing that.

      “Sit, sit, Jake. I swear, there’s nothing at all wrong with my cooking, my children like to torment me,” Mona said. “George, will you get the iced tea from the refrigerator?”

      Melody, Keith and Jake had taken their seats as they had been told. When Mona moved, Jake rose. She set her hands on his shoulders to stay seated when she rose to help her husband get the drinks.

      “What do you want to bet it’s green tea?” Keith asked, feigning a whisper.

      “I heard that. Green tea is excellent for you. A billion Chinese who have far longer life spans than we do cannot be wrong,” Mona said.

      “Green tea is lovely, Mom,” Melody said, kicking her brother’s shin under the table. “Don’t get her going,” she mouthed.

      “I heard that, too!” Mona said, sweeping back around the table with a large tureen of stew. She set it down with a flourish while her husband got the glasses. “And it’s all right because I’m so happy just to have you home for the holidays—and to have our new friend, Mr. Mallory, here, as well.” She sat. “Keith, dear, will you say grace, please?”

      “Grace,” Keith said softly, and grinned.

      “Oh, honestly, Keith, it’s hard to imagine that you’re a student going for a Ph.D., darling, you can be so juvenile at times.”

      “May I?” Jake asked.

      “Well, of course!” Mona said.

      Jake folded his hands and closed his eyes. “Thank you, Lord, for the food you’ve provided, for the warmth of the hearth, and the love of family and friends. May we all be home in time for Christmas. Amen.”

      He opened his eyes and looked at Melody. Again, there was something in them that entreated with dignity.

       People didn’t drop from a hangman’s noose to find themselves in a street almost three hundred years later.

      “How very nice, Jake, thank you,” Mona said. “So, now, how was the ice skating?”

      “It was nice, Mom,” Melody said. She stood to help her mother; Jake stood, as well. “I’m just passing the plates. Please, Jake, thank you.”

      He’d been taught to stand when a woman stood, and it was going to keep happening. Melody made a quick job of passing the food around.

      “Mrs. Tarleton, I understand that you have some wonderful books on local history,” Jake said.

      “Oh, indeed.” Mona flashed a smile. “I’m simply fascinated by the mind-set of those who came before us. When they had the tricentennial of the Salem witchcraft trials, they printed up complete volumes of the proceedings, the court records, everything. It’s fascinating reading. So sad and horrible.”

      “What happens in the minds of men—and women—is always fascinating,” George said. “With all the theories they’ve had regarding the hysteria, I still can’t imagine sane adults allowing those girls who accused their neighbors of being witches—some only because they used herbs to help cure sicknesses—to cause such a tragedy.”

      “I

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