The Thread that Binds the Bones by Nina Kiriki Hoffman

Author:Nina Kiriki Hoffman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-06-22T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

“Is there a reception, or do we all just mill around talking?” Tom asked.

“No reception,” said Father Wolfe. “We hadn’t planned on this being a big wedding. I had no idea anyone other than the principals would show up.”

“Bert invited us,” said Laura.

“I’m very glad, Miss Laura. I’m glad to see you at all. The town has missed you.”

“Why—thank you,” she said.

“Already I see your influence at work. Your uncle and your brother sitting quietly through a whole church service—forgive me, but I never expected to see the day.”

“Oh, that wasn’t my influence; that was my husband’s.”

“Tom?” Father Wolfe turned to him.

“No,” said Tom. “I think you’re missing the point. They came because they wanted to. Annis is a relative. And people in Chapel Hollow take weddings very seriously; that’s almost the first thing Laura told me about them.”

“I suppose Mr. Carroll and Mr. Michael are older than they were the last time I had anything to do with them…” His eyes reflected inward. He frowned.

“And Michael got married,” Laura said. “Settled him right down. Have you met his wife? We’ll go find her.” She linked arms with Tom and led him off.

“What?” Tom asked her when they were out of earshot.

“It just fries me. He thinks the Hollow is full of Satan worshippers and demons, and everybody in town thinks I’m a saint because I was never strong enough to pester them. I’m like King Kong’s girlfriend or something, the pure fainting maiden among the beasts. I’m really tired of it. I don’t know Alyssa very well, but I bet she’d make a better saint than I ever did. I think I’ll nominate her.”

Before they could find Michael and Alyssa, Laura’s high school English teacher stopped her, wanting to know about her college career if any, and what had come of it. “I’ve been seeing a face that looks a lot like yours on the covers of fashion magazines, but that seemed so unlikely,” said Miss Finch.

“It was mine.”

“What happened to you? Use your mind, girl. Quick, before you lose your face. Or is that one of those things you Boltes don’t do? Age, I mean. I loaned you The Picture of Dorian Gray once, didn’t I?”

“That was one of the meaner things you did. Yuck! Miss Finch, this is my husband, Tom Renfield.”

“Do you find yourself in an analogous situation?” asked Miss Finch.

“Analogous to what?”

“I mean your literary precedent—your name, Renfield—Dracula’s insect-eating sidekick. Any truth in names, or would you smell as sweet with another?”

“Are you casting me as Dracula?” Laura asked.

“It would be an interesting choice, wouldn’t it? If you applied yourself, you could be quite good. Hmm. I see now I should have loaned you some different books. Your problem was never the proper use of power, was it?”

“What do you think it was?”

“Claiming power. Look what you’ve done with yourself! Turned yourself into a flat unspeaking image, incapable of movement. Isn’t that what your pestiferous brother was always trying to train you to do? Now you do it for a living!”

“I’m good at what I do, and I make a lot of money.

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