Secrets from the Deep by Linda Fairstein

Author:Linda Fairstein
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2018-11-05T16:00:00+00:00

18

“How do you do, Ms. Thaw?” I said, reaching out my hand as Booker and I joined her on the porch.

“Lovely night, isn’t it?” she said. “Have we met before?”

“No, no,” Booker said. “We were at the sing with my grandmother, Rebecca Dylem, and she pointed out your cottage to us. Said we should give you her regards if you were at home.”

“We have no choice but to be here on Illumination Night if our houses are along the front row, facing the Tabernacle,” Jenny said. “Seven generations of Thaws have sat right where I am, welcoming all the gawkers.”

“For some reason—maybe it was one of Becca’s stories—I thought all the Thaws lived in Chilmark,” I said.

“There was a time that most of them did,” Jenny said.

She never stopped her rocking for a minute, even while she talked to us. I figured she was about forty years old, although it was hard to tell because of the costume and hairstyle. She kept one arm on the rocker to keep it moving, the other rested on top of a small wooden box on her side table, an antique tea caddy, like I had seen at my grandmother’s home.

“That’s a fun costume,” I said. “Why are you dressed like that?”

“I do it to honor one of my ancestors,” Jenny said. “My favorite of all the Thaws.”

“That’s a nice idea. Did you know her?”

Jenny smiled. She had an easy manner and was very pleasant to us. “Only in my imagination,” she said. “She lived a very long time ago. In Chilmark, as a matter of fact.”

“Do you mean Gertie Thaw?” I asked, bursting with enthusiasm, mostly because the subject had come up so naturally.

“So you’ve heard of her?” Jenny asked.

“Booker and I were on the beach yesterday when that shark swam by, and since she has the same name, we heard stories about Gertie all day,” I said.

“And I could tell you more stories all night.”

“Can you really?”

“Well, I’m exaggerating, but Gertie was the relative I most admired growing up,” Jenny said. “Have a seat.”

“We can’t really stay,” Booker said.

I hope this wasn’t going to be our future, I thought to myself. Video arcade nonsense interfering with the chance to accomplish some real detecting.

“C’mon, Booker,” I said. “Take a few minutes to listen.”

He leaned his back against the upright post at the top of the steps.

“Are you dressed just like Gertie used to?” I asked.

“This dress was actually hers,” Jenny said. “Gertie sewed her initials into the hem, all those years ago. It’d been in a chest up in the attic at our old farm till the place was sold a while back.”

“And the Jolly Roger? That’s because of Lemuel Kyd?” I asked.

“It sure is. Just a reproduction, of course, but I loved that girl’s spunk, having a pirate for a boyfriend.”

Booker put his sneaker on the tip of my shoe and pressed down. That was some kind of signal for me to cut to the chase.

“What about Kyd’s treasure?” I asked.

“I’ll add

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