After they got in from the bonfire, Hilary changed into a heavier silk nightgown and called C.J. “Hello, little brother! Happy Halloween! Did you go to the bonfire at Frick Park? Did you dress up? And if you stole the rocker from Mrs. Haskell’s front porch again, did you remember to put it back?”
She’d missed her brother’s sweet, throaty laugh. “Yes, Hilary, Jimmy and Ed and I put the rocker back. I went as a mad scientist. Had a fright wig and stained jacket and everything. Dad took a picture. I’ll show it to you when you get back.”
“C.J,” she shifted the phone to her other arm, “how was the opening for The Rivals?” She nearly choked on mentioning her signature show without her in it. “How were things backstage?”
Her brother sighed. “If you mean ‘how was Pavla,’ she was fine. She’s a good actress, but she lacks warmth. She’s not right for this role. Even some of the critics said so. She’s technically proficient, but has all the warmth and feeling of this phone I’m talking into.”
Hilary’s growl was even louder than Troll’s and shook every bit of glass on the entire second floor. “Damn it! Damn! I knew it. The only way she got this role was assault with a friendly weapon!”
“It gets worse.” She heard paper rustling on the phone, probably a newspaper or Variety. “She’s in talks with Broadway producer E.T Marringsworth for a prominent role in his next Antony and Cleopatra. And no, Hilary,” he went on quickly, “before you get ideas, I don’t think he’s asking her to play the asp or the barge.”
She narrowed her eyes. “She’d make a wonderful ass. I can just see her now, tethered to the nearest electrical outlet, manned by you, of course, my dear boy, which would be unleashed at just the right time to put six hundred volts of power through her meaty frame. Or have I said too much?”
“Hilary, I think you need to get out more.” C.J’s voice dripped with something between sarcasm and concern. “And those FBI men are still nosing around. I heard Pavla has talked to them, but she was cagey. Kept saying those missing men were on assignment or had prominent roles in far-flung countries, and Jeff and his friends are in Europe.”
“They are NOT in Europe.” Hilary tugged angrily at the cord. “We’ve called everywhere and everyone, C.J. They are not in Europe, New York, or anywhere else. We’re completely convinced that they’re here in Pittsburgh, and we’re going to find them. This is the only place they can be.”
“Well, they’re not at the Nixon. No one has seen them there, at KDKA, or at any theater here or in New York.” C.J’s sighs were distinctly worried. “Dad’s asked everyone he knows. They just are not anywhere…and you and I know that’s not possible. People don’t just vanish outside of fantasy films and Agatha Christie novels. Something is deeply wrong here.”
“You’re telling me.” She shuddered as a chilly breeze tugged at the feathers on her wrap. “These poor creatures keep talking about a ‘she’ who has hurt them. Bear can’t talk about Jeff without screaming. That ‘darkness’ he keeps wailing about may be the key to this. Someone hurt them, and hurt them badly. Troll keeps insisting he owns the house, even though Jeff is the legal owner. Something isn’t adding up here, and I’m starting to have an inkling of what it is.”
“Just…be careful, Hilary.” C.J’s voice got smaller. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you or the girls. Dad and I already miss you all badly.”
“We love you, too. Have a good time with Jimmy and Ed, and tell them both I said hello! I’ll tell the girls you wished them a happy Halloween.” She noticed a wide-winged shadow soaring outside her window. “Give our love to Dad!”
“I will! Love you, sis!” The moment C.J got off the line, she replaced the receiver and made her way to her balcony. It was narrow, just enough for one or two people to enjoy the splendid views of the garden…and in this case, to admire the graceful flight of an enormous bald Eagle with a braying, happy red-head on his back.
Her heart almost ached to see them so happy. Eagle was a bit reserved to be her type. He wasn’t a bad fellow. He could be almost pleasant, when you dragged him away from his work. Maple seemed to do wonders with him. She could see them silhouetted against the round, yellow moon, her nibbling at where his ear probably was and rubbing his back, him letting out something between a gasp and a squawk that managed to almost sound sexual. It was a wonder she didn’t fall off his back.
Maple was lucky to have someone she could hold, could love, could whisper sweet nothings to, even if she didn’t entirely understand his sweet nothings. If Eagle’s squawks could even be constituted as that. More likely, he was telling her where to find the best fish and talking about the situation in Europe and the widespread jobless rate at home. Maple probably didn’t care what a guy with feathers who lived in a mansion and could take her flying said, as long as it sounded nice.
She stood there for a while, watching Eagle make lazy circles against the moon. Her breath caught when he actually went in a loop, but Maple loved it. She not only hung on, her whoops of joy could probably be heard clear to Frick Park. They tore through the last of the smoke from the bonfire, rode through the clouds like balls of cotton. When Maple made her way around to his front to stroke his feathers and nibble his neck, she finally went inside to give them privacy.
“Jeff,” she sighed as she slid into the bed. “I miss it when we were that intimate. You were always so gentle with me! I wish you were here now.” She leaned into her pillows, holding the smallest in her arms. “Where are you now? I think…I almost know, but…you just…can’t be…” Her eyes drifted closed, and she was asleep before she could wonder further.
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