Worth

Chapter 7 (Pt. 1)

Violet was awakened by a knock at her door and the soft, fed-up call of one of the help. It was not difficult to blink sleep away, despite only having four hours of it. Violet sprang up in bed like a private in training. Her situation was too uncertain to allow for comfort. The game, her schedule, and James too, everything had to be improvised. Rosie returned shortly, if it had been Rosie rousing her earlier in the first place, with breakfast on a tray. Oatmeal with fresh berries would do nicely, even though her nose detected other guests were being served sausage links. Violet was relieved to not have to steel herself with a communal Continental.

Perched on her tray was an envelope containing the itinerary for the day and Violet's character's instructions. She skipped the schedule at first and read ahead to the last simple line: "Violet must admit to an accusation made by a stranger."

Another stranger? It was a grim prospect. Would the accusation be made during the after dinner game of charades? How does one represent Loose Morals in mime? But before Violet could find out she would have to firstly survive, according to her schedule, an early game of tennis, a bird watching expedition, and a late afternoon fingerprinting. Violet did not play tennis and was always of the mind that people not inclined to play a sport should not wear the sport's uniform casually. Nevertheless, there in her wardrobe was a pleated tennis skirt and pastel cotton shirt complete with white knee socks. After toast and jam, she donned the irony dutifully.

When the family were called to gather on the tennis court, Philroy met them with some bad news that had nothing to do with his brown Bermuda shorts.

"Looks like we're going to have to skip tennis and go straight on to the hike. The court net was supposed to be replaced, but I've just been informed it hasn't been delivered."

"What hike?" Edie asked succinctly.

"Our bird watching expedition."

"Am I to understand that you intended for us to play tennis all morning and then climb a mountain? Are you skinnying us up for a sacrifice? Joan already looks like a base for soup."

Joan clearly took this as a compliment.

"Well, naturally, Edie, your physical limitations are always taken into account." The only woman with covered knees stared Philroy into stammering. "There's a picnic, uh, planned for after. You know, uh, lay out on the grass. A picnic to relax."

Her lips moved. Her teeth did not. "Will we have to weave our own baskets?"

"Question?" asked Paul. "There's a dead body in the house, a killer in the crowd, and still no police. Should we really be playing tennis anyway?"

The body was removed in the middle of the night," Philroy insisted.

"Convenient," said John.

"I have to observe you in a more relaxed social setting where a murderer might let his or her guard down. Besides, now there is no tennis."

"I, for one," said John, "have no problem playing tennis with an imaginary net."

"What else do you have for us besides sports injuries, Philroy?" Thomas asked.

"Uh, well, there's a skeet shooting range nearby. I suppose I could give them a call."

"And give the murderer a gun?" Elsa disapproved.

Paul's brief excitement curdled. Elizabeth suggested tanning. Paul quipped, "Great. How about a Boring-Off?"

"Greers versus Grass! Go!" John said enthusiastically.

"John!" Joan tut-tutted.

"What? Winner gets total domination of the world."

"While we're at it, surely we can come up with something more imaginative than charades," Vera said.