Alex Harris 00 - Poisoned

still lacked a jack-o-lantern but I planned on remedying that fact this week. As I drove further into Steven’s area, the houses grew. Most included circular driveways and I spied tennis courts through thick, well-manicured hedges. Finding the correct number, I drove down the long driveway, at the end of which stood a very traditional home with a lot of stone and a beautifully landscaped front garden. Two large oaks stood in the front framing a large portion of the house; a two-story structure painted colonial blue where it wasn’t covered with fieldstone. It looked like something out of a Thomas Kincaid painting but without all the tacky stuff and horrible colors. On second thought it didn’t look like one of his paintings at all. I locked my car and walked firmly up the path, not the least bit ashamed to be knocking on someone’s door at nine-ten on a Sunday morning. Taking a recently shined brass knocker into my hand, I knocked with two quick raps. Any thoughts of making a hasty retreat vanished as the door opened.
    “I know you! You’re the woman who’s helping Aunt Roberta.”
    “Yes, that’s right. I’m Alex Harris,” I said, silently thanking my lucky stars to be greeted with a smile and not a scowl. “We met the other day. You said something about wanting to find a job, and I thought I would drop off an application.” I opened my purse and took out the papers I tucked in there only fifteen minutes earlier.
    “How nice. Come in, please.” Trish stepped back and held the door open for me. Not only was Trish Hollander up and perky at such an hour, but dressed in far different attire than the first time I met her. Her simple but expensive stone-colored slacks set off a forest green sweater. Her short hair was clean and blown dry into soft layers. She had an easy smile, and pretty, soft green-gray eyes. For a minute, I thought I had the wrong person and wondered if Trish had a twin sister everyone forgot to mention.
    “I’m sorry. Did I catch you at a bad time? You look as if you’re ready to go out.”
    “No. Not at all. I’m an early riser. Always have been. I guess that’s why I want to find a job. Getting up as early as I do, I seem to have a lot of time on my hands.”
    Trish showed me into the living room, which, like the outside of the house, was not what I had expected. Decorated in a traditional New England style with an oversized fireplace and lots of pewter ware around, the room looked lovely. A large sofa in a very busy fabric with lots of earth-toned colors and big overstuffed pillows in russets and greens dominated the room along with two winged back chairs.
    Trish asked if I’d like a cup of coffee or tea and disappeared down the hall toward the kitchen. Through the large glass doors leading to the back of the house, I could see a pool, covered now, and a little further what appeared to be a rose garden.
    “Here we are,” Trish set a tray with coffee for her and a tea for me, on the table. She picked up her cup and looked at me. “You didn’t really come here on a Sunday morning just to give me an application now, did you?”
    I blushed and took a sip of tea to try and cover my embarrassment. “Well, no, I mean, I wanted to give you the application but I really wanted to speak with your father.”
    “Of course you do,” Trish said knowingly.
    “Excuse me?”
    “Oh, don’t be embarrassed. He may be my father, but even I can see he’s a very attractive man, and to be honest, you’re not the first woman to want to get to know him a bit better.”
    I choked on my tea. “No. You don’t understand. I have a boyfriend. I just wanted to speak to your father about…” I tried to regain my composure before continuing. “You see, I saw him at my health club and someone mentioned he might join. I thought I might be able to, well...well, I just thought I might be able to answer any questions about the place.”
    “Oh, that’s too bad, about having a boyfriend, I mean. Daddy could do a lot worse. As a matter of fact, he has.” Trish leaned forward and raised her eyebrow. “With my mother.” She made a disgusted look. “But you must be mistaken, about the club, I mean. My father belongs to the Highlane Club in Westport. As a matter of fact, that’s where he is now. He plays tennis there every Sunday morning.”
    “That’s funny. I really thought I heard someone say he wanted to make a change.”
    Trish shook her head and a strand of hair fell appealing across her