Three Fates

My father was gone. I didn’t see it happen, or don’t remember. That she’d never speak of. But we fell when the ship lurched. She was carrying me, and we fell. She twisted herself to keep me from hitting the deck. She always had a limp when she tired after that.”
    “She was a brave and wonderful woman,” Rebecca said.
    “Oh, she was. And I think her courage met Felix Greenfield’s that day. The ship was sinking, and the deck tilting higher and higher. He pulled her up it, trying to get us to one of the lifeboats. But the boat lurched again, and though he tried to reach us—I see his face even now as he called out and tried to get to her—we fell into the water. Without the life jacket he’d given us, we wouldn’t have had a prayer.”
    “Even with it, it’s a miracle. He said she was hurt.”
    “She broke her arm shielding me as we went into the water, and as I said, she’d already badly twisted her leg. She wouldn’t let me go. I had barely a scratch. The miracle,” he said, “was my mother and Felix Greenfield. Because of them, you could say the thread of my life has been long and productive.”
    When Rebecca stared, Jack lifted his water glass. “Which brings us to the Fates. Did I tell you my great-great-grandfather had a small antique shop in Bath?”
    A chill ran over Rebecca’s skin. “You didn’t mention it, no.”
    “Yes, indeed.” Steven polished off his roast beef. “Inherited it from my grandfather. We were going to visit my mother’s parents there. My grandmother wasn’t well. After my father was lost, we stayed in Bath rather than returning to New York. Because of that I developed quite an interest in antiques and made my own living through them, in the same shop my grandfather had. Another twist of fate that owes its run to Felix.”
    He crossed his knife and fork tidily over his plate. “I can’t tell you how fascinated I was when Jack told me Felix stole one of the Three Fates from Henry Wyley’s stateroom just before he saved my life. Mary dear, are we going to have that apple pie in the parlor?”
    “Never can wait for his pie. Go on and settle in, then, I’ll bring it along shortly.”
    Questions were tripping over her tongue, but her mother had drummed manners into her. “I’ll help you clear, Mrs. Cunningham.”
    “Oh, there’s no need.”
    “Please, I’d like to help.”
    Mary shot Jack an arched look as everyone got to their feet. “The one you married never offered to clear a dish, to my recollection.”
    While the dishes were seen to, Rebecca was treated to a full rundown of Jack’s ex-wife. She’d been beautiful, brainy and blond. An American lawyer who, according to Mary, worried more about her career than hearth and home. They’d taken their time marrying and had divorced, in her opinion, in a finger snap and without even the heart for battling over it.
    Rebecca made appropriate noises and filed the information away. She was interested; in fact, she was dying to know everything. But she couldn’t juggle the matter in her brain with thoughts of the Fates.
    She wheeled in the dessert tray herself and held back the barrage of questions that raced through her mind.
    “This one’s been raised right,” Mary said with approval. “Your mother must be a fine woman.”
    “She is, thank you.”
    “Now, if the two of you don’t finish what you’ve started and give this poor child the rest of it, I’ll do it myself.”
    “Connections,” Jack said. “We’ve talked about them, haven’t we, Rebecca?”
    “We have.”
    “The little shop in Bath was called Browne’s. It was established in the early eighteen hundreds and catered, for a number of years, to the gentry who came to Bath for the waters. Often, its clientele were those who needed to liquidate possessions into cash, discreetly. So its stock was varied and often unique. While discreet, it was a carefully run business, and records were meticulously kept. According to them, in the summer of 1883, a certain Lord Barlow sold a number of trinkets and artifacts to Browne’s. Among them was a small silver statue, Grecian style, of a woman holding a pair of scissors.”
    “Holy Mary, Mother of God.”
    “My grandfather was proprietor of Browne’s when Wyley made his last crossing,” Steven continued. “I have no way of knowing if he’d been in touch with my grandfather regarding the Fate. I first learned of them when I was a young man, enthusiastically studying my trade. I was