From the Publisher

Caterer Faith Fairchild and family are living in one of historic Cambridge, Massachusetts', venerable Brattle Street houses while the Reverend Tom teaches a course at the Harvard Divinity School and does some soul searching — is his Aleford parish his true calling? One night in downtown Boston, Faith is startled by a face from her past. It's Richard Morgan, a former boyfriend from her life as a single woman in Manhattan. Their heady, whirlwind affair in the waning days of the self-indulgent 1980s ended abruptly. Now he's back, as exciting as ever.

Then something occurs that turns a pleasant sabbatical into a nightmare — Faith discovers a diary, written in 1946 and hidden in the attic, that reveals an unspeakable horror. Suddenly dark secrets seem to permeate every room. And with Richard guarding strange secrets of his own, Faith is soon caught up in solving more than one troubling mystery ... with a murderer lurking a little too close to home.

Publishers Weekly

In Agatha-winner Page's 14th warmhearted entry in her Faith Fairchild series (after 2003's The Body in the Lighthouse), the upscale caterer, amateur sleuth and born-and-bred New Yorker is, to her surprise, reluctant to leave suburban Aleford, Mass., when her minister husband Tom, frustrated and worn-out by day-to-day parish duties, announces that he's going to take a position at Harvard Divinity School for a semester. Soon after the couple settles in at their beautiful temporary home on Cambridge's prestigious Brattle Street, Faith realizes that the darkness and the creepy feeling she has about the old house are due to more than overgrown bushes. A riveting diary found in the house's attic and the sudden reappearance of old boyfriend Richard Morgan, who mysteriously disappeared 13 years before, lead her into an investigation as chilling as a New England winter. If her relationship with Morgan strains credulity at times, the interactions between her and Tom remain realistic and human. As Faith explores the byways of Boston and Cambridge in search of dangerous past secrets, both cities come to vivid life. The tempting recipes at the end for such fare as Butternut Squash Soup and Harvard Squares leave no doubt that a delicious treat is in store for cozy fans. Agent, Faith Hamlin. (May 1) Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information.

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Table of Contents

Read a Sample Chapter

The Body in the Attic

William Morrow & Company

Chapter One

"You're kidding, right?" Faith said to her husband, the Reverend Thomas Fairchild.

But she knew he wasn't, and he confirmed it.

"I know it all sounds very sudden, but we wouldn't go until the end of January. That's almost two months away. Classes start on the thirtieth."

"I don't understand why you can't teach the course and commute from here."

Here was Aleford, Massachusetts, a small town west of Boston, where the reverend held sway at the First Parish Church and to which locale he had lured his bride, Faith Sibley, almost ten years earlier. Faith, born and bred in the Big Apple, had had a thriving catering business and had been loathe to leave it for the bucolic orchards of New England, but she had fallen head over heels in love with Tom. That meant "whither thou goest," and she did. If you had told her at that time that in the future she would be protesting a move from Aleford to Cambridge, Massachusetts, a veritable metropolis, two words would have sufficed to express her feelings: No way. Yet here she was, raising an army of objections over what would be a temporary move, a sabbatical.

Tom was sitting across from her in one of the two wing chairs that flanked the living room fireplace. They'd tucked five-year-old Amy into bed, then, an hour later, eight-year-old Ben. Faith had been looking forward to having Tom home for the evening -- no meetings, and maybe some bed for themselves. She'd been surprised when he said he had something he wanted to talk over with her, then slightly alarmed when he downed a healthy slug of brandy before speaking. She sipped hers slowly, figuring she might need it.

"I could teach the course and commute, but Idon't want to." He sounded ever so slightly petulant, and, more certainly, blunt. "It's not just the course, although that's what started the whole thing -- having lunch with Ralph and his asking me if I knew anyone who could pinchhit for the spring semester. The guy who was supposed to do it has to have knee-replacement surgery or something like that. He can't postpone -- "

"Wait a minute." Faith put her snifter down. "You had lunch with Ralph over two weeks ago. Are you telling me that you've known about all this since then? That you've been thinking about it and never said a word to me?"

Tom put his glass down, too, and folded his arms across his chest. Faith immediately did the same. If he wanted body language, she'd give him body language. For a moment, they stared at each other like Russian dancers before the balalaikas started.

"I didn't want to raise the issue until I had something definite to propose. I didn't see any reason to upset you unnecessarily," explained Tom, speaking coolly.

But that's not us, Faith said to herself. We tell -- told -- each other everything.

Instead of speaking her mind, she let the anger just below the surface break through and push away her regret. "And why were you so sure I'd be upset? Because you're proposing taking the kids out of school for four months? Because you've assumed I can go back and forth to the catering kitchen from Cambridge, without consulting me?

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Excerpted from The Body in the Attic by Page, Katherine Hall Excerpted by permission.
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