Beyond All Dreams by Elizabeth Camden

were any other clues left by her father, she would not find them in this house.

    As usual, the meager food at Aunt Ruth’s could not be comfortably stretched to feed three people, which meant Anna and Neville paid a visit later to a cozy pub overlooking the waterfront. The excellent Maryland clam chowder, with spicy stewed tomatoes and lumps of fresh crabmeat, was the only thing either of them missed about this town.
    Neville started in on the chowder the second the bowls were set before them. For being so slim, the amount of food that disappeared down his throat was remarkable. Anna, meanwhile, toyed with her spoon, drawing swirls in the chowder as she recalled the sight of Uncle Henry’s coat hanging on the back of her aunt’s kitchen door. Perhaps someday she’d visit the house to see that Aunt Ruth had finally put the past behind her, but she doubted it. She sighed.
    â€œYou need to quit feeling sorry for your aunt,” Neville said as he polished off the last of his chowder and pushed the bowl aside. “After I finished cleaning her gutters, I took the leaves to her dustbin, where I saw the bones of a fine rib roast. A chicken carcass as well. For a widow who hasn’t been able to afford meat for weeks, it has a strange way of getting into her rubbish.”
    Anna rocked back on the bench. She could barely afford the shared room with Mrs. Horton, all so she could keep funneling money to her aunt. She had suspected Ruth sometimes exaggerated her poverty, but a rib roast and a chicken all in one week? She slid her untouched bowl of chowder toward Neville.
    â€œHere, you can have this. I’m too annoyed to get it down.”
    Neville smiled and grabbed his spoon again. “Wow. I wish you got angry more often. This is really good chowder.”
    Anna had to smile. Neville could always make her laugh, even when she didn’t want to. She was so amused watching Neville devour the chowder that she missed the entrance of a nattily dressed couple into the pub.
    â€œWhy, look who it is,” a silky voice called from across the room. “‘Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou.’” Neville stiffened at the old taunt as a blond woman in a canary-yellow walking suit approached their table. It was Eliza Sharpe, an old classmate from their school days.
    In a school with students who ranged from harmless to downright vicious, Eliza always floated along the spectrum depending on shifting schoolyard alliances. During one year, Neville developed an unrequited crush on Eliza. It faded, but not before Neville had been dubbed with a nickname he despised to this day.
    The moment Neville saw Eliza waving at them, his affliction got worse, blinking so hard his whole face twitched with the spasms he was helpless to stop. Beneath the table, Anna reached for his hand. He clasped it like a lifeline.
    Neville was able to calm a bit by the time Eliza ambled to their table, leading a portly gentleman alongside her. A cap with a dazzling display of white feathers perched atop Eliza’s coifed hair.
    â€œHello, Eliza,” Anna said. “What’s that, a snowy egret on your head?”
    The snowy egret had been driven almost to extinction by the popularity of its milky-white feathers and was the subject of a hotly contested bill before Congress to outlaw the slaughter of endangered birds for their plumage. Eliza preened as she touched the feathers with dainty fingers.
    â€œYes, aren’t they pretty?”
    â€œAt least they aren’t bald eagle,” Neville muttered.
    The comment flew past Eliza. “Are the two of you married yet? I always thought you would be perfect for each other.” She glanced down at Anna’s ringless hand. “Oops! Guess not,” she said, then leaned over to pat Anna on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. You’ll probably find someone soon.”
    Why did the whole world think she and Neville ought to get married? She adored Neville, but he