Pierre's mother, and the
stylish-stout Mrs. Trehearne, and Gladys Fleming, obviously detached from
the bustle of pre-departure preparations, were standing to one side,
talking. And Rand had finished helping Adam Trehearne pack the last
container of his share of the Fleming collection into his car.
"I see Colin's about ready to leave, and I'm in his way," Trehearne said.
He extended his hand to Rand. "No need hashing over how we all feel about
this. If it hadn't been for you, that offer of Kendall's would have had
us stopped as dead as Rivers's had. Five hundred dollars deader, in
fact."
Stephen Gresham, carrying a package-filled orange crate, joined him,
setting down his burden. His wife and daughter, with another crate
between them, halted beside him.
"Haven't you got your stuff packed yet, Jeff?" Gresham asked.
"Jeff's been helping everybody else," Irene Gresham burst out. "Come on,
everybody; let's go help Jeff pack! You're going to have dinner with us,
aren't you, Jeff?"
"Oh, sorry. I have some more details to clear up; I'm having dinner here,
with Mrs. Fleming," Rand regretted. "I'll pack my stuff later."
Mrs. Jarrett, Mrs. Trehearne, and Gladys came over; one by one the rest
of the group converged upon them.
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