The Body in the Attic (Faith Fairchild Series #14)

( 7 )

Overview

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....

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The Body in the Attic (Faith Fairchild Series #14)

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Overview

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.

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Editorial Reviews

Bangor Daily News
“Intriguing.”
Bangor Daily News
“Intriguing.”
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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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780060525316
  • Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
  • Publication date: 4/26/2005
  • Series: Faith Fairchild Series , #14
  • Format: Mass Market Paperback
  • Edition description: Reprint
  • Pages: 320
  • Sales rank: 256,672
  • Product dimensions: 6.72 (w) x 7.92 (h) x 0.88 (d)

Meet the Author

Katherine Hall Page is the author of twenty previous Faith Fairchild mysteries, the first of which received the Agatha Award for best first mystery. The Body in the Snowdrift was honored with the Agatha Award for best novel of 2006. Page also won an Agatha for her short story "The Would-Be Widower." She has also been a nominee for the Edgar Award and the Mary Higgins Clark Award. She lives in Massachusetts with her husband.

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Read an Excerpt

The Body in the Attic

A Faith Fairchild Mystery
By Page, Katherine Hall

William Morrow & Company

ISBN: 0060525290

Chapter One

Over the years, Faith Fairchild had occasionally let herself imagine what it would be like to meet Richard Morgan again. But nothing like this had ever crossed her mind.

Richard Morgan. They had had a heady whirlwind affair in the waning days of the self-indulgent eighties, meeting just before Christmas and parting before the New Year. They were both living in Manhattan -- the perfect backdrop for romance, especially during the holiday season. And they were both single. Children, mortgages, gray hair were all things that happened to other people -- older people.

Faith had been on a city bus returning to Have Faith, the catering firm she'd started that fall. Richard had taken the seat next to hers, and as the other passengers boarded, the strains of a Salvation Army rendition of "Good King Wenceslas" filtered through the open door. Richard had started humming along, Faith smiled, and he began to sing -- he had a pleasant tenor voice and an even more pleasant appearance: tall, dark brown hair, and very blue eyes. "I only know the one verse," he'd told her, and she'd confessed the same. They'd talked, and he'd almost missed his stop. When he left, he'd said, "Want to trade cards? I might suddenly remember the rest of 'Good King Wenceslas' and wouldn't know where to find you." She'd handed hers over with her own line: "True. Or you might need a caterer."

Standing in front of her now, Richard Morgan did need a caterer. In fact, he needed a meal. They were at Oak Street House in Boston, a shelter for homeless men, and Richard had just slid his tray in front of Faith, a volunteer, so she could hand him a bowl of beef stew. Stunned, she stood with the ladle in one hand, the half-filled bowl in the other. The last time she'd seen him, they'd been at the Top of the Sixes, that elegant bygone Gotham hot spot at 666 Fifth Avenue. They'd drunk champagne, Perrier-Jouët, and the lights of the city had sparkled about them like jewelry from Tiffany. Richard was drinking coffee now. A thick mug rested next to two packaged rolls on his tray. Faith started to speak, then stopped as he put his finger to his lips, shaking his head slightly.

"Hey, lady, wake up! You gonna gimme some stew or what?" The man next to Richard pushed him aside. Hastily, Faith filled the bowl and passed it over to Richard. Their hands touched briefly. His nails were dirty and his skin looked chapped from the cold. She filled another bowl -- and another. It had been thirteen years since they'd said good-bye.


"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?

Continues...

Excerpted from The Body in the Attic by Page, Katherine Hall Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Table of Contents

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First Chapter

The Body in the Attic
A Faith Fairchild Mystery

Chapter One

Over the years, Faith Fairchild had occasionally let herself imagine what it would be like to meet Richard Morgan again. But nothing like this had ever crossed her mind.

Richard Morgan. They had had a heady whirlwind affair in the waning days of the self-indulgent eighties, meeting just before Christmas and parting before the New Year. They were both living in Manhattan -- the perfect backdrop for romance, especially during the holiday season. And they were both single. Children, mortgages, gray hair were all things that happened to other people -- older people.

Faith had been on a city bus returning to Have Faith, the catering firm she'd started that fall. Richard had taken the seat next to hers, and as the other passengers boarded, the strains of a Salvation Army rendition of "Good King Wenceslas" filtered through the open door. Richard had started humming along, Faith smiled, and he began to sing -- he had a pleasant tenor voice and an even more pleasant appearance: tall, dark brown hair, and very blue eyes. "I only know the one verse," he'd told her, and she'd confessed the same. They'd talked, and he'd almost missed his stop. When he left, he'd said, "Want to trade cards? I might suddenly remember the rest of 'Good King Wenceslas' and wouldn't know where to find you." She'd handed hers over with her own line: "True. Or you might need a caterer."

Standing in front of her now, Richard Morgan did need a caterer. In fact, he needed a meal. They were at Oak Street House in Boston, a shelter for homeless men, and Richard had just slid his tray in front of Faith, a volunteer, so she could hand him a bowl of beef stew. Stunned, she stood with the ladle in one hand, the half-filled bowl in the other. The last time she'd seen him, they'd been at the Top of the Sixes, that elegant bygone Gotham hot spot at 666 Fifth Avenue. They'd drunk champagne, Perrier-Jouët, and the lights of the city had sparkled about them like jewelry from Tiffany. Richard was drinking coffee now. A thick mug rested next to two packaged rolls on his tray. Faith started to speak, then stopped as he put his finger to his lips, shaking his head slightly.

"Hey, lady, wake up! You gonna gimme some stew or what?" The man next to Richard pushed him aside. Hastily, Faith filled the bowl and passed it over to Richard. Their hands touched briefly. His nails were dirty and his skin looked chapped from the cold. She filled another bowl -- and another. It had been thirteen years since they'd said good-bye.


"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?

The Body in the Attic
A Faith Fairchild Mystery
. Copyright © by Katherine Page. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.
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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 3.5
( 7 )
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Sort by: Showing all of 7 Customer Reviews
  • Posted November 24, 2008

    more from this reviewer

    A mysteryious old house and old friend

    Faith Fairchild's husband, Rev. Thomas Fairchild, is discontent with his life as a pastor and takes a sabbatical to teach at Harvard Divinity School. This moves the family to Cambridge, MA, temporarily. They stay in another professor's home while he is away. It is a nice large house with lots of antique furniture. But that is the problem with their two small children. Plus Faith does not get good vibes from the nursery on the third floor.<BR/><BR/>Faith helps out at the soup kitchen one day and runs into an old flame from her past. She agrees to meet him, but things are not always what they seem.<BR/><BR/>When her children are playing in an old wardrobe, a diary is found. Faith reads it and begins to work at unraveling the secrets of the house.<BR/><BR/>But can she do so without endangering herself or her family?<BR/><BR/>I enjoy this series. Faith is a fun character. She doesn't do much catering in this book. I did enjoy when she went to a party and commented on the catering. Really saw it from a different view point. <BR/><BR/>I was a little disconcerted with the lack of communication between Faith and Tom in this book. I think it added to the mystery of some of the events, but I was surprised by it.<BR/><BR/>I look forward to reading more in this series. I highly recommend this book and series.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 27, 2005

    Katherine Hall Page is always faithful...

    to deliver a good read, but this was not my favorite. The diary sections were the most compelling I've read from Ms. Page in a while (makes me wonder if she shouldn't venture out into other genres?), and the characters in the diary captivated my imagination. I couldn't wait for Faith to pick up the diary and begin reading again. However, I agree with other reviewers that the reader is inevitably disappointed by the lack of resolution between Faith and Tom. Faith really seems to struggle with questions about fidelity (both on her and Tom's), and there really is no strong conclusion, other than the lesson learned by the diary (you cheat, you give birth to illegitimate baby, you die in imprisonment???). This book could have used a much stronger finale, and the story is a bit darker than usual for Ms. Page, but still worth a read for her fans.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 23, 2004

    I was disappointed!

    I looked forward to reading this book. I thought that there would be focus on Tom's need to make changes and the difficulty for Faith to change from an environment that had become comfortable and reflected the woman that she was now. I was amazed at the quick fix at the end of the book for a marital relationship with secrets of profound impact for each spouse. She communicated with great trust with her girl friends but didn't even mention her old boyfriend or the disturbing diary she had found. This diary effected her deeply; didn't Tom notice and if he did, wouldn't an experienced pastor want to understand what was happening? This is probably why I felt irritated at the excursions into menu planning! Who really cares about the details of the menu; Faith needs to worry about the details of her marriage. I enjoyed the mystery of the diary. The connection made between that mystery and the one surrounding her old boyfriend, however, was a bit of a stretch.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 16, 2004

    Good light mystery

    Rev. Thomas Fairchild seems to be going through a mid-life crisis. At least that is what his wife, Faith, believes. Understanding he needs a break she agrees to a temporary move to Cambridge, MA, even though she did NOT like the way Thomas went about telling her. Faith and their two children will housesit for Professor Ted Robinson while Thomas teaches a semester at the Harvard Divinity School. ..................... While working at a homeless shelter, Faith comes face-to-face with an old boyfriend, Richard Morgan. Richard claims that he is not really homeless, but doing research for a book. Then Faith finds a diary in the old house's attic. The diary is from a past resident of the house, a miserable wife who had been virtually a prisoner in the house by her husband. The more Faith reads, the more curious she becomes. And there is still someone alive, today, who does not want the information in the diary to get out. ................... **** Sections are choppy, especially toward the beginning of the book, and I found myself getting confused. But it soon smoothed out and became a great mystery. To me, the novel was like reading an older version of the Nancy Drew series, a clean mystery with only a touch of real danger. All-in-all, readers will find this one to be a great way to spend an afternoon of light reading. ****

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    Posted August 31, 2011

    No text was provided for this review.

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    Posted March 5, 2010

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    Posted November 27, 2010

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