Episode #144 - For one member of the Collins family, the past is shrouded in mystery, and I am just beginning to suspect that the mystery surrounding her is deeper and stranger than I ever imagined.
I know it sounds strange, says Vicki to Liz, as they and Lt. Riley gaze down at the locket with a photo of David on one side and a lock of hair on the other, but I know that locket was on Mrs. Collins the day she moved into Matthew's cottage. That's impossible, says Liz. You must have seen another locket, says Lt. Riley, this one was found in the rubble of a burned out Phoenix apartment house only last week. Then there must be another one just like that, insists Vicki. There isn't another just like it unless Mr. Collins had a copy made of it, says Liz. What was David's hair doing in this one if she said it was in the locket she was wearing? asks Vicki, upset. You must have misunderstood her, says Liz, that's the only way I can account for it. I guess so, says Vicki, unconvinced. Shall I take you to see my sister in law? asks Liz. Please, says Riley. Vicki asks Liz if she can come along. If you want to, says Liz. I do, says Vicki, I have to see Mrs. Collins' face when she sees that locket. You're acting very strangely, says Liz, you feel all right? Yes, says Vicki, I'm fine. Then let's go, says Liz. Lt. Riley looks perturbed, his forehead furrowed.
As usual, Laura is seated by the fire when they knock, and seems to come out of a trance to answer the door. She greets Liz and Vicki. I thought you were going to be busy this afternoon? Laura asks Liz. I was, says Liz, but Lt. Riley wanted to see you. She introduces him to Laura. He shows her his badge--State Police, he proclaims himself--I'd just like to ask you a few questions about that fire that took place in your apartment in Phoenix a week ago. Of course, she says, inviting them in, what would you like to ask me? Liz and Vicki sits down on the sofa. First, there were some small personal effects located in the rubble of the apartment, he says, taking out the envelope--most of it is just jewelry that didn't burn--and I'd like you to look at it and identify it, if you can, as your own personal property, item by item. Fine, she says. He drops the contents of the envelope on the table, and Laura identifies all of it as hers. In that case, he says, if you just sign this statement to that effect, the property will be yours again. Vicki gazes at Laura, her face serious. Liz remarks how glad she is that Laura has the locket back again--it would be a pity if it had been destroyed. Laura looks directly at Vicki and says, "Yes, it would. I'm aware of it's value." She hands Riley the paper and he asks if she wouldn't mind a few questions. Who beside yourself had a key to your apartment? He asks. No one, she says. No friends, relatives? he asks. I don't have any relatives in Phoenix, and very few friends, she says, none of whom had keys--why do you ask? The woman who burned to death in the fire died in a sealed apartment, he explains--the door and all the windows were locked from the inside, so she must have had a key to get into the place--can you think of anyone who might have had access to a key? The owner of the building or superintendent, she suggests. We've checked them out, he says, anyone else? No, she says--unless...well, there was someone who did have a key, she might still have it, I'm really not sure--a cleaning woman who used to work for me--her name was Margaret. What was her last name? he asks. I don't know, says Laura, I just knew her first name--I let her go a few months ago, I really don't know whether she returned the key or not. Describe her, he says. Medium height, says Laura, blonde, slender, Scandinavian, I think. In other words, he says, she could have fit your description? Possibly, says Laura, but she was at least 10 years older. And you're sure you can't remember her last name? he asks. I don't think I ever knew it, says Laura--I had very little contact with her--I used to leave money for her because I usually wasn't in the apartment when she was there. Did she work for anyone else in the building? he asks. Possibly, I really wouldn't know, says Laura. We'll check on it, he says--you're absolutely sure no one else could have had access to your apartment? He asks.
She gives him an arch look. Absolutely sure, she says. All right, he says, thank you. Is that all? she asks. For the time being, he says--thank you for the cooperation. I'm sorry I wasn't more help, says Laura. Liz offers to take Riley back to the house. Fine, he says. Vicki stays behind, saying she wants to talk to Mrs. Collins. Liz and Riley leave. Laura closes the door. Vicki picks up the locket. Weren't you wearing this locket the other day? she asks Laura. This locket?--of course not, says Laura--how could I have been, it was in Phoenix, I just got it back. Would you have one like it? asks Vicki. Well, no, says Laura. I could have sworn you were wearing one just like this, says Vicki, why we even talked about it--you told me that you kept it with you always because it had a lock of David's hair in it--don't you remember? Yes, says Laura, I remember the conversation; I was telling you about this locket. Yes, says Vicki, and I'm sure you were wearing it, I remember distinctly, it was on that chain--she indicates the one Laura is now wearing. Laura holds the chain. You must be mistaken, she says--I don't remember what I was wearing, but whatever it was, it wasn't that locket, it must have been another piece of jewelry. I see, says Vicki, staring at her. You remember the conversation, says Laura, so you thought you saw it--but of course you didn't--you couldn't have, could you? No, I suppose not, says Vicki. Why are you looking at me that way? asks Laura. I was just thinking it's time for me to get back to the house, says Vicki, setting the locket down on the table. They say goodbye, each knowing the other is lying, and Laura sits down by the fire.
Vicki meets Lt. Riley outside Collinwood. Have you seen that woman who died in Phoenix? asks Vicki. I saw a photographs of her, he says, it wasn't a pretty sight. Was she completely unrecognizable? Asks Vicki. Totally, he says. What happens now? she asks. The body has to be identified, says Riley--I'll send a teletype to Phoenix and the police out there will try to locate this cleaning woman. What happens if they can't find her, says Vicki,. They just keep investigating until they can make a positive ID, he says, as it is, they haven't even been able to establish the time of death yet. Do you mean she could have been already dead when the fire started? asks Vicki. It's possible, he says. I see, says Vicki, and stands there for a moment, perplexed, and watches his car drive away. She goes into the house and closes the doors.
Drawing room - Frank tells Liz that he'd like her to look over these contracts before she signs then. All right, says Liz, taking them from him. When Vicki comes in, she tells her they have a visitor. Vicki runs in. Frank, what brings you here? she asks. Just some dull advertising contracts for the cannery, he says, hands in pockets--actually, I'm just using them as an excuse to see Vicki Winters. Liz suggests to Vicki that she talk to Frank while she looks over the contracts--you can stay in here, it won't bother me. Vicki leads Frank over to the fire. How are you? he asks. Confused, she answers. You have a habit of saying things I don't expect you to say, he says, smiling. It's the way I feel, she says--it's Mrs. Collins--ever since she came back here, strange things have been happening, things I have no way of explaining--the oddest thing happened just this afternoon--a detective came here and brought some jewelry that had belonged to Mrs. Collins--from her apartment in Phoenix. Yes, says Frank, I was notified they were returning some of her belongings--what about it? Among the items was a locket, says Vicki, I swear Mrs. Collins was wearing that locket, but she says she wasn't, I saw it on her the other day. That locket can't be in two places at once, says Frank. Yes, but I remember it on her, says Vicki--we talked about it. Maybe Mrs. Collins has two very similar lockets, suggests Frank. She said she didn't, says Vicki--anyway, Mrs. Stoddard says it's a family heirloom--and there isn't another one like it in the world. There has to be, says Frank. Even if there is, says Vicki, why should Mrs. Collins say she wasn't wearing it--why should she lie? Are you so sure she is lying? he asks. Yes, says Vicki, I have a feeling about it. Why would she do that? he asks. I don't know--I don't understand, says Vicki. Isn't it possible you're just mistaken? he asks. I don't think so, says Vicki, I have a feeling that Mrs. Collins had that locket and is lying about it--but why?
Liz, who has overheard all, looks very disturbed.
Liz continues poring over the contracts. What possible reason could Laura Collins have for lying to you? asks Frank. I don't know, admits Vicki. And how could the same object turn up in two places, hundreds of miles apart? he asks. I know it doesn't sound probable, says Vicki, but I did see it. Or thought you did, says Frank. I saw it, I know I did, insists Vicki. Liz comes over, contracts in hand. Vicki. . .begins Frank. Here are the contracts, Liz tells the lawyer. Oh, fine, he says, I'll get them in the mail this afternoon. I couldn't help overhearing your conversation just now, says Liz. I suppose you think I'm being very silly, says Vicki. Not silly, says Liz, just mistaken--Laura would have no reason to lie to you. Maybe not, says Vicki. The locket that came from Phoenix this morning belonged to Mrs. Collins, says Liz--it was the one Roger gave her when they were married. Are you sure? asks Vicki. Of course, says Liz, there are photographs of it in the family album, photographs of all the women who have worn it. Liz opens the album, where is sitting on top of the piano--here it is if you want to see it, she tells Vicki. I guess I was mistaken, agrees Vicki. (NO, don't agree!) Yes, you were, says Liz. I know what I thought it was, murmurs Vicki--I should check on David--I left him with homework an hour ago. I'll do that, says Liz, you stay here with Frank--thanks for bringing the contracts, Frank--I'll see you later. She briskly leaves the room. Frank bids her goodbye. They play sappy music as Frank asks Vicki if she's feeling better. I guess so, she says. Oh, Vicki, how important can a locket be? he asks. It's not just the locket, says Vicki, a lot of strange things have been happening that I can't explain--David's been having these nightmares about his mother--he sees her, standing in flames--these dreams are terrifying him, and Sam Evans painted Laura Collins standing in flames and it corresponded exactly with David's dream--can you explain that? I can't, he admits. Strange things have been happening to me, too, and I can't understand them--twice I've been compelled to do something I didn't want to do--against my will--yesterday I brought that terrible painting back here and showed it to David--I didn't want to do it, I don't know why I did it, it was as though something came over me and made me do it. That's kind of hard to believe, says Frank. This afternoon, says Vicki, when I asked Mrs. Stoddard if I could be there when the police questioned Mrs. Collins, the words came out before I knew what I was saying--it was as thought someone else were saying them. You know what I think, he says, I think this old house is getting to you--you ought to get out more--forget abut Collinwood and its legends and ghosts--leave them in this book where they belong, he says, lifting the album Liz pointed out earlier. I know there's a reasonable explanation for everything, says Vicki, but sometimes I have to be reminded. Tonight you're going to start a whole new routine, says Frank--you're going to start getting out and enjoying yourself--and we'll begin by having dinner together--what do you say? I'd love it, says Vicki. I'll pick you up at seven, he says. Fine, she agrees, I'll get your coat for you. They leave the drawing room together, and we see the family album open by itself,
and a bookmark fall off a photo.
Liz meets Vicki in the foyer. Frank gone? she asks. Yes, says Vicki, he asked me to have dinner with him. Good, says Liz. I think so, too, says Vicki--what's David doing? He was playing when I got up to his room, says Liz, but I got him back to his books. I' better go up, says Vicki. All right, says Liz. Vicki heads upstairs, but stops, turns and goes back down, as thought drawn by an invisible string. She goes into the drawing room. Did you forget something? asks Liz. WHAT? asks Vicki, as thought startled from sleepwalking. I was, says Vicki--something made me come in here--something I have to do, something I haven't done. She's agitated. What are you talking about? asks Liz. I don't know, says Vicki--something drew me into this room--why should I feel compelled to come in here? I don't know, says Liz. I don't understand this! says Vicki. Were you thinking of the locket again? asks Liz. Why do you say that? asks Vicki. I see you were looking at a picture of it, says Liz--nodding to the book on the piano. The family album is open to a picture of Josette Collins wearing the locket, says Liz, going over to it--weren't you looking at it? No, says Vicki. Someone was, says Liz. That's impossible, says Vicki--because Frank and I left this room a minute ago--no one came in here since then. Are you sure? asks Liz. Yes, says Vicki, this book was closed when we left--did Josette Collins own that locket? We see the photo of Josette in the album, which looks nothing like Maggie or Vicki. Yes, she was the first Collins woman to own it, says Liz--it was given to her on he wedding day. Why should the book open to this page? Wonders Vicki--do you suppose that it's a sign--from Josette Collins?--all the time that I was in the Old House, I felt that she was watching over me, and after that, I thought that if ever I was in any real danger, she would watch over me. Liz chuckles. What kind of danger could you possibly be in? asks Liz. I don't know, says Vicki
--but why should the book open to this page?--it must mean something!--do you mind if I leave David alone a little longer--I need to go out and get some fresh air. Would you like me to come with you? asks Liz, noting how upset Vicki is. No, thank you, says Vicki, I'll be back in a little while. All right, says Liz. Vicki leaves, and Liz gazes down at Josette's photo.
We see Vicki, wearing her trench coat and scarf, walking downstairs.
We see Laura, standing in bushes, just staring
--at Vicki, who is walking on the beach.
NOTES: Is Vicki in danger now that Laura suspects she knows something about her? Is Laura spying on Vicki with evil intent? Josette has helped our Vicki in the past, is she doing is again now? Both Liz and Frank tried to tell Vicki that the Laura-locket business was simply a mistake on her part, but WE saw that locket when Laura showed it to her--and now it turns up again, in the hands of a cop. How do all these odd shaped pieces fit together?
Frank and Vicki are deeply in like, but he doesn't seem to entertain her notions. She needs someone who can do that for her. He just pooh-poohed it all. Once again, it looks like Josette is trying to help Vicki by tying the locket to Laura somehow. Is she responsible for Laura's face drifting out of the portrait, or is Laura herself doing that? Curiouser every day.
All of a sudden, there is a cleaning lady, "Margaret," with the same coloring and build as Laura. She's trying hard to cover her tracks, but what exactly is she covering up?
Episode #145 - (Sound quality in this episode was horrendous, so if it seems I've left things out or botched up some dialogue, I hope you'll understand. I don't know if it's my tape or the master that sounds so awful, but you'll let me know when you watch this ep, I'm sure.
A strange force has caused me, against my will, to bring a painting to Collinwood, a painting so weird and mysterious that no one, not even the man who painted it, can explain. For one, it holds an unusual fascination.
David gazes up at his mother's portrait. Laura comes in. You're spending an awful lot of time looking at that painting, she remarks. I like looking at it, he says. There are other things to do, she points out. I don't feel like doing anything, he says. I thought we might go out for lunch today, she suggests. I'm not hungry, he says. Do you want me to eat alone? she asks. I just don't feel like eating, he says. She sighs. I looked for you yesterday but couldn't find you anywhere, she complains. I know, he says, it's because I went into town with Miss Winters. I had an awful feeling you were trying to avoid me, she says, that isn't true, is it? No, he says--why should I? Because you seem very disturbed, she says, ever since that painting came into this house--why? He goes over to it and stares. Because it was meant for me, he says, it's trying to tell me something, like a warning--it looks like it's trying to tell me something--Mother, what could it be trying to tell me? Perhaps how much I love you, she suggests. No, he says, I've got the feeling it's trying to tell me something bad. The camera focuses on the painting.
If you think the painting is trying to say something bad, says Laura, why bother with it? Because I have to know what it is, he insists--I look at it and sometimes, I think I know what it's saying. What do you think it is? she asks. Something bad, he says. I don't think that makes very much sense at all, do you? she asks. Not right now, but I'm sure it will, he says--it's just like looking at the portrait of Josette Collins--when I look at it I used to stare at it all the time, see things in it, it said things to me. You know what I think, she says, I think you have a very vivid imagination, and you're letting it run away with you. No one understands, he says--sometimes I wake up, and I look at the painting, and I see the light coming from your face, it gets bigger and bigger,
like floating in space, and it comes toward me, closer, there's a look on your face that scares me--and I see your lips move, some sound coming from them, trying to tell me something, trying hard to tell me! He's growing agitated, and Laura suggests they don't talk about it anymore. He pulls away from her, upsetting her. He sits on the bed. Leave me alone, he says. She sits beside him and suggests they don't spend the whole day talking about that painting--why don't we take a walk?--we haven't done that in days. I don't feel like it, he says--I don't want to be with anybody--I feel like being alone. All right, she sighs, perhaps later, hm? Perhaps, he says reluctantly.
Cottage - Maggie, newspaper in hand, asks Sam if he's read the morning paper. I haven't read yesterday's, he mumbles. She offers to save it for him, then. Don't bother, he says, I haven't read the papers in a week. He puts his pipe in his mouth. You usually keep up on the news, she says. I don't know why I concern myself about other disasters when I've got one going on right here, he says. I cleaned a few of your brushes, she tells him He thanks her. I thought it might encourage you to paint another painting, she says. Why bother? he asks, every time I do, it comes out the same--I could see myself having an exhibition of 50 paintings of Laura Collins surrounded in flames. He heads out the door. Where are you going? asks Maggie. Out for fresh air, he says, taking coat and hat. She watches him leave, distressed, then goes to the easel and uncovers his latest painting of Laura burning in flames.
Maggie, dressed now, answers the door. It's Laura, who asks for Sam. He's not home, says Maggie. Do you expect him home soon? asks Laura. If you knew my father, you wouldn't ask that question, smiles Maggie. Oh, my, says Laura, I haven't seen his work in 10 years. I can top that by another 10 years, says Maggie, he thinks everything should have in infinite life span--last forever. Perhaps some things can, says Laura enigmatically--what's he working on now? Maggie stands between Laura and the canvas and explains that Sam usually has more than one going at the same time--still life, portrait--was there something special you wanted? Just to talk to him, says Laura. I think it's about time you had a talk with him, agrees Maggie--your return to Collinsport has had a strange effect on him. I'm aware of that, says Laura, and I've come here to try and clear up a few things. I hope you can, says Maggie, he's in a bad way--I don't like to stick my nose in my father's personal business, but I feel I ought to protect him. From what? asks Laura. From whatever is bugging him, says Maggie. I'd like to know that myself, says Laura. Don't you know? asks Maggie. No, says Laura. Can you explain this obsession he has with you? asks Maggie--he seems to be drawing your face into everything he does. That's why I've come here, to get an explanation, says Laura. There was a painting he gave to Vicki Winters, says Maggie. I've seen it, it's horrible, says Laura. I thought so, too, says Maggie, I didn't like it--all that fire. The front door opens and Sam comes in. Maggie tells him he has a guest. So I see, says Sam. Laura greets him, he greets her back. It's been a long time since you've been here, he says. Yes, she agrees, I thought we might have a talk. Yes, he says, I suppose we should. Maggie says she's leaving, she has a date with Joe and wants to get there early so she can see the surprised look on his face. Have a good time, encourages Sam. It was nice seeing you again, Maggie tells Laura--stay loose, Pop. My specialty, he says. Maggie leaves. You have a wonderful daughter, says Laura--she's worried about you. I know, that makes two of us, says Sam. And I'm confused about you, she says, because I don't know what's going on in your mind--and I understand you've been in some kind of a mood since my arrival here. Word gets around, says Sam. Why did you do that atrocious painting of me? she asks viciously. Let me ask you a question, says Sam, because I think you're the only one who can answer it--tell me why am I painting this--he stabs a finger a the canvas and reveals the new painting to her. She looks ill.
Why are you painting something like this? she asks. You haven't answered my question, he says, I want to know why I'm doing this. I didn't come here to play games with you! she cries. I don't want to play games, either, he says, pouring a drink, things have been happening to me like never before. I don't mean to be unflattering, she says, but aren't your drinking habits the same as usual? My drinking has nothing to do with these paintings, he insists. Then you're doing them deliberately? asks Laura. No, I seem to have lost control of myself, he says--it's not even my style. What are you saying? she demands. I mean every time I start to paint, it comes out you, he says. Why me? she asks. I don't know, says Sam, I thought it was because you came back into town, my mind started thinking about you, but that isn't it--I can't draw a line without it becoming part of you. Where did you get the idea for the fire? she asks angrily. I don't know, he says. How do you know about the fire? she asks. I don't know anything about any fire, he says. You mean you don't know anything about me in a fire? she asks. I don't know what you're talking about, he says--do you want a drink? No, she says. I do, he says, and drinks some more. She looks at the painting. You think I'm lying, don't you? he asks. I don't know, she says. I want you to believe me, he says, I wanted to talk to you, I thought maybe you could tell me what's causing this, compelling me against my will. I see, she says. You say that as though you understand what's making me do it, says Sam. I don't understand, she assures him, the fact remains you and only you are responsible for these paintings--and it can't go on. I agree, says Sam, but it's happening all the same. Then it's time you made it stop, she says. I've tried, he says. You're frightening me son! she accuses. He pours more booze. David told me about the dream he had, says Sam, and I virtually painted it without ever having discussed it with him--can you explain that to me? I can't explain anything to you, she says, except that David is upset by that painting--it's hurting my relationship with him, and I don't intend to let anything get in the way of that. Then get rid of it, suggests, Sam. I can't, he's formed a strange attachment for it, she says--children form a liking for things whether they're good or bad. Well he's formed a liking, I've formed a hatred, says Sam. But you've done another! she says. Yes, he says. Destroy it, now, she orders. I don't know, he says, covering his face with his hands--I can't. If that's the way it's going to be, she says. I don't want it to be, but it is, he says. You'll stop painting it, she says--stay away from that easel! I've tried that, too, he says. Then perhaps I should see to it that you stop, she suggests. What do you mean? he asks. Exactly what I said, she tells him. Are you threatening me? he asks. Take it any way you like, she advises
--but you will stop. She sails out of the room, giving him a significant look before leaving. Sam is really upset. (This is the first time she has shown anything but kindness to everyone. She is a real bitch here, and you sense this is more the real Laura.)
Maggie and Joe enter the cottage. I don't think he's here, says Maggie--Pop! He's probably at the Blue Whale, she surmises. At leave you know where to look, says Joe. Thanks a lot, she says, you're letting the cold air in. He closes the door. Should we go down to the Blue Whale? he asks. I wish I could say no, says Maggie, annoyed--I go out on a date and spend half the time trying to find my Pop. Don't worry about it, says Joe. I do worry about it, says Maggie, I'm losing my patience--I've had it, right up to here. I never thought I'd see Maggie Evans lose her patience, he says. Now you've seen everything, she says, whenever we go out, I'm always talking about my father's problems. They sit on the sofa, his arm around her--not the things you talk about when you're on a date, she adds. Joe assures her he doesn't mind. I do, she says--I get the feeling I'm just going no where, that this nursemaid life I'm leading is going to continue indefinitely. I don't think so, he says. I know it! she says, I get the feeling I'm going to be taking care of him the rest of my life. You won't, he says. (First of all, Joe is a sweetheart, so understanding about her father's situation--plus, it sounds like he's already falling in love with Maggie, planning to be part of her future.) I will, she retorts--I don't see how things are going to change. Your father's just going through a strange stage, says Joe, he'll get over it. Sure, he'll get over it, agrees Maggie, but what next?--and what after that--I'm thinking more and more about leaving this town, going to Boston or maybe New York--I love my father, but I can't dedicate the rest of my life to him--I can't be taking care of him all the time without it having some sort of effect on me. I know you, he says, you're pretty resilient, and I don't think it's going to have an effect on you. Thank you for the vote of confidence, she says, but looking ahead, I don't see much future in this town for me--working at the coffee shop--what kind of future is that? That's not all there is in this town, he says. What else is there, I'd like to know? she asks. There's me, he points out. She grins. That's true, she says, I will say that for Collinsport, there's a very nice young man with other interests. Interest in you, he says softly. Quite the coffee expert, she jokes, that's about as far as it goes. The coffee you serve would make any normal guy get scared right out of here, he says, it's got to go farther and deeper than that. How far? she asks. You want me to get specific? he asks. I just don't want you to say anything you don't mean, she says. I mean everything I say, he says, and kisses her, a sweet smooch.
We'd better go look for your father, he says. See how inconvenient he makes things for me? asks Maggie, but they leave.
David is in bed, the painting of his mother glowing, when Laura enters his room. She looks at the painting, which stops glowing immediately. She stands looking at it, then at David, and leaves the room.
Joe and Maggie bring a drunk Sam home. Here we are, he sings drunkenly. Sure Pop, says Maggie. Life has been exceptionally good to us, slurs Sam. That's something I'd like to hear about sometime, says Maggie ruefully--this isn't the best way to say good night, but thank you. It will do until a better way comes along, says Joe--good night, Sam! He leaves. Sam lights a cigarette and takes off his coat, with difficulty. He lies on the sofa, stretching out. Maggie tells him she's making him some coffee. That's a ridiculous thing to give to a man, he says. You're not going to sleep here, are you? she asks--be careful with the cigarette--I'll be back with the coffee. Sam lies on the sofa, smoking.
At Collinwood, Laura enters the drawing room and gazes into the drawing room fire, concentrating.
Sam begins to feel drowsy. He settles more deeply into the sofa, smoking. We see Laura's eyes superimposed over him. Sam's hand holding the cigarette wavers; he drops it.
It falls on top of the newspaper on the floor, which first smolders, then begins to burn, filling the room with deadly smoke as Sam sleeps, oblivious to the danger he's in.
NOTES: Does Laura intend to kill Sam? With his insistence that he can't stop painting her standing in fire, will she see to it that he can't paint again--ever--and take his daughter with him? Corpses can't paint. Laura sort of reminds me of Angelique, who also often used fire to secure her wicked desires when she cast her spells.
Joe and Maggie are progressing nicely. He really is great about her need to keep track of her father, but he wants her to stay in Collinsport--for him. He sure did get over Carolyn quickly, didn't he?
Sounds like what's happening with the portrait is dividing David and his mother again, which is surely an occurrence she doesn't want. And that unfinished silhouette...what does it mean? Who is it? Who else could it be but David?
Love, Robin
