A Comedy of Errors
DEVERILL HALL, SITUATED ON Providence Avenue about a mile or so from the center of Littleton-By-The-Sea, was but a few minutes’ drive from Cliff Top Manor—longer when tourist traffic choked the two principal streets. Alert ones glimpsed the occupants of the Corvette, and a young man of seventeen or eighteen boldly approached the car while it was stopped behind another at the corner of Maine and Providence. “I bet my brother I could get a kiss from you!”
With a sweet, but apologetic, smile, she denied him. “Ah, I don’t give them as favors! But look, so you don’t lose face completely . . .” Rummaging in her purse, she withdrew a tooled leather key ring, another gift from Mr. Wilson, and she stripped it of its keys. Dropping it into his hand, she closed his fingers over i
