Читать книгу Cemetery Silk - E. Joan Sims - Страница 7

Chapter Two

Cassie, Mother, and I drove back home to Rowan Springs in weary silence. I was thinking back to happier days when my father and grandparents were still alive. I was sure Mother and Cassie were having similar thoughts.

We were strong and hardworking folk, most of us with sound minds and strong tall bodies. We were from pioneer stock with good genes, and we had our share of good fortune. Those who passed on had mostly died in bed, simply exhausted from a long and happy life. There was, however, one great-great-grandfather who died in the arms of his buxom new wife during their wedding dance. She was his third lady, and her “buxom” held him up during the waltz. It was not until the music stopped that anyone realized his heart had also.

When Abigail died, she simply collapsed behind William as she followed him into the kitchen to make his dinner. We were told she was dead before the ambulance arrived. William had lingered in the hospital only three days after his last heart attack a week ago. “No pain,” the doctor said. “We made sure.”

So I was somber but comforted by the knowledge that William and Abigail were together again as they had been for the last forty years. And we were going home where a nice cold glass of Chardonnay awaited us.

My father had designed the patio behind our house. It sat like a compass right in the middle of the huge grassy expanse of ten acres that made up our backyard. I had placed the brightly colored mosaic of tiles in each compass point. Dad made sure they corresponded to true north, east, south, and west. In the center was a beautifully hand-painted tile with a compass rose. Under the “W” for west was a moon, and you can guess what was set in under the “E.” During the last forty years, many wonderful plans had been made and many delightful words had been spoken east of the sun and west of the moon.

On the patio this evening, Cassie was curled up like a cat on a chaise lounge. She was all cried out and seemed to have come to terms with the day’s events. I sprawled in limp exhaustion on the wide double rocker beside her. As a writer I suppose I should say something corny like “the brilliant scarlet sky swallowed the golden sun in a ravishing gulp of splendor,” but the truth is that I was, as always, simply ennobled by the beauty of the sunset. It is amazing how much you can see of nature without the intrusion of skyscrapers and industrial fumes. I was quiet, humbled by the glorious sight. So, I thought, was Cassie until she spoke.

“How much do you think William willed to Gran?”

I was truly astonished! It had never occurred to me that poor William, who lived in a 750 square foot house with threadbare carpets, would have enough of an estate to actually will anything to anyone.

“Really, Cassie! The poor old soul is not even cold yet! For God’s sake wait ‘till the dirt settles.”

“I loved William and Abigail with all my heart! You know that. But he is dead, and I do remember Granpapa saying that he was worth a fortune.”

“Honey, the way your grandfather spent money, anyone who had a hundred dollars salted away was worth a fortune! And besides.…”

She interrupted. “I know, but William did sell that land of his father’s to the coal company for at least ninety thousand. And you saw the awful way the poor old souls lived! Their refrigerator was four hundred years old, the carpet was moth eaten, and I almost fell through a hole in the kitchen floor. They surely didn’t spend that money on creature comforts.”

“I had forgotten William once had money, but that was years ago, Cassie. I can’t imagine how you remembered. You were just a baby. Anyway, they must have made some bad investments and lost it.”

But Cassie was on a roll. I could not imagine where she had heard all these things until she continued.

“And Abigail told Gran that after they married, they lived on William’s salary alone. She put all her salary back into her company’s stock option program. Fifteen years worth of AT&T must be a small fortune!”

She went on without even pausing.

“I just know Abigail would have wanted Gran to have whatever she had. I mean, they were the closest thing to sisters. Gran has to have all those lovely blue chips. After all, if William had died first, Gran would have inherited Abigail’s estate. I wonder if she would like to go back to Paris with a companion? A really smart and capable young woman who speaks some French and can carry enormous bags?”

“Did someone mention my name and Paris in the same sentence, I hope?”

Mother stood for a moment silhouetted in the last orange and gold rays of the setting sun, and I marveled for the hundredth time at her strength and resilience. I knew that William’s death meant more to her than just the passing of a dear and treasured friend. With William gone she was the last one of her generation left. There were no more ties to a beloved and happy past. She was alone now, a dinosaur, a lovely and elegant white-haired dinosaur.

I struggled up from the rocker to give her an embrace, but she turned from the sunset and held out a small silver tray with wine for us and a soft drink for Cassie. Mother raised her glass in a toast.

“Salud, my darlings. The wine has been under the stairs since Christmas, but I think it’s still potable. What a lovely sky. My goodness, look at that gorgeous harvest moon!”

I could see Cassie opening her mouth to contradict her grandmother. I knew that the harvest moon does not appear until after the last day of summer, and so did she—so did Mother for that matter. I shook my head just a bit. Cass obeyed and backed down from what could have been the beginning of one of their silly disagreements over trivial facts. I sighed in relief as Mother settled comfortably on the rocker next to me.

We sipped the crisp wine and gazed at the “not yet” harvest moon in peace if not contentment. The crickets and the tiny little croakers down in the pond began their twilight song. The deep blue that immediately follows sunset surrounded us for a brief gorgeous moment and then deepened into true nightfall. The little solar-powered cap lights twinkled along the walkway and confused countless yearning fireflies that blinked back in unrequited love.

With Cassie at college in Atlanta and me in New York trying to sell my latest children’s book, almost a year had passed since the three of us had been here together. I felt a lump form in my throat as I realized how much this place and being here with these two people meant to me. Tonight was definitely not the time to burst into sentimental tears.

“Billy has the place looking like a million dollars,” I offered in a scratchy voice.

“And that’s just about what he charges,” replied Mother shaking her head. “I may have to find somebody else. Maybe I can hire some high school student. I do have the tractor mower you know. It’s hardly been used since your father died. Maybe one of Mavis’s grandsons could help out.”

“But Gran,” protested Cassie, “Billy has been working for you and Granpapa since I was a little girl. He taught me how to ride a horse and fish and climb trees. You can’t fire him. He’s like one of the family.”

“It’s not a matter of firing him, darling. It’s a matter of not being able to afford him. After all, he has a family to support. He cannot charge me less than his services are worth.”

“Mother, I didn’t realize you were in a bind.”

I felt the lump again, a big guilty lump.

“I should be getting this last book deal signed by the end of October. Pam will send me the advance. I should have helped out before now.”

“Nonsense, Paisley, I’m fine, really. For heaven’s sakes, let’s not discuss anything as depressing as money. Hasn’t the day been morbid enough?”

Cassie cheerfully ignored her grandmother’s request.

“Speaking of money, Gran, how much do you think William left you? Wouldn’t it be terrific if he left you all of Abigail’s AT&T? Then you wouldn’t have to worry about anything. Forget about Paris. This is your home. It comes first. And the house does need a new coat of paint.”

I could feel Mother’s dilemma. Ordinarily, she loved to speculate on any and all aspects of a given situation, but this was different. Like me, she felt it was improper to discuss wills before the second sun set over the grave. Also, I do believe the thought of a monetary inheritance from her cousin’s husband had never occurred to her. She considered all her options for a moment and then decided to get a little mileage out of Cassie.

“Cassandra, be a dear and bring the rest of the wine from the table on the porch. There’s a good girl.”

Mother knew that Cassie hated to be patronized but had to obey or risk missing out on the conversation. Cassie jumped up from the chaise with the agility of youth. It had taken me three tries to get up the last time I sat in it.

“Paisley, you have raised the devil’s own daughter!” laughed Mother.

“Ah,” I responded theatrically, “you remember him well!”

Cassie ran back with the wine.

“What about Daddy?”

“Nothing, darling,” Mother and I both answered together.

The night was too short to begin that discussion.

Cassie poured the wine in the dark by holding a finger inside the lip of each glass to keep it from spilling over. She sat down on the patio and crossed her long slender legs. Her big brown eyes sparkled impishly in the moonlight as she asked, “Well, Gran? What do you think? Are you an heiress or not?”

“I have no expectations at all of any money, Cassie, dear,” Mother finally admitted. She ignored the loud disappointed sigh emanating from her grandchild and went on to explain.

“Joe Tom’s father was William’s first cousin just as I was Abigail’s. Since his father passed away four years ago, Joe Tom will be the sole beneficiary of whatever estate there is. I cannot imagine there is more to it than that miserable little house.”

She smiled tiredly in Cassie’s direction. Her voice held a note of forced gaiety as she continued, “I do know that William promised me the table that Abigail got from our grandmother. He offered it to me the day of her funeral, but I was too tired and heartsick to try and bring it home. Ernest Dibber told me today that William mentioned me in his will. I’m certain that it’s your great-great-grandmother’s table. Poor William had nothing else to leave to me.”

Cassie sighed again and patted her grandmother on the knee.

“Never you mind, Gran. We’ll find a way to take care of the farm. And it is a lovely little table. I saw Mrs. Dibber giving it the once over this morning. She looked like she wanted to take it home with her. I’m glad it’s staying in the family. I would hate for a stranger to have it.”

Cassie dug a match out of her shorts pocket and lit the fat citronella candle on the little wrought iron table. The pungent orange flame sputtered and hissed away at a few marauding mosquitoes.

I felt a niggling little irritation overcome my increasing weariness as I absorbed Mother’s words.

“Ernest Dibber told you about William’s will? What does he have to do with it? Aren’t you William’s executor?”

I saw her force her lips into a smile before she answered me. In the candlelight it looked more like a grimace. Maybe it was.

“No, Paisley. William made Mr. Dibber the administrator of his estate. He also gave him his power of attorney two weeks before he died. I can only assume it was because I was not here. You and I both know William would never have given the task to Joe Tom. The poor boy has no sense of responsibility.”

I was surprised, really surprised. It never occurred to me that Mother would not be settling what little estate William had. That was what I had come for. I told my agent that I would be here at least two weeks. I dreaded the job of helping Mother clean out William’s house and sort through old papers. Now that it was not to be mine, I was angry. Who was this Ernest Dibber after all?