The House on Persimmon Road (26 page)

“Wait a minute, Mother.”

“Control,” Tucker said, sotto voce.

She gave him a dark look and wait on. “Those pieces are priceless, you don’t know enough about—”

“According to your father, everything has a price. He often said ‘priceless’ was a label applied when nobody wants to buy, or can’t. I’ve agreed I’d sell the man an option to purchase. And once your father’s estate is settled, I’ll get an appraisal from Christie’s or Sotheby’s. If my buyer wants to meet that price, fine. If not…well…Evan used to buy and sell options all the time. You don’t get your money back on options. Options only give one the right of first refusal. It’s astonishing what I remember about your father’s business when even I thought I wasn’t listening, isn’t it? Meanwhile, I’ve decided to loan the pieces to the museum. That way they’ll sort of be in escrow and safe.”

“And you’re going to take them to the museum tonight? Mother, it’s one thing to have all your ducks in a row, quite another to drive around after dark with priceless objets d’art to tempt a mugger or thief.”

Pauline looked hurt. “I’ve an appointment with the director in the morning. Evelyn Ellison is going with me. I was only trying to organize efficiently, make use of Tucker while he’s available. I have lots of common sense, Justine. It may have more of an aristocratic bent than most, but I can’t help that, can I?”

“I was only thinking of what was best.”

“I’m sure you were, dear. Only… I want to do my own thinking from here on out.”

“I can’t quarrel with that.”

Pauline eyed her daughter with a modicum of mistrust. “You’re sure? There’s so much of your father in you, dear. Now that I look back on it, he was a dreadful busybody.”

“You’ll be pleased to know Tucker has been giving me lessons on how not to be a busybody.”

“Really? I had the impression that the two of you were…”

“I’ll load those things for you now,” said Tucker.

“You’re such a dear man,” cooed Pauline. “I don’t know how we would’ve managed without you all these weeks—which reminds me. I have something that might interest you. Wait here.”

Tucker tossed a questioning look at Justine.

“Don’t ask me. She’s her own woman now.”

Pauline returned with a large, square, paper-wrapped parcel. “It’s my scrapbook. I thought you’d like to have it.”

“Pictures?” He aimed a boyish smile at Justine. “Hah! Now I’ll know what you were really like when you were a kid.”

“Oh no, it’s not that kind of scrapbook. That’s my book of menus of all the important luncheons and dinners Evan and I gave through the years. My grandmother started it. I thought the recipes might be of interest to you, some have been in my family for generations.”

“Recipes?” Mortification ignited anger. He turned on Justine “You told!”

“I haven’t said a word!”

“Of course you haven’t, dear. I’m afraid I snooped. That night we had that touch of hysteria. I didn’t mean to snoop, but there were several pages out of your cookbook lying under the coffee table. Of course, I recognized them for what they were right away. I used to proof Evan’s articles for financial magazines. He always said that if I could understand the words he used, the magazine’s readership should have no problem.”

Tucker’s face was slowly turning a rich shade of pink. With gamine relish, Justine spoke. “Unless you knew it for a fact, it’s almost impossible to believe Mother’s only recently learned to be independent. Isn’t she marvelous?”

“That’s a lovely thing to say about me, dear. I meant to mention the scrapbook that night Tucker had us to supper, but we got off on something else. Dishes, I think, and it slipped my mind.”

She took Tucker’s arm, propelling him into the hall. “You’re a real find, Tucker. You really are, you can work with your hands, and you’re intelligent. Imagine! Writing a cookbook. You’ll be sure to have your photograph on the back cover. When it’s published, we’ll have to arrange an autograph party. We’ll invite all of my new friends and of course, all of yours.”

He glanced back over his shoulder at Justine and mouthed the word, “Help.”

The grin she gave him was one of friendly malice. “How would you like your hamburger cooked?”

“Bloody hell!”

“I think he means rare, dear,” Pauline said, and patted his arm that she had tucked into her own.

“You’re not being fair, Justine! I got my driver’s license, the same as Pauline.”

“It has nothing to do with being fair, Agnes. Mother has an appointment this morning.”

“She’s used the car every day! Now I ask to use it and you say no. I’m all dressed and so is Judy Ann. Besides, Wheeler’s waiting for us.”

“I knew you two were up to something.”

“My check came. I’m going to open an account at the bank. Wheeler’s just going along for the ride.”

“Why not wait until tomorrow?”

“The banks are closed. Tomorrow is a holiday.”

“What holiday?”

“The Fourth of July.”

“It’s July already!”

“Time flies when you keep your nose in your office all day and your nights occupied, doesn’t it?”

“That was uncalled for.”

“Fact is fact,” Agnes said, stubbornly refusing to give an inch.

Justine tried another tack. “You know you can’t check Wheeler out of the nursing home. They won’t let you. You have to be on their list.”

“He’s at Tucker’s. He doesn’t have to go back until Wednesday morning. Tucker lets him do anything he wants except smoke in bed. You don’t let me do anything—except the laundry,” she said, her voice rising. “I’m more of a prisoner than Wheeler.”

Justine held up her hand. “Let me think about this a minute so I don’t say the wrong thing.” She stared down into her coffee. “Neither you nor Wheeler are prisoners,” she said, looking up. “All of us, at some time or another, are victims of circumstances. That’s you, me, Mother, and Wheeler. You got your driver’s license only because Mother did. For years you haven’t wanted to get five minutes away from the house.”

“People change. And anyway, I can do anything that namby-pamby can.”

“Please don’t talk about Mother that way.”

“She makes fun of my purple. I like purple.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that. Why didn’t you mention your plans to me sooner?”

“When? We only decided last night and you had already gone into your office and said not to disturb you on pain of death. That’s what you said.”

“Mother Hale, this is so unlike you.”

“Pauline is taking charge of her life. You don’t say that to her. But when I try to—”

“Did I hear my name being maligned?” asked Pauline, breezing into the kitchen. She bent over and kissed Judy Ann. “You look so sweet. Even your hair is brushed this morning.”

“I’m goin’ with Grandma.”

“That’s nice.”

“Agnes wants to use the car this morning, Mother.”

“Well, she can’t. I’m using it.”

“Selfish. You’ve always been selfish, Pauline. You only think of yourself.”

“That’s not true.”

“I’ve had it.” Justine took the car keys off the hook by the cabinet and put them in her pocket. “We’ll solve this diplomatically. Mother, you and Agnes sit at the table, have coffee, and work it out between yourselves. Until then, neither of you get the keys. Judy Ann, come with me. You’re too young to view carnage.”

Pip came barreling out of his room. “Why didn’t you wake me, Mom? Now I’m late.”

“Late for what?”

“I’m gonna try to get some close ups of a tomato worm in Tucker’s garden. They’re ferocious looking, like prehistoric monsters. Once the sun dries the dew, they hide.”

“Eat some cereal first and wear your tennis shoes.”

“I gotta catch the light!”

“Not in bare feet and on an empty stomach.”

“You just wanna ruin my career!”

“Heaven forbid. Okay, go.”

“You’re all right, Mom!”

What I am is permissive
, Justine thought. She’d pay for it later. She just knew it.

While she dressed, Judy Ann sat on the floor and played with the kitten. “Grandma said she’d take me to McDonald’s.”

“If not today, then another day, sweetie.”

“Mommy, do you think there’s magic in our house?”

“Magic? Like what?”

“You know. The sounds an’ things. Grandma hears noises at night.”

Me and Tucker, Justine thought, abashed. “If there is, it’s good magic.”

“Grandma told Wheeler our house is full of cold spots.”

“Grandma Hale’s circulation isn’t as good as it used to be. She gets chilled easily, that’s all. What else do Grandma and Wheeler talk about?”

“It’s a secret.”

Justine turned away and began brushing her hair. “Besides the secret,” she said casually.

“My lips are zipped.”

“Can you tell me if the secret is good?”

Judy Ann hesitated, then shook her head. “My lips are zipped.” She looked up at her mother and smiled. “You’re pretty, Mommy. Tucker says when I grow up I’m going to be as pretty as you, maybe even prettier.”

Eight years old and already she could shift topics with the adroitness of a politician. “Did Tucker say anything about how clever you are?”

Agnes appeared in the doorway. “We’ve worked it out,” she announced stiffly.

“Where’s Mother?”

“Here,” Pauline said. “I was just speaking to Mrs. Ellison. Agnes can drop me off at the museum. Evelyn is going to meet me there after I’ve conducted my business and I’ll spend the afternoon with her.”

Justine handed the keys to Agnes. “Drive very, very safely.” It was on her tongue to say Judy Ann couldn’t go, but the child was squirming with anticipation at the prospect of being treated to McDonald’s. “Make sure Judy Ann keeps her seat belt buckled. I suppose you don’t want to tell me what mischief you and Wheeler are up to?”

Agnes exhaled tremulously. “I told you. I’m going to open an account at the bank with my social security check. He’s just going along for the ride.” She gestured past Justine to her granddaughter. “Run tell Wheeler we’re ready to go.”

“I suppose that means I’ll have to ride in the back seat,” said Pauline.

“Either that or walk behind the car,” snipped Agnes.

Justine stepped between them and put a comradely arm around each. “If the two of you aren’t cheerfully on your way by the time I count to ten, I’m letting all the air out of the tires. Now, who wants to be the first to kiss and make up?”

It was incredibly peaceful after they left. Barefooted, Justine walked through the house absorbing the silence. It was this kind of lovely quiet she had imagined when she had decided to work at home. Perhaps after school started she’d have more mornings like this one.

Dust, dishes, and unmade beds tugged at her, but for the moment work had to come first. She made a fresh pot of coffee, ignored the urge for a cigarette, and started work.

She couldn’t pinpoint when the queer feeling began. She was alone in the house, yet she felt odd, as if she were not alone, as if someone were peering over her shoulder. Pip, sneaking photographs of her maybe. She walked through the house and made a pass of the wraparound porch. No Pip.

She went into the living room and stared at The Chair. She sat in it. Cold spots, Judy Ann had said. Did she feel cooler sitting here? No. But the entire house was cool, considering there was no air-conditioning and it was deep into summer. Still, she had an eerie sense of something spiritual, as if some mystical sense was touched in her.

Certainly no murderous lunatic was going to come vaulting out of a closet. There were no closets.

But there was Milo.

She found him out behind one of the backyard sheds, digging around the foundation.

“Yes’um?” he said, leaning on his shovel when she approached.

“Milo, have you ever actually found a gopher?”

“Yes’um.”

“They burrow under buildings, too?”

His eyes narrowed. “Seems like.”

“Have you been working up near the house this morning?”

“No’um.”

She shook her head, and told an outright lie. “I thought I saw you.”

“’Twasn’t me.”

“Must of been my imagination.”

“Must’ve.”

“Well, you can take the clotheslines down now. Tucker wired the dryer for us.”

“Yes’um.”

She could feel his eyes following her all the way back to the house and the feeling didn’t stop until she was inside again. It was the same feeling that had driven her outside to begin with.

Maybe the house was too quiet. She turned the television on at a low volume and went back to the computers, losing herself in her work until Tucker rapped on the door and made her jump.

“Take a break for a late lunch,” he said.

“You scared the daylights out of me! And, what’re you doing home in the middle of the day?”

His jaws were darkened with two-day-old beard stubble, his eyes looking at her in a peculiar, searching way. “Got today and tomorrow off for the Fourth. You look pale. Did I really frighten you?”

“Nobody’s home but me. The house feels odd. Or, it did.”

“That sounds almost like an invitation to ravish you.”

“Pip could wander in any minute.”

“I’ll settle for lunch.”

“Chicken noodle soup and sliced tomatoes?”

“Anything. I never taste food when I’m around you.”

Smiling, Justine saved the text she’d written and shut off the computer. In the kitchen she opened soup, heated it in the microwave, and served it in cups along with crackers and tomatoes on a side dish.

“You know your dad and Agnes are up to something.”

“Can’t be much at their age. Now at ours—”

“Eat your soup.”

“Too hot.” He pushed the cup away and leaned on his elbows. “My crew and their families are coming out tomorrow. It’s sort of an annual thing. We barbecue, play a game of softball, set off a few bottle rockets. That sound okay to you?”

Her heart fluttered. “You mean, meet your friends?”

“They know you exist.”

“You talked about me?”

“Sort of.” He opened his mouth to say more, but snapped it shut.

“I’m getting a bad feeling, Tucker. Sort of—how?”

“You’re not getting mad, are you?”

“No,” she said airily. “Just curious.”

“I’ve been working with this crew a long time. I’ve hauled ’em home when they’ve had too much to drink, let one or two stay over when they were having problems at home, been best man at their weddings—”