The Sweetgum Ladies Knit for Love (4 page)

“You’ll probably see him before too long,” Natalie added, hiking her designer handbag higher on her shoulder. “I wouldn’t be surprised if—”

The bell above the shop door sounded again, and Camille’s heart leaped to her throat. She gripped the clothing rack next to her, prepared to see—

But it was only Eugenie, the town librarian.

“Good morning, Eugenie,” Camille said, stepping toward her and away from Natalie’s poisonous darts. She smiled so hard it hurt her face, but she was determined not to let Natalie see her flinch. “It’s good to see you.”

“I’m on my way back from lunch,” Eugenie said in her usual no-nonsense kind of way. Even her recent marriage hadn’t softened her that much. While Eugenie was a kind person, she was also brusque. “I’m in need of a—” She broke off when she realized there were other customers in the shop.

“Good morning, Miss Pierce. I mean, Mrs. Carson.” Honestly, Camille thought, Natalie’s nose should be permanently brown from the way she was always kissing up to people.

“Good morning, um…” Eugenie looked to Camille for help.

“Natalie was just leaving,” Camille said, taking a few steps toward the door. Flustered, Natalie followed. Camille suppressed a smile at Natalie’s bewilderment.

“Yes. I was. I mean—” Natalie broke off when she realized that she was being hustled out of the store, but by that time Camille had ushered her into the warm September sunshine.

“I’ll call you next week when the new cocktail dresses come
in,” Camille assured her with a smile and then slipped back into the shop, leaving Natalie on the sidewalk. When she stepped back inside, Eugenie and Merry were deep in conversation.

“What are you two talking about?” Camille asked, trying not to bristle. She was tired of being the object of speculation and pity. She’d found that hard enough to take during her mother’s long illness. Now that her mother was gone, it was time for the pity to stop. If it didn’t, Camille feared she would break down completely.

Merry and Eugenie stepped apart, and the librarian looked decidedly guilty. Camille took a deep breath, ready to launch a preemptive strike, but she was stopped by Merry’s staying hand.

“Before you say anything, we weren’t talking about you,” Merry said with a small smile. “Eugenie was just breaking some news to me. I think you’ll want to hear this too.”

Camille stepped closer to them, her chest tight with apprehension. She’d had enough news of any sort to last her for quite a while. Eugenie noticed her wariness, because she softened her expression and gave Camille an encouraging smile.

“I’ve invited Maria Munden to join the Knit Lit Society,” Eugenie said. Merry nodded encouragingly, as if willing Camille to respond positively to the news.

“Sure. Fine. Whatever.” Camille shrugged her shoulders. Like she cared one way or another. Maria Munden was a dour woman, but Camille didn’t have any strong feelings about her. If Eugenie wanted to fill Ruthie’s slot, did it matter? After the events of the last week, did anything matter? She shouldn’t even
be reacting to Natalie’s news, much less to the addition of a new member to the Knit Lit Society.

“It’s okay with you then?” Merry looked worried. Camille was sick of people looking concerned every time they came into the shop. Or, before that, the funeral home. Or, before that, the hospital. Why were they worried now? It was over. Her mother was gone.

“Well, then.” Eugenie hitched her pocketbook further up on her arm. “I’ll let Esther and Hannah know about Maria. And I’ll look forward to seeing you all on Friday evening.”

“Can’t wait,” Merry said with a generous smile and a wave. “I’d better get moving. My mom actually volunteered to keep the baby for an hour, and I need to run some errands before the kids get out of school.” She glanced at her watch. “I’ll have to come back to do my shopping for the homecoming game.”

Camille bid the two women good-bye and saw them to the door of the shop. Once it closed behind them, she turned and hustled toward the storeroom with long, determined strides.

She would get back to work. She would somehow manage to get herself through the day. And she would not think about her mother. Or how she would never be able to find a buyer for the dress shop now, given the current state of the town’s economy. Neither would she think about Dante Brown. Or spending the rest of her life trapped in Sweetgum.

No use in brooding over things that could never be changed.

And no use wondering how at twenty-four she could feel as old as the antebellum courthouse across the street.

“That’s all?” Esther Jackson stared at the number on the piece of paper in shock. She kept her hands firmly in her lap, resisting the urge to grip the arms of the chair. “There should be more zeroes.” It was all she could think to say. Frank had taken out life insurance when they were younger, and they had paid the premiums faithfully. “There should be more—”

“Your husband had a term life policy Esther. That’s different from universal life insurance.” The sympathy in Alvin Fraley’s voice was almost her undoing. She kept her eyes glued to the paper, afraid to look right or left, but mostly afraid to look at Alvin across the expanse of his desk. In all her fifty-five years, she’d never felt so awash with shame and anger. “It’s not intended to leave you with a lump sum.”

Esther did look up then and met Alvin’s gaze. The thin, bald man had handled their insurance for more than a quarter of a century. He would never lie to her, and he didn’t make mistakes.
Which only made the number on the piece of paper all the more distressing. And all the more real.

“You weren’t expecting this,” Alvin said. It wasn’t a question but a statement. His watery green eyes were filled with sympathy. “I’m sorry Esther. I thought you understood. With term life, the idea is to take the savings on your premiums and invest them for a better return. That’s what I advise my clients to do anyway.” He paused. “That’s what I advised Frank to do.”

But there was no stock portfolio. No mutual funds. No IRA or 401 (k) or whatever other combination of letters and numbers meant she could continue to live her life in the way she had always lived it now that her husband was gone.

“And there’s no other…?” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.

“I’m afraid not.” He paused, cleared his throat, and looked over her left shoulder as he hammered the final nail in her financial coffin. “I should also tell you that your insurance premiums-house, cars, boat—are all overdue.”

“Frank didn’t—”

“No.”

She’d known it would be difficult. Even before Frank’s sudden death from a heart attack, she’d been aware that their financial state was precarious. There had been so many expenses along the way—their home, the country club fees, Alex’s education and loaning him a down payment for his first home. They’d even paid for their son’s wedding since his wife’s parents could
never have afforded the kind of event necessary for people of Frank and Esther’s standing in Sweetgum.

“Esther, I hesitate to suggest this, but you may need to consider selling your home.”

Her head shot up at Alvin’s words. She couldn’t possibly part with her house. What else would she have left then of her life with Frank? “What about the condo at Sweetgum Lake? I can sell that immediately.”

Alvin sat back in his chair and shook his head. The movement caused a tight knot to form in Esther’s stomach.

“I think you should consider selling the house and living in the condo.” He crossed his arms over his thin chest. “Your expenses will be much less—utilities, insurance, upkeep, taxes.”

Live in the one-bedroom condo? He couldn’t possibly be serious. She might have lost her husband, but she refused to lose her dignity.

Fifteen years ago, developers had come in and tried to turn the lake into a resort area. She and Frank had purchased the condo for a song. But the development had never taken off. She and Frank had kept the condo only because they couldn’t sell it.

“I don’t think that will be necessary. I still have Frank’s interest in the law firm.”

Alvin nodded but looked unconvinced. “Of course. I’m sorry if I overstepped my bounds. I’m just concerned for you.”

Esther straightened her spine and smiled with all the graciousness she’d cultivated as Sweetgum’s social leader for the last
thirty years. “I appreciate your concern. And I’ll take your advice into consideration, of course.” She didn’t add that she had no intention of following it.

“You know, Esther, you might also think about—”

“I might think about what?” She tried to keep the chill tone out of her voice, with little success.

“You might consider finding a job.”

Esther shrank back as if he’d slapped her. “I don’t think there will be any need for that.” She picked up her handbag from the floor beside her chair. “I appreciate your help, Alvin. If you’ll have your secretary send me another invoice for the premiums, I’ll pay them immediately.” Although how she would accomplish that, she had no idea. Her bank account was very low, and now that there would be no life insurance settlement coming in…

“Just pay them when you can,” he said, standing when she did. “That will be fine.”

And there it was. In his voice. In his expression. The thing she’d hated the most since the moment the paramedic had looked up at her from where he’d been crouched over Frank’s prone form on the eighteenth green.

Pity.

Esther Jackson had never been an object of pity in her life, and she wasn’t about to start now. Head high, she bid Alvin good-bye, secured her Louis Vuitton bag more firmly on her shoulder, and headed for the door.

The life insurance was merely a temporary setback. Surely she would realize all she needed from her interest in Frank’s law firm. She made her way from Alvin’s office to her Jaguar parked at the curb outside. Her next appointment was with Franks law partner, Lloyd Manning. Certainly he would have better news for her.

Matters simply could not be as dire as they seemed. Esther refused to allow it. Circumstances had never managed to thwart her before, and she wasn’t going to allow them to do so now.

Two hours later, Esther wasn’t feeling quite so positive. Lloyd Manning had broken the bad news that Frank had very little equity in the firm. He would be happy to buy out Esther’s share, but the small amount of money was a pittance compared to what she’d hoped for.

Too agitated to go home and too upset to be around other people, Esther pointed the car west. The afternoon sun, low and piercing, made her squint as she raced down Old Lake Road toward the condo on Sweetgum Lake. Even with her oversized Chanel sunglasses in place and the car’s visor pulled down, she could hardly see the two-lane highway for the glare. She and Frank had learned long ago not to set off for Memphis in the late afternoon to see their son because of that very problem. Now, though, the bright light was complicated by the tears that filled Esther’s eyes and streamed down her cheeks.

Dear Lord in heaven, what was she going to do? Fervent prayer had never been a part of Esther’s spiritual routine. She and the Divine had been cordial but distant acquaintances for years, and that had seemed to suit them both. Esther knew her duty, she did her duty, and she expected God to do His. Why she still thought that the Almighty would hold up His end of the bargain, though, she had no idea. Any real hope of divine intervention in her life had died with her first child more than thirty years before.