When Venus Fell (30 page)

“I’m only presenting the logical argument, Ruthie.” Emory looked at Olivia. “There’s certainly nothing I could say to you that I haven’t said a thousand times over the years, is there?”

Olivia wrote on a notepad, then pushed the pad to Bea. Bea read, “ ‘You speak to our fears and our vanities, not our true hearts.’ ”

Emory sighed. “Despite our unpleasant disagreements you have to believe that my dearest wish is that you and Bea spend your last years here in serenity. Free from worry,” he went on with strained patience, “knowing that the family’s interests are cared for and protected, and that your loved ones will always have a home here, at the same time proud in the knowledge that you’ve entrusted this property to the most skilled professional management-and-development people in the hotel industry.”

Olivia looked at me for some show of drama and response. I glanced away, stone-faced. There was a lot of common sense in Emory’s perspective, oily though he was. I
couldn’t honestly argue he was wrong. Olivia rapped her cane on the table. I jerked my gaze back to hers then, and she tried to communicate through ferocious scrutiny.

Why should I care?
I wanted to say. She’d shown me no mercy when she’d encouraged Ella and Carter’s wedding. She was an arrogant old woman who wanted everything her own way. I was her pawn. She’d invited me and Ella to her private kingdom not out of concern for us but to liven up her own depressed brood.

“Let’s stop at this point and watch the tape Joseph and his team put together,” Emory said. “It’s something new. I think it’s going to finally convince y’all to make a decision.”

Joseph pressed the VCR’s play button. A misty, gorgeous aerial view of the mountains appeared on the screen. “I hired a photographer and sent him up in a small plane to get these shots,” Joseph said. As the aerial camera moved with slow grandeur among the mountaintops, ethereal dulcimer and flute music rose. It had a vaguely Celtic lilt.

A melodious-voiced narrator intoned, “Welcome to the Cameron Mountains of eastern Tennessee. A place of breathtaking splendor and beauty. A place where hospitality and history merge into a unique experience waiting for you, our privileged guest. A world that will replenish your soul with its charm and majesty. Welcome to a land so rare that to glimpse it is to never forget the magic. Welcome to”—the music swelled dramatically—“Cameron Hall Grande Resort!”

The name
Cameron Hall Grande Resort
appeared in elaborate scrolled letters. The announcer began describing the resort while the video segued artistically from handsome shots of the Hall and the valley to glorious full-color architectural drawings of planned additions, which would all be discreetly situated to preserve the ambiance of the wild valley. A tennis center. A conference center capable of hosting groups of two to three hundred. A spa. A rustic but luxurious hotel overlooking the opposite end of the valley. A state-of-the-art riding stable with a show ring.

“And at the heart of it all, the Inn at Cameron Hall,” the announcer went on. The Hall appeared on the screen again, obviously filmed for some earlier production, since the trees around it were vividly colored in autumn reds and golds. “The Inn at Cameron Hall,” the announcer repeated, “where you will be hosted in luxurious historic surroundings by the Cameron family themselves. Where five-star gourmet meals are offered with down-home southern hospitality. An inn where your every modern wish is granted but the spirit of serene good-living remains in every smile.

“And yet,” the announcer continued solemnly, “your visit to Cameron Hall Grande Resort offers so much more.” An intricate color drawing of a handsome stone-and-wood building appeared on-screen. “A place where the history and culture of the Tennessee frontier is cherished and preserved. A place where the curious visitor and the serious researcher can study the Cameron collection of pioneer and Cherokee Indian artifacts. A place filled with rare books, documents, and photographs. A facility with computer links to major historical and genealogical libraries throughout the Appalachian Mountains. A place where the love for two hundred and fifty years of Cameron heritage can be summed up in the heart and soul of one man who epitomized home, family, and hospitality. The Simon Cameron History Center.”

Min gasped. The tape ended with more shots of the mountains, the ethereal background music fading into poignant silence. I felt as if I’d been greased with a foul perfume. Emory Cameron had mastered the art of manipulation. He’d pinpointed Min as the most vulnerable link in the family, and set up a major dilemma for her and the others. “Oh, God,” Min whispered. “That would be
wonderful
.”

“I knew you’d like the history center,” Emory said. He rubbed his hands together. “I suggest that you all take a vote on the proposal right now.”

My gaze shot to Gib, who unfolded his arms and said, “You didn’t include me in your argument.”

“I believe you already understand what’s at stake, Gib. I have faith in your unimpeachable sense of duty. You don’t like me at all, but you wouldn’t be here today if you weren’t ready to listen.”

“You don’t want to talk about my part in this situation because there’s no way to sugarcoat it.” Gib held up his maimed hand. “There’s no persuasive speech you can aim in my direction.”

“All right, Gib. You want me to lay it on the line? I will. I know you’ve had job offers. You could walk out of here tomorrow and work for some of the most respected private-security firms in the country. You’ve been asked to come on as a full-equity partner with some retired agents who have their own high-level security firms. With your background, you could even start your own firm.

“Or you could work for any one of a dozen major national corporations who’d hire an ex-Secret Service agent to coordinate security for their facilities and personnel. And I believe in my heart that if you’re honest about it you’ll admit right now that you’d dearly love to take one of those job offers. Stop kidding yourself. Stop hanging on. You’re not doing the future of your family any service by deceiving them and yourself about your true wishes.”

Silence. We all looked at Gib. I clenched my hands under the table. “The only important truth is this,” Gib said. “The day we went to the sawmill Simon and I had a helluva argument over the future of the valley. Everybody knows that. But what I remember most is that he didn’t want to accept your plan. He was just worried that you were right and there might not be any alternative. I tried to convince him there were other choices.”

“You’re avoiding the point,” Emory said in a soothing tone, as if pressing for honesty were painful to his sympathetic nature. “My plan
is
the only sensible way to go. Simon knew that deep down. I don’t see how, considering your disability, and your lack of expertise managing this kind of business, I
just don’t see how you can find enough help—and the right kind of expert help, the kind of people who could really allow you and Min and your sisters to take Simon’s place and position the Hall for future success.”

Silence. Isabel began dabbing her eyes. “Let’s get it over with. Let’s vote.”

“I have to agree,” Min said dully. “Aunt Olivia, please forgive me.”

Ruth cradled one of Olivia’s hands in hers. “Aunt Olly, I don’t want to vote against you and Gib. Please don’t make me do that.” Ruth gazed up at Gib. To my shock, there were tears in her eyes. “Big brother, I wish I agreed with you about leaving things the way they are, but I just don’t see how we can do that.”

“I have a plan,” Gib said. Silence. Everyone stared at him. He dropped his hands to his sides, the maimed one, as always, slightly hidden behind his right hip. His left hand curled and uncurled slowly. “We contact everyone on the inn’s mailing list. Put the word out. We reopen the first weekend in January. That gives us the rest of the year—three months—to get organized, to learn new routines working together, and get the Hall in top-notch condition.”

Emory sighed patiently. “Very few people visit here in the winter months unless they’ve just come to the mountains to ski. The weather’s too unpredictable. You see, Gib, you’re not even aware how a simple problem such as that guides the seasonal business of managing an inn.”

“He’s right about the winter months,” Min said gently.

Gib took a deep breath. “Of course, I know that. Winter bookings are slow. That’s the point. We’d only have a few guests until spring. We could handle that—we’d practice on them. We won’t take reservations for every weekend, either. Just the first and third weekends of each month, to start. We’ll have plenty of down time to analyze and correct our mistakes and then prepare for the next round of guests. I say we try it.”

“I say you stop procrastinating and vote,” Emory countered.

“Gib, can’t you admit that Emory’s plan is reasonable?” Ruth asked quietly. “It takes wholehearted commitment to supervise this place. None of us wants the responsibility, and we’re not going to judge you if you don’t want it, either. It’s not as if we’d be selling out. We’ll be partners with these investors of Emory’s. We’ll still have a home here. We’ll have a say in how the valley’s developed, and we’ll still control the Hall.”

“We’ll be tenants on our own land.”

“You’ll be honored partners,” Emory countered. “Consultants. Board members. And you’ll all be rich.”

“But you’ll be the richest of all, you bloody bastard,” Bea said.

Emory sighed. “I’ll be investing a lot of my own money, Bea. Of
course
I expect a healthy return on it.”

Joseph stood. “Just take a little bitty vote,” he prodded in a smooth voice. He grinned at his father. “Like Daddy here always says, There’s no time like the present.”

“Sit down, Joey,” Ruth ordered, “or I’ll bite a plug out of your present.”

Tension crackled in the air. “Agreed?” Emory said, smiling. “All right? Accept my proposal, or reject my proposal. Accept or reject. We’ll go around the table. Minnie, you first.
Accept?
”

Her face went white. Tears slid down her cheeks. Isabel began to cry, too. Ruth frowned into space. Gib’s stony resistance began to lose ground. It was something barely defined, but I saw defeat sinking him down as if with invisible weights.

I couldn’t let him go down alone. Crowded behind my conscience were all the years I wished I had known what to do for Pop at his most vulnerable moments, all those years I’d spent agonizing over how I might have made a difference if
I’d only recognized how alone he felt. If I did nothing for Gib now, if he was forced to turn his family’s legacy over to Emory, he’d never recover. Some part of him would be angry and sick with defeat for the rest of his life.

I owed him a measure of loyalty; I owed his brother, Simon, a huge debt of gratitude; I owed this entire family for caring enough to want us here, even if it was for their own purposes. I could make a difference, for once. “What about
my
vote?” I blurted.

Everyone stared at me. Ruth snorted. “You don’t have a vote. You shouldn’t even be hanging around the voting
booth
.”

“I certainly
do
have a vote. All of you have been trying to convince me that my sister and I are full-fledged Cameron kin now.
Well, fine
. But that means you have to put your, your
democracy where your mouth is
. Therefore, I deserve a vote. In fact, Ella gets a vote, too. And why doesn’t Carter already have a vote? And Bea? How did she get left out?”

I met Gib’s eyes and saw a certain gleam, challenging and intense. I couldn’t tell if it was admiration for my bravado or just plain curiosity over the meltdown I had started.

Emory rapped the table with his knuckles. “Family votes that involve property issues are voted on solely by Aunt Olivia and her immediate heirs.”

“Why? The rest of us have to live here, too. The vote affects us.”

“Legally, it makes no sense for anyone other than direct heirs to have a say—”

“Legally, these property votes are informal and only Aunt Olivia’s vote really counts,” Ruth corrected. “Her name’s the only one on the deed.”

“She can make the decision herself, alone, if she wants to,” Gib noted.

“Herself has ne’er been a true tyrant and ne’er will be,” Bea said. “She does no’ want to force her choices on her loved ones.”

No, she prefers to coax, bully, and charm us
, I thought with a sudden admiration that surprised me. “So what you’re saying is”—I looked innocently from Gib to the sisters and Min, then to Bea and finally Olivia—“that Olivia can choose who votes today and who doesn’t.”

“Exactly,” Gib said.

“Nonsense,” Emory countered.

Olivia tapped the table with the head of her cane. She pointed at me. “Me?” I said. “Do I get a vote?” She nodded regally. “And Ella?” She nodded again.

Ruth groaned. “When pigs fly.”

“And Carter?”

Another nod.

“And Bea, too, then,” Isabel added eagerly.

Olivia nodded.

I grinned. “So we can’t take a vote, because Ella and Carter aren’t even here.”

Olivia nodded.

“Gib?” Isabel said, as a small, hopeful look spread across her face. “You’re really interested in reopening the Hall?”

“Is this serious?” Ruth interjected. “Have you and Venus de Milo here been cooking up something together?”

“What we’ve been discussing is hard to describe,” Gib said, staring at me. “Why don’t you try, Nellie?”

“Well, if I have to spell it out for everybody, I will. You can’t tell me on the one hand I’m going to have the exalted position of musical director of Cameron Hall, while on the other hand you decide to make this deal with Emory. You promised me a place in this family, dammit. Not a job working for a bunch of investors. Or for Emory. For you, Gib Cameron. I consider your word to me as good as a signed contract.”

“Musical director, my ass,” Ruth said. I’d made that up. She knew it, too.

“Just grease up my little pig wings, Ruthie. Y’all have to remember that Ella and I were raised by a father who owned a
successful nightclub in the French Quarter of New Orleans. We don’t just know the
music
business. We know audiences, customers, the general public—their care and feeding, their habits and habitats. They’re a strange beast, but fairly easy to tame. So I have no doubt that we can help Gib and Min and everybody manage the inn pretty well. For one thing, I’ll play the piano in the evenings. I’m sure Ella will assist me. Not only by playing duets for the guests but … well, my sister is a perfect hostess. Between her and Min and Isabel, the gracious southern hospitality factor should be pretty well covered. There. That’s all I have to say. If I’m out of a job before I’ve even started, then I want to know
today.”