Windswept (41 page)

She handed Lloyd a dish towel and he dabbed it at his nose. Davis picked up the gun and opened the cylinder. “It’s not loaded,” he told Barrett as he put it in a drawer on the other side of the room.

“Damnation, I can’t do anything right,” Lloyd mumbled into the cloth, but he seemed to have some control back and stopped crying.

Davis poured a cup of coffee and set it before his cousin. Barrett moved to his original chair, and Davis sat down between them. “Are you still bleeding?” he asked.

Lloyd dabbed at his nose. “I don’t think so,” he said in a scratchy voice. He sighed and blew his nose, then took a sip of his coffee. He didn’t look at anyone.

Davis waited until Lloyd had taken a few more swallows. All the negotiating techniques he knew said to get the other side talking, so he kept his tone matter-of-fact and asked, “What’s really going on? For you to act like this, it has to be more than Aunt Cecilia giving you grief.”

“I’m running out of money. I’m going to lose everything, all my properties, my house, probably even Grace.” Lloyd shivered, and his hand trembled as he put the cup down.

Davis said nothing, although the statement came as a shock. He thought his cousin was doing well financially. He shot a glance at Barrett who sat utterly still, her hands clasped on the tabletop and no expression on her face. Her attention was focused on the other man.

Before anyone said anything else, Eva and Gonzales returned. Davis rose and went to the door. “Eva, will you come in right away and fix my cousin some breakfast? I think we need some more coffee too.”

While Eva scrambled eggs, Gonzales unloaded groceries. Davis said nothing, only watched Lloyd drink his coffee.

When Eva put the eggs and warm tortillas in front of him, Lloyd dug in like he hadn’t seen food in a month, so Davis waited until he slowed down. He told himself to be sympathetic, no matter what. “Why are you going to lose everything?” he asked.

“I made some bad money decisions,” Lloyd finally said, “and got caught in the last market downturn. Then my accountant died, and the books were in a mess. Then I had a cash-flow problem. One thing led to another . . .” He went on to explain his financial predicament, his mother’s pressure, and his fear of the Windswept revelations.

“Why didn’t you come to the family for help?” Davis asked. “If not me, then one of the Louisiana cousins?”

Before Lloyd could answer, another car drove up and stopped behind the Cadillac. “Oh, no,” he groaned as one man and two women emerged.

“Who are they?” Barrett asked as she watched the visitors come to the door. The woman in the lead was about her size, with short wavy brown hair and an anxious expression. The other two were tall and looked equally worried. The man was about Davis’s height but heavier in build, and the Jamison family resemblance showed around his eyes. The woman, a slim strawberry blonde, had probably been a beauty queen in college.

“It’s Grace, Lloyd’s wife, with Taylor and his wife Corinne,” Davis told.

When Davis opened the door, Grace shot by him without even a hello. She went straight to her husband and put her arms around him. Lloyd sagged against her, mumbling, “I’m sorry.”

Taylor and Corinne came in, and Davis introduced Barrett. Then he moved the six of them into the family room next to the kitchen. Its two large couches and three easy chairs would be a more comfortable place to talk. When it came out the threesome had had no breakfast, Eva set to work again, and Gonzales put on another pot of coffee.

Davis pulled Barrett aside as the group settled themselves and whispered in her ear, “Don’t mention the gun.”

She looked back at him and nodded. She agreed--no need to bring that up unless Lloyd forced the issue.

She thought about excusing herself from what would clearly be a private family discussion, but Davis took her hand and seated her in the chair next to him, so she settled back to watch. She did have a vested interest in the outcome, she reminded herself, and maybe she’d learn some answers to her questions.

“Why don’t you tell everybody what you told me, Lloyd,” Davis said. “Then we’ll all know what’s going on.”

Lloyd told his story for the second time and ended it with, “All I could think of was destroying the journals, so I got in the car and came here.”

“Grace called us in the middle of the night,” Taylor said, taking up the narrative. “She’d woken up and couldn’t find Lloyd. Ever since you told him about Mary Maude, he’d been cursing you and making wild claims about destroying the papers, so we figured he’d come over here, and we followed. We tried calling, but all we got was the answering machine.”

Grace looked at her husband sitting next to her and tightened her hand on his. “Lloyd, I love you. I have no intentions of leaving you for any reason. I know your father never talked about finances with your mother, and he never would accept any help from anybody, but you are not your father and I am not your mother, and it’s clear we could use some help. If you won’t ask your family, then I will.”

“But . . .” Lloyd stammered.

“Lloyd,” Davis said, “we’re all family here. We may not always like or agree with each other, but none of us is going to let any of us fail. The family, especially our Granddaddy and Taylor’s, taught us that. No real harm has been done.”

“Right,” Taylor added. “All of us have a cash-flow problem from time to time. I’ll have my accountant take a look at your books.”

“And I’ll send over one of mine,” Davis offered.

“I’ve already thought about selling the bottom land Granddaddy left me,” Lloyd ventured.

“Let’s not sell any family property until it’s necessary,” Davis said.

“I agree,” Taylor concurred, then brightened. “You know, the apartment complex on the highway might be a good candidate for liquidation or redevelopment.”

Grace mentioned another possibility, and they discussed properties while Barrett watched and listened. She couldn’t help but think of the long-held Southern penchant for holding onto the land, keeping it in the family, no matter what. She’d read about it and now, here it was, alive and well in front of her. She was musing over the phenomenon when the talk turned to the old plantation and she heard a question that brought her back to the present with a thump.

“What about Mary Maude and the journals?” Corinne asked. “Could we see them?”

“Yeah,” Taylor put in, “what are you going to do about the prospective scandal?”

Barrett looked at Davis who gazed back with a smile she couldn’t interpret, but it sparked a little flame of hope in her.

“First,” he said, “let our historian tell you the whole story, not the half-assed version I gave you.”

Feeling vastly encouraged, but not letting herself take anything for granted, she started at the beginning. “When Mary Maude married Edgar, she was certain she had found her ‘perfect love,’ and it wasn’t until a few years after the birth of her fourth child that she discovered Edgar’s unfaithfulness.” She repeated the tale to what she quickly realized was an enthralled audience. Even Lloyd looked caught up in the long-ago events.

When she finished, however, he was the first to speak. “This business is going to ruin us,” he muttered.

“Honey, it’s going to make us the toast of the town,” Grace rebutted.

“What?” her husband drew back as if she’d just taken a bite out of him.

“I love your mother dearly, but she still lives in the nineteen-sixties, when society was ruled by the much older generation who swept everything remotely scandalous under the rug. They believed any transgressions against the social order tarred a whole family with shame. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but we don’t live like that anymore. People don’t care about what your ancestors did--except when it makes good dinner conversation. Everybody, and I mean every man and woman in the parish, is going to invite us to dinner to hear about Mary Maude and Edgar. You mark my words,” Grace said with a sharp nod for emphasis, “your law practice is going to be increasing.”

“I agree,” Corinne said. “Look at the Marlows. They’ve been living on the reputations of their ancestors for years, and the whole lot was nothing but a bunch of carpetbaggers. Besides, good for Mary Maude. I’d have killed the philandering son of a gun, too.”

Everyone looked at Taylor, who quickly said, “Don’t worry, I’m going to live a long, happy life.”

“There are some other considerations,” Davis said.

Barrett held her breath.

“The family knows now,” he continued, “and the story is going to come out. Some Jamisons are incapable of keeping a secret, and we know who they are. The truth would be told under any circumstances because Barrett and I have a deal, just like the one she had with Granddaddy. She can use anything in the papers to write her books and articles. Scholarly or otherwise. Neither Granddaddy nor I made any restrictions previously and I don’t intend to impose any now. But she and I will be in charge of the telling.”

He looked at his cousin. “What did you think she was going to do, Lloyd, run to the tabloids? Sure, they’ll pick up on the more lurid aspects of the story, and there’ll be other publicity, but we can weather it.”

“Damn right,” Taylor put in.

“Of course,” Corinne concurred.

Davis turned to Barrett, reached out and took her hand, looked straight into her eyes. “I don’t condone what Mary Maude did, but I can understand it. I’ve learned a lot about history in the past weeks, just listening to and watching you. We have a story here that ought to be told. You’re the one to do it.”

She let out her breath in a whoosh of relief. “Thank you,” was all she could say. Davis was smiling, a wide grin under his mustache, and she returned it as exultation flooded her senses. He did trust her, he did have faith in her abilities, and she loved him.

Taylor asked another question of Davis, but Barrett didn’t hear it. All sorts of ideas and possible plans for the book and articles were running through her head. Then they were all rising. Taylor, Grace, and Lloyd went upstairs to take naps before driving home. Davis headed back to his office to return the fourteen calls Gonzales reported were waiting on the answering machine. And she found herself showing Corinne the journals and the Herbarium.

In late afternoon Eva whipped together an early dinner. Barrett looked around the table and thought the dining room held a definite warmth for once, the cold driven out by the family within its confines.

At the end, Lloyd cleared his throat and announced, “I have something to say.” When he had everyone’s attention, he hesitated, grimaced like he was having a difficult time forming the words, but finally continued, “I just wanted to apologize for putting you all through this mess and for helping me and Grace clean it up. I’ll have a talk with Mother and make her see the light.”

“No,
we’ll
have a talk with her,” Grace interjected and put her hand in his.

“Right,” Lloyd agreed.

“And I’ll handle my mother,” Taylor put in.

“Anyway,” Lloyd said, looking somewhat irritated at being interrupted, “I apologize--especially to Barrett and Davis.”

“Apology accepted,” Davis said, and Barrett nodded.

“Amen,” Taylor said, “and now we’d better get on the road. Thanks for your hospitality, Davis.”

The others echoed his thanks, and within minutes, Barrett and Davis stood arm in arm and watched the two cars drive over the bridge.

“They’re nice people,” she said. “Even Lloyd has some good points.”

“Yeah, he’s not too bad when he stops trying to take over or to impress everybody. He was just pushed to his limit. I’ll bet Grace talked him into making the apology. I’ve never heard him apologize for anything ever before.”

Davis turned her to face him. “And speaking of ever before and ever again, I almost had a heart attack when you shoved the gun away and hit Lloyd. I don’t ever want you to take a chance like that again. What did you think you were doing, fighting with him? He could have turned the gun on you, and it could have been loaded.” He had his hands on her hips and used them to give her a little shake.

She rolled her eyes. She should have known he’d bring up the subject. “Do you remember me asking him if he had any sisters?”

“Yeah, so what?”

“First, he didn’t have me in any kind of threatening hold. Second, once he said he didn’t have any sisters, I knew he wouldn’t be expecting anything from me. Third, I grew up fighting with three brothers. Fourth, Greg showed me a bunch of self-defense moves. Fifth, I knew once I had deflected the gun, you’d be right there. Sixth . . .”

He put his hand over her mouth to stop her from talking, but it was okay, because she couldn’t think of a sixth.

“Promise me you won’t take a chance like that ever again.”

“Bmmh Mm dmmt xmmmt . . .”

He squinted at her. “I know neither of us expect to be in such a situation again. I don’t care, I still want your promise. Just nod yes or no.”

“Hmmmph.” She glared at him, then nodded.

“Okay.” He took his hand away and replaced it with his lips in a light kiss. “Thank you for putting up with my family.”

She grinned up at him. “You’re welcome.”

“Now come with me. We still have something to settle.” He put his arm around her shoulder and marched her through the house to his office.

Barrett didn’t protest. She wanted privacy also.

Once there, he drew her down on the couch while he sat on the coffee table across from her. His legs straddled hers, and he put his hands on his knees, elbows out. He looked her straight in the eye and said, “I believe we were in the middle of an argument when Lloyd showed up. You had backed down from claiming I asked you to leave out the murder, but said you didn’t know where you stood with me and couldn’t share my bed under those circumstances. Is that correct?”

Barrett sat up straight and stared back at him. She ignored the physical trap he’d placed her in. That sort of domination didn’t work on her, as her brothers could attest. She wouldn’t, however, let him surprise her into saying the first thing popping into her mind. The man was really a killer negotiator; despite all the brouhaha with Lloyd, he hadn’t forgotten a word they’d said before his cousin’s arrival.