Chapter 20

Charlotte felt sorry for little Wendy Devol. The child balanced on the edge of an armchair seat in the receiving room, her feet crossed at the ankle and swinging many inches off the floor. She pressed the skirt of her green plaid dress between her knees with laced hands and gazed through round, pink-rimmed glasses at the high ceiling.

“Would you like some lemonade and cookies?” Charlotte asked. She smiled at Homer Devol. “If that’s okay with you, of course.”

Homer had continued to stand, hat in his hands, and quietly dignified with his tall, slender build and straight back. He looked at Wendy with his brow furrowed and she wiggled just a little while she watched him.

“We didn’t intend to upset your schedule, ma’am,” Homer said, his frown growing deeper. “Looks like Wendy would like what you offer. Like I told you on the phone, I think you and I should talk.”

Charlotte decided Homer was awkwardly trying to signal that he wanted to say whatever he’d come to say without Wendy listening. “Thea’s in the kitchen and I know she’d like company. Would you like to go out there, Wendy?”

Wendy nodded and slid to stand on the floor.

“I’ll take her,” Homer said quickly, then coughed. “I mean, to be honest I want to be sure it seems safe. I know Thea and she’s a good woman, but things have happened here.”

“I understand,” Charlotte told him while her spine prickled. “Turn left out of this room and walk straight back.” The search for Gil continued. There were still no leads at all on Louis’s death, and she felt pretty scared herself.

Homer left his hat on a chair and held Wendy’s hand to walk toward the kitchen. A very small five-year-old, Charlotte decided, watching tow-colored braids bounce in time with the child’s skipping walk.

Had life ever been easy? Charlotte thought. Even a year before, when David had already started to be difficult to get along with, her world had been a dream compared to now. Her husband could have shared anything with her, even his financial mistakes, and they would have worked them through together. If he had told her everything maybe he’d still be alive.

Vivian didn’t know everything that led up to David’s death and Charlotte intended to keep it that way.

From her seat on one of the two gold damask-covered couches, she glanced from the black grand piano with gilded pineapples at the base of its legs, to gold-fringed red velvet drapes with swags of palm tree print satin above them. Even the white marble face of the fireplace sported carvings of pineapples, and cherubs with decidedly monkeylike features.

This place was both wonderful and a huge challenge. She couldn’t disagree with Vivian’s conviction that the eccentric decor was worth preserving, but she didn’t have to love it.

Homer returned with two glasses of iced tea. “Thea wouldn’t take a no on sendin’ these in,” he said. His eyes were dark blue and startling in a thin, very tanned face. There could never be a doubt that Spike Devol was this man’s son.

She took a glass of tea from him. “Please sit down, Homer. You’re a long way up there and I’ll get a crick in my neck trying to talk to you.” She smiled at him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said and took the chair Wendy had vacated.

Guy’s grandfather clock ticked loudly. An exotic, grinning potentate popped rhythmically in and out of a crescentshaped window in the clock face.

The ticking grew louder, or so it seemed.

Homer set his tea on a brass table, a heavy, beaten tray set atop palm fronds. “We got trouble on our hands,” he said. “With our kids. I came to talk parent to parent, knowin’ you want the best for your daughter. Same as I do for my son.”

At a loss for the appropriate response, Charlotte made polite noises.

“Spike’s a good man, the best. He’s hardworkin’, smart and honorable. And he’s had to fight for everythin’ he’s got. I wasn’t much help when he was a boy. I took him everywhere with me but we scraped along and it was my fault. I let my own troubles get in the way of doing the right thing for him. I could have settled down and made him a stable home, but I couldn’t get the other out of my mind.”

“I see,” Charlotte said, touched by the man’s openness and struck by how much he must care for Spike to talk this way to someone he didn’t know. She doubted it came naturally.

“You don’t see,” Homer said without rancor. “Spike’s mother decided she wanted somethin’ different in her life and I told her to go with my blessin’. I should have tried harder to show her we could have a good life, then maybe she’d have stayed. I didn’t try on account of stupid pride and my boy suffered. I’m a carpenter by trade. Could have made somethin’ of that but I lost the want-in’ somehow.”

“I’m sorry,” Charlotte said. She couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Anyhow. We’ve made our way and we’re doin’ well, but we’re from different worlds, you and Vivian, Spike, Wendy and me. Don’t get me wrong. Spike’s good enough for anyone but he’s had one bad marriage and I can’t sit by and see him get all twisted up over another woman who’s likely to get bored around places like this. Vivian’s used to a lot more, but what you see in Spike is what you get—he isn’t going to go back to school like he planned because he’s got Wendy to consider.”

Once more, Charlotte wasn’t sure what to say. “Vivian and Spike aren’t children. They have to make their own decisions.” That was her best shot.

“It wouldn’t work.” Homer sounded stubborn. “Besides, it wouldn’t be good for him to have folks talkin’.”

Now Charlotte perked up. “Talking about what?”

Suddenly the iced tea appealed to Homer and he drank until he drained the glass. He took a clean white handkerchief from his pocket, unfolded it and wiped his mouth. “That was good,” he said. “Thank you.”

Charlotte continued to wait.

He swept one arm wide. “Aw, you know how folks are. They talk. They’d say Spike was gettin’ above himself. Aimin’ too high. And they’d talk about him gold digging. He thinks he can deal with all that now, but when it happens, he’s going to get defensive, then he’s going to get mad. That’s bad stuff for Wendy. And it wouldn’t be what Vivian would enjoy, either.”

Laughing wouldn’t be at all the thing to do. “Gold digging?” Charlotte said. “Homer, my husband and I didn’t only lose all we had, our business, home, and everything we worked for. We—I’m still in debt and when I can’t quite manage to feel optimistic, I get so down I’m convinced I’ll never get out of the hole. This house is my only possible way to get back on my feet. Louis Martin arranged one loan for me but it’s about gone and I don’t have a way to get the real money it would take to make it happen for Rosebank. And I also lost my husband,” she finished quietly.

“I know,” Homer said. “Spike told me and I’m sorry for your loss. But folks see what they want to see. You’ve got all this around you, even if it isn’t the way you want it yet. We’ve got a gas station and convenience store. And a mobile crawfish boilin’ and barbecue outfit that’s a lot of work and a lot of pain.”

“I like Spike,” Charlotte said. “He’s straightforward and that’s not so common. He probably gets that from his dad and I’m not tryin’ to sweeten you up. I don’t know if anything’s likely to happen between them, but I can’t interfere.”

He crossed his arms and jutted his chin. “Likely to happen? What makes you think it hasn’t already happened? They’re off in New Orleans together today. Alone. Spike wasn’t about to tell me what that was all about but I can guess.”

She chuckled. “They’re there on business. Spike’s helping Vivian deal with some legal things. You men, you’re all alike. You can’t imagine that one of you doesn’t have an ulterior motive for wanting to spend time with a woman.”

“Can you?” He gave her a steady blue stare.

”Yes,” Charlotte said. “They like each other.” But although she wouldn’t admit it to Homer, she also figured Vivian and Spike were smitten.

“If you say so. Will you help me make sure they don’t go beyond likin’?”

She studied the backs of her hands and unvarnished nails.

“Will you?” he pressed her.

“What if they could be good for each other?”

“You want to risk what will happen if they get in up to their necks then change their minds?”

She did see the way Homer’s mind was working and how much of his concern came from prior experiences with women. “Vivian’s had it with the city,” she told him. “She wants to be here. She likes the small-town feeling—the isolation, even. I don’t know what’s likely to come of the two of them, but I’m not moved to interfere with anyone’s chance for happiness.”

“He finished college,” Homer said as if distracted. “Wanted to go back for another one of those degrees and go into the FBI. Somethin’ to do with computer crime.”

“He’s still got plenty of time to go back.” She was learning a lot and not disliking much of it.

Homer shook his head. “You don’t understand. I know you love your girl and I love my boy. If you won’t help me on account of you don’t want your daughter takin’ up with a man who’s carryin’ too much baggage and who’ll make her want to fish in other waters when she gets tired of the routine, do it for Spike. He’s not your concern, but I don’t think you’d want him to go through what happened to him before.”

Charlotte made up her mind what to say. “I’ll join forces with you to keep a watch on our kids,” she said. She couldn’t just turn him away, even if she didn’t agree with him. “And if I see anything I think we need to worry about, I’ll tell you.”

She got the stubborn jut of his chin again. He said, “You gonna tell the big mouths in Toussaint to mind their own business when they say Spike’s above himself?”

Charlotte squared her shoulders. “I surely will if I ever hear it. That son of yours is any man’s equal. Homer, this could pass. Let’s just give them a chance and trust them. I know Vivian wouldn’t do anything to hurt Spike or Wendy. And Spike’s solid, I already believe that.”

“And others will make sure it doesn’t work for them. Mark my words. That girl of yours is smart and beautiful. Someone with more to offer than Spike will come along—” he scrubbed at his face “—I’m not goin’ to let my boy get hurt again.”

The response Charlotte prepared to give wasn’t likely to make peace between her and Homer, but Wendy ran into the room in time to interrupt. “That funny lady from Wally’s hotel is here,” she said. “In the kitchen with Thea. I came away ’cause I knew you’d want me to, Gramps.”

“Wazoo, or whatever her name is?” Charlotte said.

“Must be,” Homer said. “Now, Wendy, you’ve been listenin’ to gossip. There’s nothin’ wrong with that little woman that wouldn’t be cured by some kindness. I’d best get on, Miz Charlotte. Keep what I’ve said in mind.”

“Oh, I will.” It would be easier to discount his suggestions if he didn’t show so many flashes of wisdom.

Wendy planted herself in front of Charlotte and said, “Your house is, is, is like in a movie. Rich people live here and there’s important stuff all over. I like it.”

“Then come back whenever you can,” Charlotte said, choosing not to tell the child she was wrong about the “rich” bit.

Homer had his granddaughter’s small hand enclosed in his own large, work-scarred one. “We’re not the kind to push ourselves.” he said. “Thank you for the tea.”

Stubborn critter.

On the way toward the front door, Wendy swiveled to walk backward. “Thank you for the lemonade and cookies, ma’am.”

“You are more welcome than you know.”

Homer stopped at the door he’d opened and turned back. “I’m still a fair carpenter and I like the practice. If there’s somethin’ needs done here, just ask.”

Homer had barely closed the door, leaving Charlotte with a strange tightness in her throat, when Wazoo tiptoed as far as the entrance to the room and tapped the doorjamb. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I hope you talk to me.”

What an afternoon. “Come on in,” Charlotte said. “Wendy Devol said you were out there with Thea.”

“We friends, now,” Wazoo said. She actually looked less wild than usual and had tied her hair back with a red ribbon. “Thea, Doll Hibbs and me.” She smiled, turning an already lovely face into a brilliant thing with flashing eyes. “Not much alike, huh? Sometimes that’s good.”

“Yes,” Charlotte agreed, waiting for the real reason for this visit.

“I need a job, me,” Wazoo said, all seriousness again. “Some folks don’t like a psychic around and if that’s you, I understand. But I know you lookin’ for more help and I work hard. Do anythin’.”

At a loss, Charlotte said, “But wouldn’t that interfere with your other work?”

Wazoo’s gaze didn’t waver. “Business is bad. The hotel cost too much and I gotta move, but still I need a steady job.”

She had, Charlotte noted, exchanged her jet-studded sandals for a pair of sneakers that did nothing for the outfit. But the sneakers were clean and practical.

“Gator and Doll will be disappointed,” Charlotte said.

Wazoo shrugged. “They gettin’ ready to rent to some students comin’ to study somethin’ to do with sugarcane. They make more money from them.”

“You’re saying you’ll do anything?”

“Clean. Work in the gardens. Fix the cars—I’m good with cars, me. Help with painting or repairs. Anythin’. And I am reliable, me. Don’t seem so if you don’t understand me, but it true.”

More money to go out, but there was no doubt she and Vivian were desperate for help. “Do you have references?”

Wazoo shook her head. “But people here will say Wazoo honest and kind. And they know I can work because I do odd jobs when I get them.”

No references. “Okay, how about this. I’ll give you a trial. Thea will tell you what she wants done and I’ll be asking you to do things, too. Can you work for several bosses?”

Wazoo nodded and smiled like a happy child. “Oh, yes, oh, for sure. I start now?”

Charlotte prepared to tell her to wait for Monday, then wondered why any time should be wasted. “Okay, yes. Have you found a place to live? I hope you won’t have to travel too far. Do you have transportation?”

“I got a van, me, but I can’t afford to run it much. People say things. They say you thinkin’ of rentin’ just a few rooms to get started. Short-term rents they call ’em. What them gonna cost?”

“People” meant Thea. Vivian and Charlotte had discussed doing short-term rents but only between themselves and around this house. These freight trains kept barrelling through Charlotte’s life. But why not rent Wazoo a room, at least until she proved it was a bad idea. “That might do very well. You may have to move as the work is done. We’ll work out the rent and we need to talk about your salary. What if you get the room and a smaller paycheck in exchange?”

Wazoo looked as if she’d won the state lottery and for a moment Charlotte was afraid the woman would kiss her, but Wazoo’s eyes shifted away to the window and Charlotte turned her head to see Susan and Olympia Hurst passing on their way to the front door.

“I’ll answer for you,” Wazoo said, bubbling.

Charlotte thought to refuse the offer, but changed her mind. She didn’t have to impress Susan and her offspring, unless it was with the Patin independence. “Thank you, Wazoo.”

When Susan Hurst recovered from the evident shock of being greeted by Wazoo, she poked around the room. Charlotte wished she could leave at once.

Olympia Hurst was too old for her behavior. Dressed in a pink sundress that barely covered her panties and which laced at the top to reveal a good deal of her large breasts, she slid into a scarlet silk slipper chair and propped her hands behind her head.

“Olympia,” Susan chided, in the process of examining an old silver box with stones, or pieces of colored glass, studded in the top. “That’s not ladylike. Sit up and pull your dress down. Really darling, you’ve got to learn what to do with that beautiful body of yours if you’re going to reach your full potential.”

Olympia yawned dramatically and flipped at her long, blond hair. “I know what to do with my body, thank you, Mama. Women of my age usually do. Ability in that direction doesn’t usually fade until much later.”

Susan ignored her and tried to open the box.

“It’s locked,” Charlotte said, amused. “Always has been but it doesn’t look like a good place to hide treasure d’you think?”

“No,” Susan agreed and quickly put the thing down. “Your brother-in-law was really into this jungle thing. He was ahead of the curve. I believe it’s quite popular now. Not my style at all but I expect you’re going to change things here.”

“We have a lot of planning to do,” Charlotte said, not about to discuss anything private with Susan.

“Is Vivian here?” Susan asked.

“No, she’s out for the day. Did you want to talk to her? I’m sure she’ll be here tomorrow.”

“I was just makin’ conversation.”

“You know you saw her leave with that sexy Spike Devol,” Olympia said. She’d decided to loosen the lacing on her dress. “Fess up. You’re curious about whether they’re getting it on.”

“If you can’t behave yourself,” Susan said, “please leave. Go home and help Morgan.”

“I offered, but Daddy dear said he’s got paperwork to do and doesn’t need me.”

Charlotte didn’t care for the secret smile that crossed Olympia’s lips.

“Olympia’s stressed,” Susan said, dropping her red-streaked, brown hair forward, then throwing it back and shaking it into place. “She’s got months of preparing for contests ahead of her and so much work keeping that figure gorgeous and choosing clothes and taking dance lessons. It goes on and on.”

Olympia looked vacant.

“I came to talk to you, Charlotte.”

Why not, everyone else had.

“Mama, I said I’d keep you company, but not if you’re going to take so long,” Olympia said, yawning again. “Just spit it out about the police.”

“Oh, dear.” Susan perched her jean-clad bottom on a chair. “Yes, the police. Morgan wouldn’t approve of our being here, but I believe in complete honesty. It’s the best way to get things done. The police searched our house.” Her voice rose, she closed her eyes and pressed a hand to her bosom. “We actually had people in at the time and had to ask them to leave. Can you imagine our embarrassment?”

There had to be a point when a little pity would come her own way, Charlotte thought. “We’ve been dealing with a lot of that and it’s not pleasant.”

“Not pleasant?” Susan rolled her eyes and gave her hair another good shake. “Charlotte, we have to talk. Seriously. Would you have dinner with us tomorrow evening? You and Vivian—and her sheriff friend if that’s what she’d like.”

Olympia’s laughter shot so high that Charlotte winced. “Oh, Mama,” Olympia screeched, pointing a long forefinger. “You old spoof you. If that’s what she’d like. It’s what you’d like.”

“Will you come?” Susan persisted, ignoring Olympia. “I’d regard it as a favor.”

Charlotte said, “Yes, of course,” partly to support Susan in the presence of her bratty daughter.

“Wonderful,” Susan said.

”Wonderful,” Olympia echoed. “Make sure you warn Vivian she’d better make sure Spike’s pants stay zipped.”

Susan walked to her daughter and slapped her face soundly. In the appalling silence that followed, Olympia glared hatred at her mother with dry eyes and didn’t touch the welts forming on her skin.

“I apologize for my daughter and myself,” Susan said. “I shouldn’t have struck her. We’ll have a good time tomorrow evening, I promise, and I hope we get serious businesses tended to. We must, Charlotte. There isn’t a choice anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Charlotte asked quietly. “I’m not aware of any business between us, serious or otherwise.”

Susan stared at Olympia, clearly warning her not to interrupt. “Morgan and I don’t want to take legal action against you for the trouble you’re causing but we will if we must. We think that can be averted. You have needs and we have needs and we think they can complement each other. We believe it would make all of us happy if we bought Rosebank from you.”