The Ladies Farm (24 page)

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a diamond this big!”

Barbara sighed. “Neither had I.”

“You must … what did you say when he gave you these? Especially this one?” Della’s voice was filled with wonder and Barbara had to concede it was an improvement over the earlier sarcasm.

“What was there to say? I told you: They’re diamonds Richard gave me. So he could keep seeing other women. And I took them.”

“Oh, Barbara!”

Barbara guessed Della was beginning to feel sorry for her again. Poor Barbara, Richard’s fat wife. “It’s true.”

“But you loved him.”

“Yeah.”

“And who wouldn’t?”

“Evidently no one,” Barbara said. “Evidently I was one of a small crowd.” She heard Della take in a sharp breath. It didn’t matter. Barbara just wanted to get done what needed doing. “Everyone loved Richard,” Barbara continued. “And now he’s gone. And I’ve got these diamonds. And they can help us. They can help us with the Ladies Farm if you’ll take them to this man who knew Richard.”

Alone in her room, Della took a handkerchief from her dresser drawer and spread it atop her dresser, then poured the diamonds onto the square of fabric. She counted and recounted. Twenty-three. Twenty-three arguments between Barbara and Richard. Twenty-three attempts to make their marriage everlasting. Twenty-three times Richard had told his wife that their love was forever.

She lifted the big diamond and held it up to the light. It was a marquise and she turned it different ways to see its edges. This was probably the first time, Della theorized. The real estate agent. When he thought he was only making this apology once.

She shook her head, placing the diamond back on the dresser. Once he realized how many he’d need, he probably bought them wholesale, worked out some sort of volume discount, went for quantity instead of quality. Della breathed out hard, then carefully pulled up the edges of the handkerchief and guided the stones back into the little velvet bag.

You promised, Della reminded herself as she pulled the drawstrings and tucked the thing into her shoulder bag hanging on the door hook. You promised Barbara you’d do this and now you have to. You have to follow the instructions she gave you and see the man she told you to see.

She tiptoed down the hall to check on Kat, who still slept soundly. Della stared at the recliner. I’ll have to tell Kat about the diamonds, she thought, and felt far too weary to spend the night anywhere but her own bed. Somewhere down the road, Della promised silently.

Della crept back to her own room, thinking for only a second before she climbed into bed how unimportant Kat’s reaction had become in the scheme of things.

The next morning, the guests snapped up the lemon- and ginger-enhanced muffins and Barbara gave Della a thumbs-up. She looked livelier this morning, Della thought, but maybe it was just makeup. And all that jade, Della thought, watching the sunlight flicker off Barbara’s dangling earrings.

The guests were following Barbara out to the barn. Della knew that Nancy had helped lay out all the jewelry supplies, and that everything stood ready for the morning’s enameling workshop. “All I have to do is sit and talk,” Barbara had reassured them before she trooped out with her charges.

Kat had made her appearance without drama and now cleared the table and cleaned the kitchen with Della in harmonious silence. When they retreated to the office, Della told Kat what she thought they ought to do.

“Buy out the Huttos, kill the Castleburg deal?” Kat repeated. “How much is that going to cost us?”

“A lot. I thought we’d split three ways—you, Rita, and me—and I think we should send Dave.”

“Dave?” Kat only looked half-awake, so her eye-widening seemed extreme.

“Dave Eleston, Rita’s ex-husband.”

“I know which Dave,” Kat said. “I just don’t know why.”

“Because he’s Gladys Hutto’s great-nephew and they know him. He and Earl’s father played football together.”

“Ah, yes,” Kat recollected. “The Sydonia Sabers.”

“Well, it’s something,” Della said.

“And are you planning to barter with buttons and zucchini bread?”

“No. I have some cash. Do you?”

“A little,” Kat confessed. “I’d hate to have to cash any CDs, though; you know how the penalties are. Maybe we could pay it out.”

“Maybe. Plus Barbara’s going to help. But I’m not sure how much.”

“There’s a delightful prospect.” Kat shielded her eyes with her hand as if she were blocking strong sun rather than conversing in a shaded room. “I love the idea of being indebted to Richard’s widow.”

“It’s not like that.”

“No?” Kat shook her head. “Is there anymore ibuprofen in that desk?”

“How much have you taken so far?”

“Never mind. Just see if there is.”

Della fished around in the center desk drawer, then tried the small one on the right. “Here,” she said, handing over the white bottle. She watched in silence as Kat downed two of the pain relievers without water.

Kat glared at her. “This hangover’s on you, you know.”

“I know.”

“Can’t you even say you’re sorry?”

“Kat, I’ve said it. Over and over. I’m sorry this hurt you, I’m sorry Barbara’s here, I’m sorry Barbara’s dying, I’m sorry, sorry, sorry.”

“Except about Richard. Are you sorry about Richard?”

Della shook her head. Kat looked at her.

“I’m not either.”

Della shook her head again. “I didn’t expect you to be,” she told Kat. “But I am sorry that it hurt Barbara. I didn’t know … I guess I never thought about that part.”

“There’s something else,” Kat said.

“What’s that?”

“I appreciate your coming to get me yesterday.”

“Yeah?” Della smiled at her friend.

“Yeah.”

“Listen,” Della said, “we’ve got one other thing we can try.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m going to talk to Melissa. Maybe she can talk to Hugh Junior.”

“What are you going to tell her?” All the hung-over raspiness had vanished from Kat’s voice. The question was low and clear and even.

“Everything,” said Della.

               Chapter 15

M
elissa and her husband lived in the hills south of San Jose. Melissa’s husband left for work around seven-thirty; Melissa drove the boys to school at eight-fifteen. She returned, pulling the silver minivan up behind the trees that probably blocked a carport, at eight-forty. Della, sitting around a curve in a rental car, gave Melissa five minutes before she pulled her own car to the front of the house, climbed two flights of steps to the entrance, and rang the doorbell.

This is a child who did well, Della thought, studying the heavy wooden door and turning toward the well-landscaped hill on which the house sat. Or at least married well. She heard movement on the other side of the door: indistinct sounds, then steps, then a silence of studying Della through the peephole, then the tumbling of locks. “Aunt Dell,” the girl said, stepping backward.

She has to know, thought Della as she entered, that I’m not delivering good news.

“I’ve come to ask for your help,” she told Melissa. They stood in a wood-paneled entryway. To her right, Della could see a living room with a hearth and an expanse of textured wall.

Melissa led her in the opposite direction, to a large kitchen with an oversized circle of a table.

“Have you talked to Hugh?” Della asked once they were seated, with cups of herbal tea and a platter of oatmeal raisin cookies before them.

“He’s told me about the gravel mining,” Melissa said. She fiddled with the embroidered collar of her denim work shirt. “Is there more?”

Della nodded and set down her cup. “I need to start with the worst news,” she said. “Barbara is dying. She has ovarian cancer.”

“Oh, no!” Melissa leaned toward Della. “Poor Aunt Barbara. Is she very sick? When did she find out?”

“She’s known for a while. But she didn’t want to tell us until she felt sure Dickie had agreed to move to Houston. Evidently, moving to the Ladies Farm was her way to convince him she’d be taken care of and that he should go on with his life.”

“She seemed fine at the funeral,” Melissa recollected. “Getting her hair cut and all. Isn’t there something they could do: chemo or something?”

Della shook her head. “She’s explored her options. Dickie’s helped. But there’s really nothing for her,” Della said.

Melissa shook her head slowly. “She was always so sweet to me,” she recalled. “When I wanted to go to school out of state, she was the only one who told me to go for it. ‘Just try,’ she said. ‘If you can get accepted, you’ll find a way to raise the money.’ And she was right.”

Della grinned. “Well, you were sort of everyone’s daughter. The rest of us just had sons.”

“Oh, I’ll never forget the screaming—I mean screaming—argument they had over her.”

“They who?”

“My folks.
What right did Barbara have to be advising their child!
”

“Who said that?”

“Oh, my father, of course.”

“Your father?”

“Oh yeah. You should have seen my mom trying to calm him down. ‘She’s interfering in our family!’ ” Melissa lowered her voice and pressed her chin toward her chest in imitation. “ ‘Just because they have more money than God,’ blah, blah, blah! And of course, I was in tears, I just wanted to apply to Stanford, see if I could get in, try for scholarship money. And Dad, who was always so … you know, go for it! There was Daddy saying
don’t you dare!
” Melissa held her hands in the air and smiled. “But I dared anyway and Daddy loved it and I guess I’m really sorry to hear about Aunt Barbara. What a shame. Is there … did you come because you need my help?”

“Yes.” Della sipped a little more tea, uncertain now about how to proceed.

“You need money?”

“Oh, no,” Della said. “I mean, not that we don’t need money. But this is about costing us less … and maybe about your making less.”

“Then this must be about the Ladies Farm.” Melissa waved a hand to stop Della’s explanation. “I knew Hugh was wrong about that gravel business.”

“Well, the gravel business is only part of it.” Della, with her elbows propped on the table, opened her hands palms up and extended them toward Melissa. “Hugh … Hugh is very angry with us. And he sees a chance to make a lot of money … for you, too, Melissa. So he’s changed his mind about letting us buy out your mother’s interest in the Ladies Farm.”

“He told me that he had an offer from Castlebury Dairy,” Melissa recalled. “But he told me you all could meet the offer and he’d take it.”

“Well, he did say that.” Della studied Melissa, who exhibited confusion but no rancor. “But he actually wants a little more than Castleburg’s offering. Did he mention that?”

“No,” said Melissa. “Why would he do that?”

Della chuckled and leaned forward a little, holding Melissa’s gaze. “Honey, Hugh sees a way to make y’all a lot of money, but it does involve throwing us off the Ladies Farm. And it’s pretty risky.”

“But we agreed we want you all to have the Ladies Farm!”

Della pressed her lips together. “I know. But your brother learned some things that might justify a change of heart, at least in his mind. I’m hoping you don’t agree. But Melissa,” Della said, “I think you should hear what those things are.”

Melissa threw her hands up in surrender. “Go ahead, Aunt Dell. Shock me.”

“Barbara had a one-night stand with your father. And I had a long, long affair with Richard. Morrison.”

Melissa stared.

“Shocked yet?”

Melissa nodded but stayed silent.

“The business between Barbara and your dad was a one-time event that shook everyone up, and they all—your mom and dad and the Morrisons—settled back down and remained friends. Good friends,” Della said emphatically.

“And you and Uncle Richard?” Melissa’s voice was quiet and quavered only a little.

Della wished for the millionth time that Hugh and Pauline had not insisted on those stupid aunt and uncle titles. It made everything sound more incestuous. “That was a little more involved,” Della said.

“Does Aunt Barbara know?”

Della shook her head. “Not about me. And, no matter what happens between us or with Hugh, I am asking you to promise that you’ll never tell her. She thinks … we are her friends. No matter what happened. We’re the ones she came to. It wouldn’t do any good, it would be cruel, to ever tell her that the ones she trusted most—”