“Don’t expect anything like a normal family dinner,” Buck warned Anne on Sunday night, as they headed for Belle Pointe. “My family is not even close to normal.”
“You sound as if I’ve never met them, Buck. I’ll grant you, they’re a bit…unusual, but I think I’ll be able to cope.” In spite of Buck’s dire predictions, she felt a thrill of anticipation as she caught sight of the big house through the trees. Its huge white columns were floodlit, standing tall and stark white against a sky darkening with an approaching storm. She didn’t have to like the Whitakers to be interested in them, she reminded herself as lightning flashed.
Buck’s reply was drowned in a mighty crash of thunder that rocked the SUV. He leaned forward over the wheel to inspect the sky. “Hey, this is perfect. A classic Delta gully washer to welcome us.”
She flinched as another fierce flash lit up the world and the heavens suddenly opened with a vengeance. “Oh, my,” she murmured, a little awed.
“I’m trying to tell myself the weather isn’t a sign of worse to come,” Buck muttered as the wipers swished back and forth furiously. “We arrive in a rainstorm, which could only be topped if it’s followed by a tornado. With hail. Which, at this time of year, is entirely possible.”
She gave him an exasperated look. “If the thought of an evening with your family is so awful, tell me why we’re here.”
He stopped the SUV before they reached the house and looked at her. “You want the truth? An evening with my family is bad, but I’m willing to tough it out for a chance just to be with you.”
She considered that for a beat or two, then reached over with a playful smile and patted his shoulder. “Okay, grumpy. What if I promise to hold your hand all night and run interference for you? Oops, that was a football metaphor, wasn’t it?”
One eyebrow shot up as he caught her hand and brought it up to his mouth. “Watch it, lady,” he told her, smiling lazily. “We’re stuck out here and I can think of several interesting things to do while it’s raining. And talking about my family ain’t one of ’em.”
His mouth was warm and her palm tingled. “Then we’d better not wait. Frankly, I’m dying to go inside the lion’s den and get a firsthand look at Whitaker family dynamics. Hopefully, all your relations are here tonight, otherwise, I’ll be disappointed.”
He gave a humorless grunt, but she could tell his mood had improved. At another wicked flash of lightning, he put the SUV into gear and pulled up to the front door.
Looking worried, Anne said, “If this doesn’t let up, I may miss my chance to see anything because we won’t be able to get out of the car.”
He reached into the pocket behind her seat and produced an umbrella. “Here, use this. The driveway curves close to the porch steps. I’ll pull up so you can get out.”
“You’re not suggesting I go in without you?”
“Would you?”
“Buck—”
Eyes teasing, he held up a finger. “You’d miss an evening with the Addams family?” he said.
“Judging by your behavior tonight, I’m already married to Lurch.”
He laughed. “Just wait for me on the porch and we’ll go in together.”
Before she could do it for herself, he released her seat belt, then handed her the umbrella. “It springs open when you—”
“I know how to open an umbrella, Buck.” She took it and allowed him to reach across her lap to spring the door handle. Then, before she could avoid it, he kissed her, a quick, firm claim of her mouth that made her heart jump. Next, within a heartbeat, he had the door open and if she didn’t want to get soaked, she had to pop the umbrella and make a dash for the porch. With the taste of him lingering…
Because Buck and Anne were delayed by the storm, Victoria extended the cocktail hour, which allowed Anne her chance to watch Whitaker family dynamics at play. Buck was wet from a mad dash to the door after parking the car, but even as he attempted to dry himself off, his mother pounced, peppering him with questions. Anne had to admire his skill in fending her off.
After a few minutes, she drifted away from Buck and his mother and was instantly corralled by Pearce’s wife. Tucking her hand inside Anne’s elbow, Claire steered her toward the baby grand piano in the room. With its top raised, it was a nice shield from the rest of the group. Claire watched as Anne took a sip of cabernet. “You want a refill of that?”
Anne glanced at what remained of her second glass of wine. “No. Thanks. I shouldn’t have any more before dinner.”
“I find it’s the best way to cope.” Claire raised her glass and took a hefty drink, letting her gaze drift around the room. “These family occasions can be devilish.”
Anne followed her gaze. “I’ll admit to being fascinated myself.”
Claire’s glance rested briefly on Buck standing beside his mother, his gaze fixed on the floor. “I bet fascination isn’t what Buck’s feeling right now.”
Anne agreed, feeling a pang of sympathy for him, but thought better about commenting. “Tell me how it feels to be caught up in a political campaign, Claire,” she said, searching for a topic of conversation. It struck her that her sister-in-law’s classic blond beauty was a perfect complement to her husband’s dark, somewhat wicked good looks. Anne thought they would photograph well as Senator and Mrs. Whitaker. “Are you looking forward to the day when you’ll be Mrs. Senator Whitaker?”
“Not particularly.”
Anne studied her cool profile. “A life in politics isn’t appealing to you?”
“Not as Mrs. Senator Whitaker, no.” Her gaze settled on Pearce across the room. “You want to hear something funny? Once I thought about marrying Jack Breedlove,” she murmured. “Now, here he is in a dead heat with Pearce for the same political position. Isn’t that a hoot?”
Anne coughed on a sip of wine. “Buck mentioned you and Jack had once been sweethearts, but that was in high school, wasn’t it?”
She nodded. “About a million years ago.”
“Sometimes those first loves can seem so sweet,” Anne said. Secretly, she was appalled at Claire’s indiscretion. Pearce’s opposition would have a field day.
Claire turned to look at her. “Do you speak from experience?”
“About first loves?” Again, Anne’s gaze strayed to Buck. “I guess so. Would you believe it? Buck was the first man I ever really loved. I never even had a steady boyfriend in high school. And when I was in college, between my course load and new experiences, I just never fell for anybody…until I met Buck.”
Claire studied Anne’s face thoughtfully over the rim of her wineglass. “So if he’s the love of your life, why am I picking up on some marital stress? Buck’s staying at the lodge, you’re at your daddy’s house. And nobody’s talking.” Then seeing the look on Anne’s face, she hurriedly added, “None of my business, of course, but you’re a lucky woman. Buck is a man in a million. Take it from me, you got the pick of the litter.” She tossed back more wine and let her gaze drift to Pearce again. “He’s nothing like Pearce.”
More family discord. What was it about these people that there was so much discontent floating about, Anne wondered. Buck’s whole outlook on family was sour and Paige never missed an opportunity to say something nasty. What was it that kept a family so screwed up when they seemed to have so many advantages?
“Speaking of my dear husband, has he made a pitch to you to stump for him on the campaign trail yet?” Claire asked.
“I think I’m safe. I hardly think I have the same clout as Buck.”
“Well, that’s where you’re wrong,” Claire said, patting her pocket for her cigarettes. “At least, half wrong. You won’t have as much clout as Buck, but you’re a pretty woman and a journalist to boot, therefore, an asset. Of course, Pearce will assume you’re willing and, because you’re family, all your write-ups will be positive. Read that as biased in his favor.”
“It’s not always an advantage having a journalist in the family. Let’s see what he thinks after he reads the piece coming out in next week’s Spectator.”
“He managed to get the Spectator to endorse him?” Claire looked astonished.
“It’s not an endorsement. It’s a feature article. In fact, I’ve interviewed both Pearce and Jack Breedlove.”
Claire paused, the cigarette unlit in her hand. “How was he?”
“Pearce or Jack?”
“Jack, for God’s sake. I haven’t seen him in—” She stopped, her smile as sharp as a blade. “I shouldn’t be talking about Jack, should I?”
“Probably not. But to answer your question,” Anne said, “I was impressed. Jack is a very charming man, decisive and confident.”
“Pearce is charming, decisive and confident,” Claire said in a dark voice, “but the difference is that on Jack it’s sexy, and on Pearce, it’s…not.”
“Maybe we’d better have some of those hors d’oeuvres,” Anne suggested.
With a dry laugh, Claire said, “Meaning I’m drunk, otherwise I wouldn’t say stuff like that?” Deciding against a cigarette, she signaled Miriam, Belle Pointe’s longtime housekeeper, for more wine. “No, sugar, I’m not drunk, just depressed.”
Miriam refilled Claire’s wineglass, while Anne refused. “I spent some time with Paige this week at the Spectator,” Anne said. “She’s creative and very precocious, but I’m sure you know that.”
“Creative and precocious.” Claire looked away toward a window, her gaze resting on the storm raging outside. “Is that a tactful way of expressing shock and awe?”
“Because of her Goth look? Not at all, although it is rather dramatic. No, I meant she’s quick and funny and unique.”
Claire leaned against the piano. “At least you recognized her outfit as a look. Dressed like that, she could be practicing to become the town coroner or at best angling to be public relations director at Knopf’s Funeral Home.”
“Is that what you think?”
Claire shook her head. “No, I think she’s rebellious and creative and frankly, a little too smart for her own good.”
Because that was essentially Anne’s opinion of Paige, Claire went up a notch in her estimation. “Sounds like a daughter anybody would want. I know I would.”
Claire’s lips twisted in a rueful smile. “Yeah, I love her to pieces, not that she would believe it lately. I’m the Number Two Demon in her life. Her grandmama, of course, is Number One. At this point, I’m not sure where Pearce ranks.”
“Age fourteen,” Anne said, sighing in recollection. “It’s painful.”
“And she wouldn’t believe this either, but I wish I’d had the guts when I was her age to do some of the stuff she does…and says.” Claire glanced at the door. “You notice she’s not here? Victoria gives strict orders that all members of the family attend these Sunday dinners, but Paige just loves jerking her chain. She’ll probably be here, but in her own time…and she’ll make an appearance with all the drama of a rock star! It’s enough to drive me crazy.”
If only. Anne looked down at her empty wineglass, wondering if she’d ever have a teenager. Even with the trials and tribulations that plagued Claire, she’d volunteer in a heartbeat.
“I remember thinking of my mama as a demon, too,” Claire murmured, focusing again on the storm-lashed windows. Anne wondered, by the look on her face, if she was remembering her star-crossed relationship with Jack Breedlove. Whatever her thought, Claire blinked it away with a little shake of her head. “But I don’t want to be seen that way by Paige. I’d like for her to think of me the way she thinks of Beady, but it’s not likely to happen.”
“Beady?”
“Beatrice, your stepmother.” Seeing her surprise, Claire said, “She’s practically a surrogate grandmother to Paige and has been ever since she was a little girl in Beatrice’s Sunday School class. The woman is a saint to put up with her with so much grace and patience.”
“I didn’t realize they were friends.” Anne frowned, thinking back. “I don’t recall seeing Paige at the wedding. Why is that?”
“Spring break. We were skiing in Colorado. The trip had been planned for months, otherwise, nothing could have kept Paige away.” Claire finished off her wine and set the glass on a small table just as a loud clap of thunder shook the house and a wind gust rattled the windows. “I hope Paige hasn’t gotten it into her head to go out in this,” she said, glancing at her watch. “I left her sitting in front of a mirror putting on that bizarre makeup. I’ll wring her neck if she doesn’t show up soon.”
Miriam again appeared silently with a fresh glass of wine on her silver tray. Claire took it, smiled her thanks. “To hell with Victoria. I’m smoking.”
Once the cigarette was lit, she opened the piano bench and found a tiny crystal ashtray. “I told Victoria that the reason Paige’s grades went to hell in a handbasket was because she missed Beady so much. Before she met Franklin, Beady spent a lot more time with Paige. She’d take her shopping in Memphis, they’d go to the horse races in Little Rock, they’d go to the beach in Florida. When she went to Disney World the first time, it was with Beady. I swear those two are soul mates.”
Once the cigarette was lit, she exhaled, blowing the smoke away from Anne. “It was great for Beady that she fell in love, but it was a major adjustment for Paige.”
“Are you serious?” Anne asked in dismay.
“Well, I’m probably exaggerating a little, but whatever, it worked. When Beady saw how Paige screwed up, she stepped right in and arranged the ‘punishment’ at the Spectator.” Claire made quotation marks with her fingers. “Paige acts like she hates it, but it’s an act. Poking around in those old newspapers isn’t nearly the trial she makes it out to be. She’s always coming home and dropping some obscure fact about Tallulah’s past.”
“With five generations of her family in Tallulah’s past, there is a lot for her to uncover. Actually, I’m looking forward to poking around in the archives, too.”
Claire stared at her through a smoky haze. “Why, for God’s sake?”
“Why not? I’m here for a while and when I’m not reporting, I have the time.” She smiled. “Let’s face it, not a lot goes on here in Tallulah that’s worth writing about.”
“You’re telling me.” Claire tilted her head, thinking. “And I’d give my eyeteeth to do like Buck and shake the dust of the place off my feet forever.”
“On the other hand, what if you had no roots at all?”
“Uh-oh.” Something caught Claire’s eye beyond Anne’s shoulder. She groaned and ground out her cigarette in the tiny ashtray. “It’s Paige, ready to make her entrance.”
As soon as Buck got away from his mother, Pearce cornered him. “Where the hell have you been?” he demanded, drawing him apart from the group. “Man, you come into Tallulah under cover of night, not telling a soul and then you disappear. I’ve been all over this county looking for you. And while I’m thinking about it, before you leave I want your cell phone number.”
“I’m at the lodge.” Buck glanced across the room looking for Anne and was glad to see her talking to Claire instead of his mother. No matter that he was damp and soggy and that he felt hounded on all sides, it was worth it to spend an evening with his wife.
“You think I didn’t try the lodge?” Pearce replied. “That was my second stop…after your in-law’s house. So unless you were under the porch steps or hiding in the azaleas, I couldn’t find you there either.”
“I don’t answer the phone or the door when I’m with my trainer.”
“Humph. And what’s the big idea not staying at the Marshes’ with Anne?”
He stared directly into Pearce’s eyes. “It’s a privacy issue.”
After a beat or two, Pearce said, “Yeah, so how’s that knee, man? I hear you’re out for the season.”
Buck nodded. “It may take a while to get back to a hundred percent.”
“Rotten luck.” Pearce studied his face, trying to read something he sensed. “Word is you’ve hired Tyrone Pittman.”
Buck gave a short laugh. “I see the ol’ grapevine is still dependable.”
“Hard to keep a secret around here.” Pearce glanced over his shoulder and moved a little closer. “Guess who I ran into yesterday at the Piggly Wiggly?”
“I don’t have a clue.”
“Bert Atkinson.”
Buck looked at him blankly. “I don’t know him.”
“Yeah, you do. He’s a few years older than you, but if you see him, you’ll remember him. Went to law school with me at Ole Miss, but he’s a Memphis State man, I think.” He shook his head, giving up. “Anyway, here’s why I mention it. He’s Jack Breedlove’s campaign manager.”
Buck saw Miriam heading their way with a tray holding the drink he’d requested. “I’ve seen the signs around town.”
Pearce cocked his head, eyeing Buck thoughtfully. “I don’t know how you’ve managed to be all over town, checking out my competition, talking to Mama, cozying up to Tyrone Pittman and somehow or other I don’t rate a measly phone call.”
“Thanks, Miriam.” He took the Coke and raised the glass in a silent salute to Pearce. “I’ve been busy.”
“What’s that you’re drinking?” Pearce asked, making a face.
“Coca-Cola,” Buck said, letting his gaze drift around the room. Claire was entertaining Anne, which meant she didn’t need rescuing yet.
“What the hell?”
“I’m off alcohol for a while.”
“Huh.” Pearce mulled that over half a minute. “Cleaning up your act, right?”
Buck’s reply was a shrug, a brief lift of one shoulder.
“I hear you.” He studied the straight Scotch in his hand. “I probably should cut back while I’m campaigning.”
“Speaking of…how’s it going, Pearce?”
“The campaign? It’s going, but like anybody in politics today, I need money and good people working for me.” He paused, still eyeing Buck shrewdly. “I know you and Jack Breedlove go way back. I’m not going to have a problem with that, am I?”
“I haven’t heard from Jack since I’ve been here. He probably knows I’m not a political animal.” Where’s a distraction when you need it, Buck wondered.
“You don’t have to be a political animal to do either one of us good and you know it. I’d just like to know where you stand.”
“If that means you want me to get out and go glad-handing and kissing babies for you, I’d have to say not in this lifetime. But I wish you luck, Pearce.”
Pearce studied him over the rim of his drink. “You mean that?”
“Why would I wish you anything else?” Buck noticed that Anne was still talking to Claire. His sister-in-law had a brittle look about her, reminding him of Victoria’s disapproval. He wondered if being married to Pearce was as wearing as being his kid brother.
Pearce was talking again. “I mentioned Bert Atkinson because he couldn’t wait to tell me not to count on your endorsement carrying enough weight with the voters to make a difference in the election.”
“He was right. You shouldn’t underestimate the voter.”
“He was dead wrong,” Pearce countered with a look of disgust. “He knows just how big a difference it’ll make and he was ready to choke on the possibility.” He set his empty glass on a table nearby. “Which is the reason I’ve been trying to find you all over this freaking town, Buck. Mama tells me you’re here for the duration.”
Buck finished his drink and looked around for a place to put it. He wasn’t willing to chance setting it on one of Victoria’s priceless antique tables as Pearce had done. His mother would be on him like a chicken on a June bug. “I know where you’re going, Pearce. Save the pitch.”
“What other plan do you have until that knee is fixed?”
“My life is baseball, not politics. I’m concentrating on getting back in shape while I’m here. I can’t do anything to screw that up, which means I can’t be out making personal appearances with you.”
“Hey…” Pearce gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. “I know that, bro. But I need you to be openly supportive, you know? And when you’re out and about, I need you to make positive statements about me, lie a little. Hell, lie a lot. It’s what happens in politics. Your name is golden here, Bucko. You want to see your brother in the U.S. Senate, don’t you?”
Buck caught Miriam in passing and set the glass on her tray. “I thought you were running for the state senate.”
“Yeah, in this particular campaign.” Pearce grinned and winked. “But look out. Another couple of terms and I’m set to head for Washington.”
Buck studied him for a moment. “Does Mother know this?”
Pearce heaved a sigh. He took Buck’s arm and urged him over to a window well out of earshot of anybody. “If she did, she’d shit a brick, I don’t have to tell you that.”
“Yeah. And here I was having trouble believing she’d let you go off to Jackson,” Buck said. “If she thought D. C. was your ultimate goal, she would probably be making contributions to Jack Breedlove.”
“Which is why we aren’t going to tell her, right?”
“It’s a big hurdle for you to overcome, Pearce. She believes you should put Belle Pointe and your responsibilities here before anything else.”
Pearce let out a hiss of frustration. “Yeah, and yet she wants to run things. It’s her way or else. I try to tell her that we don’t need to be so hands-on. We don’t need to be hanging out with the hired help from daylight to dark. That’s why we have hired help, for God’s sake. But does she listen? No.”
“She runs a tight ship.”
“Tell me,” he muttered with a twist of his mouth. “I don’t have a clue how to operate a combine, Buck, and I don’t care. You were the one who learned cotton farming from the bottom up. You were the one who was interested, for Chrissake! I never liked any part of it. But no…” He whacked his fist in his palm. “She wants me right here so she can continue to boss me around like a slave while she plays the chatelaine of Belle Pointe.”
“She is the chatelaine of Belle Pointe.”
“Big deal.” He swore softly. “I’m tired of the stranglehold she has on my life. Sure, being born a Whitaker and living at Belle Pointe are definite assets. The Southern aristocrat role plays well with voters.” He looked Buck keenly in the eye. “Do you realize how that stuff impresses people? It’s a pain in the ass to me, but to other folks, the Delta and the whole mystique of plantation life, all this antebellum shit, it’s irresistible…in a political sense. You know what I mean?”
“Tell me something, Pearce,” Buck said, looking him in the eye. “If Mother has such a stranglehold on you and she makes all the decisions around here, how is it that she allowed you to fire Oscar Pittman?”
Pearce swore and rolled his eyes. “I see Ty’s been talking. Got your ear while he’s massaging that knee, so he’s making hay while the sun shines, eh?”
“It was a low-down, dirty trick, Pearce. Oscar has been at Belle Pointe since we were boys. What were you thinking, firing a man like that?”
“He’s a troublemaker, always stirring up shit. We don’t need his type around.”
“With Will gone, seems to me you need him more than ever.”
“They can both be replaced. It’ll just take some time. I’m working on it.”
“In the meantime, I guess you’re prepared to operate a combine and manage the hired help while campaigning,” Buck said. He watched as Pearce tried to curb his temper, then lowered his voice and said very quietly, “I’m going to make it right with Oscar, Pearce. I’m going to see to it personally.”
Pearce’s dark eyes flared with temper, but he was prevented unleashing it when he spotted someone over Buck’s shoulder. Instantly, anger morphed into a practiced smile. “Hey, here’s somebody else you’ve been dodging. Joel, say hello to my brother, the town hero.”
Buck turned, recognizing Joel Tanner. For as long as he could remember, Tanner had been the sole legal representative for the Whitaker family. “Joel, good to see you,” he said, putting out his hand.
“Same here, Buck. You’re looking good considering the garbage I’m hearing from the media.”
“Don’t believe everything you hear,” Buck told him. Tanner was an older man with a distinguished look and keen blue eyes. “How’re things with you these days?”
“Good. Better than good.”
“Damn right,” Pearce said jovially. “Joel’s my campaign manager. We’re headed for victory in November.”
Buck managed to look interested. “No joke.”
“Politics is nothing to joke about,” Pearce said, then turned to Tanner. “So tell Buck how much we need him to take an active part in the campaign, Joel.”
“Your endorsement would be helpful,” Tanner said, looking hopeful.
Buck gave a noncommittal smile. Campaigning for Pearce was a non-starter, but he hadn’t totally ruled out the possibility of endorsing him. He just wasn’t sure yet that he wanted to and the incident with Otis Pittman didn’t help. It told him his brother was still a ruthless SOB.
But it wasn’t something he wanted to deal with tonight. He located Anne across the room talking to his niece, who had just made an appearance. He did a double take when he saw her all-black getup. Jesus, the kid was dressed like a mortician. He looked again. A mortician with orange hair.
“I see someone I need to hug,” he told them and headed over to get a closer look. After tonight, it would be interesting to get Anne’s take on his family.