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“WYATT SAID THAT GERALD always wanted to meet at the office,” said Beatrice. “And very early. Apparently, Gerald was a man who liked to follow strict routines. He’d get any church-related or personal-related business out of the way first, before he started in on work.”
Meadow rang the doorbell and the door was immediately answered by Laura Carpenter. She was a tall, slender woman in her 50s (a good deal younger than Gerald). Although her eyes were sad, there was a surprising lack of expression in her face. A moment later, Beatrice realized that Laura had likely had some work done—Botox can have the effect of not just minimizing wrinkles, but minimizing emotions, too.
Laura pulled both of them toward her for a hug. “Aren’t you both so sweet? I’m lucky to have folks who care about us. I know that Gerald would be very touched.” As she said Gerald’s name, she pulled out a tissue to dab at her perfectly-made-up eyes.
Meadow said, “Well of course we wanted to come by! We have breakfast and supper for you. And if y’all eat this platter full of June Bug’s delicacies, I’m sure you won’t have any appetite for lunch at all. So you should be set for the day. Which way is the kitchen and I’ll put the chicken away?”
“You’re a dear,” said Laura. “It’s just through the archway there and will be the third door on your left.”
Beatrice asked as Meadow obediently trotted off to the kitchen, “Would you like me to leave the platter somewhere more accessible, in case you’d like to snack from it soon?”
Laura beamed at her, white teeth glinting. “That would be lovely. I didn’t eat at all yesterday . . . food didn’t appeal to me one whit after such a shock. But now it’s all catching up with me. As soon as you two leave, I’ll probably pig out.” She gave her lightly tittering laugh.
Meadow returned in time to hear Laura. “Now don’t you worry about us! Go ahead and eat to your heart’s content. Sometimes, when life is miserable, eating is one of the few pleasures.”
Laura said, “You’ve got that right! I might have to just have a muffin. Can I offer either one of you one?”
Beatrice wryly patted her stomach. “I’ve already had more than my fair share this morning. I picked some up for Wyatt and me at the same time I was picking some up for you.”
Laura stepped to the side and said, “Do come sit down, both of you.” They walked into a lovely living room full of white upholstered furniture and white marbled-topped tables. Beatrice hoped that she wasn’t dusty. It seemed that the more construction was done in her house, the dustier things got. And it was a sneaky sort of dust—the kind that you didn’t see until it showed up on your clothing later. Or on someone’s white furniture.
Laura sank down on a white silk settee and Beatrice offered her the platter before setting it down on a marble-topped coffee table. The room was beautiful, but seemed somehow sterile to Beatrice and she wondered if it had been decorated by Gerald or Laura. There were no family pictures up nor any art at all. She knew art wasn’t to everyone’s decorating taste, but the former art curator in her always missed it when it wasn’t there. To her, it offered a lot of insight into the people who lived there.
Somehow, Laura managed to delicately eat a muffin without leaving any crumbs at all on the white furniture. She said, after carefully swallowing a small bite, “Beatrice, I heard that you were at the factory yesterday morning after Wyatt found Gerald. I’m sure that must have been such a shock for him.”
Beatrice said, “He was very sorry about your loss. He had a lot of respect for Gerald. I drove over to meet up with Wyatt as soon as he told me what had happened.”
Laura looked sadly down at the last bite of her muffin. “And I was asleep the whole time! I feel rather guilty about that. I hadn’t been sleeping very well over the last week and I suppose it just caught up with me all at once. I didn’t even wake up when Gerald got up to get ready to walk over to the office and usually I never sleep during that. I feel terrible that I wasn’t with him.”
Meadow said, “Now, Laura, you know that you shouldn’t feel guilty in the slightest! Gerald certainly wouldn’t have wanted you there with him. There was a dangerous person in the building—who knows what could have happened? He would have wanted you safe in your bed, exactly where you were.”
Laura sighed. “Yes, you’re right. It was just bad timing, that’s all. Although not out of the ordinary for me to have insomnia. I haven’t slept very well for my entire life. It’s ironic that the one night I’m finally able to catch up on my rest and sleep in a little is the time when Gerald needed me the most. Meadow, I’m sure Ramsay must have told you how he rang the bell and rang the bell. I didn’t even hear it until he’d probably rung ten times. I think he must have been about to give up.”
Meadow shook her head. “He told me no such thing. Don’t you worry your head about this. All Ramsay thinks is that you are a hard sleeper. Our son Ash is the same exact way. Why, I’ve always said that when he was a child that Ramsay and I could jump on his bed like a trampoline if we’d wanted and he wouldn’t have even stirred.”
Beatrice said wryly, “Although hopefully that will change soon.”
Laura gave her that beaming smile again, “That’s right! With the new baby. With any luck, when the little one cries, Ash won’t sleep through it every night or else Piper will be exhausted.” She turned again to Meadow. “And thank you for making me feel better. I think it was those guilty feelings about not being there for Gerald that killed my appetite yesterday.”
Meadow said, “You need to be tempted by more baked goods, that’s all. Goodness knows that the platter Beatrice brought is fairly groaning with them.”
Laura obediently picked up a buttermilk biscuit.
Meadow raised a hand. “Now hold on. You can’t compromise when eating one of June Bug’s biscuits—you need to go all the way with it. I’ll run it to the kitchen and heat it up and put a little butter on it.”
Laura handed her the biscuit in a napkin and Meadow hurried off with it.
Laura shook her head with a smile. “She’s very kind. Both of you are. To tell you the truth, I can hardly believe that Gerald is gone. It feels more like he’s just over at the office, working hard, as usual.”
“When you’re married a long time and you lose someone, it’s hard for the reality of it to hit you,” said Beatrice. Laura looked at her curiously and Beatrice continued, “I lost my first husband, Piper’s father, when Piper was a teenager. It was a rough time for both of us.”
Laura said, “Oh, I’m so sorry. It really must have been. And you’re absolutely right—Gerald and I have had a wonderful marriage. Of course, it was a second marriage for both of us, but it’s been a fairly long one. We loved each other. More than that, we depended on each other since he and I sort of balanced each other out.”
“That’s wonderful. That’s ideally what marriage should be like, isn’t it?” asked Beatrice. Laura either must not be aware of Gerald’s infidelities, or else she was a marvelous actress.
“It is,” said Laura with a decisive nod. “He was all work, very serious. And I tried to inject some levity into our lives. Our marriage wasn’t perfect, but it worked. Now, with Wyatt’s help, I want to plan a funeral service for Gerald that really celebrates his life. I want it all—a horn section, a full choir, the works.”
Beatrice smiled at her. “I’m sure that will be lovely. And what a nice way of thinking of the service—as a celebration.”
“Yes, because the poor man didn’t give himself a chance to celebrate himself often,” said Laura.
Meadow joined them with the biscuit, now residing on a plate and with a dollop of jam on the side and a glass of milk. “I brought the jam just in case you wanted to add a little punch to the biscuit,” she said. Then she said, “I’m sorry, I totally interrupted you, Laura. You were saying that Gerald didn’t really celebrate himself?”
“That’s exactly right. He was always working so hard.” She paused. “Did you know that there were offers for the business? Gerald and the business were really being courted.”
Beatrice asked, “What did you think about that?”
“Oh, of course I thought Gerald should be flattered—that the interest from the business community was a testament to his hard work and how wonderful his business was. Mark was all for selling it,” she said with a shrug.
Meadow said, “Mark was? But Mark seems like he’s always so engaged with Dappled Hills Pimento. He’s just like his dad, always working.”
Laura nodded ruefully. “That he is. But he’s also a businessman, through and through. I don’t think he has the same loyalty to the company that Gerald did. When he heard a good offer, he tried to persuade Gerald that the time was right to sell.”
“But you didn’t think so?” asked Beatrice.
Laura shook her head. “No. Dappled Hills Pimento was Gerald’s whole life. I couldn’t imagine him at home all day. I mean . . . what would he do? He wasn’t the type of man to sit around and read all day. And he wasn’t a bridge player. No, he needed that company and I didn’t want to see him sell it. Gerald was against selling it anyway, so it wasn’t going to go any farther.”
Meadow said in her typical blunt way, “Wow, I bet that caused some tension in the family. So some people wanted Gerald to sell and some didn’t? I can’t imagine Mark was very happy with his dad over that.”
Laura waved her hand in the air dismissively. “It was just business. Nothing personal. Mark and Gerald argued a lot anyway because in so many ways they were a lot alike. They were both very intense men. And that’s what you do when you’re around someone who’s just like you—you argue. Anyway, it’s not like the family didn’t have rifts already.” She raised an eyebrow and gave them a mysterious look that prompted them to ask.
Meadow took the bait. “Not Joan?”
It was a good guess, considering that Joan was the only child who hadn’t been directly mentioned so far.
Laura nodded coyly. “Joan was always difficult. I could tell when Gerald had visited with her from his demeanor. He’d come home all stiff and grouchy and snap everyone’s heads off.”
Beatrice said, “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. I didn’t know.”
Laura shrugged. “Why would you? It only really happened in private. In public, Joan always puts up an act and behaves like the loving daughter. It was always over money, of course.”
This made Beatrice raise her own eyebrows. She’d already heard about tension between Joan and her dad, but Joan had indicated that it had other causes.
“Over money?” asked Beatrice.
Laura rolled her eyes. “That and other things. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Joan mentioned to both of y’all that she still held a grudge against Gerald for spending so much time at work when she was a child. I mean, really? She benefitted from all that hard work for many years. Joan was never one to forgive and forget. As I mentioned, Gerald’s work was everything to him. Joan might have expressed a little gratitude that her father had made a very comfortable life for her with all of his hard work. Instead, she’s been inclined to blame him for all sorts of hateful things, among them her mother’s death. I mean, Gerald wasn’t driving the car. Her mother should have planned things better and not gone out in the dark in bad weather if she wasn’t a good driver.”
This seemed really harsh, but Beatrice and Meadow both nodded, careful not to look at each other.
“Anyway, I’m sure that Joan is feeling guilty,” said Laura with not a small amount of smugness.
Meadow’s eyes were huge. “Over what?” She seemed to be expecting Laura to say that Joan had murdered her father. Beatrice knew, with Joan being a quilter, that Meadow would fiercely defend her.
“Over the fact that they had a rousing argument the day before Gerald died,” said Laura. “Joan wanted her father to sell the business, too. Naturally! She wanted a handout and that would have been a great way to get it.” She shrugged again. “I’m not sure what else they squabbled about since I left the room. I was sick and tired of hearing about it, to tell you the truth. Always the same old song and dance.”
Beatrice said, “I’m so sorry to hear this. I’m sure Joan feels terrible about it.”
Meadow said, “And she didn’t have a chance to make up with him before he died? How awful!”
Laura said, “That’s the thing, isn’t it? We always think we have more time to say that we’re sorry later on. Then one day, time runs completely out.”