Hotspur

CHAPTER 25

The Board of Governors of the Jefferson Hunt met the third Wednesday of each month except for July. This month’s meeting would be September 18, which gave Sister a little time to gather the votes for Shaker’s pay raise. She hoped the discussion about when and where to locate the Hunter Trials would wear them out so the raise would slide through.

As Thursday’s hunt and Saturday’s hunt both produced bracing runs, the buzz around town was that this was going to be a good season. Sister knew the numbers in the cubbing field would swell and she could expect a sizable field on Saturday, the twenty-first. She was already wondering which young entry to subject to the increased numbers of people and had an evil moment where she thought about pushing up the first cast to six-thirty in the morning. They’d revolt. No, she’d keep it at seven-thirty but deliver a little lecture about cubbing’s purpose being for young entry, hounds first, last, and always.

Monday was her town day, meaning errands, including the most hated shopping for groceries. Well, she’d combine politicking with shopping. Her first stop was Ken Fawkes’s office, in a discreet modern building that blended into the landscape. Unlike most of her contemporaries, Sister liked modern architecture so long as it was good. Perhaps she preferred Palladian architecture, but something as beautiful as the Seagram Building in New York City deserved to be praised.

This was Ken Fawkes’s first year on the board. She’d called ahead and was instantly ushered into his office, decorated in a minimalist style that was a total contrast to the way in which Sybil had decorated their home. She realized she’d never been in Ken’s office and this reflected something new about him, an aesthetic sensibility all his own.

“How good of you to stop by,” he greeted her, his white broadcloth shirt offset by a simple royal blue tie.

“Well, you’re kind to let me barge in. I won’t take much of your time.”

They sat down facing each other over a coffee table of highly polished black marble with thin green veins snaking throughout.

“Coffee? Anything to drink?”

“No, thank you. Ken, I’ll get right to the point. As you know, thanks to Doug leaving to take the horn at Shenandoah Valley, we have his salary in the till.” He nodded and she continued. “Shaker hasn’t had a raise in four years, and that one was negligible, another thousand a year. We’ve just got to give this man more money.”

“I agree.” He folded his hands together, his elbows on his knees, and leaned toward her with a grin. “Means you want to keep my wife as a whipper-in, does it? She’s free.”

“She has talent.” Sister smiled. “Where would we be without your contributions, the contributions of the Bancrofts? I am grateful.”

He demurred. “That’s foxhunting. If you have it, you give. Like church.”

“I find I’m closer to the Good Lord out there than with my butt parked in a pew.”

“Me too.”

“You know, I have this terrible confession.” She leaned toward him, their heads closer over the exquisite marble. “I can tell you this because you’re an Episcopalian, too. I’ve always thought of Episcopalians as junior varsity Catholics,” she said, grinning mischievously.

He laughed, leaning back into his seat. “Wait until I tell that to Sybil.”

“Ken, I may not get to Heaven with thoughts like that.”

“You know, they say foxhunters don’t go to Heaven because they have their Heaven on earth.” He paused. “Of course, you have my full support for a raise. Would five thousand dollars be acceptable?”

“Yes, I think that would be.” She beamed at him. “Now, one more thing. Ralph Assumptio has been a true-blue hunting member and I value him, but he is obsessed with money matters. I actually think that helps us on the board because he goes over every single thing with a fine-tooth comb.” She cleared her throat. “I expect resistance from Ralph. He’ll be swayed by you before he’ll be swayed by me.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that, but I will talk to him.”

What neither acknowledged was that Ken had sent Ralph a lot of business over the years. Ralph could just keep quiet and come through on this one thing.

Sister thanked him and as she reached the door she asked one more question. “You know, I recalled a lovely picture of you and Sybil. Funny how things come into your mind. I was remembering that first day of cubbing back in 1981 for the obvious reason—well, we’d such a good run and we pulled up at Lorillard graveyard. Do you remember?”

“Vaguely.”

“You, Sybil, Ralph, Nola, Xavier, Guy, all together, all so young, flushed from the run. It was a pleasant memory. Being up front, I can’t see what goes on behind me on a run. Did you see Guy bump Ralph?”

“Oh, that long coop. Ralph was touchy. It wasn’t that bad.”

“Not bad enough to induce murder?”

His eyes widened. “Ralph never really liked Guy. He just hated that we called him Hotspur. Said it glamorized the bastard. Pardon my language.” Ken cleared his throat. He’d been taught not to swear in front of a lady. “But kill Guy? No.”

She left, stopped by Franklin Printing. Betty and Bobby offered their full support for the raise.

By noon she’d called on every board member except for Ralph. She’d give Ken the day to reach him and then she’d have a word with Ralph at tomorrow’s cubbing.

She pulled up to the feed store. Given all the stops she needed to make, she’d left Raleigh and Rooster home. She missed having them in the truck with her. She enjoyed their “conversation,” as she told friends. She’d chatter away to her dogs, who always seemed so interested in everything she had to say.

She bumped into Alice Ramy emerging with a dolly loaded with chicken feed.

“Alice, let me help you.” Sister unloaded the fiftypound sacks onto the back of Alice’s pickup. Alice, although a few years younger than Sister, was frail with tiny, light bones.

“Thank you.” Alice shut the tailgate. “Sister, I’m told I can have Guy back. I don’t know what to do.”

“Would you like me to make arrangements? It might be easier.” Alice nodded as Sister put her arm around Alice’s waist. “Tell you what. I’ll follow you home and unload the feed. You make a cup of tea, or even better, a gin rickey. It’s still warm enough for a gin rickey. I’ll call Carl from your house.” Carl Haslip, Ronnie’s cousin, owned the best funeral home in the county.

An hour later, the feed safely stacked in the chicken coop, Sister called Carl, who lifted this burden off her shoulders.

Alice wanted Guy placed next to his father. She didn’t want a service. Enough time had passed was how she put it.

The two women sat on Alice’s back porch, where a canopy of wisteria draped over the crossbeams, for the back porch was under a huge pergola. Alice had taste in some things, plus she made a wickedly delicious gin rickey.

“Thank you, Jane.”

“I was glad to help.”

“I haven’t been a good neighbor. Wasn’t much of a neighbor to Peter, either.” She mentioned Peter Wheeler, whose farm adjoined hers to the south. “I miss him. I don’t know why. All I ever did was complain to him or about him.”

“He was a good man. I miss his sense of humor.”

“Guy adored him.”

“Mutual, I think.”

“You know that fellow who is in there now? Walter, the doctor? He puts me to mind of Raymond.”

“Oh?”

“Different coloring, but same size and build, and even the bone structure of his face.” She sipped a deep draft. “A quieter man than Raymond.”

“My husband liked being the center of attention.”

“And how. Guy was like that, too. Don’t know where he got it. Both Paul and I were quiet-living people even when we were young.”

“He was beautiful. Beauty generates its own energy.”

Alice watched her cat, Malarky, climb up the wisteria to nestle in a branch and gaze down at them. “Yes, he was beautiful. He took after my grandmother. Same eyes, same black curly hair. I always wished I looked like her. She was beautiful even in old age.”

“Now, Alice, you’re an attractive woman.”

“Liar”—she stretched her legs out—“but I thank you all the same.” Malarky shifted his weight, sending wisteria leaves twirling downward. “Fatty,” she called up to him.

He ignored her.

“Won’t be long before the leaves turn, even though it’s seventy-four degrees today. The other morning I walked out in the fog and it was chilly.”

“Lot of fog now. Earth’s warmer than the air.” She turned to face Sister. “Since they found Guy I’ve thought about things. I guess I knew he was gone. He would have found some way to reach me even if he had killed Nola. He wouldn’t have killed her, but even if he had. I just don’t know who killed him, but I think we’ll find out.”

“Yes, I think we will, too. Alice, did Paul ever tell you anything he’d discovered?”

“No. He said he could account for people’s movements. I guess you’d say everyone had an alibi. He didn’t really have suspects.”

“Did Guy ever talk about someone he hated or who might have hated him?”

“Mmm, sometimes Ronnie Haslip would get on his nerves. Guy thought Ronnie was flirting with him. I just laughed at him. And he and Ralph started bickering. They’d got on well as children and all through high school. But those last months of Guy’s life they were at odds.”

“Did you know why?”

“No. You know, the night before he died, he stopped off home. I was watching an old movie, Dark Victory, with Bette Davis. He sat next to me on the sofa and said he was getting bored with everyone. He needed a change.”

“Do you think he meant Nola?”

“I don’t know. He wasn’t very specific. But he said the time had come for him to do something with his life. He wasn’t upset, just kind of sober. I can’t think of a better word.”

“Did Paul find out anything that upset you?”

“No. I knew Guy partied too much with all those rich people. I knew he had some growing up to do.”

“Ronnie Haslip, Xavier, and Ralph weren’t rich then.”

“No. But the Bancrofts, the Taylors, the Jansens. Too much too soon. All of them.”

“Yes.”

“Did you ever worry that Ray would fall in with that crowd, or their younger sisters and brothers, when he became a little older?” Alice sipped her drink, held one of the ice cubes in her mouth, then released it on the next swallow of gin rickey.

“I did.”

“Well, you and Raymond weren’t poor. I suppose Little Ray could have kept up with the Joneses.”

“That was Big Ray’s department. But Alice, I don’t think Raymond or I would have tolerated that behavior in our son even if we could have afforded it. This county is full of people who just suck off their trust funds.”

“Most don’t amount to a hill of beans.”

“I don’t begrudge them the money. What I can’t stand is that they don’t do anything for anybody else. They party, golf, hunt, travel, ricochet from one thing to another. They marry, have children, divorce, marry again, and think the world belongs to them. I have to tolerate the ones in the hunt club, but I sure don’t have to socialize with them.”

Alice smiled. “I’ve never heard you talk like that.”

“Alice, you’ve never heard me talk,” Sister bluntly replied.

A silence followed, then Alice spoke. “I haven’t liked myself much since Guy disappeared. I lived for my family, and when they were gone I didn’t have any friends. Well, you are right. I haven’t heard you talk, really talk. I haven’t heard anyone talk. And how much life do I have left? I don’t want to live it like this. My son has come back to me. Not as I wished, but he’s come back and, you know, he reproaches me. Guy wouldn’t want me as his mother now.”

Surprised by this outburst, Sister softly said, “Love never dies. His love is as real today as the day he died. He would want you as his mother. He wants you to be happy.”

“Do you think so?”

“I do. I draw on Raymond’s love every day. He wasn’t perfect. Neither am I. But he loved me and so did my son. I live with that love.”

Alice finished her drink. “I never thought of it that way. I only thought of what I’d lost. Well, I’ve cried through many a night. I cried when Ben Sidell told me they’d found Guy. The more I cried, the more I knew I had to do something. I can become someone my son would like to know.”

“What are you going to do?”

“The first thing I’m going to do is take some classes at Virginia Tech. I’ll have to commute, but I checked out the classes on the computer. I can take classes on Mondays and Wednesdays. I’m going to get a little apartment in Blacksburg, go down Sunday nights and return Wednesday afternoons. I heard that Lorraine Rasmussen wanted to get out in the country, money’s tight for her, and I’ve rented her rooms upstairs. We’ll share the kitchen, the living room. She’ll take care of Malarky and my chickens.”

“Well, Alice, that’s wonderful.”

“Do you want to know what I’m going to study?”

“Of course.”

“Poultry science and cattle breeding. I’ve always wanted to breed high-quality cattle, but Paul wouldn’t let me do it. He said the market was like a roller coaster. Well, he’s gone. I’m going to do what I want to do.”

“Good for you.”

“And one other thing. You were always nice to me even when I wasn’t nice to you. So if you want to go through here when you hunt, you go right ahead.”

“Alice!” Sister leapt out of her chair and gave Alice a hug.

“See, I knew all this time you just wanted to hunt my land.” Alice, her face red, laughed.

It wasn’t until she was halfway up her own driveway that Sister realized she never did buy her groceries.