Scarlet Fever

CHAPTER 25

March 23, 2019 Saturday

Rain, steady but not torrential, continued to fall. The weatherman lied, but then forecasts along mountain ranges lean toward the inaccurate.

Sister drove while Aunt Daniella rode shotgun and Yvonne and Betty sat in the back.

“Are you sure Sam isn’t going to be upset?” Aunt Daniella called back to Yvonne.

“No. I told him I won’t buy a hunt kit without him but I wanted a Saturday with the girls.”

“How nice that you called us ‘the girls.’ ” Sister glanced into the rearview mirror.

“Well, we are.” Aunt Daniella leaned on the armrest. “Betty told me you’re thinking of buying another car?”

“Actually, this is Gray’s. My Jeep wouldn’t be as comfortable as his Land Cruiser for the drive. He’s at the home place with Sam. They’re building something. Those two ought to start a contracting service for older homes.”

Aunt Daniella agreed. “You know how precise Gray can be. When I wanted new marble for my entrance, the green veined kind, the expensive kind,” her voice dropped, “Gray measured and remeasured. They installed it. Saved me money, but what a fuss. Does cast an allure when you walk through the front door.”

“You cast the allure,” Sister complimented her.

“That’s very sweet of you. There was a time.” Aunt Daniella smiled broadly.

“You can still reel them in.” Betty laughed then turned to Yvonne. “You and Aunt Daniella are women of such beauty. Now, don’t deny it. We’re all old friends here. Granted, you’re a new friend but no one pussyfoots. Do you think, and you, too, Aunt Dan, that beauty gives power?”

Yvonne stretched out her long legs, which she could do in the Land Cruiser. “It does and I did not use it wisely. And I didn’t understand what I could do, really. All I ever knew was men making fools of themselves. I was actually repelled.”

“Different times. I knew it was a way up and out, and now you must remember, Yvonne, that the Lorillards and the Laprades were free blacks. I knew I could attract another well-to-do black man to marry. Which I did. My sister, Graziella, beautiful herself, wasn’t logical. I knew I had to think for both of us.”

“So you married for money?” Betty knew she had but had never said it out loud.

“I did, but then I realized I hadn’t married for enough.” She laughed. “Yvonne, you and Victor made a fortune. You may not have been as single-minded as I was but you considered the bank balance.”

A long breath followed that, then Yvonne replied, “I knew he was ambitious. I’d been courted by football players and basketball players, famous, rich, but something told me they would not fare well once the playing days were over. I was right. Also, they have been petted and protected even in high school. They expect everything to come to them. At least that was my experience. I wanted someone who would make something of himself through his mind.”

“You found him,” Sister simply affirmed.

“I thought I loved him. We built a fabulous business.”

“And?” Betty prodded.

“I never factored in what middle age does to men…or women, for that matter. But how can you when you’re young?” Yvonne wondered.

“Oh, I think you pick up a whiff. You know, the man who preens before every woman, the woman who has her first face-lift at thirty-five,” Aunt Daniella said.

“Well, I suppose. You all know what happened. But as to power, your original question, yes, beauty supersedes logic. But I don’t think it affects women the same way.”

“Yvonne, you mean a beautiful woman, let’s say she’s gay, isn’t undone by another beautiful woman? Or what about women in general? We notice but…” Betty shrugged.

“You’d have to ask a gay woman, but for straight women, when have you heard a woman say, ‘I saw him and knew I’d marry him.’ Or ‘It was love at first sight.’ Think. How many women have said that to you?” Yvonne answered.

“Uh, I’ve heard women say they noticed a man was handsome.”

“Sure, but love at first sight?” Yvonne stuck to her point.

“I never have and you know how old I am. I think women are more logical. Now, I have seen women made a fool by a man once they’ve decided they love him. It’s funny because men accuse us of being more emotional. I think they’re the emotional ones.” Aunt Daniella looked out as they crossed the Robinson River, not a big river.

“I have a type. Maybe we all do, but I have to be able to talk to a man. Don’t you?” Sister asked.

“I do,” Yvonne agreed.

“I…well, I think I can size men up easily.” Aunt Daniella added, “But then, I wasn’t looking for love.”

“You found it though. You loved Mercer’s father.” Sister remembered him.

“I did. He grew on me. I liked him. I would have never married him if I didn’t like him. He was my second husband, Yvonne. I learned to love him. He was a good man.” She snapped her fingers. “Heart attack. Fifty-six.”

They rode on, talking about everything. Sister drove to Horse Country’s front door. “Ladies, disembark. I’ll park in the lower parking lot. This one is full. You won’t get wet.”

“You will.” Yvonne leaned forward.

“No. Betty, tell whoever is behind the front desk to unlock the downstairs door. Sometimes it’s locked. Sometimes it’s not. Then I can dash in.”

“Will do. Come on, girls.” Betty opened her door, then opened the door for Aunt Daniella, escorting her into the store.

Yvonne made a dash for it then stopped right inside to take in the store. She hadn’t expected it to be so sophisticated. She’d been dragged to enough tack shops by Tootie before she left Chicago to go to Custis Hall.

Betty, making sure Aunt Daniella’s shoes weren’t slippery, turned to Yvonne. “You could spend an entire day in here.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Yvonne laughed.

“Hello, ladies. Betty, didn’t see you at first.” Jean Roberts was behind the counter.

“Sister’s coming up from downstairs,” Betty informed her.

“Good. I’ll tell Marion.”

Marion came out from her office, greeting everyone, and immediately took Aunt Daniella by the elbow as Yvonne followed.

“I haven’t seen you in years. You look wonderful.”

“Marion, so do you, and you probably should know this is Tootie’s mother.”

Yvonne laughed. “Ever since I’ve moved to Virginia I’ve been introduced as Tootie’s mother.”

“She’s a beautiful girl and so talented. Sister updates me on her riding, and she’s almost finished with UVA. She compressed three years into two.”

“Driven. Tootie has always been driven.” Yvonne smiled and Marion could imagine her on the runway, especially a runway for a hunt fashion show.

“Let me show you the hacking jackets I just got in from England.” Marion steered them to the rear of the store, where she guided Aunt Daniella to a small wing chair. “As I recall, you are partial to a bluish tweed.”

“I am.” Aunt Daniella fingered the fabric. “Oh, Marion, I won’t be riding anymore.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t wear tweed to a hunt breakfast and show everyone up.” Marion laughed.

Jean joined them, pulling off the rack a gorgeous medium-weight windowpane jacket, which she held up under Yvonne’s gorgeous face. “Hmm.” Jean pulled a more honey-colored one. “Ah, what do you think?”

If there was one thing Yvonne knew, it was clothing, but hunt clothing was a new category. The fabric brought out her luscious skin.

“You can buy ratcatcher but you can’t buy formal wear. Sam would be crushed. He truly wants to be with you for that.” Aunt Daniella nodded her approval of the coat, which Yvonne slipped on.

To Marion and Jean, Yvonne explained, “My trainer is Sam Lorillard and I’m a beginner, but I am determined to hunt next year. He wants to bring me here and put me together, so to speak.”

“Of course,” Jean agreed, for she knew Sam; she knew most of the state’s horsemen.

“However, you can buy a tweed coat and you can wear it everywhere but especially to a hunt breakfast,” Aunt Daniella encouraged her.

As the two tried on jackets, ogled vests, Sister walked outside in the rain to see where Harry had fallen. The steps were steep and in the rain she could well imagine a slip. She dashed back in, a bit damp. Then Betty did the same thing. They looked at each other, clasped hands, and then let go. His death wasn’t exactly a sorry end, for it was swift. It seemed too early an end, though, but when you like someone, it’s always too early.

They walked back to Aunt Daniella and Yvonne.

“What do you think?” Yvonne had the tweed on, looking divine.

“Perfect.” Sister smiled.

Marion touched the sleeve. “You will probably ride in this next season, so don’t shorten the sleeves. They are long but when your arms are forward, hands on the reins, the cuff will be at exactly the right place.”

“Okay.” Yvonne pushed her arms forward to see for herself.

“Will you put this behind the counter? I want to see everything.” Yvonne was fascinated.

“You go ahead, honey.” Aunt Daniella rose, following Marion and Jean back to the front, where she sat in the zebra wing chair.

Roni, now behind the counter, asked, “Would you like a drink? Tea? Coffee? Cold drinks?”

Suzann, beside her, winked. “We do have spirits.”

“I’m sure you do. I would like a Coca-Cola. The caffeine will pick me up. Rain makes me tired.”

“Me, too,” Roni agreed.

Saturday was always a big day at the store, and it filled with people. Martha Kelley took over behind the counter so Suzann could go downstairs to answer questions about some bridles. Ladies had come in from a hunt all the way in Michigan, and Suzann shepherded them happily.

Finally Yvonne returned, discovering the jewelry. She had already swooned over the silver and china, as had Sister. Both women evidenced a weakness for table settings. Why, they didn’t really know. They blamed it on their mothers.

Sister stood next to her as Jean pulled out ravishing gold, diamonds, crystals, jewelry from the late nineteenth century through the 1920s, captivating Yvonne.

“The workmanship. Oh, how could I miss that?” She pointed to the fox ring, now back in the case.

Jean pulled it out, saying nothing. Serena Neff had brought it back at the beginning of the week. No foul play seemed to be at issue. Serena couldn’t help it, she wore the ring to Horse Country then slipped it off. That fox ring cast a spell.

“Erté,” Marion stated.

Yvonne knew who Erté was. “Why would anyone part with this? It’s a piece of art.”

“You know, tastes change. And of course, finances change.” Marion placed the ring on a small piece of black velvet on the countertop. “Here.”

Yvonne held out her hand as Marion placed the ring on her third finger, left hand, then noticed the St. Hubert’s ring on her right hand, little finger. “That’s stunning.”

“I hope Saint Hubert protects me. Now, I wouldn’t wear both of these rings at the same time. The fox ring is a nighttime dazzler. Don’t you think?”

“I do,” Marion agreed as Yvonne took it off, placing it on the velvet.

“While I’m here I’d like to buy something for Sam. He’s been so good to me. His chaps are worn.”

“Allow me to suggest you not buy ready-made chaps.” Marion looked into her eyes. “Sam is a professional. He lives in chaps, boots. He needs a pair of chaps made specifically for him. You can’t do better than Chuck Pinell, who has his workshop in your county. Sister will take you there. I could sell you chaps, but really, he needs a custom order.”

Yvonne realized why people remained so loyal to Marion. She could have sold her chaps. She gave her good advice rather than make money off of her.

“Marion, could you suggest something I could purchase from you?”

“How are his paddock boots?”

“Worn to pieces.” Sister now leaned on the counter. “As you know, Betty bought me a new pair for International Women’s Day. So comfortable.”

“All right.” Marion came out again from behind the counter, leading them to the rear of the first floor, where the paddock boots and Italian formal boots were lined up. As the ladies were back there Betty sat on a step, a riser sort of, next to Aunt Daniella. Roni had thoughtfully brought Betty a drink as well.

Sister and Yvonne returned, each with paddock boots, tough ones. Sister liked her boots so much she was buying a second pair. Yvonne and Sister readied to pay their bills. Yvonne bought a tweed jacket for herself and winked, so Jean ran back and picked up the blue one for Aunt Daniella, who wouldn’t know until later. Roni started ringing up the order. Jean was sorting out Sister’s boots as well as a book she had to have, which Jenny found, a Moroccan-bound volume from 1919.

Yvonne, card in hand, paused. “I have to have that ring.”

Sister looked up from her order, she’d pulled a lovely colored stock tie for Betty, which she didn’t want her to see. “Yvonne. Stunning.”

“I have to have it.”

Jean reached for the ring before Roni could, placing it in a velvet ring box. She had tears in her eyes. Then she gave the box to Roni and walked back into Marion’s office.

Marion of course noticed the tears. She knew Jean well.

“It will be beautiful on you.” Marion meant it. “Excuse me. Roni, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Marion walked into her office, where Jean leaned against the desk, tissue in hand.

“I’m sorry,” the blonde woman apologized.

“At least we’ll know where it is. We’ll never know why it was in his pocket.”

Jean simply nodded, wiping her eyes.

Turning to go out to the counter, Marion looked back as Jean pulled herself together.

“Jean, what do you know that I don’t?”

“Nothing,” came the soft but swift reply.