“Boom, she loved me but she would have rather gone shopping with you.”
They laughed as Lottie Pearson, dragging Don, flounced by. Not able to resist Diego's handsome face, she stopped and made a point of introducing Don. The two Uruguayans made Don feel immediately at ease. They even pretended interest when Don held forth on the wonders of taxidermy. Lottie ignored him. He was occupied anyway. She wanted to corral Diego but had to settle for talking to him with Harry. She'd never thought much about Harry one way or the other but at that precise moment, Lottie loathed Harry Haristeen. Even the sidelong, knowing glances to Fair fell short of their intention. Fair did not pull Harry away from the dark handsome man nor did he make an effort to assist Lottie in her flirtations.
“I know you all are wondering how I could come here tonight after Aunt Tally's but, well, I called Reverend Jones and he said I should follow my heart. After all, the O'Bannons aren't close friends and Roger, poor fellow, could be a pest. It's not like he was family and, well, people do die. What about all those football players who drop before they're forty?” Her hand fluttered to her throat. “And you know how Big Mim gets if you miss one of her parties.”
“We know,” Harry and Fair said in unison, then blushed. The years together often meant their thoughts were similar.
“Is Big Mim such a dragon?” Thomas's pleasant voice coated each word like honey. “She's so gracious.”
“As long as you do things her way.” Lottie's lips formed a pout.
Don, running his finger under his neckband, said with sense, “Ought not to criticize the hostess when you're enjoying her hospitality.”
Thomas bowed his head slightly to Don. “A Virginia gentleman.”
“Don?” Lottie said with surprise.
Harry deflected the conversation, speaking directly to Don Clatterbuck. “How's my woodpecker?”
“Frozen stiff.” He laughed.
“Woodpecker?” Thomas inquired.
“When I woke up a few days ago, I found, well, actually, my gray cat, Pewter, found a pileated woodpecker. One of those huge woodpeckers. Dead. She pretended it was her kill, which if you know Pewter is absurd, but I finally convinced her to give it to me. Made a beeline for Don. He's the best. You should see his work.” She paused and said, “Museum quality.”
Don blushed as Lottie's eyes darted about. How would she ever extricate Diego from Harry? She wanted to ask him to accompany her to a huge alumni fund-raising dinner and dance, but he was glued to Harry. She believed Harry would look much less attractive if he could see her covered in grease as she repaired her ancient tractor. Harry was just too butch.
“What's a peel—?” Diego smiled, groping for the next syllable.
“Pileated woodpecker.” Fair Haristeen's deep voice finished the word. “The largest woodpecker in America, close to twenty inches. You've seen the Woody Woodpecker cartoons?”
“Yes.” Diego laughed.
“They're based on the pileated woodpecker, which has a brilliant red crest and red mustache as well as a distinctive loud call. Woody Woodpecker borrowed a bit of that, too.”
“Can one see such a bird?” Thomas asked.
“Actually, you can. They don't hide. And they fly in an odd manner.” Fair, as a vet, held the floor, which he liked. “They flap a few times, gaining speed rapidly, then fold their wings flat to their sides and zoom like a rocket. You'll hear them before you see them. They're noisy.”
“Rapping into dead trees echoes in the woods. Fair's right. It's loud.” BoomBoom was glad they'd steered away from Roger O'Bannon's demise. She'd felt a bit detached about it as he moved in a different circle. But when Lottie brought up the subject of Roger, BoomBoom decided she was both stupid and vain.
“They eat ants in the trees.” Harry smiled at the two visitors. “You fellows don't really want to know about woodpeckers, do you?”
“I do. I'm an amateur naturalist. North America has many unusual animals.”
Jim Sanburne strode by, clapping Fair on the back. “Going coon hunting tomorrow? Jack Ragland's bringing out Red Cloud.”
“Red Cloud?” Diego was thoroughly enjoying himself, as this really was different from Embassy Row.
“Fabulous hound, brother, fabulous hound. Won about everything there is to win in this country in hunt trials.” Jim's voice carried over the room.
“Like foxhunting?” Diego asked curiously.
“Oh, you don't want to go coon hunting. It's so country.” Lottie rolled her eyes.
Jim Sanburne cleared his throat. “Music.” The one word explained coon hunting to the locals. Jim loved the sound of the hounds, those deep, high, and middling voices. It was music.
Lottie grimaced. “You can break your ankle running around in the dark.”
“That's what flashlights are for.” Harry found Lottie as welcome as prickly heat.
“Women coon hunt?” Thomas wondered.
“Yes. Anyone can go so long as the hound owners invite them. It's not like foxhunting where an engraved card is sent out. You know?” Thomas nodded that he was familiar with foxhunting so Harry continued. “People can hunt one hound or two, called a brace. They can even hunt coon with a pack, it's up to the hunter or hunters. They'll often run their hounds together so the sound is better and oh, how the sound carries at night. It will make the hair stand up on the back of your neck.”
“What happens when you find the raccoon?” Diego thought he'd like to see this unique Southern practice.
“Coon climbs up a tree, sits there, and looks at you. You can shoot him down or leave him be. I leave the coon alone so I have the pleasure of his or her acquaintance another time.” Jim folded his arms across his chest, then added, “Never sporting to kill a female, especially in spring. She might have babies back home.”
“Ah, yes.” Diego smiled.
“Does one have to pay to participate?” Thomas wanted to go.
“Not at all, brother, not at all. Tell you what, I'll call Jack right now and ask him if you all can come along tomorrow night. What about you, Harry? Fair?”
They nodded yes.
“You'll hate it,” Lottie declared.
“I'm going, too.” BoomBoom, for all her perfect fingernails, clothes, etc., was a country girl, after all.
“All right. Jack should have been here tonight along with his wife, Joyce, but when I told him it was white tie he begged off. He said if I put a gun to his head maybe he'd wear a monkey suit—actually, Joyce would be the one to make him do it—but he's not wearing tails.” Jim's deep laugh rumbled. “Tell you one thing, the man can hunt. Wife can, too. And gentlemen, I'll bring along a little something to cut the night's chill, a little something we do better in the mountains than they do anywhere else.”
“Better keep your voice low.” Fair winked. “Cooper's right behind you.”
The deputy was talking to Tracy and Miranda and turned when she heard her name. “I didn't hear a thing.”
“Good. Always thought a deaf woman would be an advantage.” Jim winked.
“You mean dumb, don't you? One who can't talk.” BoomBoom winked back.
“Is that what I meant?”
“Sexist pig.” Harry stuck her finger in Jim's stomach.
“Awful. You can dress me up but you can't take me out. Come to think of it, I'm not out. This is my home.” Jim roared with laughter, then shambled off to the telephone.
“How can he say that?” Lottie fumed.
“He's pulling your leg, our legs.” Harry's eyes returned to Diego. “Every woman in this room knows that Jim Sanburne would do anything to help; his heart is bigger than he is.”
“That doesn't excuse sexism.” Lottie pursed her lips. “You make excuses for men, Harry.” The “you” was loaded with innuendo.
“Lighten up.” Don stifled a giggle. “Otherwise I'll have to give you a stuffed shirt.”
At this they all laughed except for Lottie.
Miranda and Tracy joined the group just as Gretchen, the majordomo, butler, servant, you name it, strolled through playing the glockenspiel. She repeated the same three notes, which meant time to go to the dining room.