“You don’t know your own strength,” I told him, taking a step back.
Joel flashed his Sundance smile and became thoughtful. “Why don’t we have dinner tonight, then I can follow you home to make sure you’re safe.”
I told him that I would be spending the next few nights at Dinkin’s Bay, so the timing, as far as danger was concerned, couldn’t be better.
Joel said, “With your boyfriend? I thought he was out of town.”
Rance the Lance had been snooping again, and I didn’t like it. “If you’re pretending you heard that from me, keep walking. Or you can explain, but it better be good.”
“Now, Hannah-”
“I never said a word about him being gone. Who told you?”
Joel raised his eyebrows to indicate Loretta, then shook his head the way boys do when they’re ashamed. “What can I say? I gave her my cell number. Your mom gets scared sometimes and talkative-but I don’t mind, she’s fun when she gets on a roll. And she thinks the world of you, Hannah. You do know that?”
I couldn’t reply because the minster had just said, “Let us pray,” so I bowed my head, relieved that the funeral was about over. I couldn’t be mad at Loretta, not after my recent revelation, nor Joel either-if he was telling the truth. When the minister had finished, I told Joel, “There’s a dog where I’ll be staying, so I won’t need any extra protection.”
“That temper of yours,” Joel said, looking up from his phone. “I’ve got to watch what I say around you.”
He had just sent a text and didn’t seem so rushed, so I told him, “It’s just that I’m careful about who I see and what I say. Sorry if I overreacted. The women in my family have a bad habit of trusting the wrong men.”
“Tell me about it,” Joel said, giving it an edge that empathized with my reasons, and I noticed that he glanced at Mica as he spoke.
It wasn’t until I was crossing the parking lot, however, that I realized Joel might have been looking at the former lieutenant governor, not Mica. The thought came into my mind when I saw a black limo, the engine running, parked behind my SUV. Smiling at me from the backseat was Harold “Harney” Chatham.
“Hannah dear,” he said as I approached. “Figure it’s ’bout time we two met. You willing to go for a little ride so we can get acquainted?”
The music of a Southern man’s voice can be bad acid rock or an alluring sonata, and Mr. Chatham spoke with the sweetness of cello strings.
When the chauffeur opened the door, I got in-but only after noting the car’s license number.
22
I was texting the limo’s license to Birdy, Tomlinson, and Marion Ford as Mr. Chatham told the chauffeur, “Swing us through Sulfur Wells, then we’ll come straight back. Oh-you mind closin’ that glass? The young lady and I want to talk private.”
“Yes-sir-ee, Governor,” the driver said, capitalizing the word to show respect, as he probably had for years, this tiny man in a sporty black cap and wearing driving gloves, always eager to please. Then the hum of an electric motor sealed the passenger cabin with a pane of dark Plexiglas thick enough to be soundproof.
“What year’s that vehicle you’re driving?” Mr. Chatham asked. He was opening a cabinet of wood veneer that, in fact, was a tiny fridge. “Ford Explorer, isn’t it?”
I replied, “It’s not that old, and I’m a fishing guide. I need something with a trailer hitch that’s roomy and not too nice because I haul bait sometimes. Cast nets, too.”
Chatham, who was familiar with marinas and fishing, enjoyed that. “How about something to drink? I’ve got liquor, Coke-Cola, some bottled tea that’s not too bad, and fizzy water, too.”
I accepted a bottle of Perrier while he talked and poured Scotch into a heavy glass. “How’d you like to get out of that old Ford and into a new Toyota 4Runner? Payments wouldn’t be much. Or what about an Audi allroad? Plenty of room, still an SUV but a lot more stylish. A young woman pretty as you deserves stylish.” The man gestured to indicate where we were sitting. “Feels nice, doesn’t it? You look right at home riding in luxury. Not all women have the shoulders to handle it. Grace, I mean.”
I had attended bachelorette parties and had been in limos before, but never one as tasteful as this. The cabin smelled of leather and wood and had a flat-screen TV that folded into the headliner and plush seats on both sides, so Mr. Chatham sat facing me but with plenty of legroom between us.
I said, “Did you invite me along to sell a car or was there something you wanted to discuss?”
The man chuckled to show he valued directness, which people often do but seldom mean. Maybe Chatham was an exception, though, because he said, “Rance told me you weren’t shy about speaking your mind. I wouldn’t have wasted my time otherwise.” He leaned back, his eyes taking me in and seemed to approve of what he was seeing. “Sure you don’t want something stronger than that fizzy water? No need to pretend properness around me.”
“Mr. Chatham, I didn’t know who you were until twenty minutes ago. And I didn’t get the impression you and Joel Ransler are friends. Why in the world were you talking about me?”
The man had a friendly laugh, a sort of tympani rumble, his voice lower than most. “That’s often the way,” he said. “A lot of fathers and sons aren’t friends, exactly, but they find ways to get along. Sorta like bulls in the same pasture. Rance, he’s got himself a bad case of the Hannahs, so your name comes up. That boy’s goin’ places-you could do a lot worse. But it’s your mamma I wanted to talk about.”
I took a second to sort through what I’d just heard. “You mean Joel Ransler is like a son to you. He was born here, but his family moved to the Midwest. He told me that.”
Chatham’s expression said otherwise, then he explained, “Aside from Rance and me, you’re the only one who knows. His mother, God rest her soul, never told her husband. She’s where the boy got his good looks-that lady was something, I’ll tell you. But I’d like to think he got his brains and knack for people from me.”
Which sounded coldhearted, Chatham realized, so he tried to soften it by saying, “I suppose it was wrong for the husband not to know, but he wasn’t much of a man. First sniff of trouble, he packed up the family and hightailed it north. Then ran off and left them both a year later. Even Rance doesn’t know the reason they left Florida, so don’t bother asking me.”
I said, “Does he know you’re telling me this?”
“About me being his father, you mean? Nope. Didn’t decide to do it ’till just now after I’d sized you up.” The man unfolded his bifocals and put them on for the first time, then looked at me as if to reaffirm his decision. It took a few seconds. “You don’t favor your mamma, never did. But you’ve turned into a beautiful woman, Miss Hannah Smith. Remind me a lot more of your Aunt Hannah. And, by god, she was more than just something!”
I didn’t know whether to be angry on Loretta’s behalf or let it slide. What I did know was that men like Harney Chatham didn’t share damaging secrets unless they already possessed leverage of equal power. He’d had an affair with my mother, but that wasn’t exactly earth-shattering. Besides, the Chathams had money, so it was his reputation at stake, not Loretta’s or mine. There was only one explanation.
“What do you want from me?” I asked.
“See there?” he said. “That’s why I wouldn’t a’wasted my time on some ditzy-headed girl who didn’t have brains and a mind of her own. By god, Hannah, you do aim right for the heart, don’t you?”
“Not yet,” I said, giving him a look, “but I haven’t heard your answer.”
Chatham’s laughter was a tympani drum solo, nothing fake about it. He was still laughing when he touched a button on the armrest and told the driver, “Reggie? I believe I’ve finally met my match, so use that gas pedal. We want to get Hannah back before the funeral food’s gone or she’ll be chewing off my leg next.”