“Sister,” Valentina said, “we’ll miss you over Christmas vacation. But we’ll be back in time for New Year’s Hunt.”
“You’ll be here for the hunt ball?”
“I will,” Tootie smiled.
“Me, too,” Valentina agreed. “Then I fly home.”
“Ditto,” Felicity said.
“Well, you know if anything goes wrong and you’re stuck at the airport, call; Shaker or I will pick you up. I don’t want you all stranded. The school shuts down on Christmas so you can’t go back to the dorm.”
“Me, too, kids.” Betty scribbled down her cell number on the back of her business card. “You never know with that small airport. The weather can turn in a heartbeat.”
“Thanks.” They really were glad.
Tootie hung back as the other two walked away.“Sister, if my parents will let me, can I stay with you after the hunt ball? Until Thursday, then I’ll fly home, too.” She waited a minute. “I, well, I’m happier here than home but I’ll go home. I know I have to do it.”
“Honey, of course you can. You ask your parents and then if you’ll give me their number, I’ll talk to them. You know, parents always want the best for their children, but sometimes they can forget that you have to find your own way. Is it something like that?”
Tootie nodded.“Dad wants me to be an investment banker,” she said in a rare burst of emotion. “I’d die.”
“Don’t do that. I’ll invite your parents to come stay here if they’d like, sometime when it’s convenient. I’d like to get to know them, and maybe, Tootie, if they see what you love, they’ll begin to understand.”
Tootie threw her arms around the tall woman.“You are the best!”
After she walked away, Betty said,“I can see both sides of the story, can’t you?”
“H-m-m.”
“That girl is brilliant. Her father translates that into money, prestige, comfort. She belongs in the country even though she wasn’t raised in the country. She belongs with animals just like you and I do. We’re born that way, you know.”
“I do. You’re a good mother, Betty, you never pushed your kids. Yes, you made them do homework and all that, but you allowed them to be themselves.”
“Christmas is hard, Janie.”
“Betty, youare a good mother. Cody blew up her life. You didn’t. As for Jennifer, she’s a fabulous kid and having her and Sari back for Christmas vacation will be a joy. I love having kids in the house. I expect Sari and Lorraine will be here more than they’ll be at Alice’s. Well, they’ll spend some time with Alice.”
“Wonder if Shaker will marry Lorraine?”
“He will, but he has to approach this in his own way. He’s so cautious now.” Sister patted Keepsake on the neck as she led him first into the trailer.
The tailgate was light since Thursday’s field was small.
Soon, Sister and Betty followed the hound party wagon down the winding dirt road to the paved road on the way home.
“What’s wrong?” Betty flatly asked.
“Preoccupied.”
“Jane Arnold.”
Sister glanced at Betty, then back at the road since she was driving the rig.“Betty, Ben Sidel has asked me to keep quiet until Monday, as in not speak to anyone. And I will talk to you then, but I have to honor my promise. I am preoccupied. Something is very, very wrong at Custis Hall. Al Perez’s death will lead us to something, if I only knew what.”
“You think other people will be killed?”
“I do.”
Betty grimaced.“Good God. What’s worth killing over?”
“Motive, means, opportunity. We know the means. We know the window of opportunity for Al’s murder. We lack the motive.”
“Money or sex.”
“Betty, that sounds good, but as I get older I think there are a lot more motives.”
“Like what?”
“Prestige, not losing one’s status. Religious fanaticism or political fanaticism. Even economic fanaticism. People will kill when a new technology displaces them or if they think a current one is evil. I mean what about that American physician in 2004 going over to England and encouraging the antivivisectionists to kill the doctors engaging in experiments? People will kill for anything that makes sense to them. Doesn’t have to make sense to us.”
“Vivisection is wrong. Just flat wrong.”
“I totally agree, but I’m not going to a lab and blowing up people in white lab coats. You can make change out of the barrel of a gun—thank you, Chairman Mao, another fat hypocrite for you—but it doesn’t stick. Sooner or later, when the people have the ability, they sabotage or organize against the change. Or they try to turn back the clock. The only way change can work is with consensus, and that takes time, talking to people, listening to people, respecting the differences. It’s the longer route, the seemingly harder route, but, ultimately, the successful route, and Betty, thereis no other way. We have all of history to prove that point.”
“Well,” Betty thought a long time, “you’re right. But who is going to listen to two middle-aged country women?”
“One middle-aged country woman. This girl is old.”
“Bullshit.”
“You say the nicest things to me.”
They laughed, then Betty returned to the murder.“I’m glad Christmas vacation is coming. I’m glad those girls will be out of here.”
“Me, too. This thing isn’t finished.”
C H A P T E R 2 9
Her heels clicking on the highly polished floor, Charlotte walked through the Main Hall on her way to her office.
Bill Wheatley and Knute Nilsson stood in front of the case containing Washington’s epaulettes.
“Knute, you look mournful,” Charlotte said.
“I was thinking about the lemonade stand I had when I was six. I made two dollars and I thought I was rich. Well, I was. I went home and that night I bragged to my father how much lemonade I sold. He seemed proud of me, but he warned me, ‘Now that you have assets, you have to protect them.’ Ilook at all this stuff and I see assets.” He waved his hand as if this was boring. “You’ve heard it all before. I don’t know what we’re going to do.”
Bill, his usual ebullient self, put his arm around Knute’s shoulder. “You don’t have to figure it out before Christmas vacation. You don’t even have to figure it out when Professor Kennedy’s report comes in. You are perfectly within your rights to ask the board of directors for suggestions and help. Doesn’t do you any good to carry the weight of the world, or at least Custis Hall, on your shoulders. Besides, Knute, there’s Christmas to celebrate.”
“An excuse to waste money.”
“Knute, stuff cloves in oranges and give them as gifts. Won’t cost more than twenty dollars and they smell wonderful,” Charlotte suggested with a hint of merriment.
“I know, I know, you two think I’m Scrooge.”
“We think no such thing.” Bill let his arm slide off Knute’s back. “We know! Except for your sailing hobby you are tighter than the bark on a tree.”
“All right. I’m leaving.” Knute half-smiled and headed toward the hall containing the offices.
Bill turned to Charlotte.“He’ll worry himself into a heart attack. There is such a thing as being too conscientious.”
“Perhaps, but that’s why we depend on you, Bill, to lighten the mood.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Do. I hear that you and some of the students in your department have come up with a fantastic theme for the hunt ball. Marty Howard told me the best thing she ever did was get you all involved.”
“You just wait and see.” He winked. “Silver and white. Crawford and Marty appear to have a limitless budget. Even Knute and Yvonne are going to come, and you know how hard it is to get him in a tuxedo.”
“That puzzles me. If a gentleman wears scarlet, that’s tails. So why aren’t hunt balls white tie?”