Odille sniffed indignantly, squeezing her light eyes into slits of disapproval. «Nothin.»'
«Loquacious, isn't she, Shelby?» Lamar said, arching one brow as he took Serenas arm and tucked it through his.
Dinner was served in a formal dining room that had changed very little in a hundred years. They were seated at a mahogany table that had hosted planters from antebellum days. They used silver that had spent the war in a gunnysack in the bottom of the well to keep it safe from Yankee plunder. The oil painting on the wall above the sideboard portrayed a Sheridan standing on the lawn of Chanson du Terre, holding the reins of a prized race horse; a brass plaque on the frame dated it to 1799.
«Such a lovely home,» Lamar remarked idly as he cut his ham. «So gracious and full of history.»
«Yes,» Serena agreed. «It would be a pity to see it destroyed.»
«There are more things to consider here than architecture,» Mason said. «Chanson du Terre is a graceful old home, I grant you, but should it be placed ahead of the welfare of an entire community?»
«That's a good point, Mason,» said Burke. He looked across the table to Serena. «You don't live around here, Miss Sheridan. Maybe you don't realize how hard the oil bust hit. People moved out of Lafayette by the convoy. Many of those who remained in South Louisiana were faced with unemployment. The new Tristar plant will employ two hundred fifty people to start with and eventually many more.»
«But at what cost to the environment, Mr. Burke?» Serena asked. «I understand your company has a rather bad reputation in that area.»
Burkes eyes went cold. A muscle in his jaw twitched. «I don't know where you get your information, but it simply isn't true. Tristar has never been convicted of anything regarding violations of pollution standards.»
Serena lifted a brow, singling out the word «convicted.» Tristar had never been convicted, that wasn't to say they had never been charged or had never committed any crimes. They had simply never been convicted, a fact that made her wonder what lengths they may have gone to to keep blemishes from their record. If Len Burke was an example of the kind of man they hired to make their acquisitions, she could well imagine the sharks they retained on their legal staff to help them work around inconveniences like EPA regulations.
Her gaze moved to Mason, the fledgling politician whose campaign would rely heavily on Tristar. She wondered if he realized just how neatly he was being maneuvered. Tristar was providing him with a platform on which to run. Directly or indirectly they would be providing him with funding. Had it occurred to him that eventually they would call in those markers?
«Isn't it true Tristar would dig a navigation canal that would contribute to the demise of the swamp?» she asked.
Burke snorted and shook his head. «You'd put a few acres of worthless mud and snakes ahead of the lives of the people around here?»
«The swamp isn't worthless to everyone,» she said quietly, thinking of the look in Lucky's eyes as he'd shown her his special place that morning. «It's an ecosystem that deserves respect.»
Shelby laughed without humor. «My, you're the last person I would have expected to hear that from, Serena. Why, you've hated the swamp as long as I can remember. You moved all the way to Charleston to get away from it.»
Serena regarded her sister with a look that barely disguised anger and hurt. «Be that as it may,» she said, «we are getting ahead of ourselves, aren't we? The fact remains Gifford has strong feelings about heritage and tradition. He would prefer to see Chanson du Terre continue on as it always has.»
«How can it?' Shelby asked, tearing a biscuit into bite-size pieces. She looked askance at her twin. «Are you going to come back from Charleston and farm it, Serena?»
«Of course not.»
«Then what do you suggest? Masons future lies elsewhere. Who else is left to run it?»
«Shelby's right,» Mason said. «Even if Gifford doesn't sell now, he'll only be delaying the inevitable. He's going to have to retire in the not too distant future. He'll be forced to sell in the end. Taking Tristar's offer now is the only practical thing to do. It's a very generous offer, certainly more than Chanson du Terre is worth as a going concern.»
«The place is falling down around Gifford's ears,» Shelby remarked. «You can't help but have noticed. The house is in need of major restoration. Why, just look at the ceiling in this room for example.»
All eyes traveled upward and widened at the sight of the heavy brass chandelier hanging down from the center of a sagging, water-stained, peeling spot of plaster. It looked as if one good tug could bring the whole expanse crashing down on their heads.
«There are other alternatives to selling,» Serena said, bringing them back to the matter at hand. «The land could be leased to another grower. The house must qualify for historical status; there's the possibility of grant money being available to restore it.»
«But to what end?» Mason questioned. «When Gifford passes on, I trust he will leave the place to you and Shelby equally and Shelby has already stated she no longer wants it. Are you prepared to buy her out, Serena?»
«If you are, perhaps you'll just run along and get your checkbook, darlin,'» Shelby suggested archly. «I have a life to lead and I'd sooner get on with it than wait.»
Serena's mouth tightened as she looked at her sister. «What happened to your dedication to the preservation of southern antiquities, sister?» she queried bitingly through a chilling smile. «Did that committee meeting conflict with your facial appointments?»
Shelby slammed her fork down on the table and straightened in her chair, her mouth tightening into a furious knot. «Don't you talk to me about dedication, Serena. You're the one who lives eight hundred miles away. You're the one-«
«Now, ladies,» Mason interrupted with the borrowed wisdom of Solomon shining in his eyes behind his glasses. «Let's not regress to pointing fingers. The fact is neither of you will take over the running of the plantation. What we must concentrate on is how to deal with Mr. Burkes offer and how to deal with Gifford. Might you have any suggestions in that area, Lamar? Lamar?»
Canfield had dozed off over his mashed potatoes. Shelby rolled her eyes. Burke huffed in impatient disgust. Odille, making the rounds with a fresh gravy boat, gave the old attorney a bony elbow to the shoulder. He jerked awake, confusion swimming in his eyes as his gaze searched the table and settled on Serena.
«A lovely meal, Shelby,» he said with a smile. «Thank you so much for asking me out.»
Serena groaned inwardly. If there had been any hope of finding a valuable ally in Gifford's attorney, it had just faded away.
«There's no place for sentiment in business,» Burke announced, helping himself to another mountain of sliced ham. «The place will be sold in the end. Y'all might as well face the facts and take the money.»
«It's not our decision to make, Mr. Burke,» Serena said tightly.
He gave her a long look. «Isn't it?»
«What are you saying?»
He lifted his shoulders and looked away from her toward Mason and Shelby. «Just that Tristar's offer is firm. We want this piece of property. If you want to collect on that, I suggest you strengthen your powers of persuasion where your granddaddy is concerned- one way or another.»
The addendum had all the nasty connotations of a threat. Serena sat back in her chair, her gaze on Burke as he shoveled food into his mouth. Gifford had been right; a simple no was not going to deter the Tristar rep. She wondered as she caught her sister looking her way just what it was going to take to put an end to this business once and for all, and whether there would be anything left of her family when it was over.
CHAPTER 12
SERENA CHANGED INTO HER NIGHTGOWN FEELING as if she hadn't slept in a month. Dinner had been an exhausting ordeal, not to mention depressing. And with no progress for the trouble. Burke was still set on acquiring Chanson du Terre; Shelby and Mason were still bent on selling it to him. She was still caught in the middle.