By the time they came out onto the porch, Susan had to stop and grip a pillar. Peg took her arm and after a moment they came down the front steps.
I launched into “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town.”
Voices rose enthusiastically around me.
Despite the upbeat music, I felt a chill as I recalled the stony faces on the balcony before I started to sing.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Tucker poked at the fire. Flames danced and crackled, flickering blue and red. The living room drapes were drawn against the winter night. The room was cozy and warm, yet there was no aura of holiday cheer.
Susan sat in a wingback chair near the fire. She looked frail and worn, her face paper white. She nodded toward Jake. “If you’ll pour the coffee…”
Jake bustled to the sideboard. “Of course, Susan. Will you have coffee or sherry tonight?”
“Sherry, please.” Susan smiled.
Gina rose to help her aunt. Spoons tinkled against cups. Plates with slices of peach pie were offered. It might have been any family gathering after dinner for coffee and dessert in a room bright with Christmas decorations, a sprig of mistletoe dangling from the chandelier, silver bells strung along the windowsills, a lovely tree with taffeta bows and Wedgwood blue ornaments, but there was a definite sense of strain.
Tucker lifted a bronze statue of a mare running with her foal from the mantel and turned it over to look at the sculptor. “Looks like Tramp Lady, my chestnut mare.” As he returned the piece, his elbow caught a green velvet stocking hanging from the mantel. As the stocking fell, he lunged to save it from the fire. “Hey, a near thing.” He held the stocking up.
Keith’s name straggled in uneven green sparkles on the white cuff above an embroidery of Santa studying a Christmas letter. “Nifty.” He looked around with a quizzical expression. “Quick work to already have his own stocking here.”
Gina shrugged. “Peg helped Keith with the stocking this afternoon. Peg’s having a lot of fun with him.” There might have been a faint note of envy in her voice.
Tucker carefully rehung the stocking. “Keith’s too little to write a letter to Santa, but I guess he’ll get whatever he wants.”
Harrison put his cup and saucer on a marble table. “It’s always a pleasure to be part of the holiday celebration here. The tree party this afternoon was a great success.” He nodded toward Susan. “Thank you for including us, Susan. I expect it’s time Charlotte and I were on our way.” He stood and tried for a cheerful smile.
Susan held up a hand. “Please stay for a few more minutes, Harrison. I have something I wish to discuss with everyone. We’ll wait for Peg. She and Dave are putting Keith to bed.”
She’d no more than spoken when the door opened and Dave walked in. His light blue sweater accented the sheen of his carefully cut hair. He spoke to Susan. “Peg almost has him asleep.” He sounded impatient. “She’ll be here soon.”
Harrison sat down and folded his arms across his chest. He darted an occasional uneasy glance at Susan.
Charlotte poked her glasses higher on her thin nose and smiled at Susan. “This afternoon’s tree party was perfect. The songs added such a happy note.”
I immediately felt much warmer toward Charlotte.
Susan was animated. “I saw the woman who started the singing. A lovely redhead. She was standing in a pool of light from the lamppost. I’m sure I know her. Her face was very familiar.”
That gave me pause. Susan was a young woman when Bobby Mac and I took our last fishing trip into the Gulf. In fact, she was a new addition to the Altar Guild and I was then in my third term as directress. Moreover, Susan would have passed my portrait in the parish hall many times.
Susan’s face crinkled as she tried to recall me.
The hall door opened and Peg slipped in, her face flushed. “I hope I haven’t been too long. Keith was too excited to relax so we sang songs. Someone had taught him ‘Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,’ and he insisted on singing it twice.”
I took a bow though no one saw me.
Peg dropped onto a sofa next to her young man. “He’s fast asleep now.”
“Thank you, Peg.” Susan flashed her a grateful look. “Did he have a good time this afternoon?”
Peg’s smile was quick. “He talked and talked about the ’tar. He can’t manage the s. He said he put the ’tar on the tree and his eyes were as big as saucers. Oh, Susan, he is such a love.”
I glanced around the room. Tucker jabbed the poker into the log and sparks whirled up in a fiery rush. Gina turned a silver bracelet on her wrist around and around. Jake placed her fork on the dessert plate with a ping. Harrison’s face had an empty look. Charlotte’s glance at her husband was anxious. Dave folded his arms, his mouth in a tight, straight line.
With a deep breath as if drawing on inner reserve, Susan slowly stood, using her cane for support. She placed the cane in front of her, leaned upon the curved handle with both hands. “I received confirmation this morning from Wade Farrell that Keith is Mitch’s son. Today has been one of the happiest days of my life.” She stood straighter, a faint flush turning her cheeks pink, bringing back a bloom that had long been gone. “For Mitch’s son to be here is joy beyond belief. I pray that all of you will share in my happiness.”
Peg jumped up and hurried across the room to slip an arm around Susan’s thin shoulders. “Dearest Susan. No one deserves happiness more than you.”
Peg’s quick and sweet response almost bridged the awkward silence before the others spoke. Almost.
Tucker gave a thumbs-up. “He’s a chip off the old block. He laughed when I swung him over the railing. That would have been Mitch all the way.”
Gina brushed back a dark curl. “Of course we want you to be happy, Susan.”
Jake came to her feet, began to collect plates. Her smile was starched. “He’s a very nice little boy.” Her hands were unsteady and the plates wobbled as she stacked them.
Harrison cleared his throat. “In a world where there is so much dishonesty, I wonder if Farrell has been quite careful. As a man of the world, I’d recommend that you make a thorough check of all claims.”
Susan’s quick glance at Harrison was cool, her voice crisp. “The matter is settled.” Her look of command faded, replaced by uncertainty. She looked appealing, her classic features drawn in concern, her frail health evident. “Until Keith came, I had no direct family. I have, through the years, felt close to each of you. I appreciated your support for me. I made no secret that I had divided my estate among you. Now everything has changed. I realize”—she did not look toward Jake—“that quite reasonably each of you wonders how this will affect you.”
Tucker flashed a boyish smile. “Hey, Susan, we understand. Keith’s the man. None of us has a claim on you. You don’t owe anybody any explanations.”
Susan’s smile was grateful. “In my mind and heart each of you does have a claim and I want to be clear. No one will be forgotten. Tucker, you have been the best manager the ranch has ever had. I hope you’ll want to stay on. I’ll make certain that you receive an excellent salary. In fact, each of you will receive a substantial bequest.” She looked at Jake, a hopeful tentative look. “I’ll arrange that you have a life interest in the house. I won’t forget anyone.”
Harrison cleared his throat. “Susan, as always, you are a gracious and generous woman. Certainly all of us are proud to be a part of your unofficial family and join in wishing you happiness. I propose a toast.” He nodded at Jake. “See that everyone has a glass of wine.”
Jake frowned at his commanding tone, but moved to the sideboard. She lifted a decanter and filled eight glasses.
When everyone was served, Harrison lifted his glass. “To Susan, wishing you sunny days—and years—with your grandson.” His smile was wide, but his eyes were frightened.