Finally he thought of an angle. “You know,” he began, as if divulging a confidence, “call me unorthodox, but, really, the damage to Clarine’s feelings is all I see wrong with old Emmet’s little deception. I mean, so what if the insurance companies had to pay up? They’ve soaked it to poor people for years. If someone without close ties did it-or did it with his family’s knowledge-I don’t see the harm. Especially if the money were going to a cause, instead of for personal gain.”
“That’s what we thought,” said the bearded man. “It sure beats robbing banks to get funding.”
“Of course, it could be a bit sticky if the supposed deceased were ever discovered,” said Geoffrey, in casual tones stressing the philosophical nature of the discussion.
Shanti smiled. “But if that person should happen to be in the Amazon rain forest teaching agricultural methods to the Yamomano Indians, there would seem to be very little cause for concern.”
“Very little cause,” said Geoffrey with a nod of thanks. “No more than a cup of betony tea’s worth.”
Charles Chandler shaved twice that day. He wanted to make sure that he looked his absolute best for the meeting with Snow White that evening. His black hair was newly washed and staying in place for a change, and he had cleaned his fingernails. The choice of clothes was another matter. Strictly speaking, Charles didn’t have a choice, except his Sunday suit, which fortunately fit him as well as it did in high school. He briefly considered swiping something out of Geoffrey’s considerable hoard of finery, but he was a bit larger than his brother and he would look even more ridiculous in a jacket that did not reach his wrists.
What, he wondered, did one say to a strange young woman who could not be assumed to be familiar with Bohr’s law or the Doppler effect?
Beneath all his personal anxieties, another fear lurked. Suppose this Snow White person had lied about her attributes? Three days left. Should he marry her anyway, even if he found her repulsive? Charles decided to postpone a decision on that. The degree of repulsion would have to be measured against the monetary value of the estate.
Geoffrey’s next stop was the Grey House on Main Street, to deliver the promised zipper to the seamstress. Noting that Miss Geneva’s little Buick was in the driveway, Geoffrey parked behind her and hurried up the familiar front steps. He remembered trick-or-treating at this house as a child. The garden was better kept then, he thought sadly, and the paint on the house had been fresher. He supposed that Miss Geneva was having a hard time trying to cope without her efficient elder sister.
At that moment, Miss Geneva drew aside the curtain and peered through the glass panel on the front door. Recognizing him, she flung open the door and ushered him in. “I haven’t seen you in ages!” she cried. “I just can’t get over how tall you two boys have grown.”
Geoffrey made suitable noises in reply. He looked around at the shabby parlor, much in need of an upholsterer.
“Have you brought that zipper I needed for your cousin’s dress?” Geoffrey held out the paper bag. Miss Geneva took it with exclamations of joy at his cleverness for remembering, for finding her house, and so on. Geoffrey decided that Southern belles of her generation were a lost treasure; women no longer bothered to lay it on so thick.
“Well, how are you, Geoffrey?” she asked, motioning for him to sit down.
“Oh, tolerable,” he answered with a lazy smile. “Actually, I came to see how you were. Has someone from the sheriff’s department been by?”
She frowned. “Why, yes. Just a little while ago. One of them was quite a handsome man-reminded me of my father. Very forceful way about him. I’m sure he’s an excellent officer.”
“They think that fellow Willis was involved in fraud, you know. Isn’t it odd about Emmet Mason?” said Geoffrey in his most confiding tone.
“Yes, your cousin was telling me about that. How sad for poor Clarine.” She smiled briefly. “There are some consolations to never having married, and I found this to be one of them.”
Geoffrey nodded. “I’m sure you must miss your sister, though.”
“Aurelia was company for me, of course,” Miss Geneva agreed. “But we didn’t always get along. She could be a Tartar in her way, and of course she said the same about me.”
“It’s hard for me to think of Miss Aurelia as dead,” said Geoffrey. “I guess it’s because I was away at school when she passed on, and so I didn’t get to the memorial service. It was a memorial service, wasn’t it, rather than a funeral?”
“Oh, yes. She’d always said she wanted to be cremated, so I did as she asked.”
“Was the body shipped back to Chandler Grove, then?”
“No. Directly from the Florida mortuary to Mr. Willis’s establishment. But we had the memorial service here at the church. It would have been such a long way for people to drive, all the way over there in Roan County. Even I didn’t go for the actual-you know, the process. I went and collected the ashes the next day.”
Unable to help himself, Geoffrey looked up on the mantelpiece, but there was no metal urn in evidence. “And what did you do with her, Miss Geneva?”
The old lady smiled sweetly. “Why, I put her on the roses, Geoffrey. I think she’d have liked that.”
“Well, I must be going now,” said Geoffrey, getting up. “How are the dresses coming along, by the way?”
“I must say I don’t like to be so rushed. I should have been allowed a week per dress. Really, these modern girls! Marry in haste, you know. But since the patterns are simple, I believe I will finish them on Friday evening. Indeed, I must, mustn’t I?”
“The sooner the better,” said Geoffrey in a tone of some urgency.
In his law office Tommy Simmons was working late. It was after six-thirty, and he still had paperwork that had to be finished. When the phone rang, he hoped that it would be an invitation to dinner, because surely no clients would call at this hour. “Hello,” he said in his off-duty voice, “Tommy Simmons here.”
“Oh, good. I was hoping I’d catch you in,” said the voice. “This is Geoffrey Chandler.”
Tommy held the phone away from his ear as if he were planning to peer into it. “Where are you calling from?”
“A bar, actually. Look, can you answer me two quick questions?”
Members of your family are always asking me two quick questions, thought Tommy, remembering his grocery-store encounter with Charles. “Yes, Geoffrey, I’ll try,” he said aloud.
“Good. First of all, have you put things in motion for my cousin Elizabeth to receive the inheritance from Aunt Augusta?”
“Yes,” said Tommy cautiously. “The papers are drawn up, but of course, it’s not official-”
“And is it a substantial amount?”
“It has increased considerably in recent years. I don’t know if you know anything about real estate-”
“Mercifully little,” said Geoffrey. “But is it, say, a million?”
“Thereabouts.”
“I see. And now to change the subject entirely. Settle a bet for me, would you? Is there a waiting period in Georgia before one can get married?”
“Geoffrey, you wouldn’t…?”
“Not for worlds, Tommy. But please answer the question.”
“Three days before the license is granted. Your cousin and her fiancé will just make it. I’ve already spoken to your mother about this.”
“Good. Good. What about South Carolina and Florida?”
“Florida is three days. South Carolina-one day before license is granted. I think. I could look it up.”
“No, that’s okay. It probably doesn’t matter. I must go in a moment. To change the subject, Tommy, how is Miss Geneva Grey getting along?”