“Newton Aloysius Pittman Junior, you’ve never spoken to me like that in your life.” Rosabelle sounded hurt, and An’gel wondered if, for once, real emotion was coming through.
Junior patted her hand. Juanita leaned in her chair to slip an arm around Rosabelle’s shoulder. Her head close to her grandmother’s, Juanita said, “Junior is right, Gran. You can’t treat Mother and the others so harshly and not expect them to make a fuss.” She sighed. “Junior and I will talk to them again and see if we can calm them down. But you might try being nicer to them.”
Juanita followed her cousin from the room, and now An’gel, Dickce, Benjy, and Rosabelle were the only ones still at the table.
“Can you believe how they talked to me? My own grandchildren.” Rosabelle appeared stunned, and again An’gel wondered whether she was acting or if she truly was upset.
An’gel took a deep breath. She might regret this later, but now was probably the time for Rosabelle to hear a few home truths from a person who had known her for much of her life.
She patted Rosabelle’s hand and shot Dickce a warning glance. “Honey, I know this is upsetting, but your grandchildren are right. There’s only one thing you’ve ever wanted to be, besides a rich man’s wife, and that’s the Center of Attention. It’s usually a lonely place, because to get there and stay there, you have to care more about yourself and what you want than about what others want. You were that way when I met you during rush week at Athena College all those years ago, and you’ve never changed.”
An’gel sat back and waited for the explosion. She glanced at Dickce and was not much surprised to see her giving a thumbs-up. Poor Benjy looked like he wanted to crawl under the table. An’gel realized she should probably have sent him out of the room before she said what she had to Rosabelle.
One look at Rosabelle’s face, and An’gel could tell her words hadn’t sat well with her old sorority sister. An’gel had hoped that, given the seriousness of the situation, Rosabelle might finally take responsibility for her own behavior.
Evidently those hopes were not to be realized. Rosabelle stared at An’gel—as she remarked to Dickce later—like Hercules seeing the Aegean stables for the first time.
Rosabelle stood. “I seem to have made many mistakes in my life, and one of the biggest ones was thinking you were my friend. I didn’t realize you despised me so much.”
Before she could continue, Dickce spoke. “We don’t despise you. We don’t always like you very much, but despise is too strong a word. Stop acting like a brat and grow up.”
Rosabelle’s head turned, and she looked at Dickce, eyebrows raised. “That’s the peanut gallery heard from.” She sat. “Well, if I have to choose between my family and the Ducote sisters, I guess I’m better off with you.” She glanced toward the sideboard. “Is there any more coffee?”
An’gel couldn’t help herself. She laughed, and she heard Dickce giggle. When she looked down the table, she saw her sister and Benjy with their heads together. Perhaps Dickce was attempting to explain Rosabelle’s mercurial behavior to the boy. An’gel wished someone would explain it to her.
She got up and refilled Rosabelle’s coffee. Seated once again, she waited to hear what her friend would say next.
After a couple of long sips, Rosabelle set her mug down. “My first husband had to entertain a lot. That’s how it is in Hollywood. Luncheons, dinners, premieres, and all sorts of public appearances. He wanted me with him at every single one. That’s why we hired a nanny for Maudine. I didn’t have a lot of time to spend with her, and when I was home, I was so exhausted from the socializing, I didn’t have much left over for a child.”
She frowned. “Maudine was not a pleasant child either. Always cross and fussy. Then Bernice came along. She was much more biddable, rather sweet actually, but I didn’t have much time for her either.”
“How old were they when your first husband died?” An’gel asked.
Rosabelle thought for a moment. “Maudine was almost seven, and Bernice had just turned five.”
“What exactly happened to him?” Dickce asked.
“He was producing a film on location in Africa. He either drank water that was bad or washed in it. Or maybe it was a mosquito bite. They never really did know how, but he came down with dysentery. A violent case, apparently, and he died before they could get him to a hospital.”
“That’s awful,” An’gel said. “I know you were devastated.”
Rosabelle nodded. “Jack Carson was the love of my life. I tried to talk him out of producing that film, but he was bull-headed. It ended up costing him his life, and I thought I would die from grief myself.”
After a moment, Dickce spoke. “When did you meet your second husband?”
Rosabelle glanced at her, then away. When she spoke, her tone was cool. “I’d known him all along. He was our banker. Tom Thurmond and Jack had been friends before Jack and I married. I always knew he was in love with me, but of course as long as Jack was alive, I ignored that.” She fiddled with a spoon, drawing invisible patterns on the tablecloth. “I married him, after a decent interval. Eleven months later, Wade was born. We hired another nanny, and I kept up the kind of life I’d had before, but this time as the wife of a financier-turned-producer.”
An’gel was about to ask about the third husband when Rosabelle stood again after glancing at her watch. “It’s nearly nine thirty. The deputy should be here.” She smiled, and that smile made An’gel uneasy. “I intend to talk to her before my loving children fill her head with the idea that I’m off my rocker.”
CHAPTER 17
“This is going to be a long day.” An’gel sighed. “I suppose I’d better go see if Kanesha has arrived, in case she needs our help in any way.”
She paused in the doorway to look back at Dickce and Benjy, still at the table. “Will you check with Clementine to see if one of us should run into town? I suspect a trip to the grocery store is on the agenda for today.”
Dickce nodded, but waited until An’gel was gone before she remarked to Benjy, “It will be yours truly who goes to the grocery store. Would you like to go with me?” She thought it would do them both a world of good to be out of the oppressive atmosphere at Riverhill, even for a brief time.
Benjy nodded eagerly. “The more I can stay out of the Wart’s way, the better. I can carry stuff, anything you want me to do.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.” Dickce rose and surveyed the table. “Do you mind helping me clear the table? We can stack the dishes on the cart.”
“Not at all,” Benjy said. He immediately started stacking dishes, scraping any leftover food onto one plate. “I worked in a restaurant last summer to earn money for college.”
Dickce was delighted to see how quickly and efficiently Benjy cleared the table. She was far slower, and thus he did the bulk of the work. Within a few minutes, the table was cleared, the cart stacked with all the dishes, glasses, and utensils. Benjy grasped the handle and started steering the cart out of the dining room. Dickce moved ahead of him so that she could open the kitchen door.
“Goodness, Miss Dickce,” Antoinette said with a smile, “I was just coming to do that.” She motioned for Benjy to let her have the cart. “I’ll take it from here.”
“I had experienced help,” Dickce said. “Benjy did most of the work.”
Diesel rose from his resting place beneath the kitchen table, stretched, and then padded over to greet the newcomers with a few meows. Dickce rubbed his head for a moment before the cat switched his attentions to Benjy.