“No, sir, can’t say as I have.”
“Well, this here’s the ditch and I’m the fool that thought it was full of snipe.”
G. Hooks Talbert finished ordering and handed the elaborate menu back to the waiter. Located off Glenwood Avenue, this was one of Raleigh’s best restaurants, the food adventurous, the service impeccable. Tonight, the tables would be filled. Here at lunchtime, however, he and the plainly dressed woman seated across the table from him had a corner of the room to themselves, which was precisely why he had chosen it.
Talbert considered himself a connoisseur of beautiful women and this woman would never be beautiful, but with better clothes, an expert hairstylist, and proper makeup, she could be striking.
She looked like hell, he thought, but his words were kindly when he said, “I wish you didn’t have to dress like one of those born-again cult women.”
“I am born again, but our church is no cult.”
“Then why dress like it? There are lots of good religious women who don’t consider it a sin to wear nice things. You don’t have to look like all your clothes came from a Goodwill store.”
“If you’ll recall, Hooks, I didn’t grow up with silks and satins. After the divorce, Mother was lucky if she could keep me in denim and cotton.” She was not complaining, merely stating the facts.
“You may not have had it so plush as a kid, but you got a generous inheritance. Don’t tell me it’s all gone?”
The younger woman shrugged and Talbert shook his head in disbelief.
“But I offered to invest it for you, to give you security.”
“I invested it in my marriage.” She smiled serenely as he gave an involuntary scornful humph. “How many wives have you gone through now, Hooks? Three?”
When he didn’t answer, she said, “Our father had four.”
She smiled a thank-you to the waiter who set butter and a woven silver basket of freshly baked yeast rolls before them, then turned back to her older half brother. “I’m still married to the only man I ever gave myself to.” She took one of the warm rolls, breathed in its fragrance, and reached for the butter.
“And what kind of marriage is it, Marian?” he asked, unable to control his dismay. “You drink his spit. Do you eat his shit, too?”
“If he asked me to.”
“Jesus Christ!”
“You will not take the Lord’s name in vain,” she said, speaking sharply for the first time. “My husband’s a righteous man, Hooks, and he has it in him to do good work. If he gets a little zealous at times—”
“Your husband’s a fool who fell for one of the oldest scams in the book if what you’ve told me are the facts. Traded all your assets for a bag of fake jewelry because a bootlegger with a grade school education conned him into thinking they were real? He spent half of your inheritance when you two went off to—where was it? Patagonia? Syria?”
“Lebanon,” she murmured, buttering another piece of her roll.
“To Lebanon to convert the Muslims. Then he takes the rest of your money to build this church, bankrupts it, and now you come asking me to bail him out?”
He heard the anger in his voice and realized this was not the way to move her. “Even if he does mean well, haven’t you had enough, honey? You deserve so much better than this. Hasn’t he embarrassed you enough? No wonder he’s ashamed to say what happened to the money. I can understand that he’d rather people think he’s a crook than think him a fool, but that’s what he is and he’s pulling you down with him. Just say the word and I’ll get you the best and most discreet attorney in the country. I’ll even give him a settlement to let him get a fresh start somewhere else. Please, Marian.”
The waiter returned with the bisque they had ordered and Talbert was so distraught that he was almost oblivious to the appetizing aroma of lobster and well-seasoned cream. He gave it a ritual taste and then accepted a light sprinkle of pepper from the waiter’s grinder, but it was only a formality.
Marian McKinney shook her head when it was offered to her.
“I can’t leave him, Hooks. I love him and I believe in what he’s doing. This whole experience has humbled him and he needs me now more than ever. Yes, he was prideful before. And yes, maybe he wasn’t thinking clearly when he used me to make a point about following God’s commandments. He thought he didn’t care for worldly glory. But when temptation came, he was weak and he yielded. He really did think of all the good he could do if those jewels had been real. But he knows now that he was also thinking about the glory to himself, not to God. I’m glad this has happened!”
Her eyes sparkled with the intensity of her emotions. “I’m glad because now that he’s stumbled, now that he’s admitted his weakness to me and to God, he understands how frail we all are when we don’t trust God to give us the strength to resist the worst in our own natures. He’s changed, Hooks, and he can lead others to change. That’s why I’m pleading with you to help me help him save our church.”
He looked at her in sorrow that was tinged with exasperation. In his world, he was used to giving orders and having them followed—his wives, his sons, his employees, the associates who were bound to him with golden chains. But this sister!
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“You’d pay for the best attorney in the country to get me a divorce but you won’t pay a dime to save my marriage?”
“Please. Eat your soup while it’s still hot.”
Obediently, she dipped her spoon into the thick creamy bisque and ate quietly for a few minutes.
He had finished his soup and sat silently stewing in his own thoughts until the waiter removed their bowls and brought them salad.
“Did I get a fair inheritance, Hooks?”
“What?”
“You heard me. Did I get a fair share of our father’s estate?”
He shrugged. “How should I know? He told his attorney what to write and he signed the will while ‘of sound and disposing mind.’ Considering that your mother didn’t like to let you visit us, I’m sure he thought it was commensurate with the circumstances.”
“Circumstances he created when he kicked her out after five years of marriage for a little whore half his age.”
“Granted Cheryl was a whore,” he agreed mildly, “but as I recall, your own mother was only half his age herself.”
“Stop evading the question. Did I get a fair share?”
“Even if you had, it would be gone now, too.”
“Then you admit that Father’s will was unfair?”
“I don’t admit a damn thing except that you’re married to a bastard who humiliates you in front of a whole congregation and you don’t have enough backbone to tell him to go fuck himself!”
She leaned back in her chair and gave him a long level look.
He held her gaze for a moment, then gave a resigned sigh and apologized.
“I’m sorry, Marian. There’s no excuse for that kind of language.”
She continued to look at him without speaking.
“What?” he said irritably.
“It’s not me that’s been humiliated, is it, Hooks? It’s you.”
“Don’t be stupid.”
“Whoever told you about what happened Easter Sunday knows that I’m your sister. You’re the one it humiliated when you heard it.” Her quiet voice taunted him. “The great G. Hooks Talbert, the millionaire who tells governors and senators what to do, and his sister drank the spit water of a man he himself wouldn’t spit on.”
He glared at her with clenched jaws.
“A hundred thousand will save the church, Hooks.”
“What?”
“Or maybe I’ll write a magazine article, give a few interviews.”
“Are you blackmailing me?”
“A hundred thousand.”
Her eyes did not drop beneath his glare and he could see her resolve growing firmer until it hardened into marble.
“A hundred thousand, Hooks. You can take it out of petty cash.”
Defeated, he shook his head and, with a wry smile, reached for the checkbook in the breast pocket of his jacket. “If I give you a hundred and ten, will you put some windows in that damn church? And a decent lighting system?”