He smiled. "Right. We both know Mim."
"Coat and tie."
"You, too?"
"Probably be better than the ancient tea dress I trot out."
"You wear the coat and tie and I'll wear the dress."
"Fair, they don't make women's clothes large enough for you." She imagined him in a dress, and it was a funny picture.
"What about all those drag queens?"
"You are twisted." She tapped the back of his hand with her spoon.
"That's why you married me." He leaned over and kissed her.
"I have a surprise for you. I bought you a new tie."
He laughed. "Then it's not a surprise, is it? You just told me."
They laughed together.
29
"And that's the difference between red and white wine," Arch explained to Miranda at Mim's redbud party. She always threw an "impromptu," or as impromptu as Mim could be, celebration of the redbuds when in full bloom. Given the wild bounce in temperatures, it was only now that the gorgeous trees opened their cerise buds.
"I never knew that. Is the pigment of the skin extracted when you make the wine?" Miranda, not a drinker at all, was nonetheless interested. She had just returned from a visit to Greenville, South Carolina.
Arch puffed on his Dunhill pipe, the burly bulldog bowl emitting a beguiling odor, a hint of spice among the rich dark tobacco. He found smoking just one pipe in the evening very relaxing. "You need the right kindof grape for your region, but the aging is every bit as important. The fruity reds, the ones so much in vogue," he shrugged, "I don't like them. Depth and complexity are the mark of a master andterroir —place. The grape, the wine, expresses the place. Americans don't understand that. We're so busy talking about the variety, the shape, the topography, the climate. People confuse soil withterroir. Terroir is soul. The wine—red, white, rose—expresses the soul of the place. The Italians and French I worked with in California taught me that."
Lingering by the bar, Harry and Susan drank Jim's special lemonade. "Are things settling down?" Susan asked, although she'd spoken to Harry that morning.
"Yeah, but the whole thing creeps me out." A piece of lemon pulp caught in her teeth.
"It would upset anyone." Susan pointed with her forefinger to her own tooth so Harry would remove the lemon pulp, which she did. "Look how upset Christy was when Toby was killed, and that wasn't even her property. Everyone's on pins and needles."
"When that happens other stuff surfaces, ever notice?"
"Yes." Susan smiled as Reverend Jonesapproached. "Soon time to go fishing, Herbie."
"It is." He smiled broadly. "You know, I believe Jesus favors fishing. After all, He went out as the men cast their nets."
"And as I recall, a great storm came up," Harry said.
"And He calmed the waters." Herb glanced outside as a stiff breeze zipped through the rooms at that moment. "And I think He might consider calming this one. Look."
The two women saw inky clouds swiftly moving from the west.
"You know, I think I was wrong. Jesus wasn't fishing when the storm arose. He went out after preaching. Miranda will know."
"She can quote the Good Book better than I can." Herb smiled, although he did know this story by heart. "Miranda, we need you."
Miranda left off Arch and joined them. "I'm so glad to be back from South Carolina, even if we are about to be blown off the map."
"Not the same without you." Susan genuinely complimented her.
"Okay, what's the story about Jesus calming the seas in a storm?" Harry, as usual, stuck to whatever was on her mind.
"Ah, yes, Matthew, Chapter eight, Verses twenty-three through twenty-seven, and the same story is also recounted in Mark and in Luke. John doesn't mention it, but he doesn't mention a lot of things." She jumped as a mighty clap of thunder rattled the china. "Must be right over the post office and soon to be here."
"But not a drop of rain—yet." Herb noticed Blair shutting up the doors and, out of the corner of his eye, Arch and Fair talking by the coffee table. "Excuse me, ladies, I'll help shut up the house before we get blown to kingdom come."
"Clouds black as the devil's eyebrows." Miranda gave a shiver.
" 'Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith?'" Harry quoted the most famous line from the story.
"Why, Harry Haristeen, I'm impressed." Miranda smiled.
"I can also quote the Pledge of Allegiance, but that's about it." Harry heard the first great splat as raindrops big as plums hit the windows. "Glad Paul put up the horses."
"Yours in?"
"Put everyone in for a little rest from one another."
A blinding bolt of lightning struck perhaps a half mile away. The lights flickered, then died. Within seconds another bolt struck a lone shed out in one of the large pastures. The color was pale pink, and Harry saw spots when the powerful lightning touched the lightning rod.
"Jesus Christ," Susan blurted out, for it was pitch black except for lightning flashes.
"Candles," Mim called, as Little Mim and Gretchen, her majordomo, followed, the matches and lighters flicked to help them.
Within five minutes, beeswax candles glowed in hurricane lamps in the various downstairs rooms.
"She is always prepared." Miranda admired her childhood friend.
However, even Big Mim wasn't prepared for the crash when Fair flew backward into the coffee table. People's drinks splattered all over the floor, along with a candle, which Jim quickly picked up before it could burn anything.
Arch, without a word, turned on his heel, walked down the front hall, opened the door, and went outside into the storm.
Fair followed, also without a word.
Harry put down her lemonade, then sprinted after them.
"There goes my hair," Harry grumbled to herself, as she was soaked in seconds.
Susan stood at the door, rain lashing in, and shouted, "Harry, come back in here. Let them settle it." She then hurried to the closet to rummage for a raincoat or umbrella.
Harry didn't waste energy yelling at the men to stop. Her shoes sunk into the earth; the rain was coming at her sideways. She could barely see the hand in front of her face.
"You son of a bitch!" Fair slugged Arch.
Both men, in the prime of life, hurt each other when they landed a blow, which wasn't as often as they would have liked, since footing was slick. They fell down, scrambled up, traded blows, only to slide into the grass again.
Fair, more powerful, taller, in a little bit better shape, and with a longer reach, connected with Arch more than Arch could hit him.
Men, donning raincoats, hurried out of the house behind Susan, the borrowed umbrella now blown inside out.
Ned opened his car door and turned on the headlights, for it was pitch black.
The headlights created a ghostly tableaux in the unrelenting rain. Blair, also tall and strong, grabbed Fair, as Jim and Ned pulled Arch away, blood pouring over his left eye, only to be washed clean by the rain.
Harry walked on Fair's other side, Susan with her, as Blair opened Harry's truck door, passenger side, and Fair climbed in.
"Thank you, Blair," Harry simply said as she scrambled into the driver's seat.
"You okay?" Harry, now cold, shivered as she turned on the engine. She waved to Susan, who followed the others back into Mim's house. Ned and Jim, however, walked Arch toward the stables, no doubt to clean him up. Also, the enforced march was calming Arch down.
"Broke the heel of my shoe." Harry grinned, water still running down her face from her wet head. "A genuine tragedy." She took Fair's swollen hand. "Hurt?" She noticed his left cheek was bright red also.
"I'll put it in ice when we get home." He looked down the front of his suit. "Ruined my new tie."
"I can fix that, too, once it dries out." She prudently did not ask him what the fight was about, because it would anger him all over. In time, he'd calm down and she'd find out.
The cab of the truck was warm now that the motor was running. Harry, driving slowly in the undiminishing rain, made it home in a half hour. It usually took ten minutes.