Cemetery Silk (14 page)

After our first phone call from Cassie and the reassurance that she was happily established back at school, Mother and I settled into a routine. I arose very early every morning and went to the library to work. She and Horatio shopped, played cards, cooked, shopped, and played cards. Sometimes I watched them laughing and joking as they returned from some destination or other and envied them their freedom. I yearned to get out of the house. Then I had to remind myself that I was doing exactly what I wanted to be doing. I buckled down and worked away. I was determined to meet the deadline Pam had set for Leonard and me.

Pam sent the mock-up of the book jacket which Mother promptly took to have framed. I liked it. It was a cartoon drawing of two little houses with stick figures of neighbors talking over a fence. One of the figures was holding a bottle with the skull and crossbones drawn on it behind his back. The colors were primary, bright and shiny, just the thing to catch a customer's attention on a crowded bookstore shelf.

I continued to work like a demon. I finished the screenplay ahead of schedule and mailed it off to Pam. Everything was done for the time being. I already had the embryo of an idea for a second book, but I wanted to mull it over for awhile before I sat down to write. I was tired. When the first advance check arrived, Mother and I drove down to see Cassie in Atlanta. We shopped till we dropped and ate at all the really swank Buckhead eateries until we tired of them. Then we got some real food at the Varsity Drive-In: chili dog heaven.

Cassie had a new love in her life. He was a really nice young law student from Connecticut. It would seem that Emory was attracting more Yankee students these days.

She confided that Danny had asked her to marry him, but she had turned him down gently. He had not called her since.

We met tall, dark, and handsome David the last night of our trip. Mother invited him to visit sometime during summer vacation. He gave Cassie an odd look and thanked us for the invitation.

This time it was easier to say goodbye. Cassie was happy, and we had a trunk full of fabric for new curtains and upholstery and lots of plans for sprucing up the house. We had plenty of projects to keep us busy until we saw her again.

Billy was completely recovered and eager to get back to work. The house got a much-needed new coat of paint. Nothing wild, just a pristine white, like always, with charcoal-green shutters. Mother got her new roof, too. And all the squirrel holes in the attic were patched up.

Once we got started it was hard to know where to stop. The driveway needed attention and lane was overgrown with brambles. The fruit trees in the orchard badly needed pruning, the stile needed to be repaired, and the moles had tunnels everywhere. We could have gone on and on, but Pam called at the end of May. She wanted me to appear on some talk shows to promote the book.

This was my least favorite part of the book writing process but I knew it was important. Besides, I needed a new haircut.

Mother drove me to Nashville, and I waved goodbye to her at gate sixteen from my window seat of the New York bound airplane.

Pamela ran me ragged. She had me coiffed, dressed, and manicured out of all recognition. She dragged me from one television studio to another, until one night, exhausted and weary, I burst into tears and refused to go on.

“But, Paisley, love, you're so seeable,” she pleaded.

I looked at her questioningly through tear-filled eyes.

“You look great on the small screen, and you're adorable. You aren't that striking looking.…”

I cried even louder.

“Let me finish, please. You aren't so good looking that women hate you, and men can't think of anything but getting into your pants.”

I blew my nose and let her go on.

“You're pretty and wholesome,” she insisted. “You're the ‘crime novelist' next door.” You make sleuthing seem like so much fun. And you make this idea of mine about Leonard Paisley being your rough, tough, hard-boiled detective collaborator totally believable.”

“It's a dumb idea,” I sniffed. “I hate the fact that I can't take all the credit for my own hard work.”

“Maybe, but the sorry fact is that it helps to sell books.” She handed me some more tissue and patted me on the back.

“When you're more established and have your third or fourth book published, maybe we can tell the truth. Please, Paisley, for now, just believe me and go along with it.”

“Okay,” I sighed, “I never could win an argument with you.”

She smiled a dazzling Pamela smile. “It's hard to argue with the truth, or so I've been told. Now, go out there and knock ‘em dead.”

I went on that night, but I insisted that it would be the last live television interview. I promised to do some taped promos for radio, but school was almost out and Cassie would be coming home. I had lots more to do on the farm before she brought any company for the summer.

I might as well have stayed on the interview circuit. When I got home, I found a long letter from Cassie. David had invited her to join him and some other friends on a trip to Europe until school started again.

“You'll just have to grit your teeth and get used to it, Paisley. I did,” Mother sermonized. “I know it's hard. Cassie has been your whole life, but you simply have to let go. She cannot stay the center of your universe forever. It's not healthy for either one of you.”

“I know, I know,” I wailed mournfully.

I knew, but damn, I didn't like it, not one little bit.

The dog ignored me, too. I think she blamed me for her own abandonment by Cassie. So much for woman's best friend.

Nevertheless, I continued maintenance on them both—filling Aggie's dinner dish with kibble and sending an occasional check to Cassie's account. She never asked for money, but I seemed to know when she needed it. She always called and thanked me from some exotic location or other. She was having a wonderful time. David was fun.

I bet!

I was becoming a sorry, bitter, old cynic. Time to get back to work.

Chapter Fourteen

I turned the renovation of the house over to Mother's more than capable hands and exiled my sorry self to the library to start work on my next book, excuse me, on our next book, me and Leonard, that is.

My new haircut grew out as the fingernail polish wore off, and I soon began to feel more like me. I spent the early mornings writing and researching, and lunched with Mother if she was home.

Meadowdale Farm looked more beautiful than ever, even though we still weren't finished. We had never gotten around to the work in the orchard and Mother fussed constantly over the tunnels the moles were digging in the soft ground. But I loved the idea of a wonderful underground city inhabited by the velvety little creatures and pointed out that they helped to aerate the soil.

Mother replanted my grandmother's rose garden and filled every corner of the back porch with hanging baskets. The trees had bloomed earlier than usual and now their limbs were heavy with fruit. The smell of blooms and blossoms was intoxicating. The bees and I stayed drunk on it. I finally had to take some Benadryl. The bees just kept their buzz on.

One night after a solitary meal, I took my after dinner coffee out to the patio and lay down on the chaise lounge to watch the stars. Mother was in Morgantown with Horatio and I was all alone. It had been a very hot July day and the concrete was still warm to my feet. A soft breeze came up with the moon making it cool and pleasant outside.

The chorus of little Hyla frogs down by the pond was in full swing. The crickets in the bushes around the house rubbed their hind legs together madly trying to keep up with the rhythm. The scent of roses was almost overpowering, and I was glad I had taken an antihistamine earlier.

Aggie stayed inside with the air-conditioning. Her hair was too long for summer comfort. I relished being alone for a change. I had finally gotten used to being without Cassie to entertain me and, as the pop-psychs say, I had grown from the experience.

The moon was behind the trees, but the light of mercury lamp over the garage still kept me from seeing the night sky at its best. I hopped up and turned the light off from the switch on the porch.

“Wow!” I marveled.

It was gorgeous. We were a month away from the meteor showers in August, but there was still a falling star, or two. I lay back down to enjoy the celestial show and fell fast asleep.

I woke up with a start. I had no idea how long I had been asleep. It could have been for an hour, three hours, or fifteen minutes. The moon was behind the clouds, and it was so dark I could barely see the outline of the large shape on the other side of the patio. The smell was what terrified me. It was acrid, feral: the primitive smell of something that eats, sleeps, and defecates in the same place. And suddenly it was gone. The thing did not exactly dissolve quietly into the night. There was a quick stumbling shuffle, then a heavy pounding run into the darkness that echoed in my chest. Every hair on my body stood at attention and I forgot how to breathe for several seconds.

The headlights of Horatio's Bentley appeared in the drive as I lay back and tried to recover from my fright. I was covered in sweat and my heart was in full arrhythmic gallop. I hoped I could calm myself before Mother and Horatio saw me.

“Paisley! You should have gone with us. Simply marvelous fondue, imported cheese, you know, Gruyere, Anna's favorite.”

The moon came out from behind the clouds as they followed the walk out to the patio. “May we join you?”

“Darling! You look white as a sheet. Is anything wrong? Are you feeling well? Of course, how could you, working like a beast.”

One great thing about Mother's questions was that you usually didn't have to answer them. That fact had kept me honest growing up: I never had a chance to lie.

“See, Horatio, I told you she was working too hard. Coffee and brandy, that's what we need. Paisley, do you want…why of course you do, and you, Horatio? Never mind, I'll bring the decanter and three cups.”

Mother insisted that I take the next morning off and go for a drive around the lakes. The scenery was beautiful and peaceful, and I arrived home in a lovely, rested mood. It ended as soon as I circled up the drive to the house.

Mother was standing at the end of the walk with her arms held tightly across her chest. Her mouth was pinched and white and for the first time ever, her appearance bore the stamp of her sixty years.

I turned off the engine, opened the door and climbed out.

“Paisley, you'd better come inside. I have something to tell you.”

My heart lurched against my ribs, its irregular tempo was the background music to every parent's nightmare. I held tightly to the car to keep from falling. “Not Cassie, nothing's happened to Cassie, please!”

It was a prayer said out loud.

“Oh no, darling, no, not that. Cassandra's all right.”

She grabbed my cold hands and pulled me up the walk to the back door.

“I'm sorry! I should have said that first. But since Pam called I have been beside myself waiting for you to come home.”

“Pam? Is she all right?”

“Oh, dear, I'm not doing this very well. Everybody is fine, Paisley. Everybody is just fine except you!”

“Why, whatever do you mean?”

This was getting ridiculous! Damn Pamela for imprinting me with that stupid phrase!

She led me in the kitchen and handed me a glass.

“It's brandy. Believe me you'll need it.”

“Okay, Mother, this has gone far enough.”

I sat down at the table and pushed the brandy away from me.

“Nothing can be that bad if Cassie's all right.”

She took a deep breath and let it out, “The Dibbers are suing you and Leonard—meaning just you, of course, because there is no Leonard—for ten million dollars, defamation of character, libel, the whole nine yards.”

“Oh, wow, that is bad. Now, quit kidding and tell me the truth. Did I bounce a check? Did Aggie pee in the living room?”

“For God's sake, Paisley! That is the truth!”

She stood up and began to pace back and forth the length of the kitchen. I felt like I was at a tennis match just trying to keep my eyes on her.

I looked at her more closely. Her hair was coming loose in the back. One long silver curl hung down by her ear with a hairpin dangling at the end. That hairpin said it all. I began to get nervous.

Maybe she was telling the truth! She stopped and said something. I saw her lips move. I tried to focus on her words, but my ears were ringing and spots were dancing in front of my eyes.

“Paisley! Paisley!” I heard her call my name from a distance.

“Ouch!” I rubbed my cheek where it smarted.

“You slapped me!”

I couldn't believe it.

“You were about to faint. I had to, dear.”

“Nonsense, I never faint!”

But the ringing had stopped and the spots were gone. I had to give her that. I sat back in the chair and stared at her.

“Ten million dollars? That's absurd. Where would I get ten million, even one million dollars?”

“From the sale of your book, from the movie, the foreign sales, from this farm, from any and all assets. That's what Pam said.”

I seized on the one fallacy I saw in her statement.

“The farm is not mine. Nobody can touch the farm!” I declared.

“Paisley, when your father died, he left half the property to me and the other half to be divided between you and Velvet. Your one fourth is now at risk.”

“How would they get one fourth? That's ridiculous. Oh!”

I took a big biting sip of the brandy when the truth hit me.

“Exactly!” she nodded her head. “They could make us sell the property and give them your share of the proceeds. Unfortunately, that would only be a drop in the bucket. This is just a big old rambling house. It's a white elephant to anyone but us. With the price of farmland so depressed, I doubt we could get enough to buy a doublewide trailer with what would be left. Much less the lot to put it on.”

“Oh, my God.”

I finished the rest of the brandy. It didn't help. As a matter of fact it fell on my empty stomach like a big hot splash of acid.

“Excuse me!”

I ran to the sink and threw up. I felt better almost immediately. A splash of cold water on my face helped even more. I dried off with a fresh clean kitchen towel and sat back down to face her. She was crying.

“Oh, Mother, it can't be that bad. We'll get a good lawyer. We'll fight this thing.”

“I don't know what with,” she shook her head sadly. Another curl fell. “Their lawyer has frozen all of your assets. I have nothing to offer you but the amount I receive each month from your father's pension. A good trial lawyer will want some money up front, a retainer. Several thousand dollars I should imagine.”

“I have the townhouse! I can sell that!”

“Didn't you hear me?” she asked crossly. “Your assets are frozen. Right now you have nothing.”

“Nada? Zilch?”

“Correct, dear.”

“My bank account? Credit cards?”

“To use Leonard's vernacular, they're in Siberia. Forty degrees below zero.”

I tried to call Pam all afternoon with no luck. Her secretary sounded tired and stressed, but promised to have Pam call me as soon as she got back to the office. Knowing that Pam and I were such good friends, she confided that Pam had been completely blind sided by the Dibber's lawsuit and was holed up with her lawyer trying to get advice.

Mother kept trying to get me to eat or drink something that would make me feel better, but a tight ring of fear was closing around my throat. It barely allowed me to breath, much less swallow. She finally took one of the sleeping pills left over from last summer and went to bed.

After she'd gone, I got a copy of The Neighbor from Hell from my room and read the disclaimer in the front over and over again. I thought the publisher had covered us, me and Leonard that is. It clearly stated, “the characters, if based on real people, were used fictitiously.” I had changed all the names, even if they were similar, like Abigail to Gail and William to Bill. All the locations had been changed to totally made-up names. And how in the world had the Dibbers found out about the stupid book in the first place? Unless it was those damned television shows! That must have been it. My instincts had been right. I should have stayed at home!

I sat in the library, where I had spent so much of the last few months, and watched the afternoon and the evening go by through the wide French doors. A little family of quail bobbed along the edge of the drive gathering small bits of gravel in their craws to help them digest. I watched admiringly as Mama Quail directed traffic. She kept her five little ones in a nice straight line as they bobbed on down towards the raspberry patch where their nest must have been.

A little while later a big fat groundhog waddled across the backyard. He hunkered down under a pear tree and began eating the fallen pears. He held the ripe fruit in his tiny front hands and turned them as he ate like I did corn on the cob. I counted eight pears before he finally had his fill. He grabbed number nine and held it in his mouth as he waddled back across the yard. He kept dropping his midnight snack but finally made it back to his den behind the herb garden and disappeared from sight.

I don't know exactly when I started crying but suddenly I realized that my face was wet and my throat was sore. I gave in to it, and buried my head in the sofa cushions, and boo-hooed until I was limp with exhaustion.

I loved this place. All the love and sweat and joy of four generations of our family had gone into planting and building and caring for this house and the land on which it sat. How could I ever have put us in danger of losing it? I knew the ghost of my father and grandfather hovered very near. They would help me find a way out of this mess. Or haunt me forever.

I jumped ten feet when the phone rang. It was Cassie.

“Mom, something is wrong. I can tell. All day long I've had the most awful feeling of gloom and doom.”

She kept on talking, not giving me a chance to respond. “Don't try and spare me. I'm all grown-up now. You have to let me share in some of the responsibility.”

Like an idiot, I started laughing.

She was very quiet for about a dollar's worth of overseas call. I had to start counting my pennies now.

“I guess I better go, I can see that you think I'm very funny, just a silly little girl who.…”

“Cassandra, darling,” I interrupted, “you're not silly at all. As a matter of fact you are amazing. You know me, my wires are all crossed. I cry for happy and laugh when the world is coming to an end.”

“Something really has happened, then. Is Gran all right?”

“Tired and worried, but so far, fine.” I assured her.

Her voice was very soft over the transatlantic airwaves. “What happened, Mom?”

And so I told her, my grownup daughter, what the fates had allowed.

“I'm coming home tomorrow. I'll call from New York and let you know when my plane gets to Nashville. Can you meet me, or if not maybe Danny, ummm, better still, Horatio?”

“I'll be there. I've nothing to do here but wait by the phone, anyway.”

“Great! Bring Aggie. I can't wait to see her.”

“What about David? Will he be all right with this?”

“Well, if he were here, he'd better be, but I left him poking around some early Roman ruins in Arles three weeks ago. I'm in Aix now, in the sweetest little hostel.”

“But alone, Cassie?”

“Don't worry, Mom. I'm perfectly safe. I'm surrounded by friends, Joelly, Colette, Bruin.…”

“Bruin?”

“Okay, Mom, quit being a mom. Take care of yourself and hold down the fort until I get there. We'll think of something. And remember, there's generations of Sterlings hovering over Meadowdale Farm. They'll keep us from harm!”

I hung up and shrugged off the goose bumps. Funny she and I would be thinking of ghostly help. Funny, indeed, that she called in the first place. “Gloom and doom all day,” huh? Well, stranger things have happened. I didn't want to delve into the “why” very deeply. My heart was ten pounds lighter. I felt optimism oozing back into all my atoms, and I was starving.