Alma Mater (4 page)

"Don't do that, Orgy. Big mistake. Not only are those our friends,
think of the business contacts."

"Well, I'm not in business, and Frank is a
good
lawyer. People
know he's solid. He is what he is."

"Maybe you and I could go into business."

R. J. pulled rhythmically against the light current. She noticed
creamy cumulus clouds building in the west. "Bunny, we've been over
this."

"You've got to do something and so do I. I want to do something . purposeful."

" 'Bacca."

"Tobacco is labor intensive plus all the paperwork just to keep the
allotments alive."

"I do it every year," R. J. reminded her.

"I know you do the paperwork, but you don't put in much of a crop
because you can't and we can't. There aren't many people left around
here who know 'bacca, and sooner or later all this smoking-is
hazardous-to-your-health stuff will bite us in the ass."

"Hmm. Peanuts."

"Orgy, just keep the land in hay and timber. Trust me."

R. J. did trust Bunny, who possessed a sharp business mind. Every
thing Bunny suggested paid off. She read voraciously, not just about the auto industry, but about the economy in general.

All of Bunny's work benefited her husband. People knew Bunny
was behind it, but still, he was the front man
_;
he got the lion's share of
the attention. She had more freedom than he did, but she felt adrift.
She wanted structure, a business in her name.

"Sometimes I feel ambushed by life. Surprised. But . . ." R. J.'s voice
trailed off as she glanced over her shoulder to see how she was coming
in to the dock.

They hit it with a slight thud. Bunny grabbed the mooring and
quickly wrapped the tie line around it. She hoisted herself out as R. J.
arranged the oars.

Bunny leaned over, hand outstretched.

R. J. took it and swung herself up. Standing in the sunlight, the two
of them were clearly close relations. It wasn't so much a physical re-

semblance, because they took after different branches of their family.
It was the way they moved, their gestures, their physical comfort in
one another's presence.

"Listen to me." Bunny's voice was commanding. "You don't know if
Frank can make the money back. If he does, it will take years. Remem
ber last time? You've got to go beyond what you've done before. It's a
new day. Let's hope that Vic marries Charly. God knows that won't
hurt. But let's go into business. I mean it. Don can give me the seed
money—and he will. One, I've earned it. Two, he's still guilty about
his little affairette. Three, there's a part of him that would get a kick
out of seeing us succeed. Four, I'll pay him back just because I want to
do that. Over time, of course. Five, Surry Crossing has been in our
family since Charles the First gave us the land grant, and by God, it's
going to stay in this family. Sometimes I wish I'd never left here, but
Don wanted to be closer to town and we'd just married. I couldn't
much see the point of being around Mom and Dad then."

R. J. draped her arm around Bunny's shoulder. "I miss them, too."
"Let's do this. Not just for you, but for me as well. Let's go into
business."

"What do you have in mind?"

"A plant nursery. We've got the land. People are building houses in
this county all the time. And if you ever decide to develop 'intelli
gently,' " —she mimicked her sister's voice— "we'll have all the nursery
stock to make it the best landscaped development in Virginia."

"You're serious."

"As a heart attack."

"Maybe you've hit on the right formula this time. There's so much to think about. But the first thing I've got to do is get Frank off the
deed." R. J. kissed Bunny's suntanned cheek.

Bunny pointed to a dust cloud about a quarter of a mile away.
"Vic." She lifted her binoculars, catching sight of the
1961
aqua-and
white Impala convertible, top down. "Yes, it's your eldest, with Jinx. And someone else, a girl. Very blonde. Very pretty."

"Let's go greet the next generation."

"Degeneration."

"With any luck," R. J. said, laughing.

_A

plume of pale gray dust, atomized oyster shells, floated up
toward the turquoise sky, which was the same color as Vic's
'61
Impala. With the top down, hair blowing in the wind, the

three occupants personified youth itself, absolute freedom allied to ab
solute uncertainty.

R. J. walked up the slow rise of lawn to the house, a simple frame
clapboard house built in
1734.
The original structure, a log cabin, was
burned in
1642
during an Indian raid. It was stubbornly rebuilt, and
when money poured in from England in those middle years of the
eighteenth century, thanks to tobacco, the third generation of Vances
built a proper frame house with large glass windows, a sure sign of af
fluence, and named it Surry Crossing.

Farther west past Sloop Point, Claremont Manor abutted Surry
Crossing. Across the impressively expansive river, one could see from
Sandy Point to Dancing Point. The vista alone was worth the genera
tions of toil and blood.

As the Impala screeched to a halt (God forbid Vic would ever drive
slowly) the doors opened, and Jinx hopped over the driver's seat from
the rear.

As everyone hugged everyone else and Chris was introduced and
hugged in turn, another spiral of dust could be observed accompanied

by the guttural roar of a large diesel engine. The brakes squealed at the
foot of the long drive
_;
then the roar continued as the driver sped away.

"Hey. I'll be right back. Let me go pick up the brat." As Vic hopped
in her car and sped down the drive, R. J. and Bunny began to give
Chris the tour, starting with the enormous walnut tree planted imme
diately after the War of 1812.

Books under her arm, Mignon looked up to see her older sister bar
reling down at her. Vic pretended to steer at her and then she hit the
brakes. Mignon feigned cool indifference.

"Lame," the younger Savedge said.

"Hop in, Your Weirdness."

Mignon threw her books in the back then climbed in the passen
ger side. "Lowness."

"Boobness." Vic spun the car around.

"You'd better not have to buy another set of tires for this, Vic. You
know how Dad hates it when you do wheelies."

"Dad's not here."

They both giggled as Vic drove back to the house.

"Made an A in . . ." Mignon paused. "Who's that?"

"Chris Carter. Friend from school."

"Where's Charly?"

"Football tomorrow."

"Oh. Aren't you going?"

"No. Stuff to do here."

"Sure." Mignon's tone implied that she knew what the stuff was,
which she didn't. No point in being too eager to find out
_;
then Vic
would taunt her.

Mignon came up to be introduced to Chris just as Aunt Bunny was
saying, "My real name is Beatrice. If it were good enough for Dante it
should be good enough for me, but Orgy, I mean R. J., has called me
Bunny from the time we were toddlers. Hello, Mignon."

"Hi, Aunt Bunny."

"Chris Carter, this is my horrible little sister, Mignon Catlett
Savedge. I added her middle name to make her sound better than she
really is."

"Your middle name is . . ." Mignon started to say turd and then realized she ought not to say that in front of someone she'd just met. Well,
really, she supposed
if
Southern lady ought not to say it at all. "Your
middle name is Weenie."

"Clever." Vic pushed Mignon.

"All right, you two." R. J. gave them
the look.
"Chris, come on inside.
Let me help you with your bags."

"I'll get them." Mignon knew that was her signal.

"There's just two books in the backseat of the car and a red canvas
bag."

"Got it."

R. J. turned to Jinx. "Sleeping with us or at home?"

"My mother is to be avoided at all costs." The corners of Jinx's lips
turned up.

"What an awful thing to say." Bunny's voice indicated the exact
opposite.

"You have to see her some time if I'm going to get any furniture,"
Vic said.

"Come on, let me get you girls settled." R. J. pushed them into the

house as Bunny headed to the kitchen to pour iced tea for everyone.
When they returned downstairs, she set out glasses and some small

sandwiches she'd made. They carried everything out to the patio.
"Playing tomorrow?" Vic asked her aunt.

"She wins that damned golf cup every year." R. J. savored the sweet
butter on her chicken sandwich.

"True, but does that make it any less of a triumph? Do you golf,
Chris?"

"No, I'd love to learn."

"Stick around here. You'll have no choice." Bunny caught the sun-

light glittering on a large spinnaker, its brilliant yellow-and-red sail bil-

lowing, and instinctively pulled her binoculars up to her eyes.

"Aunt Bunny is rarely without her binoculars," Vic explained to Chris.
"She might miss something otherwise." R. J. laughed.

"Bet she could be a detective," Mignon said. "You know, Aunt Bun, I am giving serious consideration to a profession, and I think I'd like to
be a detective." Mignon adored the sound of her own voice.

"That would suit you." Vic reached for the potato chips.
'Snoop," Jinx filled in.

"I'm a snoop? Ha! Jinx, you should see what your little sister has
done." Mignon rolled on. "She drilled a hole into the boys' locker
room, and she's charging us a dollar to look."

Bunny winked. "Most men will show you for free."

"Chris." R. J.'s voice took on a silky quality. "What's really scary is that we're on good behavior."

Chris laughed. "I might surprise you, Mrs. Savedge."

"I hope so." R. J. smiled.

"I made JV field hockey," Mignon interrupted.

"You did that last week." Vic slapped Mignon's hand as she
reached to steal half of Vic's sandwich. "If you keep eating so much you'll be a goalie."

"Goalies have to be fast."

"Yeah, well then your fat ass will sit on the bench."

"Vic," R. J. admonished.

"It's true," Vic added. "But I shouldn't have said fat ass. How about
'ample derriere'?"

"Oh, you are so funny. I mean, I could just die from laughing." Mignon fumed.

"Don't let us stop you," said Jinx, one of the family really.

Mignon, realizing she was outnumbered, tried another tack to
keep the spotlight on herself. "Chris, did Mom and Aunt Bunny tell
you the history of the house?"

"We did . . . more or less." R. J. added another spoonful of sugar to
her tea.

"The part about why the house is painted yellow?"

"Well, no," R. J. said.

Mignon quickly declared, "In
1834,
Robert Vance married a beau
tiful woman from Vienna Austria, and she had some royal blood. She
painted the house yellow because it's the color of imperial buildings in
Vienna."

"Must have been a princess." Jinx slyly glanced at Vic.

"Yes, royal blood runs in this family." Vic's voice grew lighter.
"Mignon, the Princess of Potato Chips."