Read Cat of the Century Online

Authors: Rita Mae Brown

Cat of the Century (8 page)

BOOK: Cat of the Century
10.76Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Flo also decided to sit.

The classroom, which would be empty for another two hours, proved pleasantly warm. Liz sat between the two, moving her light desk so they’d be in a semicircle.

“Well, I’d like to iron out some difficulties. I feel guilty that Inez has had to step in for me and it’s because I can’t get you two to cooperate.”

Flo, eyes narrowed, said through compressed lips, “I will do anything for William Woods. Just what the hell is it you wish me to cooperate about?”

Measuring her words, Liz replied, “It seems to me that whatever Mariah suggests, you counter, and”—she looked at Mariah—“whatever Flo says or suggests, you take issue with.”

“Is it my fault Flo’s ego is in an ever-expanding state—gaseous, you might say.” Mariah smiled wickedly through her violet-tinged lipstick.

“Ego! Mariah, you still haven’t forgiven me for stealing, as you put it, Dick Langston.”

“I confess. When he chose you, I was upset, but as time has passed, I’m ever so glad.” She waited a beat. “He’s aged terribly since losing the Democratic nomination for governor eight years ago.” She looked at her nails, looked up again. “And, really, darling, couldn’t you two find a better plastic surgeon? He looks … well, Asian.”

“You leave my husband out of this,” Flo spat.

“Look, you two, this is exactly what I’m talking about. I don’t know all that has transpired in the past. Can’t you table it for the good of the school?”

“I’ll be convinced it’s for the good of the school when she doesn’t put forward Pete”—Flo named Mariah’s husband—“to construct any new buildings on campus.”

“I have never, never put forward my husband. He makes a bid like any other contractor in this state.”

“And you’re an important member of the alumnae board. I say that gives Pete the inside track.”

“It does not. He’s above reproach.”

“Better than I can say for you.” Flo fluffed her streaked hair with her right hand.

Mariah, face flushed, half-rose out of the wooden seat. “Just what does that mean?” She caught herself, sat down, then calmly switched subjects. “Were we to have a dishonesty contest, I do think I’d trail you, darling.”

“That’s enough.” Liz slammed her hand on the table.

Flo, coolly assessing the attractive younger woman, spoke in a dark alto, “Just who do you think you’re talking to?”

“You, Flo. You … you should be above this.”

Mariah, arms crossed over her hunter-green sweater and a gold pashmina draped over her shoulders, laughed. “You two could win Oscars. What a performance. I’m actually impressed.”

Flo snapped her head in Mariah’s direction. “What in the hell are you talking about?”

“This is just too orchestrated, you know—pupil chides mentor, mentor retaliates. You’re in collusion. And you both want to destroy me.”

“Why would I want to destroy you?” Liz was incredulous. “I do business with you.”

“Yes, you do. And you’ve been good up until now. I think Flo used you to get back at me. ‘Make her a lot of money,’ she probably said, ‘Then pull the plug.’”

“You’re out of your mind.” Flo was slack jawed.

“Clever. I’ll give it to you. Of course, I knew Liz would follow your lead, but the profits were impressive, and I—stupidly, I freely admit—thought perhaps she could put business before your personal relationship. Too late, I realized your relationship was more complicated than that. You had to have been feeding Liz information.”

“I did not! For one thing, Mariah, you know nothing about my
business except that I’m a broker. I stick to the basics: food, shelter, energy, and agriculture. I don’t even suggest investing in clothing. Ever present in my mind is the flameout of Halston. I’m extremely cautious about emerging technologies. Yes, I could have made my clients much more money in the dot-com explosion, but that was more than a decade ago. I was just beginning to hit my stride. I deliver slow, sustained growth. Liz goes after the high-risk stuff, and if you’ve been part of that, so be it. I, too, have bought into some packages she’s put together—non-technology, if you care. But it’s not my area of expertise.”

“Brava,” Mariah said drily.

It was Liz’s turn to speak. “Mariah, the market is down thirty-five percent. Chrysler and GM have collapsed. The government spent our money bailing them, plus they’ve thrown billions at failing banks. Lehman Brothers died a painful death, and AIG has been a holy horror. I didn’t create those conditions, but Tim and I are doing better than average. Our customer portfolios have lost—of course they have—but less than the market average. Furthermore, I don’t think I should discuss the particulars of your portfolio with Flo in the room.”

“You don’t have to; she already knows them.”

“I do not.” Flo took a breath, composed herself. Once again her hand fluttered to her hair. “I have, however, considered your business. On Dick’s 57th birthday, I bought him a gold Jaeger-LeCoultre Reverso. At that time, it cost $16,700. It’s an understated, fabulous watch, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Fabulous.” Mariah nodded.

“Along the way, I did price the gold Rolex Oyster, which ran for about thirty thousand. The platinum was out of sight. I was just curious. Curious about pearls, too, as I’ve always wanted another strand. I so love pearls.” She paused, a large smile animating her face. “Yet Fletcher, Maitland, and D’Angelo routinely sell these brands for about thirty percent less. Only Tourneau does that,” she named a firm specializing in watches, “and at those prices they sell rebuilt ones, although they do sell new ones for a bit less than other companies. But no one delivers the deals you do.”

“We’re quite proud of that. We’re efficiently run. Always have been. Cut the fat.”

“You liar. You’re selling fakes.”

“How dare you! How dare you accuse me of such a thing!”

“I dare because it’s true, and I will prove it.”

Mariah stood up, threw her shawl more tightly around her throat, and picked up her alpaca coat. She headed for the door, then turned. “Liz, Flo, I will expose you two if it’s the last thing I do.” She slammed the door behind her.

Flo rose and picked up her jacket—a lined waxed Filson, since she’d planned for the weather. “Liz, I’d say your attempt to get us working together was a spectacular failure. Or, to use your word, a ‘flameout.’”

Liz, shaky, rose to her feet, also. “Flo, is it true about Mariah?”

“I will prove it. In my own good time.” She turned a steely gaze on her understudy. “I always get to the bottom of things, Liz. Never forget that.”

P
ewter flopped on her side on the parlor rug and opened one eye when Harry, Mrs. Murphy, and Tucker gratefully came in from the cold.

Tucker hurried over.
“You missed seeing all the horses.”

“We have horses at home.”
Pewter rolled onto her other side.

“Lazy. Fat, lazy cat.”

“Am not.”

Tucker, a twinkle in her eye, said,
“Biggest manure pile I’ve ever seen.”

Irritated, Pewter lifted her head.
“Why would I care about a manure pile?”

“Oh, you know, in case you had to throw up a hairball.”

Mrs. Murphy’s laughter further enraged Pewter, who shot up and swatted at the corgi, who ducked.
“Death to tailless dogs!”

“Sourpuss.”
The corgi bounded to the kitchen.

Harry, already in the kitchen, heard the fuss. “What’s going on out there?”

“Oh, nothing.”
All three animals were now in the kitchen and responded in unison.

Given that it was late March, the sun set later. However, the low, billowing gray clouds, emitting a soft glow, moved quickly overhead and blotted out the sun.

“Someone’s coming,”
Tucker barked.

Many someones. The Jameson Singers gathered outside the front door. Their first song, “Charleston,” brought back Tally’s youth.

Big Mim, upon hearing the lively song, opened the door. “Come on in. It’s bitter cold out there.”

The young women filed in to the parlor, formed a triple row semicircle, and began to sing the songs that Tally and Inez would know. Soon the two old ladies sang along with them.

“I Wonder Who’s Kissing Her Now” led into “Black Bottom.” Song after song recalled a past, at once near yet far. Tears rolled down Tally’s cheeks, then Inez’s, and soon everyone was crying.

Harry’s grandfather had had an affair with Tally. This had all come to light a few years ago, but Harry was reminded of it now, reminded of how bittersweet Aunt Tally’s life had been.

After the songs ended, Aunt Tally laughed and said, “We’re all a bunch of big babies.”

Everyone laughed with her.

Big Mim and Little Mim had known of the serenade, so they brought back from town a smorgasbord of food to augment what Trudy Sweetwater had supplied. The students dove in. William Woods’s cafeteria food was good, but students did get bored with it. Champagne was uncorked, and Aunt Tally as well as the more rigid Big Mim chose not to ask anyone’s age. Surely one glass of champagne to toast a grand old gal was not out of order.

Finally, by eight, all had left. The Albemarle County contingent and Inez recapped today, and Tally and Inez reminisced about their wonderful, funny experiences when they were students in the late twenties and early thirties of the twentieth century. A sharp wind rattled one of the front windows.

“That packed a punch.” Harry rose to see. “Oh, my God, it’s snowing. Really snowing. I didn’t think it would get here until tomorrow afternoon.”

Aunt Tally, Inez, Big Mim, and Little Mim came to the windows. The cats jumped on the back of the stuffed chair to get a better look.

“Sweeps over the prairie like wildfire. Nothing to stop it,” Inez remarked.

“I had no idea.” Harry wished she could see the prairie, which she figured started in Kansas. Harry had never seen the west and longed to do so.

“This old house is in good shape, but it isn’t insulated the way newer ones are. Better put an extra blanket on the bed, girls.” Aunt Tally remembered her first year adjusting to Missouri weather.

Harry looked down at Tucker. “Oh, little one, we’d better get our evening constitutional in right now.”

“I’m not going out in that,”
Pewter quickly spoke up.
“I’m using the dirt box.”

Harry had put the dirt box in the basement and left the door ajar. She cleaned the box about every hour on the hour.

Outside, the snow, coming down in large flakes, was beautiful. Tucker, in her blue collar and blue leash, looked smart as she, Mrs. Murphy, and Harry took a brisk walk.

Harry figured that walking behind the stables was the best idea. Just in case Tucker couldn’t make it that far, she had a yellow plastic bag unwrapped over her arm. Her winter coat somewhat got in the way.

Fortunately, Tucker waited until behind the stables. When the corgi was finished, they walked by the manure pile.

The last stall-mucking had been completed, and steam rose off the piled-up mixture of bedding and manure.

“Blood.”
Tucker sniffed, pulling Harry to the pile.

“So it is.”
Mrs. Murphy put her nose at the bottom of the large manure pile.

“Come on, Tucker, you’ve smelled horse poop before.” Harry tugged at the leash.

“Mom, blood. Fresh blood. If I can smell it through all this, there’s a lot of it!”

To no avail, Harry chirped to her friend, “Come on, Tucker. It really is cold, and it’s snowing harder.”

Reluctantly, Tucker gave up. She knew that when the pile froze, no scent would lift off.

Later, as everyone retired to their quarters, Inez rapped on Aunt Tally’s bedroom door. “Awake?”

“Come on in.”

The two sat there, wrapped in heavy robes. Across her lap, Inez had a long, wrapped gift.

“I brought you a present.”

“Let’s celebrate it with a dash of gin and a cigarette. I’m dying for a cig.”

“Thought you gave them up,” Inez remarked, who smoked three cigarettes a day, no more, no less.

“Did. But being back at college reminds me of when I smoked like a chimney.”

Inez laughed. “We thought we were so daring.”

BOOK: Cat of the Century
10.76Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Cooking Up Trouble by Judi Lynn
Flashman's Escape by Robert Brightwell
In the Field of Grace by Tessa Afshar
1949 by Morgan Llywelyn
Hue and Cry by Patricia Wentworth
The Orchid House by Lucinda Riley
Grace by Elizabeth Nunez
Archangel by Paul Watkins