Roses (40 page)

Percy felt cold to the bottom of his feet. He was convinced she meant every word of her threat. She had nothing to lose, and
he had everything. “Why do you want to stay married to me, Lucy? You’re miserable here.”

“No, I’m not. I like being the wife of a rich and powerful man. I’m going to start enjoying it more. And if I am… abominable
in bed, then I wouldn’t have much chance of marrying a man of quality again, now, would I? And there’s another reason I intend
to stay married to you. I never want you free to marry Mary Toliver DuMont.”

“I wouldn’t be free to marry her in any case, not if I divorced you tomorrow.”

“Well, I’ll just make sure of it. No, Percy, you’re married to me for good—or until Mary DuMont’s death.”

Her satisfied expression slipped abruptly when Percy approached her, eyes the color of arctic waters. She backed away as near
to the fireplace as the lit fire and her flammable gown allowed. “Then you understand this, Lucy. If Matthew ever discovers
that I’m his father, you’re out of this house on your ear without a cent. You’ll wish you’d hightailed it while the getting
was good. You said earlier that you didn’t know me at all. I’d remember that if I were you.”

Lucy inched by him. “I can forgive you for not loving me, Percy,” she said, reaching the door and escape, “but I’ll never
forgive you for not loving Wyatt. He’s also your son.”

“I am fully aware of that, and it should make you feel better to know that I’ll never forgive myself for not loving him either.”

H
OWBUTKER
, J
ULY
1935

H
ere’s a letter for you, Mr. Warwick. It was hand-delivered by the Winston boy.”

As he took the letter from his secretary, Percy recognized the writer of his name on the envelope. He coughed to regain the
sudden loss of his breath. “Did he say who sent him here with it?”

“No, sir. I asked, but he wouldn’t tell me.”

“Thank you, Sally.”

Percy waited until the door had closed before slitting open the sealed flap. He withdrew a single sheet with the message “Meet
me at the cabin today at 3:00. ML”

ML
. Mary Lamb.

Percy sat back and pondered. What the hell was this all about? It had to be important, and secret, for Mary to ask him to
meet her at the cabin, the place so sacred to their memories. They hadn’t been there together since the afternoon of their
last fateful row fifteen years ago.

She’d not indicated that anything was amiss last evening at the little welcome party she and Ollie had given for William,
Miles’s son, who’d been sent to live with them after his father’s death in Paris. She and Ollie had both seemed edgy, but
Percy believed it had to do with the hard times they’d fallen on, like almost everybody else in the county. He wasn’t sure
how hard. The families never discussed one another’s financial straits, but falling cotton prices and bleak retail sales had
to have affected them adversely. While he was uneasy about the DuMonts’ future, he was more anxious about Matthew’s. What
affected them affected his son.

Did this note have to do with Wyatt?

There was no accounting for the capricious cards life could deal, the unexpected faces that turned up. After the session with
Wyatt in the woods, he’d feared that his son would hate Matthew even more. The reverse had occurred. To his and Lucy’s and
Miss Thompson’s astonishment, within days the boys began to pal around together, and by the end of the school year they were
inseparable—as close as brothers, everybody said.

At first, Percy had thought the friendship an attempt of Wyatt’s to get on his good side. It soon became apparent that Wyatt
hadn’t the slightest interest in getting on any side of his, good or otherwise. His son courted no notice or attention from
his father, and Percy’s opinion of him did not appear to matter in the least. The boy ceased to acknowledge that he existed.

“Do you see what you have done?” Lucy railed. “Have you any idea? You have driven away the only son you can ever call yours.
Oh, you may not love him, but there was a chance he would have loved you. And we can all do with more of that, Percy, no matter
who it comes from. Look around you. You may not have noticed, but the wells from which you once drank so freely have dried
up or disappeared.”

She was right, of course, as he’d discovered she often was. With his mother and father dead, Mary removed, and his wife and
son estranged from him, only Ollie was left and Matthew, whose affection, while warm and real, was nonetheless that of a nephew
for a favorite uncle. It was a good deal less than what he’d hoped to be enjoying at the age of forty after fourteen years
of marriage.

Had Mary somehow gotten wind of his ongoing affair with Sara Thompson?

After sending Wyatt back to school with a split lip and swollen nose, he had stopped by her classroom weekly to discuss his
son’s conduct. One thing had led to another over time, and now they met regularly in out-of-the-way places. He had gone to
great lengths to keep their relationship secret, not so much for his sake as Sara’s. By now, everyone knew the state of the
Warwicks’ marriage, and none would have blamed him for taking a mistress, as long as it was somewhere beyond Howbutker and
the eye of his wife and son. Still, he lived in fear that some little something would trip them up and their liaisons would
eventually be discovered. They’d had a few close calls already, and now, with a tight chest, Percy wondered if this meeting
was to alert him that a scandal was about to break.

He arrived at the cabin early, but she was already there. A shiny roadster was parked under the tree where Shawnee and the
buggy were once tied. Percy remained in his Cadillac for a few minutes to quiet the old ache under his rib cage. It was always
with him, but buried so deeply that he was hardly conscious of it, like a chronic pain felt only in certain weather.

She was standing in the center of the room, her sleek head cocked to one side, and he wondered if she was caught up by echoes
from the past. She turned as he entered, a vision in a red floral dress that brought out the sensuous highlights of her blue
black hair. She was thirty-five, in the prime of her womanhood.

“There have been changes here,” she said. “I don’t recognize the couch.”

“It’s one I used to have in my office,” Percy said. “Matthew conscripted it at Wyatt’s suggestion.”

She chuckled. “One more generation of boys to enjoy its allure. I’ll need to remind Matthew that they should keep the place
clean.”

“And how will you do that without giving away that you’ve been here?”

She gestured with an embarrassed movement of a beautifully manicured hand. Every inch of her reflected the attention and excellent
taste of a husband who took great pleasure in adorning her in the finest. “Good point,” she said. “I know this is awkward
for both of us, Percy, but the cabin is the only place where I thought we’d be completely private. If we were seen with our
heads together, Ollie is likely to figure out why we met… what I asked you here to discuss.”

So this wasn’t about Wyatt or Sara. Percy breathed a little easier, but his heart missed a beat nonetheless. “Is something
wrong with Ollie?”

“May we sit down? It’s early, but I brought us something to drink. Scotch for you. Tea for me.” She gave him her usual smile,
a small parting of the lips. He rarely saw her smile at full throttle anymore.

“I’ll wait,” he said.

“Very well.” Mary swatted the seat cushion of one of the chairs. Dust flew up, but she took the seat anyway, crossing her
legs. “Have a seat, Percy. I could never talk to you while you were looming over me.”

A muscle tightened along his jawline at the flurry of memories. He sat forward on the couch in his “no-nonsense mode,” Lucy
called it, hands locked, forearms on his knees, gaze cool. He and Mary had not been alone together since the last time they
were in the cabin. “What’s wrong with Ollie?”

An eyelid quivered at his tone, but her air remained calm. “He’s in deep financial trouble. He’s on the verge of losing the
stores. A man named Levi Holstein holds the mortgages, and he refuses to give him an extension. He wants to include them in
his chain of dry-goods stores. I’m sure you can imagine what it will do to Ollie and his father if the main store should fall
into the hands of a man like him. It will absolutely kill Abel.”

Percy knew Levi Holstein by reputation. He bought the mortgages of foundering retail properties from banks desperate to get
out from under the loans and foreclosed promptly without mercy when the retailer could not meet his payments. His scheme was
to pick up stores like the DuMont Department Store cheaply, keep the name, but strip them of their trademark trappings and
stock them with inferior merchandise. “
Both
stores?” Percy asked, dumbfounded. “Including the one here in Howbutker? But I thought it was mortgage-free.”

“Ollie wasn’t as… wise as you, Percy, in believing that the market was overspeculated. He… put his money in stocks and borrowed
to build the second one and buy inventory, using the flagship store as collateral. Even if he were able to sell the Houston
store, the money he’s been offered isn’t enough to keep the one in Howbutker afloat.”

Percy’s mind reeled. It was worse than he’d feared. Ollie, his friend and brother, no longer the owner of the incomparable
DuMont Department Store in Howbutker? Nearly a hundred years of excellence down the drain? It was unthinkable. And Mary was
right to believe Abel would not survive it. He was already in ill health, and as much as he enjoyed his grandson, he had been
lost since the deaths of Percy’s parents. And what about Matthew, who he was secretly hoping would step into Ollie’s shoes
rather than Mary’s?

“How soon?” he asked.

“By the end of the month, if Ollie can’t meet the full terms of his note,” Mary said. A bleak light broke in her eyes. “I’d
sell Somerset, every acre of it, I swear, if Ollie would permit it and if I could get a fraction of what it’s worth, never
mind find a buyer. Nobody wants a cotton plantation when they can pick up cheaper land elsewhere that’s already under a more
productive cash crop.” She stood suddenly, massaging her throat. “Excuse me,” she said, crossing to the sink. “My mouth has
gone dry. Before I go on, I must have something to drink.”

Percy almost got up to go to her, but a force of will held him to his seat. The strain he saw in those shoulders tore at his
heart, but it wouldn’t do to put his arms around the beautiful woman he still loved, still wanted, the wife of his best friend,
a man he’d give his life for. Talking over the clink of ice cubes, he said, “You called me out here because you obviously
think I can help. Now tell me what you want me to do.”

“Commit fraud,” she said.

“What?”

After a long swallow of iced tea, Mary reached for her handbag on the counter. She withdrew an envelope and a folded document
and handed them to him. “These are from Miles,” she said. “One is a letter written to me and the other is a land deed. I received
them shortly before his death.”

Percy inspected the land deed first. He noticed that Mary’s name was written on its face. “This is the deed to that section
along the Sabine that your father left Miles,” he said.

Mary nodded. “Miles transferred the deed to my name with the intention that I hold it for William until his twenty-first birthday.
As you know, minors cannot possess land in Texas. His instructions are spelled out in that letter.”

Percy read the letter, slowly understanding why she’d asked him out here, the word
fraud
ringing in his ear. He looked up, appalled, when he’d finished reading. “Mary, Miles specifically states that you’re to hold
his land in trust for William. You’re not proposing I buy it, are you?”

“You’ve said you’re interested in buying land along a waterway to dispose of wastes from a pulp mill you’re hoping to build—”

“God, Mary!” Fury pulsed in his head. “I’ll give you any amount of money you need, but I will
not
buy what Miles intended William to have.”

“I believe you will, when you hear me out,” she said. “All I ask is that you hear me out.”

Percy drew a breath. How could he refuse her? He’d done that once, to his everlasting regret. “All right,” he said, suppressing
his anger. He pushed back into a more comfortable position and extended an arm along the frame of the couch, as he had those
many years and misbegotten dreams ago. “You have my attention.”

He could see that she was too wrought up to sit down. The filmy dress floated about her legs as she strode back and forth
to present her arguments, sounding as if she’d rehearsed them a hundred times in her head. Percy needed property accessible
to water, she said. Without Miles’s section, he would have to go outside the county to acquire it, removing potential jobs
from Howbutker, which she was sure he did not want to do. The money from the purchase would pay off Ollie’s loans and save
at least the Howbutker store. Percy needn’t worry that she was cheating William out of his birthright. Upon her death, he
would inherit half of Somerset, whose worth would far exceed the value of the strip along the Sabine. In some form, he’d inherit
a portion of the store as well, an asset that would not be available if it was allowed to be lost.

“But with William receiving nothing at twenty-one and never knowing his father had left him that section,” Percy pointed out.

“Yes, there’s that,” Mary agreed, stopping her pacing to look at him with regret, “but how can he be hurt by what he’ll never
know? Once he’s old enough, I’ll be only too happy to turn over the reins of Somerset’s management to him, and he’ll share
in its revenue along with Matthew. Rather than Miles’s heir, he’ll be mine. How could my brother want anything more for his
son, and how could I be more pleased than to have another Toliver on the land?”

Percy remained closemouthed but felt a faint palpitation in his upper lip at Matthew’s name mentioned in the same breath as
her hopes for William.