The List (15 page)

“I have another tangerine,” Jo responded, “but that's probably not what you had in mind.”

“Like I said, those are the best tangerine pieces I've ever tasted, but I think a foot-long sub would do more to sustain my high-octane metabolism.”

A shopping area on the mainland had a sub shop. They took their food to a small table, and Jo said, “I want to pray again.”

“Sure.”

“Father, thank you for the ways in which you are calling Renny. Help him to hear your voice. Also, please don't let him choke on his sandwich, just as the great fish didn't choke on Jonah. Amen.”

“Hey, I already admitted you won that round. Don't rub it in. And you'd better be careful joking with God,” Renny said, taking a bite out of his sandwich. “And are you sure he understands what you say without the thees and thous?”

“He understands, and it seems to me the joke is on you, not God.”

“Whatever. It's tough being a straight man for either you or God.”

“I'll try to go easy on you,” she said lightly, “but you'll have to talk to him about what he does.”

Renny shook his head. “Are you sure you're not a lawyer?”

Jo grinned and shook her head. “Eat.”

On the highway back to Georgetown, Jo identified several types of birds perched in trees near the road or flying overhead. Renny knew some of them, but Jo was a walking Audubon Society. They grew quieter as they neared Georgetown. Jo yawned a couple of times as they drove over the bridge into town.

“I want to rest for a while. What are you going to do?” she asked.

“I may read or go down to the docks. I'll probably make a few notes about questions I want to ask tonight. Can we get together before the meeting? I meant to talk to you today, but I never got around to it.”

“OK, let's meet in your room at six-thirty. We can go down together at seven.”

“And don't worry about the meeting,” Renny said. “You're better than Perry Mason. You'll handle every objection with class. Little did I know when I offered my help how little you probably need it.”

“No, don't say that. I don't feel very confident or comfortable.”

“Everything will be OK. You'll see.”

They pulled into the parking lot. There were several expensive cars in the area, most with South Carolina license plates. Renny counted. “It looks like the boys are here.”

Envelopes waited for Renny and Jo at the front desk. Jo's was addressed to Mr. Joe Taylor Johnston, and the elderly clerk did his usual double take, squinting at the lettering on the envelope, squinting at Jo, then squinting once again at the envelope before shrugging his shoulders and handing it to her. They stepped off to the side of the small lobby to open them. Inside were identical messages, except for a P.S. on Renny's.

Dear Mr. Jacobson,

Welcome to Georgetown. We will meet this evening in the private dining room at 7:00 for cocktails, followed by supper and a meeting of the members. We look forward to seeing you then.

Sincerely,
Desmond LaRochette

P.S. I trust you brought the List and other documents entrusted to your father as custodian.

“Here we go,” Renny said. “I feel like a kid who has never ridden a roller coaster about to go to the county fair for the first time.”

Jo folded her letter and put it back in the envelope.

“Are you sure you will be able to rest?” Renny asked. “I'm getting too psyched up to sit still.”

“Probably not, but I need some time in my room before the meeting.” Jo touched Renny's arm. “Thanks for today. It was great.”

Renny spent a second basking in the glow of her upturned face, which continued to radiate some of the sun they had gathered on the beach. “We'll have to do it again sometime soon. I liked it, even when you cross-examined me.”

“Next time, I'll let you be the lawyer.”

Renny cooled off by taking a shower. He reread the covenant and organized the contents of the old trunk. Taking a yellow legal pad, he outlined some notes and questions for the meeting.

• Where are the List assets invested?

• What was my father's role as custodian?

• How often are meetings held?

He would be humble and non-confrontational, asking general questions before getting more specific. The items on the sheet of paper grew.

• What is the amount of current List assets?

• Who keeps the records?

• What safeguards are there against embezzlement?

• When and how are monies distributed?

• What about the IRS?

• Why couldn't he directly withdraw funds from his father's Swiss account?

Pausing, he said softly, “What else?” He knew there was something else. Then he remembered. Of course, how could he forget?

• What about Jo, primogeniture no longer viable?

He tore out the sheet, folded it, and put it on the edge of the bed.

It was after six. Putting everything back in the trunk, Renny dressed in a dark blue suit, white shirt, and silk tie—dressed for success. Butterflies flitted around inside his stomach as he worked to get his tie straight. A soft knock at the door pulled him away from the mirror.

It was Jo, but not the Jo of the convenience store or his companion who dug her toes in the soft sand of Pawley's Island.

He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again before saying, “Wow!”

She wore a white-and-blue tinged gown that rushed up to her shoulders, opened expansively in the back, brushed snugly past her hips, and swept gracefully to the floor. A large sapphire pendant on a white gold necklace hugged her neck. Her dark hair had not totally submitted to her efforts to pull it back, but the few rebellious strands made her look softer than if every lock of black was successfully held captive.

“Thanks. Nice compliment.” Jo's eyes sparkled more than the blue stone.

“Come in,” Renny said, grabbing the room's only chair for her to sit in as he closed the door behind her. “I was trying to straighten my tie.”

“Here, let me do it.”

Renny stood at attention as she reached up. While she worked to flatten the knot, her fingers reached inside his collar and touched his neck. Renny's knees almost buckled.

“Are you OK?” she asked, stepping back.

Renny knew it was the moment of truth. He could lie and say “Sure,” or he could tell her, “You are the most incredibly beautiful woman I have ever met. Your slightest touch has an overwhelming effect on me that I can't begin to explain or understand.” He decided to lie. “Sure, I'm fine. Thanks for fixing my tie.”

Sitting in the chair, Jo asked, “What do you think about tonight?”

Renny handed his yellow sheet to her. “Here are some comments and questions I wrote down.”

Jo unfolded the paper and read it. “Renny, these questions presume you want to join the List. I thought you wanted to check it out first.”

“Yeah, I did say that, didn't I?” Renny admitted. “But I'm optimistic that my questions will be answered and I can participate, like my father, grandfather, great-grandfather, back to the original Jacobson who signed in 1863.”

“I understand,” Jo said. “And we know this could involve an astronomical sum of money.”

“It is a factor. I mean it wouldn't make sense not to consider how much money is involved in reaching a decision.” Shifting the subject, he asked, “What about you? What do you want me to do or say on your behalf? You saw I had a question about primogeniture on my sheet.”

“Yes. I appreciate it.” Jo hesitated. “Here's what I want you to do.”

“OK, shoot.”

“I want to walk into the room downstairs a few minutes after seven. Hopefully, all the men will be there when we come in.”

“Yes.”

“I want to walk in on your arm.”

“Of course, my pleasure.”

“I would like you to introduce me to the group. Like our friend at the front desk, they will probably think I am your wife.”

“What do you want me to say? ‘Guess who's coming to dinner?'”

“Something simple, ‘Gentlemen, this is Miss Jo Taylor Johnston.'”

“I can handle it. What then?”

“I believe I will know what to say after I see their response.”

“That's it?”

“Yes, that will be enough.”

“Do you want my odds on their response?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the Georgetown/Las Vegas line has you a 3-1 favorite to be a hit.”

“In case I'm not, I will probably retire gracefully from the field. If I do, don't feel like you have to leave the room. I mean that,” she said with emphasis. “Agreed?”

Part of Renny wanted to say, “No, we are in this together,” but he knew it wouldn't be true. Jo's statement at the barbecue restaurant came back to him:
“You need to do what you need to do.”

“Agreed.”

“Thanks. I'm going back to my room for a few minutes.” Jo held out her hand toward Renny, who took it in his. No shock treatment this time. She gave him a firm, appreciative squeeze. “I'll meet you downstairs near the front desk.”

“I'll be there.”

8

To be or not to be: that is the question.

H
AMLET
,
ACT 3, SCENE 1

T
he old desk clerk glanced up when Renny came downstairs and sat in an armchair in the tiny lobby. “Your group is meeting in the private dining room on the left down the hall. It's across from the main dining room.”

“Thanks, but I'm waiting for someone.”

“Of course,” the clerk said.

“Yes, here
he
comes now.” Renny smiled as Jo, the white-and-blue apparition, descended the stairway.

The clerk squinted harder than ever at Jo before continuing to rapidly shuffle a stack of papers on the counter before him.