The Secrets She Carried (12 page)

Sammi Lee cocked her head thoughtfully. “I thought Uncle Jay was Daddy’s boss.”

“He is, baby, and Miss Leslie is his partner. She’s here to help him with the vineyard. Miss Maggie was her grandmother.”

Leslie opened her mouth but didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t here to help with the vineyard, and she wasn’t anyone’s boss.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Leslie,” Sammi Lee said politely. “You sure don’t look like a farmer.”

Leslie laughed in spite of herself. “That’s because I’m not a farmer.”

“Then how’re you supposed to help Uncle Jay?”

Angie chose that moment to step in. “All right, Miss Priss, just you stop being so nosy. It’s almost six, and past Belle’s dinnertime. What would Uncle Jay say if he knew you were late?” The words were barely out of her mouth when Sammi Lee turned and tore for the house. “Only three scoops,” Angie called after her. “And no more Milk-Bones!”

She was shaking her head when she turned back to Leslie. “Sorry about the third degree. She wears me out.”

Leslie waved off the apology. “I’m sorry about sneaking up on you. I didn’t know anyone lived here.” She scanned the yard now—the deck that ran the length of the house, the picnic table and swing set—and realized how little it actually resembled the backyard of her childhood. “I used to live here.”

“Maggie told me.”

“You knew my grandmother?”

“I did. The woman was a force of nature.” A gust of wind kicked up. Angie glanced at the sky, then her half-full basket. “Rain’s coming. Do you mind? If I hurry I can get the rest up and dry before it starts to come down.”

Intrigued, Leslie trailed after her to the line, plucking a handful of clothespins from the bag and feeding them to her one at a time. “I’m sorry, but did you call my eighty-year-old grandmother a force of nature?”

“No one would have guessed the Old Broad was in her eighties, at least not until right near the end.” She paused, smiling sadly. “Old Broad—that’s what Jay called her. She used to fuss like anything whenever he said it, but we all knew she loved it. They were a pair, those two.” When the basket was empty Angie turned toward the house. “I was about to have a beer. Have one with me?”

Leslie nodded. She hated beer, but she had more questions. On the deck, she waited awkwardly in a white plastic chair until Angie emerged with an ice-filled bucket and four Bud Lights.

“Thank God that dog’s a good sport,” she said as she dropped into the chair beside Leslie. “I just found her dressed in half my daughter’s back-to-school clothes.” Twisting the cap off a beer, she handed it to Leslie, then grabbed one for herself. “So how is it being back? It must seem weird as hell after all these years.” She bit her lip and threw a glance over her shoulder. “Lord, I hope Sammi Lee didn’t hear that.”

Leslie sipped her beer, fighting a shudder as it fizzed down her throat. “I’m guessing you two have a little game going?”

“I pay her a quarter every time she catches me swearing. She pays me every time I catch her saying
ain’t
. I’m trying to teach her you can be from the country without sounding country.”

“How’s it working?”

Angie grinned. “She’s putting me in the poorhouse. So…how
does
it feel to be home?”

Leslie winced at the word
home
but let it pass. “There’s so much to do I don’t know where to start. In fact, I haven’t started at all. I’ve made a lot of lists, though.”

“At least the place wasn’t a wreck after all those months sitting empty.”

She hadn’t thought of it before, but now that she did she realized there hadn’t been a speck of dust on anything. “Have I got you to thank for that?”

Angie chuckled. “I can barely keep up with my own house. It was Jay.”

“Jay…Davenport?”

“He started when Maggie got sick. He’d dust or take care of the laundry, whatever needed doing. When she died he just kept on, every Monday whether it needed it or not.” Tipping back her bottle, she took a long pull, then swatted at something buzzing around her head. “I guess there’s still a lot to do, but at least you’re finally home.”

Leslie squirmed uncomfortably. Sooner or later she was going to have to say something about being back. “To tell you the truth, it doesn’t feel like home at all. Everything’s familiar. In fact, almost nothing has changed. It just doesn’t feel like it belongs to me, or like I belong to it.”

“Oh, that’ll pass,” Angie said, waving the remark away. “I’ve got a friend who moved here from Boston. She thought she’d never adjust to small-town life. Now, after less than a year, she feels like she’s been here her whole life. The same thing will happen to you.” Standing, she smoothed down the knees of her jeans and grabbed the bucket. “I’ve got to go in and start dinner. Nothing fancy, just pork chops and greens. We’d love for you to stay.”

“Are you sure there’s enough?”

“At this house, there’s always enough. Once you meet Young Buck you’ll know why. Come on, you can give me a hand.”

“I’m afraid I’m not much of a cook. I do set a mean table, though.”

“Great, you’re hired.”

Leslie followed reluctantly. It felt strange being in the same kitchen where her mother had baked muffins and helped her with her math, mostly because it bore almost no resemblance to that kitchen of her youth. Gone were the green appliances and gold-flecked Formica, replaced with clean white tile and glass-front cabinets.

“Want the nickel tour, for old times’ sake?”

Leslie shook her head. “Maybe later.”

For the next half hour, Angie flitted about the kitchen, seasoning and stirring and popping things into the oven, chattering about townspeople Leslie had never heard of and would probably never meet. When she poked her head around the corner and hollered for Sammi Lee to come set the table, Leslie bounced out of her chair, glad to finally be able to contribute.

Angie was bringing the last of the food to the table when Sammi Lee finally made her entrance, skidding sideways into the kitchen in a pair of fuzzy yellow socks, erupting in a fit of giggles as Belle piled into the back of her. When her mother threw her an exasperated look, she swallowed her amusement and took her place at the table. Leslie slid in beside her, holding her breath as Sammi Lee grappled with the iced tea pitcher and actually managed to fill three glasses without mishap.

Leslie had lifted her glass halfway to her lips when she felt Sammi Lee’s gentle tug on her sleeve. “Grace, Miss Leslie,” she whispered softly. “We gotta say grace.”

Later, when the dishes were washed and put away and Sammi Lee had stomped off to take her bath, Leslie and Angie adjourned to the deck. Leslie let her head drop back against her chair, lulled by the glow of citronella candles and whatever Angie had used to lace their coffee. Night was coming fast, the air heavy with the promise of rain. In the distance, mushroomy blooms of blue-white light chased from cloud to cloud.

Beside her, Angie flipped open a box of Marlboros, slid one from the pack, and lit it. She released the first cloud of smoke on a long, ecstatic sigh, then offered the pack to Leslie.

Leslie shook her head. “I didn’t picture you as a smoker.”

“I’m not really,” she said, setting the pack on the railing and taking another pull. “I sneak four, maybe five a day. Buck pretends not to know.”

“Your husband pretends not to know you smoke?”

“Sweet, huh? I’m careful around Sammi Lee, though. I wait until she’s in school or in bed.” She flicked an ash over the railing. “They teach them about smoking in school now. They teach them about everything. I can’t believe how much she’s grown since we moved here.”

Leslie saw an opening and pounced on it. “How long have you been at Peak?”

Another plume of smoke lifted into the air. “I guess it’s almost five years now. We were in dire straits after the bank in Yadkin took our vineyard. If Jay hadn’t turned up and made us this offer, I don’t know where we’d be.”

“What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Drought,” Angie answered flatly. “We were still in the early stages, operating on a shoestring. We couldn’t afford a fancy irrigation system. Two years of no rain and we were out of business. When the bank stepped in, Buck took a job as a hand in a neighboring vineyard just to keep a roof over our heads. It was a pretty bad time.”

“Until Uncle Jay rode to the rescue?”

“He’s not really anyone’s uncle. He turned up when we ran an ad to sell off our equipment.”

“Well, that was certainly convenient.”

Angie either missed the sarcasm or chose to ignore it. She flicked her Marlboro over the railing, into a nearby hedge. “He had a million questions. Didn’t know the first thing about running a vineyard, but he had a dream—a great big dream—and for Buck that made him some kind of soul mate. I couldn’t peel the two of them apart. Next thing I know we’re hauling everything we own to someplace I’ve never heard of. He couldn’t promise any steady money, just a roof over our heads and a piece of the action.”

“He sounds like quite a salesman.”

“The man’s got a way with words; I’ll give him that. But then you’d expect him to, I guess. Anyway, it worked. Three weeks later,
here we were.” Angie lit another cigarette, took a deep pull, and stared at the glowing tip. “Actually, moving here was Maggie’s idea. She was smart enough to see they needed somebody with experience. And thank God, too. I don’t know how much longer I could have stood Buck.”

“I’m sorry about your vineyard.”

Angie shrugged. “Things happen for a reason. This must be where we’re supposed to be right now. And maybe when Peak starts producing we can save up enough to start over. By then, Jay won’t need Buck. I’ve gotta give it to him. For someone who didn’t know what he was doing, he’s certainly brought the place a long way. It’s sad Maggie couldn’t live to see it. She used to talk about how Peak was a real tobacco dynasty back in the day.”

“It was. Then my grandfather died of lung cancer.”

Angie stubbed out the freshly lit Marlboro. “Well, I guess that explains her nagging. Do you remember him?”

“Not much. I was four, maybe five when he died. But I remember his funeral. Half of Gavin was there. After the cemetery, everybody came back to the house. But Maggie wouldn’t come inside. Instead, she marched out to the fields and yanked up the first tobacco plant she came to. Then she yanked up the next one, and the next—just grabbed them and ripped them out by the roots. I could see her from the window in her good black dress, all covered in dirt. She stayed out there until it got dark, until someone went and got her. The next day she paid old man Snipes to plow it all under. She swore Peak would never grow another leaf of tobacco, and it didn’t.”

Angie reached for the Marlboros, then checked herself, pinning her hands between her knees instead. “She never told me that story, but it sounds like her. She loved this place so much. It was like, I don’t know, the way she left her mark on the world, I guess. I think that’s why Jay works so hard. He promised Maggie he’d keep it going. She’d be glad you’re back home.”

Leslie shifted to the edge of her seat. “I met with a real estate agent today, Angie.”

Angie’s shoulders, silhouetted by the candles, slumped a little. “Buck said you might. Did he have anything promising to say?”

“It’s a she, but no, not really.” Leslie paused to sip from her mug. “Avis is her name. A bit of a character, but she seems to know what she’s talking about. I gave her the full tour, and all I found out is that the market has imploded and nothing is selling right now. She suggested I stay and turn the place into a bed-and-breakfast.”

“Would that be so bad? Staying, I mean?”

“It would be…uncomfortable. There’s just too much baggage for me here. Except—”

“Except?”

“Except there are some nice memories too, which I didn’t expect—bits of jewelry and old family photos that make me think about all the women who have lived here. It’s not that I’m sentimental about any of it, but just getting rid of it all seems so…final.”

“You don’t sound very sure about what you want.”

Leslie sighed and slumped back in her chair. “I guess that’s because I’m not. I don’t know how much Maggie told you, but I had my reasons for staying away. I also had my reasons for coming back. None of which, by the way, have anything to do with getting rich, despite what Jay thinks.”

“But you are thinking about selling your half?”

“Yes…maybe…I don’t know. I thought it would all be cut-and-dry. Just clear the place out and put it on the market, but there’s so much history here. Not mine, but my family’s.”

“Doesn’t that make it yours too?”

“Not really. I disconnected myself from all that a long time ago. But now everywhere I look there’s all this stuff—Maggie’s stuff, her father’s stuff—and it all used to mean something.”

“Maybe it still does.”

Leslie chafed at the quiet knowing in Angie’s voice. “Meaning?”

“Meaning, maybe you’re not as disconnected from all that
stuff
as you think. Or from Peak either. Like I said, things happen for a reason. Your grandmother left you an honest-to-God legacy here. Maybe you should take a little time before you decide to throw that away.”

“You sound like Jay now.”

“Sounds like you two haven’t exactly hit it off.”

Leslie grimaced but decided to keep her thoughts to herself.

“Look,” Angie went on. “I’m not saying he doesn’t come off like a jerk sometimes—he’s a guy. But if he says or does something, even if it’s stupid, it’s because he’s trying to do the right thing by a lot of folks, all at the same time. He’s a good guy, Leslie, one of the few, in fact. So maybe you should give him a break and at least listen to what he has to say.”

Leslie was still searching for the correct response when a jagged shaft of lightning split the sky, coupled with a sharp crack of thunder. Behind them, the kitchen light flickered.

“Mama!”

Sammi Lee’s voice filtered through the screen door, high and insistent. Angie was instantly on her feet, concealing her pack of Marlboros beneath a nearby flowerpot. “I’ll be right there, baby. Just sit tight with Belle until I grab the sheets off the line.” She stood, smoothing down the knees of her jeans. “She’s afraid of storms. Speaking of which, you’d better get back to the house before you wind up drenched.”