Windswept (19 page)

“You don’t give a shit about the family, do you? Well, let me tell you something.” Lloyd whipped out his pointing finger again and shook it at Davis. “You’ll pay for this. Something in those papers will ruin us all.”

Davis straightened off his desk and looked down at his angry cousin. “Don’t be so melodramatic. If the family withstood the Yankees, the boll weevil, hurricanes, and the Great Depression, it can stand up to anything in some musty old records--assuming, of course, all this bother is not just some ghost story or misunderstood tale from Grandmama’s youth. You’re working yourself up over nothing, and I don’t have the time to waste on it. Now, get out of my office and let me get back to my business. That’s where you should be, too, tending to your own affairs.”

He took a step toward Lloyd, who backed up and opened the door. He didn’t leave, however, without a parting shot.

“Mark my words, Davis. I
will
investigate those papers, and I
will
find out what Mother and Grandmama are so afraid of. When it all comes to light, you are going to be lucky if anyone in the family ever speaks to you again.” He walked out, slamming the door behind him.

“Good riddance,” Davis said aloud as he rounded his desk and sat down. Lloyd was really getting wound up over nothing.

Or was he? Could there be any bit of news, any evidence of wrongdoing, an act so awful to justify Lloyd’s or his mother’s premonitions of doom? Nah, he scoffed, as he began to gather his files. The past was the past, and Davis had no patience for those who lived in it. He had enough to pay attention to in the present.

***

By the time he reached the elevator, Lloyd wished he had done something to wipe the superior look off Davis’s face, even if it meant his larger cousin would have knocked him on his ass. At the same time, he had to admit he’d blown his own game plan.

He’d worked it out so carefully after Dr. Glover’s call yesterday with the news Granddaddy had promised the professor access to the papers and his cousin had refused his request. He meant to be calm and collected, the way Davis always was, to lay out his arguments like a legal brief, to make it clear it was going against Granddaddy’s own wishes for Glover to see the records. After all, the man wanted to add to the glory of Edgar Jr.’s name. What was wrong with that?

Then he’d use the historian as his entrée to the papers. Even if Davis refused to let his own cousin study the things, said cousin would have a spy in the enemy camp, his captive researcher willing to do his bidding.

But instead of rehearsing his arguments, he’d thought about the mess he was in all during the long drive from St. Gregoryville. His car air conditioning wasn’t working properly and the miserable Houston traffic didn’t help his disposition either. By the time he’d handled the snooty bitch who guarded Davis’s office and then faced the sneering bastard himself, he’d been too angry to maintain control.

Now he had to head home. Home. Where one of his apartment properties needed renovation so badly the city inspectors might condemn it--and he didn’t have the cash or credit to fix it. And where he had to prepare for an upcoming idiotic lawsuit which he had been unable to talk his fool client out of and for which he wouldn’t see a penny for months.

Home, where his accountant had died, dropped dead of a heart attack at the age of fifty-one, only six weeks ago. Two weeks ago the man’s son and inheritor of the business had informed Lloyd of his father’s dereliction of duty with regard to keeping up with business. The late accountant had been sicker than anybody realized and had left all his clients’ books in total confusion. God only knew what Joe Blinford had been doing, but he hadn’t balanced the accounts in six months.

Blinford Jr. had been extremely apologetic and said he’d straighten everything out at no charge to Lloyd. When the books had been balanced, however, Lloyd found himself in worse shape financially. Nobody seemed able to account for some receivables. Junior thought his father had simply deposited them in the wrong accounts and they’d turn up when he finished with all the clients. Well, crap, what was Lloyd to do in the meantime? How would he pay his bills?

On top of it all was this damnable mess of the Windswept papers. His mama called him daily, predicting ruin, but not coming up with any real facts despite his pleadings. He felt like screaming at her to get off his back. Blowing up wouldn’t work, of course. She’d just lay a guilt trip on him even Grace wouldn’t be able to talk him out of.

What was so sacred about those records? They should belong to the entire family. If he could only get his hands on them, he knew he’d be able to find what Mother was talking about, no matter how many boxes he had to go through. But his cousin, smug in his possession of the family heritage, refused to give him access.

Damn Davis! Damn him to hell!

Lloyd stomped through the parking garage, but stopped when he spotted a black Lexus. Wasn’t it Davis’s car? He walked over to it and looked in the driver side window. A folder with the Jamison Investments logo sat on the passenger seat. It was his cousin’s. His look-down-his-nose, so-superior, younger cousin’s.

Damn Davis! He gave the door a kick and dented the side.

The release of frustration felt so good, he kicked the car several more times. Davis thought he was so smart, huh? Wham, another dent!

He heard someone coming and rapidly walked to his own car, parked fortuitously only six cars down, but he still shook with rage. A few kicks were not enough to punish his cousin for his highhandedness. He’d show Davis he didn’t rule the world.

He saw the man he’d heard get into a car and drive off. He stood for a moment, but nobody else was in sight or hearing. He opened his trunk and took out his daddy’s hunting knife he always carried in his toolbox. He walked back to Davis’s car and checked again. Nothing moved and the only sounds were those from the street below.

With the razor-sharp knife, he quickly slashed all four of Davis’s tires and gave the other side a couple of kicks for good measure.

There. Let Davis have something to worry about for a change. Lloyd restored the knife to its place, climbed in his Cadillac, and backed out of the slot.

Several ideas occurred to him as he paid the parking fee. He’d talk to his mother again. He wouldn’t tell her about his financial difficulties--hellfire, he hadn’t brought himself to tell Grace the true extent of those. But if Mother wanted him to get those papers, then she would have to help him pay for the effort. And he’d tell the fool client--the rich but stingy fool client--he wouldn’t take his case without a stiff retainer. He wasn’t doing anything on contingency.

And he had something else to do--one more ploy to try--here before he went home. He turned the car toward the cheap motel he remembered up close to the North Loop.

Chapter Fourteen

The Journal of Mary Maude Davis Jamison

Windswept Plantation

October 17, 1835

Still warm, but we’re all hoping for cooler weather soon.

We have a wonderful son, born October 13, and Edgar is beside himself with joy. Edgar John Jamison, Jr., is a strapping boy and came forth exercising his lungs. Edgar said he could hear his boy announcing his presence all the way down in the library.

I do not know what I would have done without Heeba as this birth was a little difficult. Edgar Jr. did not want to be born for quite a while. I am still tired, but I can feel my strength returning daily.

Thinking of Heeba, I have learned so much in the past 3 years from her about plants: plants for food, plants for medicines, mixtures for healing, and herbs for cooking. I have taught Annie, our cook, how to prepare some dishes as the chefs do in New Orleans, and she has proved an apt pupil. Edgar delights in inviting fellow planters and their wives to dinner and has often told me how proud he is of our accomplishments--well, he really said ‘my’ accomplishments, but I can’t take credit for it without acknowledging Annie and Heeba and the other servants’ work.

Windswept Plantation

September 15, 1840

Another very hot day, after three weeks of unrelenting heat and dryness. Ominous clouds are massing in the south, and several of the older servants think a big storm is brewing. If it would only bring relief!

The weather, however, cannot dampen my spirits. We have another son! Davis Wade Jamison was born September 2. I thought Edgar was happy when Rebecca was born in 1838, but his joy at another son seems immeasurable. The man takes such delight in his children. He is already training Edgar Jr. in his own footsteps, taking him on his rounds of the plantation. Edgar Jr. sits on his own pony, a precious copy of his father. I even caught him trying to paint a mustache on his lip with Elizabeth’s water colors so he’d look just like him. I am so proud of my men.

Each birth has been harder than the last, and after Rebecca two years ago, Heeba was apprehensive about my having another child. But God blessed us with Davis, and I am ecstatic, although I agree with her that my labor was very difficult. I am certainly not recuperating as speedily as in the past. Heeba warned me more severely this time, however, and will teach me how to mix certain plants and herbs to prevent a reoccurrence. I am of mixed feelings about this, as I would like as many children as God will give me, and I know Edgar would be totally against my taking such measures.

And I probably shouldn’t write this, but we take such pleasure in the marriage bed. Edgar is mine and I am his, for all time. I am so blessed with my husband, whose love and faithfulness is legend.

At the Galliard plantation three months ago, my heart went out to Marie, whose husband has a dreadful reputation among the ladies for his dalliances in the quarters. There, before the eyes of their assembled guests, stood the youngest house servant, a lad of seven, the spitting image of her husband Samuel and almost twin of her oldest son Martin. I don’t know how she can bear to see those children (yes, there are at least two more), but in all honesty, I don’t know what she can do about it. The Bible and the Church teach us to submit to our husbands. There are at least two other ladies in the parish with the same situation.

I said a prayer for all of them. I don’t know what I would do in their shoes. Thank God, I will never be.

To thank me for his new son, my dearly beloved husband has given me a new botanical book with beautiful illustrations, a wonderful addition to our library. Heeba scoffs at my reading as a way to learn about plants and their healing properties, but I gain much knowledge and insight from them. She won’t admit it, but I have even taught her a thing or two!

***

Present Day

Monday, June 4

Hoping he would be in time to join Barrett in the pool, Davis left the office a few minutes before five. He knew he’d shocked Peggy by leaving early, and he grinned as he approached his car.

All it took was one glance to replace his high spirits with cold, hard anger. Who in the hell had vandalized his Lexus like this? Dents on both sides and four flat tires. Somebody really let him have it. Somebody had been really pissed . . .

Lloyd.

The vandal had to have been his cousin. Of all the low, miserable . . . Davis hoped to high heaven Lloyd had gone home, because he’d like nothing better right now than to beat the shit out of the man. A dozen curse words and phrases ran through his head, but he didn’t voice them. He refused to give Lloyd the satisfaction, even in absentia, of causing him to lose his temper. He simply turned around and went back to his office.

“What’s the matter?” Peggy exclaimed after one look at his face.

He told her what had happened. “You call the parking garage management and my insurance company, and I’ll call the police and the Lexus dealership,” he said. He’d better call home also to alert Gonzales he might be later than usual.

The police officer who responded asked if he had any idea who would vandalize his car, but Davis did not mention his cousin. He could not prove Lloyd was the culprit, and none of the garage staff had seen or heard anything. The dealership hauled his vehicle away and left him a rental in its place.

He made it home just in time for dinner--and a couple of words with Gonzales before Barrett came down. He told his houseman to be extra vigilant and make sure the security system was turned on, just in case Lloyd had any more destructive ideas. They also decided not to tell Barrett and Eva about the incident. If asked about the change in his car, they’d say matter-of-factly he had car trouble and leave it at that. No need to worry the women.

At dinner Barrett didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. In fact, she was bubbling over with excitement about a phone call from a high school friend. As he listened, he realized her happiness acted as a balm to his spirits and helped erase his crazy cousin from his mind. He took a bite of his pasta and let her words roll over him.

“Angela found out from one of my sisters-in-law that I was in town,” she said. “She really let me have it for not letting her know. Well, she’s getting married this Saturday. Big, big wedding. I never received her invitation, it’s probably in my mail being forwarded, so it’s a good thing she called. It’ll be great to see her whole family again, especially her mother. The woman was like a second mother to me when we lived next door to each other.”

“So you’re going?” he asked.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“The bride’s last name is Tejeda? Her father runs the restaurant chain?”

Barrett nodded. “Yes. The groom is Diego Morales. His family own the furniture and import-export stores. Why?”

“I’ve met Diego. His father and I have collaborated on several investments and he’s bringing his son into the business. I have an invitation to the wedding also.” Looking at his weekend schedule just this morning, he’d known his attendance at the wedding was mandatory for building more connections in the Hispanic community with an eye toward investments here at home and in Latin America. Since then, he’d been trying to figure out how to talk Barrett into going with him. For once today, it appeared the gods were smiling on him. “Would you like to go together?” he asked.