Down by the River (6 page)

Jack sighed. “Sure.”

Later, after Swofford had arrived and written up his report, the two of them went through the bed-and-breakfast and walked around the Oakley's grounds again. Naturally, the sheriff kept the face card Jack had found on the seat of his car.

“Got any idea what this means, Jack—‘Be Careful'?” Swofford asked, scratching his head at the card after he secured it in plastic to check for fingerprints later. He reached down to pull up his belt, too, which invariably slipped down below his full belly.

“No. Not a clue,” Jack said.

But he was lying.

He knew instinctively the queen of diamonds had to be Grace Conley. Crazy Man must have witnessed the little episode with her in the backyard at the gazebo. The man sure liked to sit in the seat of judgment and warning.

Waving the sheriff off at last, Jack climbed into his Jeep to head for home.

“Well, don't you worry, Crazy Man,” Jack said out loud as he made the turn into his home driveway a short time later. “I'm going to be very, very careful around Grace Conley, you can be sure. Very careful indeed.”

Still, it troubled Jack that a strange man watched and listened so often around the River Road area where he lived. And left his little warning notes around so frequently. There was obviously something “not quite right” about that man. Perhaps it boded well someone had bought the Oakley at last. Maybe Crazy Man had been hanging out at the Oakley with the place vacant so long.

Walking up the steps to his house now, Jack could smell tantalizing wafts of the pot roast Aunt Bebe must have cooked that day. He quickened his steps, hungry now and eager to be home.

G
race walked around in the large dining room in her home in Nashville, checking to see if she had the table completely ready for the family dinner that night. She always liked to set up the dining room ahead of time to lighten her workload when her guests arrived.

The fine family china and silver were on the table tonight, and everything sparkled in the late afternoon sun filtering through the dining room windows. Grace smiled as she walked around the table, looking at the homemade nameplates she'd painted the year she took ceramic classes. Charles's nameplate still sat at the head of the table. Grace hadn't been able to persuade Mike, her eldest, to assume his father's place there yet. Charles's place continued to be set up—empty—in respect to the family head, lost unexpectedly nearly three years ago to a sudden, massive heart attack.

She touched her fingers to Charles's nameplate. “Well, Charles, all the children and the grandchildren will be here tonight. I guess you remember it's Margaret's twenty-first birthday. How about that? Our baby is twenty-one. It just doesn't seem possible.”

Grace and Charles had raised four children together: Mike, now thirty, Ken, twenty-eight, Elaine, twenty-six, and Margaret, twenty-one today. Mike and Ken, born less than two years apart, had played happily from their earliest years and had always been close. Now they both worked in top management positions with the Conley Carpet Enterprise their father had left them. Mike's wife, Barbara—whom Mike had met at a business conference—also worked with Conley in sales and public relations, while Ken's wife, Louise, taught school.

Charles had given the boys the lake property when they joined the business, and both had now built houses there on Old Hickory Lake. Mike's boy Chuck, now five, and Ken's four-year-old son, Ethan, had bonded like Mike and Ken, while Mike's little girl, Lauren, at three, looked forward to getting together with her three-year-old cousin, Ava, when they had family gatherings. Ava was Elaine's oldest, and Sophie, Elaine's youngest—at eighteen months—was the baby among the five grandchildren.

Grace continued talking to Charles as she walked around the table. “I'm glad the boys liked the carpet business, because our girls certainly didn't. The way Elaine doctored everything as a little girl, I wasn't surprised at her decision to study to be a pharmacist. It's a good fit for her. She was always so calm, practical, and orderly. And I'm happy she found Frank Duncan. He's a good match for her quieter nature.”

She frowned. “Although I wish Frank would quit pressuring me to move into one of those villas in that retirement community he manages. Oh, I know it's nice there, Charlie. But most of the people there are older than I am. I married you at only eighteen, if you recall, and had our first three children before turning twenty-four. Even our late child, Margaret, arrived before I hit twenty-eight. I'm only forty-nine now, Charles, while most of the people in Greenwood are in their seventies or older.”

On the sideboard nearby lay the latest set of brochures Frank had given Grace before she went to pick up Margaret at college. The literature detailed all the benefits of living in the Greenwood Retirement Community and contained pictures of available properties Frank had inserted. Frank's own mother, also widowed, was already well settled and happy in one of the villas in Greenwood, and Frank didn't understand why Grace wasn't eager to join her there. Frank never seemed to really listen to Grace when she tried to express her reservations about moving to Greenwood. You had to give Frank credit, all right—he was personally sold on the retirement community he managed.

Grace shook her head. “Not a chance, Frank,” she said, shoving the brochures into the top drawer of the sideboard, out of sight.

Walking on around the table, Grace stopped to put her hand on Margaret's chair. “Margaret has only one more year of school, Charles. I assume she'll get another scholarship to go on to get her masters in music—and that she'll begin performing in some way as well. Jane hopes she'll become a concert pianist as Jane was, but Margaret will have to make her own decision about that. And I'm sure she will.”

Grace smiled. If one constant character trait dominated about Margaret it was her stubborn determination to go her own way. With her Grandmother Jane constantly goading her since childhood, Margaret had probably needed to develop a healthy backbone just to keep her own identity intact.

Back at Charles's chair at the head of the table again, Grace paused. “I hope you understand, Charles, that it's time for me to make a change. I don't want to stay on here in this huge house, rambling around by myself. Not without you. And you know part of the reason Frank has been encouraging me to move to Greenwood is because he and Elaine want to buy this place. Frank has that inheritance from his dad now, and Greenwood is not too far from the house here in Belle Meade. Also, Frank thinks someone should stay in the family home—and it seems that Elaine is the only one who really wants it. The boys are established and content up at the lake. Neither of them wants to move here. And Margaret has other ideas. She has no particular interest in the homeplace.”

Grace put dinner napkins around on all the plates, including at the children's places in the eat-in kitchen around the corner. “Things might get interesting tonight, Charlie. I'll be looking to you for support. You will probably be the only one who will understand the decision I've made.”

She smiled wistfully. “You always used to tell me that some day there would be time for me to pursue some dream of my own. I guess it's now or never, Charlie.”

It was much later that evening by the time the Conley family sat down to dinner. Oh, different ones trickled in earlier to visit and hang out, but dinner didn't formally start until seven for the adults. The children needed to be fed first, and then settled in with a Disney movie in the living room next door to the dining area. The baby, Sophie, had to be rocked and put down for the night in her port-a-crib.

Grace's two corgis, Sadie and Dooley, were so excited to see everyone they could hardly stand it. They greeted everyone at the door as they arrived and then played outside uproariously in the backyard with the children. Now, they lay curled up on the living room sofa napping while the grandkids watched their movie.

Dinner for the adults was a happy affair as everyone visited and caught up. Grace served a succulent prime-rib roast, dilled potatoes, julienne green beans, several salads and sides, homemade yeast rolls, and Southern iced tea with mint. She'd made Margaret's favorite red velvet cake for dessert, since it was her birthday, and the children had joined in to watch Margaret blow out her candles and open her gifts.

Now, all the adults were settled around the dining room table, mellowed out, finishing their cake and drinking after-dinner coffee. The children had returned to their movie, happily carrying their birthday bags filled with toys and games Grace had purchased for them.

“Mother, thanks for making the party bags for the children,” said Elaine. “You always remember those little touches that make such a difference.”

Grace smiled her thanks at her oldest daughter, reaching across to squeeze her hand. She had always been close to Elaine.

“And thanks for the great meal, too.” Mike looked down the table and caught her eye. “Everything was wonderful, Mom.”

Ken cleared his throat loudly, a familiar ploy to catch everyone's attention. “You know, Mom, we've all been chattering away the whole evening telling you about all our news, but you haven't told us anything about what you did while you were away. I know Margaret said you went to her recital, and I think she said you went up to Gatlinburg and toured around Townsend. What else did you do?”

It was exactly the opening Grace had been waiting for. She took a deep breath, smiled, and answered. “Well, I bought a bed-and-breakfast while I was in Townsend—a wonderful, old, historic inn on the Little River.”

The room grew suddenly quiet.

Grace smiled at her children. “The place has been beautifully kept and profitably run by the previous owners. It's called the Oakley Bed-and-Breakfast now, after the past owners, but I think I'm going to rename it the Mimosa Inn.”

You could have heard a pin drop for a few moments in the room before Mike replied in a quiet voice. “Did you say you
bought
a bed-and-breakfast, Mom?”

“Yes.” She looked at the stunned faces of her family.

Margaret regained her wits the quickest. “Are you crazy, Mother? Whatever possessed you to do such an impulsive, outrageous thing? Plus you never even breathed a word about this to me the whole weekend—not even when we were packing up the cars at the dorm. When did you even find time to see a bed-and-breakfast and make a decision about one, anyway? And why would you do something stupid like this? Honestly, Mother; this just isn't like you at all.”

A murmur of shocked and outraged voices filled the air now.

“Maybe the sale's not final,” Frank put in, always the practical administrator. “I'll contact my attorney the first thing tomorrow and ask him to start some proceedings so Grace can back out of this. I'm sure Mother Grace can still do that. She might lose her deposit, but I don't think they can hold her to the sales contract.”

“Yeah, we probably can still stop this.” Mike leaned toward Frank in agreement. “I'll call our Conley attorney, too, as soon as I get to the office. I'm sure he can find a way to get Mom off the hook. Some sort of loophole. Maybe he can bring in the widow-still-in-grief aspect or something. That should help.”

Ken looked at Grace in bewilderment. “Mom, whatever were you thinking to do something like this? And without asking any of us? What do you know about running a bed-and-breakfast, for goodness sakes? You're not a businesswoman. You're a mom. You cook and do crafts and go to civic meetings and stuff. You've never even worked or anything. And what education have you gotten to even prepare you for this?”

Grace sat up straighter. “Running a bed-and-breakfast is not much different than running a big household like I've done all these years, Ken. And if you'll remember, I do have a college degree.”

“Pah! A degree in home economics that is practically useless today.” Margaret rolled her eyes in disgust. “There isn't even a degree in home economics anymore, Mother. Like Grandmother Jane said, you found a way to get a degree in something becoming obsolete. The whole college even has some different name for that field of study now.”

“I'll have you know the skills and learning from that degree are still valid.” Grace felt her face flame. Everyone had always teased her about her degree. “In fact, I learned just the sort of skills that will be useful in running a bed-and-breakfast in the field of home economics, Margaret Jane.”

“Look,” put in Ken, trying to restore balance like a typical middle child. “We didn't mean to put down your degree, Mom. That's not the point. But classes in things like cooking, nutrition, sewing, and table arrangement don't begin to prepare you for all the aspects of budgeting, accounting, business planning, and marketing that are a part of running an actual bed-and-breakfast.”

Grace reined in her annoyance. How little regard these children had for her abilities! “Kenneth, if you will think back for a minute, perhaps you'll remember that I have handled the household budget, planned countless events for Conley Carpets and area civic groups, and been a part of marketing and public-relations efforts for many worthwhile concerns over all these years.”

Ken shook his head, frowning. “It's not the same, Mom.”

“And what about our family home here?” Margaret swept her hand around in a dramatic gesture. “We've all lived here since we were little kids. This is where we celebrate Christmas, Thanksgiving, birthdays, and every other kind of event. Doesn't this place mean
anything
to you?”

“Now, Margaret, don't get overly dramatic.” Grace made an effort to keep her voice calm. “You know you have all suggested to me that I need to downsize and give up the house here. So I have been thinking about that for quite some time now. Plus you know Frank and Elaine want to buy this house. Their lease is up soon on their rental, so the timing is perfect. The house isn't going to strangers; it will still be in the family for holiday occasions. And, in addition, you'll all be able to come and stay with me at the Mimosa in Townsend. It will be like a vacation away from home.”

A frown creased Margaret's pretty face. “No, it won't. It will be awful! Townsend is a poky little mountain town. It's nothing like metropolitan Nashville. No theaters, no symphony, no nice restaurants, no malls. I'm not even sure there's a post office!”

“Of course there's a post office, Margaret Jane.” Grace frowned in irritation. “And Townsend is a lovely, scenic town in the foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains with more metropolitan cities nearby for the asking. It isn't as remote as you're trying to paint it. Also, it is the ideal kind of place for a profitable bed-and-breakfast—right on the highway into the Smokies with the scenic Little River at its back. There's even a swinging bridge across the river behind the inn.”

Frank cleared his throat as Grace paused for breath. “Well, of course, I'm sure it's quite nice there, Grace.” He offered Grace an indulgent smile. “But I thought you were going to buy one of the villas over at Greenwood—one like my mother has. That's what we all had in mind when we encouraged you to downsize. You've raised your family and done a fine job of it. Now, it's time for you to settle back and carry less responsibility, not more. Enjoy your autumn years.”

His tone was as kindly patronizing as usual. As was his smile.

Annoyed, Grace tried for a tactful reply. “Now, Frank, I know your mother enjoys her retirement home at Greenwood. But you must remember she is much older than I am, and her health is not as strong as mine. You were a late child, and she's almost seventy, while I'm not even fifty yet.”