Authors: Susan Rogers Cooper
BACK HOME
‘I
didn’t mean for any of this to happen,’ Graham said as he sat across from Alicia at a quiet booth in the Mexican restaurant. They both had iced teas in front of them, along with chips and salsa. None of it had been touched. The menus sat unopened on the tabletop.
‘How long?’ Alicia asked.
Graham lowered his gaze. ‘A while,’ he said.
‘How long?’ Alicia asked again, her voice raised.
‘About three weeks,’ Graham finally said.
‘About the time you decided we needed to start seeing other people,’ she said – a statement, not a question. ‘I take it you were already seeing her before you made this announcement.’
‘I just saw her at the library at school. I didn’t go out with her or anything—’
‘My, aren’t you the righteous one!’ Alicia said.
‘You hate me,’ Graham said, looking up to stare into her eyes.
‘Yes, I do,’ Alicia said. ‘And I hate her. Doesn’t bode well for family get-togethers in the future, does it?’
‘We can work this out—’
‘I don’t think so,’ Alicia said, standing. ‘I’ve lost my appetite. Please call ahead whenever you decide to come to your parents’ home. That way I can leave before you get there.’
Graham stood up, too. ‘Alicia!’ he called, but he was talking to her back as she left the restaurant.
The dinner at Logan’s parents’ house went fairly well. Logan’s mother was a little stand-offish but his father was friendly and warm. The mother – ‘call me Angela’ – warmed up as the evening progressed, and Bess managed to remember her manners and use the right utensils. She didn’t offer much by way of conversation, but answered politely when spoken to and smiled at the proper moments. On the drive back to her house, Logan declared the evening an unqualified success.
‘You did great!’ he said.
‘I hope so,’ Bess answered.
‘How do you think Alicia’s doing with your brother?’ he asked.
Bess shook her head. ‘Probably not nearly as well as I did with your parents.’
‘Speaking of parents, when are yours coming home?’
Bess shrugged. ‘I have no idea. Haven’t heard from them today.’
They pulled into the Pugh driveway and all thoughts of Bess’s parents went by the wayside as Logan took her into his arms.
We called the girls as soon as we got back to the Bishop’s Inn. Megan was the only one home and we told her we’d be heading back the next day. ‘Cool,’ was her response. ‘See you then.’ And that was it.
Then we found Miss Hutchins and asked her to have a seat in the living room while we explained the situation to her. ‘Uncle Edgar was alive all these years?’ she said, incredulous. ‘And he never came back to visit?’
‘I think he did,’ I told her as gently as possible, taking her hands in mine. ‘I’m pretty sure he’s the one you saw standing over your mother’s body. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t your daddy who did that.’
Miss Hutchins nodded her head. ‘I always wondered why he would do it. They were real happy before the war. Very loving.’ She sighed and tears formed in her eyes. ‘And all these years I’ve blamed him for Mama’s death.’ She shook her head. ‘How can I ever forgive myself?’
‘It’s not your fault!’ I assured her. ‘He wanted you to think he was your father, right? He said he was, right? And you were just a little girl! It’s not at all your fault.’
Seeing Willis take something from his pocket, her eyes got big. ‘Oh, my goodness! Where did you find that?’
‘This?’ Willis asked, holding up the sheathed straight-razor.
She reached out for it. ‘This was my daddy’s! Look at this!’ she said, pointing to faded lettering on the bottom of the sheath. ‘NMH. Those are Daddy’s initials: Norris Manford Hutchins! Where did you find it?’
‘Edgar’s grandson had it.’ I took her free hand and squeezed. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Hutchins, but there’s a good chance that’s what was used to kill your mother.’
Instead of dropping the thing like a hot potato – as I would have done under similar circumstances – she just looked down at it. ‘So sad,’ she said. ‘You know, Mama went with Uncle Edgar before she met Daddy.’
‘No, we didn’t know that,’ I said.
‘Maybe it’s one of the reasons why he killed her,’ she said.
‘That and the treasure,’ Willis said.
‘Treasure?’ Miss Hutchins asked, looking up at him.
‘Yes, the guy who’s been living in your attic said Edgar told his son, Eddy’s dad, about this treasure here in the house, and he told Eddy—’
‘Oh!’ she said and smiled slightly. ‘The treasure! Well, of course.’
‘There
is
a treasure?’ I asked, surprised.
‘Oh, there certainly was one. A million dollars. But Mama and I used it as kindling during the war years,’ she said.
‘You used a million dollars as kindling?’ my husband asked, aghast at the very thought.
‘Oh, it wasn’t worth much by then,’ she said. ‘Confederate money didn’t hold up much after the war.’
Willis and I looked at each other. ‘No,’ he said. ‘It really didn’t.’
We left for home the next day.