Authors: Annie Jones
“
Oh, Miss Lettie, I wasn
’
t...
”
Dixie squared her shoulders. Recanting was the refuge of the under-confident and the unimaginative. Might as well out with the truth and be done with it.
“
I was just trying to dress it up a bit, you understand, Miss Lettie, so it would read more—
”
“
Dressing up is what that fool Sis does to that pink ball of jaggedly fangs and eye-pudding she calls Peachie Too.
”
Lettie snorted.
“
And it don
’
t change the truth of what that critter is, either.
”
“
Peachie Too isn
’
t pink, she
’
s apricot.
”
It galled Dixie to speak a single word in even the hint of defense of that awful dog, but she had to assert her ground where she could.
“
And she happens to be a registered—
”
“
Don
’
t you be like them, Dixie Belle! Don
’
t you be like those others in this place.
”
With one hard look and a few clear, unrelenting words, Lettie had cut through every pretense Dixie might have thrown in her path. She
’
d found the one thing Dixie feared most of all—that she would become like the remaining members of her family, all talk and flutter, with no substance, no purpose in life.
“
I thought I
’
d taught you better.
”
Lettie cocked her head, the hair crowning her old head looking more like the worn- away nap of an ancient plush animal than the thick, silver plaits it had been in Dixie
’
s childhood.
“
Now, I do love your folks like I
’
d love my own kin, lamb. I loved your mama and her brother Young Bobby next to as much as I loved my own dear child, Helen Betty and you know the truth of what I
’
m saying.
”
Actually, Dixie could not recall ever having met Miss Lettie
’
s daughter, and her memories of her mother and uncle had faded considerably since the accident that took their lives so many years ago. She did know that Lettie carried her share of grief and regret over that accident, and that it had caused a rift in Lettie
’
s own family that had never been repaired.
“
I love Miss Sis and the Judge.
”
Lettie never called Dixie
’
s grandfather by his most common family nickname, Smilin
’
Bob.
“
Miss Sis and the Judge and me, we share us a bond that no one else can fathom. But that don
’
t mean I want to see
you
go on and try to be like them.
”
“
No, ma
’
am.
”
“
I truly believed you want to be good and honest and fair. I believed you want to be like your mama, and like your great-grandfather, and like your daddy could be when he set his heart on it.
”
Strong praise coming from someone who had seen this family
’
s foibles and failings as close as any human ever could. Yet Miss Lettie remained, for all intents and purposes, an outsider. That she thought so highly of Dixie after all she had seen and undoubtedly kept secret, touched Dixie deeply.
Dixie dropped her gaze to the page she
’
d written. She loved those words. She loved the way she had crafted and carefully formed them. She loved the image they presented of the South, a place inextricably intertwined with this house, her family, and Miss Lettie herself.
The slanting shafts of light around them caught specks of dust and made them sparkle. God alone knew what made up those tiny flecks, bits of human skin and animal dander and things far too disgusting to dwell on overlong. Yet in the right light they glistened like diamonds. Dixie traced the perfect script in the open book with her fingertips. The crisp paper fought back at first then came tearing free of the binding with a glorious, low ripping sound that actually made Dixie gasp aloud in satisfaction.
As the page slid quietly to the floor, she picked up her pen and began again, reading aloud as she did to make sure she got it right.
‘“
Since I first came to Fulton
’
s Dominion, Mississippi, over seventy years ago, I can
’
t recall a day when I didn
’
t sweat.
’“
“
Yes, I do believe you have it in you yet.
”
Lettie hummed a few bars of some faraway lullaby, one eye narrowed on Dixie for what seemed an eternity.
“
Yes, ma
’
am, I believe it almost enough to trust you with the stone truth of my life
’
s story. Almost.
”
Chapter Six
“
A partner? As in equal ownership?
”
Riley rubbed the palm of his hand down his nearly new, neatly pressed jeans. He shifted his shoulders, constrained now in his best sport coat. He hooked his finger inside the collar of his stiff, white shirt, straightened his tie.
“
You cannot possibly be telling me you want me to become a full partner in the Fulton family operation.
”
Howard Greenhow, sitting behind a desk larger than some
Southern voting precincts, smiled in a way so patronizing that when he opened his mouth to speak, Riley immediately cut him off. He had no intention of sitting through whatever sales pitch, flattery, or outright runaround would accompany such a look.
“
I don
’
t have the kind of money it takes to become an equal partner in the Fulton
’
s businesses.
”
Riley went straight for the one point he knew would grab this smarmy lawyer
’
s attention.
“
When I spoke to Mr. Fulton-Leigh, he only wanted to sell 25 percent tops. And he was only doing that so he could set his daughter up with a broader-based support system for the distant future.
”
That was a bond the two men had shared, a single- minded drive and gut-level sense of obligation to do the right thing for their daughters.
“
I completely understand.
”
Without taking his eyes off Riley, Greenhow tapped at the corner of a silver picture frame as if to show his total agreement with that fatherly sentiment.
Riley cocked his head and blinked. Either this lawyer had one of the hairiest children in the world or the man had entirely failed to notice that of all the photos of smiling kids and posed family portraits scattered on his expansive desk, he
’
d just patted one of a golden retriever with its tongue hanging out.
Riley leaned back in a vain attempt to make himself more comfortable in his straight-backed chair.
“
My point is that Mr. Fulton-Leigh clearly stated that he, and I can only assume his daughter after his death, would always maintain controlling interest. What you
’
re saying to me now—
”
Greenhow held up his hands.
“
Let me stop you right there.
”
The lawyer
’
s hands were soft and pudgy. Clearly the man had never done a hard day of blistering manual labor in his life. Riley stuffed his own rough, calloused fingers into his jeans pockets.
“
First, let me clear up a little, Mr. Walker. The Fulton family descendants basically own three businesses, each separately held.
”
Greenhow flashed three sausage-like fingers, as he stood and plopped three file folders down, announcing the name clearly printed on each one as it landed on the side of the desk nearest Riley.
“
Fulton
’
s Fine Furniture Manufacturing. Fulton
’
s Fine Furniture Outlet Store
.
Fulton
’
s Cartage, Delivery, and Transport.
”
“
This is all very interesting, but—
”
“
That
’
s the gem, there.
”
Greenhow stabbed one finger at the last folder.
“
Fulton
’
s Cartage. Lucky for you, this is the one I can promise to get you controlling interest in. It
’
s the one you want. The true seat of power in the Fulton empire.
”
Riley chuckled and raised a questioning eyebrow.
“
Empire?
”
Greenhow chuckled, too.
“
That
’
s how John Frederick ran his businesses, my friend, and pretty much this little town. Like they made up his own private kingdom. He saw himself as the
benevolent, but indisputable, ruler.
”
Riley leaned forward.
Greenhow took that as a sign to continue.
“
Wasn
’
t anything new in that, as you can probably guess from the town
’
s name. One family has dominated our history, social pecking order, and economy for the better part of the last century.
”
“
Nothing wrong with that, I guess.
”
Riley tried to read the lawyer
’
s eyes but couldn
’
t get a fix on the man
’
s point.
“
It
’
s not the only small town in Mississippi where things worked out that way.
”
“
No, indeed it
’
s not. And as long as things are...working out, as you say, I suppose there
’
s no reason to monkey with success. However, if things begin to go astray, then it
’
s up to those who can to step in and take whatever measures deemed necessary to get things back on the…
”
he paused to make quotation marks in the air,
“
…right track.
”
Riley had wasted his time even coming here today. He suspected as much when Greenhow
’
s first suggestions had gone so far afield of the things Riley had discussed with John Frederick before his death.
Partnerships? Empire? Those who can...taking whatever measures necessary...back on the
“
right track
”
? This man was on a power trip or something equally nonproductive or potentially disastrous. Riley wanted no part of that.
With his credibility and judgment about to come under intense scrutiny in Wendy
’
s adoption case, he could not afford to get involved with anything messy or circumspect. Not that he would in any case, but right now so much as the hint of duplicity had him on edge, ready to cut bait and run.
“
Do you get what I
’
m saying, Mr. Walker?
”
“
Sure. You
’
re saying you don
’
t agree with the way John Frederick
’
s heirs are running things.
”
He shifted his classic black cowboy boots over the thick carpet.
“
You obviously expected to have more input in things when you told me the deal was a no go, but you got edged out of the power position somehow.
”
Greenhow shifted his gaze away, saying nothing.
Riley snorted a chuckle at that nonverbal confirmation.
“
So you just thought you
’
d try to stir things up, bring in an outsider who might have a better chance of doing things to your liking. Or who, because you helped him buy into a very lucrative business opportunity, would be in your debt, feel obliged to use your law firm, or short of that, throw some other business or favors your way somewhere along the line. Is that about right, Mr. Greenhow?
”
“
What is
about right
, Mr. Walker, is that a big ol
’
chunk of this town
’
s economy depends on the success of these three concerns.
”
He spread his hand over the file folders.
“
And Dixie Fulton-Leigh
cannot
manage them all by herself. Her own father knew that. He knew that when the time came she
’
d need someone like you to be ready to help her. You just said yourself that
’
s what he told you when he first contacted you about making some kind of deal.
”