"I know." Connie laughed, without concern. "Isn't he fantastic? I've never met anyone quite like him before. He's taking me out to dinner."
"Well, just be careful," Toni warned. "Your gentleman might turn into a boa constrictor at the drop of a hat."
"Don't be such a ninny," the pert blonde said airily. "Sit down and let's talk. Have you called your aunt Sara yet?"
Toni perched on the edge of the sofa and, with one wary eye on the door, filled Connie in on her plans.
"Didn't you tell me that the 'big house' next to your aunt's cottage is vacant again?" Connie asked after listening for several minutes.
"It's not exactly vacant The son of a wealthy newspaper executive bought it for his wife. But after extensive renovations to the first floor, they decided to get a divorce. She's from New Orleans and wasn't happy with the quieter lifestyle that Natchez offered ... or so my cousin Susie tells me."
"And her husband?"
"He's in New Orleans also." Toni smiled. "His 'daddy' put him in charge of a new magazine they're launching that's supposedly geared to the South and Southwest."
At that moment there was a loud crash outside the door, followed by a gruff male voice letting loose a
string of curses. Background for these remarks was amply provided by the frantic barking of a dog.
Both women jumped to their feet and raced to the door. The scene that greeted them was so outrageously funny that they became convulsed with laughter.
Christian Barr was sitting amid the broken remains of a large ceramic pot, with a bountiful supply of dark potting soil liberally heaped on and around him.
Toni's weeping fig was leaning precariously over one massive shoulder, and Christian was protectively clutching a pitiful, bedraggled gray kitten to his chest while demanding of a completely shattered woman to "Get that damned dog's leash from around my ankle, madam!"
Without slowing down, he glowered toward Connie and Toni, who were struggling to control the gales of laughter coming from them. "If you two ladies can manage to pull yourselves together, I would appreciate some help," he snapped.
It took several confusing minutes to sort out the mess. The woman to whom Christian had spoken so harshly eventually got her dog untangled, then picked it up and hurried away without a word.
Christian continued to hold and soothe the ugly little kitten while Connie and Toni swept and picked-up the potting soil, the broken pot, and the weeping fig.
Once calm prevailed and they were back in Connie's living room, Christian gave Toni a flinty stare. "Miss Grant," he said coldly. "The next time you decide either to break up with your fiance, resign your position, or go on vacation, would you please post notices on every available bulletin board within a fifty-mile radius? That way, I and other innocent people will be well warned and can stay out of your way."
Toni drew herself up to her full but still short height and haughtily regarded him. "Mr. Barr , . . I don't recall a single moment during the three incidents you've mentioned where I asked for your help. Furthermore, I didn't tell you to referee a cat and dog fight. You did that all on your own." She continued to : glare at him for several seconds, then turned to Con- j nie. "I'll call you tomorrow before I leave," she said, I and quickly exited.
Toni was lying comfortably against neatly clipped grass. A sprinkling of leaves reminded her that autumn had indeed arrived. She'd been in Natchez for a week now and already she'd fallen victim to the slow, easy pace that was an accepted way of life in the Deep South.
Susie Logan was sitting against a huge oak whose spreading limbs formed a canopy over part of the grounds surrounding Cartlaigne Cottage.
The word cottage was a misnomer, Toni thought dreamily as she allowed her gaze to float over the graceful lines of the one-and-a-half-story structure that had been in her family since the 1830s.
The cottage had been a concession of sorts for two old-maid sisters of Joshua Cartlaigne. They hadn't felt welcome when their elder brother remarried after the death of his first wife, so they worked out a plan whereby they would have a separate residence but still remain on the grounds of their childhood home.
Toni couldn't help but smile as she remembered hearing tales handed down through generations about how her aunts bargained with their dominating brother and won. They'd demanded that the line of succession regarding residency of the cottage be passed only to female descendants of the Cartlaigne family who were unmarried. They further stipulated that if the residing female happened to marry during her stay in the cottage, and there were no other single females of legal age, she and her husband could remain—so long as it was understood that the property could only be passed along as the original order stipulated.
"What are you smiling about?" Susie put aside the book she was reading and regarded her cousin with
merry eyes.
"The Cartlaigne curse." Toni grinned. "Have you ever considered the fact that our female ancestors didn't exactly set the world on fire when it came to home, hearth, husbands, and babies?"
"I like to think of them as very progressive ladies," Susie said with a laugh. "Does it bother you, Toni? I mean coming back here after a broken engagement. Are you finding this whole scene a little eerie or are you just indulging in humorous stories of the past?"
"The latter, I assure you. Now that I'm away from Steven, I look back and I can't believe how easily I accepted his ring and agreed to marry him."
"Don't you think the accident and your parents' death had a lot to do with your decision?" Susie asked
thoughtfully.
"Indeed I do," Toni agreed. "I felt alone . . . was alone, and Steven was there. At the time it seemed the most natural thing in the world to turn to him. I get goose bumps when I think of what could have happened if I hadn't caught him with Lea Simmons."
"From what you told me, poor Steven must have gotten more than goose bumps . . . more like intense pain."
"I can't believe you're wasting your pity on Steven Crowell," Toni said with mock sternness, then flung a handful of leaves at her cousin. "He didn't get a tenth of what he deserved."
"Oh, I'm not sympathizing with the rat." Susie laughed as she brushed the leaves from her hair. "My only regret is that I wasn't there to help you." She looked toward the cottage where Sara Cartlaigne was supposed to be napping. "Your 'weather report' reminds me of the old story about Aunt Sara taking a horsewhip to her intended."
"She didn't!" Toni exclaimed as she rolled over onto her stomach and propped her chin on her palms, her dark eyes bright with amusement and curiosity. "Tiny Aunt Sara wielding a horsewhip? What was the unfortunate man guilty of?"
"No one was ever certain. Or if they were, it was kept very quiet. Needless to say, the engagement ended and Aunt Sara became known as an eccentric.
A label, as you well know, that has followed her to this very day."
"I don't like the word eccentric." Toni frowned. "I prefer to think of her as having been a lady who knew her own mind and refused to be swayed by fads and customs she considered unworthy of her time or consideration."
Again Susie chuckled. "I suppose you would, considering the similarity in which each of you, while generations apart, handled your fiances."
Toni grimaced at the gentle teasing, then shrugged. "I hadn't thought about that. Perhaps I'm more like her than either of us realizes."
"Antonia Elizabeth Grant! Don't be such a goose," Susie said sternly. "You're only twenty-five, an age that doesn't exactly qualify you for a lace cap and dark dresses. I can see right now that Brent and I have our work cut out for us. If we don't find you a husband during this visit, you might take it into that stubborn head of yours to become another Aunt Sara."
"Well, my goodness, Susan Louise," Toni said innocently, her dark eyes twinkling merrily. "Don't get into such a stew over the thought of your only cousin becoming an old maid."
"Old maid indeed!" Susie scoffed, her own dark eyes narrowed disapprovingly. "As a matter of fact, we'll get this little project off to a great start tomorrow evening with a nice little dinner for four at our place. You be there by six thirty, and wear something sexy."
"How about if I arrive topless, dressed in a harem veil and pants, with a large glittering gem glued to my navel?"
"You wouldn't dare!" Susie said in mock horror.
"Oh . . ." Toni sighed as though disappointed that her plan hadn't been met with more enthusiasm. "I suppose I wouldn't. But just think of it, Susie," she said with a grin. "You'd be the most talked about hostess in Natchez."
"An honor I can well do without, I assure you," Susie remarked dryly as she rolled to her knees, then stood. "I really do hate to break this up, but it's almost four thirty. My husband and son should be home any minute with their smelly catch."
"You don't sound pleased." Toni smiled as she began to walk her cousin to her car which was parked in the driveway.
"I'm not. Fishing is a passion with both of them, and they very seldom fail to return home without something to show for their efforts."
Just as they reached the car, Susie turned and looked beyond Toni's shoulder toward the two-story elegance of Cartlaigne, whose upper level and attic were visible above the trees that separated it from the cottage's property. "Looks like Aunt Sara's neighbors have returned."
Toni turned in time to see the outline of a man standing at one of the upstairs windows, staring down at the two women. "Didn't you mention that the owners were getting a divorce?" she asked.
"That was the gossip going around. Maybe they've decided to put the house on the market again." Susie shrugged. She got into the car and started the engine, then looked at Toni. "I'll be expecting you promptly at six thirty tomorrow evening—and properly clothed."
Toni laughed and waved as the small car eased down the graveled drive and out the main entrance that served both the big house and the cottage.
As she turned and made her way toward the old brick pathway that circled the cottage, she couldn't help but wonder about the man she'd seen at the window. She felt a twinge of sadness at the thought of Cartlaigne being sold again. Her ancestors, generations of them, had lived, loved, and died there. Somehow it didn't seem right for the property to be without someone to care for it.
"But the size of it," she murmured as she came to a break in the trees and stared broodingly at the imposing structure. "It boggles the mind just thinking of caring for the first floor."
With a resigned shake of her head, she continued past the rear of the cottage to one of two small, neat white structures that sat in each corner of the spacious grounds. In one building was housed a lawnmower,rakes, and other yard and garden tools. There was also food for the evil-tempered billy goat of undetermined age that Sara Cartlaigne had raised, as well as ground corn for a feisty rooster that kept the goat company.
Toni filled two small plastic pails with the concoctions that composed the daily diet of the two pets. Then she walked to the enclosure behind the building to feed the cantankerous creatures.
The goat, appropriately named Billy, was methodically gnawing away at the corner of the covered shed that afforded him protection from the cold and rain. He cast a mean-eyed glance her way as Toni hung the pails on two hooks attached to a sturdy post that supported the fence.
She bent and picked up her protection, a nice sturdy broom handle, then released the latch on the gate and entered the enclosure. The rooster, who was scratching in one deserted corner, puffed his feathers and gave every indication of attacking, only to scamper away when Toni gave a healthy swing of the broomstick.
Toni couldn't help but grin as she wondered what feer friends in Richmond would say if they could see her involved in what had become a daily chore.
All such thoughts came to a halt, however, when out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of Billy making his way alongside the fence in order to get a dead aim on her derriere.
She quickly dropped the pails to the ground, whipped her "club" from beneath her arm, and waved it threateningly at the cross-eyed goat. "Don't even think about it," she muttered in warning.
Billy stared at her for several seconds, then gave what Toni could have sworn was a yellow-toothed leer and swung away to feast on a piece of paper that had found its way into his domain.
"One of these days, you ornery cuss, I'm going to offer you as the main course at a barbecue," she threatened without any real malice in her voice. For as ridiculous as it seemed, there was something about Billy that reminded her of Aunt Sara.
Each of them, in their own way, could be rude and unpredictable. And, as Susie had pointed out during one of her visits, it took someone unusually determined to get along with either the goat or Aunt Sara. "But then . . . you've always been close to her, haven't you?" Susie had said to Toni.
Toni had smiled and nodded. "I've always admired her spirit. Even when I was a child—and she was an old lady then—I considered her the most fascinating person in my life. For weeks after each visit to Natchez, my mother would be ready to box my ears. For not only did I love Aunt Sara,. I tried to be like her."
And now, Toni thoughtfully mused as she tipped out the first bucket of feed, here I am, still feeling the bond, the pull of affection that exists between that tiny gray-haired old lady and me. I was hurt, and the one place in all the world I
wanted to be was at Cartlaigne with Aunt Sara.
She took a deep breath of crisp autumn air and slowly shook her head. She didn't pretend to understand the workings of fate, nor was she about to waste pointless thought and energy pondering it. She was happy and content, and at the moment that was all that mattered.