Battle of Chastain. That's where William first joined his company. And at one time Henry was in command there. When it's rebuilt, we can climb to the ramparts and look out over the river—just like Henry and William.'
As the maid brought dessert, Julia held up her wineglass to be refilled. When the glass was full, she downed the contents in one swift, practiced motion.
'Hot damn, Charlotte,' Sybil drawled. 'Won't that be the day! Climb that rampart, honey, wave that—'
Annie glanced down the table at Max. He was looking bland, but laughter danced in his eyes.
'Sybil.' There was impatience more than anger in Miss Dora's voice.
Sybil shrugged.
Annie also noted that Max didn't miss the languid movement of that shapely figure.
Thinking of shapely figures, Annie was tempted to refuse the dessert. But as a guest . . . The Key-lime pie was so good Annie enjoyed every bite despite the charged atmosphere of the dinner party.
'All right, Aunt Dora. I'll be good.' Sybil's carmine-red lips curved in an unrepentant grin. 'But, just between us, don't you think it's stupid when someone whose people don't amount to a hill of beans gets so almighty excited when they connect up with an old family?' The question was addressed to Miss Dora, but its impact was calculated. Sybil's derisive glance raked Charlotte.
This time Charlotte ignored Sybil, but the flush didn't fade from her heavy face.
Miss Dora was already turning to Julia. 'And your week, my dear?' For the first time, her voice was gentle.
Julia licked her lips and squeezed her eyes in concentration. 'Week?' She blinked owlishly.
Abruptly, Annie realized that Julia was drunk as a lord, which made Annie wonder how much Julia'd had to drink before she and her husband ever arrived at Tarrant House.
'Oh, Julia had her usual week,' Milam intervened. 'She Iikes to—'
'Let Julia tell me, Milam.' Miss Dora reached out a claw-like hand to pat Julia's arm.
Annie wondered if the thin woman beside her even noticed, or if she was so anesthetized the touch went unremarked.
Julia gave Milam a suddenly sweet smile. 'S'funny. Came in for bulbs.' She stared intently at Charlotte. 'You always said okay. You weren't home. I went down to the beds near the 'b'lisk.'
Charlotte understood. 'Certainly, Julia. The iris beds near the obelisk.' Annie didn't perceive kindness in Charlotte's response, merely the clearing up of a tidy mind.
'Last night.' Suddenly Julia's eyes filled with tears. 'I saw Amanda.'
Someone drew a breath in sharply.
Annie looked quickly around the table.
Miss Dora's wizened face was alert.
Milam reached up and tugged at the gold stud in his left ear.
Whitney's black brows drew down in a tight frown. Charlotte's hand clung to her necklace as if it were a life line.
Sybil's amusement slipped away, and her face held no hint of her usual spark of deviltry. 'Don't cry, Julia. It's all right.' She spoke gently, as if to a child.
The tears slipped down Julia's thin face, unheeded. 'I tried to run after her. I called for her—but she wouldn't stay.' Julia stared hopelessly at the old lady. 'Why did Amanda have to die? Amanda and—'
'Come on, Julia.' Milam pushed back his chair and was at his wife's side. 'Let's go upstairs for a few minutes. Come on, now.'
As they walked away from the table, Milam holding her elbow, Miss Dora called out, 'When you come downstairs, join us in the drawing room, Milam.' And to the other guests she nodded. 'We shall have coffee there.' She inclined her head and rose.
Miss Dora led the way, her cane a swift staccato accompaniment to her steps. They all followed, of course, Sybil carrying along her half-full tumbler of bourbon.
The three-tiered crystal chandelier illuminated every corner of the spacious drawing room. Annie admired the lovely Meissen china and the elegant silver coffee service. At Miss Dora's nod, Charlotte took her place behind the coffee table to serve. For the first time that evening, Charlotte looked happy, her green eyes glowing. She served very prettily, her plump, be-ringed hands adept. Her pleasure in her role was evident.
Annie, unaccustomedly, took both sugar and cream.
Max shot her a quizzical glance.
Annie ignored him. She suddenly felt she needed every bit of extra energy possible.
Miss Dora waited until Milam and Julia slowly came down the mahogany stairs and joined them. Milam shepherded Julia to a secluded seat in a corner beside a jardiniere with a leafy fern and brought her a cup of coffee. He put it on the Queen Anne table next to her chair.
The old lady took her place in front of the fireplace, hands clasped on the silver knob of her cane, and faced her seated guests scattered about the drawing room. Annie was glad Max sat next to her on the Georgian settee.
Despite the muted richness of her rose gown, Miss Dora had a funereal air. Her ancient, sharp-featured face settled in implacable lines, eyes hooded, lips pursed, arrogant chin thrust forward.
Slowly, one by one, voices fell silent.
