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“Were you aware of Chester Barlow, uh, expecting things from Wendy? Physically.”
She stared at me a moment, then snorted in disgusted amusement. “Is that what she said? Is that her excuse? That he owed the place to her because of what he put her through? I got an earful of that whining all those years ago and I’ll tell you what I told her then. It was bull. Through and through. He never — you know. Not like real sex, not even if you get all shifty with your definitions like Bill Clinton. So what if he wanted a little cuddle now and then. You’d do that for any other breathing human, as sick as he was toward the end. And especially one who’d done so much for me. And her. Difference is, she thought she deserved every bit of good he or anybody else ever did for her. Not a grateful bone in her body.
“Not a generous one, either. She wouldn’t let either one of us — Keefe or me — see him in those last couple days. She said he didn’t want to see us, didn’t want us to see him so low down. Didn’t sound like Chester to me — he never thought he was low down, no matter what. Though I suppose when people get near the end like that, they can change. So maybe he didn’t want us to see him, maybe he didn’t want to see anybody, just like he got so cold she had a fire going in July. He’d always been a warm one, not needing so much as a sweater when others were shivering. But what with my parents dying young in an accident and no other family to speak of, I don’t know how those things go at the end of a life.”
She brightened suddenly.
“And then there was no will and Wendy had to be grateful to her brothers for not selling off the place, but letting her keep it all herself. She hated that. Even better, with being owner, she had to do a whole lot more than she used to. Turned her right around. You might not believe it now, but she was a real flitty thing. Having to work soured her on just about everything. Well, she was already soured on me, but sure soured her on Keefe. She’d been sweet on him to then.”
She colored slightly. “I’ve done things for him these last years, things a friend would do. But she used to... Well, it was a long time ago and he didn’t hardly notice, much less do anything about it. And it ended when she became the owner. Couldn’t just be Miss La-di-da Hostess. She had to buckle down and really work.”
Brenda’s wrinkles conformed to her wide smile, though it wasn’t nearly as pleasant as usual.
****
I picked up Tamantha after her organizing meeting for the science fair.
Our next stop would be pick up her friend Madison for a sleepover at the ranch.
Tom and I would have a sleepover, too. I figured the more fun the girls had, the less we would have.
I brought the dissertation to go through again and keep my mind off our missing fun.
My first read had confirmed most of what I already knew.
There was a part at the end that described a legend that Oscar buried gold and bank notes from a robbery. Some said the burial site was in Cottonwood County.
Of course, the author pointed out, that was mostly people from Cottonwood County.
Mrs. P’s mentor seemed to dismiss the legend.
Voices coming nearby warned me of Tamantha’s arrival. I placed the book on the passenger seat as she climbed in the back seat and buckled up. She was tall enough now to no longer need a booster seat.
“How was school today?”
“Pretty routine,” said the fourth-grader verging on forty. “But the science fair should be good. I might do something about visual effects in old movies.”
After she told me about that, she asked, “What’s the book on the front seat?”
“Mrs. P gave it to me to read.”
“Homework,” she said wisely. “You’ll have a quiz.”
“Yup.”
DAY FIVE
SATURDAY
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“Will you get me the white pepper?” Tom asked.
“Why white pepper?”
“Madison worries when she sees dark specks in her scrambled eggs that it’s bugs. Tamantha tried to talk her out of it, talking about when I make bacon then use the same pan to make the eggs how there’re bits of bacon in the eggs and they’re a different color and it’s delicious—”
“It is.”
