I did a much better job in high school because by then I could see some value in school. Besides, I wanted to go off to college, and that wouldn’t happen unless I pulled up my grades. Katie, on the other hand, was valedictorian in middle school and high school. She did very well in college, but she’d finally found other interests: her sorority and boys.
She never lost her early strength. Even when Katie had been pushed around by the class bully in fifth grade, she had handled it in her own style. Apparently she’d been a target because of her last name, because she was wearing braces, and because she was small and thin for her age. Every morning before school, the bully, Jared Marshton, would stop her outside of the building and take away her lunch money. Then Katie took to hiding it in her underwear, which is when he pushed her down and threw her notebook in the mud. At that point a teacher saw the altercation and came running over, just in time to see Katie pick up her notebook and slam it into Jared’s face.
I never would have heard about it if it hadn’t been for the teacher. Katie might have been angelic on the outside, but like my mother, and I suppose most of the Camden women, she’s got that tough core. Problem was, the cover over the toughness was getting hard, too.
I was going to have to take some time and convince her that life was much easier if you didn’t try to force everything to your will. I would do that after the battle for the house was over.
She looked up now from the pages I’d copied in Houston’s office. “You’re sure this is Houston’s writing?”
I wanted to brush her light brown hair back from her forehead, but those kinds of endearing gestures weren’t welcome at this stage of her life. “I’m positive, honey. It’s always been big and bold like that.”
“Where did you get this?” she asked, fingering the pages in front of her.
Now that wasn’t a place I wanted this conversation to go. “Kate, that’s a rabbit hole, as they say in my work-shops for the computer industry, and we need to stay on topic. The topic is: how do we stop Houston? Do you have any ideas?”
“Lawyers?”
“That was my first thought, and I have talked with Howard—”
“Mother, he’s a dinosaur. And not a very predatory one, either. He’s a . . .” She snapped her fingers to help remember the word. “Herbivore. He eats plants and leaves.”
“You’re right, but he’s a very nice herbivore,” I said. “And he is my lawyer, so I had Houston’s lawyer fax some things to him. I am asking around to see if we can find the kind of lawyer who is predatory. Carnivorous.”
“Eats other lawyers for lunch. And dinner.”
“Unfortunately, so far I haven’t found one, and we don’t have all that much time.”
“That’s another thing I don’t understand,” she said. “Houston obviously sent out letters, or called everyone in the corporation, and so, how come we’re just now finding out about it two weeks before the meeting? Aren’t we required to get some kind of notice, too?”
“Yes, but it’s something like two weeks’ notice if I remember correctly. Yours will probably arrive next week sometime. Something did come to the Manse and someone signed for it, but I never received it. I still wouldn’t know about the takeover fight if Houston’s lawyer hadn’t called me all pissy. I guess I was supposed to respond with a cordial note saying that I would be packing and out of here in two weeks or before the next coven gathering.”
“Mother,” Kate snapped. “Do you have to talk that way?”
“What way?”
“First you said pissy, and then you said coven. Shelby and Cliffie ask me about those words when they come home. What am I supposed to say?”
I wanted to roll my eyes like Shelby. “Tell them to ask me about words that I use. The twins are very bright, and they’ll be even brighter if you don’t shelter them so much.”
“That is not true. We live in a very frightening world. It’s my job to keep them safe and secure. It’s not like when you were raising us. You can’t just turn kids loose and say, ‘Go outside and play.’ ”
Obviously there was more behind this perfectionism than I’d thought. Katie actually sounded as if she feared she might fail somehow and endanger her children. I wondered if that was even possible: Katie afraid. The concept was like peering through the looking glass backward. I certainly didn’t want it to be true.
“You’re right,” I said. “I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful around the children.”
“You’re not going to ask me to give you a rule book?”
“No,” I said. “I asked for one last year, and you never sent it. So let’s go back to the Manse. You didn’t receive a letter, right?”
“Right.”
“I think I’m going to call Mr. Harrington on that. It might have been some little trick on their part. If you didn’t show up at the meeting, that would swing the vote even more in Houston’s favor.” It was right on the tip of my tongue to say that he was a sneaky bastard, but I didn’t. “Since it’s the weekend, we can’t call the lawyer. So let’s look at the list. As far as I can tell, these are all the people who have a right to vote on who occupies the house.”
Kate was looking up and down the list. “It looks like Houston has talked to all of them. Of course, he neatly skirted our family. The question is, what do we do?”
“First, call some of the people on our side. See if they still have the letter from Houston. I’d be very curious to see what was in it, what reasons he used for wanting us out. Next, we start with the relatives we think we can swing over to our side.”
She didn’t look as cheery as she had when she’d arrived this morning, and those tiny lines were more prominent. “And you want me to make the calls?”
“You don’t have to call everyone on the list, just enough people to see if Houston’s count is accurate, and then a few to see if we can shift the vote in our favor.” If Shelby had shown up with the same disgusted look that Katie had on her face, she’d be in trouble. “You do want our side of the family to keep the Manse, don’t you? If this doesn’t matter to you, then fine. Your grandmother and I can move into a duplex and be done with it.”
“That’s blackmail. This whole thing feels like you’re blackmailing me.”
“Why? Because I’m asking you to do something? That’s ridiculous, especially since in the long run it’s for all of us.” I leaned forward. “You know, Katie, I have a life and a business as well as the Manse. The bottom line is that I can’t do it all.”
For a moment she looked stricken, as if I’d said something that hurt her. Before I could ask about it, she lifted her head and took a deep breath. “I’ll be happy to make the calls.” She snatched the papers from the table and put them in her purse as she stood up. “I’ll pick up a present on the way home and put it in a gift bag. We’ll order pizza for dinner.”
“I have gift bags,” I said. “Take one of mine. And there’s a whole pot of tortilla soup in the refrigerator that you’re more than welcome to take.”
“Thank you, but I can handle this.”
I stood to look her in the eye. “Honey, I didn’t mean to make you angry. I simply need some help—”
“Fine. And where is golden boy Will? You have two offspring, remember? He doesn’t even have a family, so he’s got more time to help.”
Will is younger than Katie, unmarried, and working for a start-up company. He puts in sixty hours a week, and those hours have created something like a crevasse, almost as wide as the Grand Canyon, between himself and the rest of us. I keep hoping that it’s another of those phases that we all go through, and I hope that it will end soon.
I don’t know exactly what drives him, but I’m pretty sure that this is another example of how Will fights against living up to the family standards. It’s bad enough to have a family that lives and breathes politics when you’re a kid who’d rather be playing with Matchbox cars. It’s even worse when your older sister excels, practically over the top, academically. It’s not that Will wasn’t as
bright; he was. He was even more charming than Katie when he chose to be, but Will too often didn’t choose. He still doesn’t.
Will is the one who loves to point out how screwed up the people in our family are. I’ve tried in vain to tell him that this is not a topic you bring up at Thanksgiving dinner, no matter how right you are. We have one family member, a U.S. senator, who thinks he was blessed at birth to be better than everyone else. Even sadder, his sons believe they are of the ruling class, too, and their mother is simply the maid who sees to it that they, and their house, always look good. They take dysfunction to a whole new level. Will and I agree on that, but that’s still not a good reason to tell the senator and his sons they are “so dumb they could throw themselves at the floor and miss.”
Will has a bit of my grandfather in him. That same spirit of the wildcatter, robber baron. My grandfather spent sixteen years as governor of Texas, and he was a thoroughly wonderful person. I adored him. He knew how to channel his rebellious energy; at least, he knew how by the time I came along.
Will is still struggling. One of his first big loves had been a young woman who was a topless dancer, and I think he was thrilled that it rocked the family. I never thought he had much in common with her, but the way some of the relatives talked you’d think he was dating an Al Qaeda terrorist who ran a brothel.
When that relationship ended, as I knew it quickly would, Will decided to become a geek. His word, not mine. He went to work for a start-up company, and now he puts in a marathon workweek every week. He doesn’t take vacations, and weekends give him only enough free time to do his laundry before he is back on the computer or back at the office.
You have to be able to hold your own in a family of strong-willed, independent people. Will can, but he’s chosen to run away from all of us. Oh, I see him once a month or so, for lunch or breakfast, but I want more, and I know it will happen. I’m just not sure how long that’s going to take.
“And,” Katie went on, “what’s wrong with your brother? Stephen doesn’t do anything as far as I can tell. Why can’t he make the phone calls?”
A sigh slipped out. Someone once told me they loved driving by the Camden Manse because they just knew the people who lived inside must be really happy.
Well, on some days I am, and on others I’m not. I don’t think the house has much to do with it. When I leave the Manse, I’ll be just as happy as I was before. I only hoped that day didn’t come in the next week or so.
“It’s okay,” I said, hearing the regret in my own voice.
Katie stared at me for a long time and finally said, “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to blame you for the way Will and Uncle Stephen are.”
I stood up. “I know.”
She took in a deep breath. “I know that you’re busy, too, so I’ll help. I’ll make the calls.”
“Are you sure? I did try to get Stephen to help, but he’s off on some holy quest to get your aunt Debby to remarry him.”
Katie shook her head. “Isn’t that just typical? Sometimes I think half the men in our family are stupid and the other half are assholes.”
I let my eyes widen. “Katie said a word!”
“Don’t tell my kids.” She looked rueful. “Do you ever think it would be easier if we were just like everybody else?”
“Honey, we are just like everybody else. Trust me on that.”
“I always think everyone else is smarter and happier.”
“Most people think that—about everybody else. It may be the single biggest problem in the world.”
She didn’t look convinced. “I’ll go round up my kids and get started on my calls. Bye.”
“Bye, honey.”
I was driving slowly, looking for house number 9038. It would be on my right, and it was the home of the Yancys, Earl and Louise, clients of Andrew Lynch.
The neighborhood was very nice, in a northwest section of Austin called Balcones Village. The houses were mildly reminiscent of the seventies; they were large, nestled on good-sized lots with full-grown trees making the area lush and green. Between the houses I could glimpse the golf course, and if I went far enough down the road, I knew I’d end up at the Balcones Country Club.
I had a reporter friend who lived nearby, and I’d visited him more than once, except I always got lost in the twisting and turnings of the streets. I had finally located the street; now, if I could only find 9038. I hadn’t told anyone I was coming here. Actually I was headed for the hospital when I realized it was Saturday and Tess would probably be overwhelmed with people. I would see her later or the next day. She’d love to hear about the poker tournament. I just had to hope Beth and I would come back alive.
I passed a long ranch-style home with a circular drive and banana trees coming up near the front porch. Next to that was a two-story, tan-brick house that was a little institutional looking, but exceptionally neat. I squinted at the numbers beside the porch—9038, finally. I had found the home of the Yancys.
Not only had I not told anyone I was coming, but I also hadn’t called the Yancys first. It just seemed wiser to show up and request a few minutes of their time. I didn’t want them prepared. I wanted them to tell me the truth about Andrew and his investments. They might give me exactly the information I needed, which would be great, since then I wouldn’t have to go to the poker tournament.
There were no cars on the street, so I parked in the driveway and took my purse with me as I went to the door. It was painted a creamy color that matched the trim. Conservative, but in good taste. I rang the doorbell and waited, wondering if they would be there.
“Yes?” The door opened and Mrs. Yancy was standing there. I recognized her from the party and the office. I knew now what had made the identification so difficult at the party: then she’d had her hair pulled up with a magnificent Chinese clip holding it in place. In the office she’d had her hair down and in an old-fashioned pageboy, the way it was now.
Everything about her was classic, lovely, and just a bit out of date.
“Hello,” I said, looking up at her. “You’re Louise Yancy, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am. And you’re Kitzi Camden! We were at your party the other night, and I never had the opportunity to meet you. Won’t you come in?”
I followed her through the house, which was a little dark, nicely decorated, and like Mrs. Yancy, a little out of date. The carpet was beige, the couches a light turquoise silk, and there were several glass cases with Hummel figurines. The pinch-pleated drapes were a soft gold and lined.
“We usually keep it dark in here so the energy bills won’t be so high,” she said, opening the drapes. “Electricity is so expensive these days, and Austin is not going to get any cheaper.”
“Oh, believe me, I know about that,” I said.
She smiled. “Yes, I’m sure you do. But your home is lovely. Please, sit down, Miss Camden.”
“Kitzi.”
“And I’m Louise.” We sat on opposite couches.
“Your home is lovely, too,” I said. “And right on the golf course.”
“Isn’t that nice? Earl, my husband, and I used to play a great deal, but he had a heart attack a few years ago, so we’ve cut back. I try to get in a few days a week, and then sometimes I’ll be on the back porch and friends will go by in their carts and invite me to join them. It’s only the third hole, so I just grab my clubs and go.”
“How fun.”
“There are some advantages to being this far out of Austin,” she said. “Oh, and I enjoyed your party so much the other night. I have wanted to go inside the Manse for years. The conservatory is spectacular. How in the world do you keep the overhead glass clean?”
“I have a company come in four times a year and wash it. Anyone who thinks I’d get up on a ladder that high is wrong.” We both laughed. “I’m glad that you enjoyed yourself. It was nice of Andrew to bring you.”
“Yes, it was,” she said. “Now, what can I do for you? I know you didn’t come all the way out here to talk
about your party.”
“You’re right, I didn’t. I hope this isn’t too presumptuous of me, but I need some help and I’m hoping you can give it to me.” She nodded for me to go on and I said, “You probably know that Andrew worked with my cousin, Houston.”
“Yes. And I’ve met your cousin. He’s a very nice man.”
“Thank you.” Amazing how many women like Houston. “And I’m sure you’ve heard about Andrew. That he . . .”
“The police were here yesterday.” She looked down at the floor, shaking her head. “It isn’t right. For a young man to die in that manner, hit over the back of the head with an old candlestick . . .” She trailed off. “And then to end up in a Dumpster like that. It’s awful, just awful.”
“Did you know Andrew well?”
She brought her head up to look at me, her eyes sorrowful. “We met him when he was just eighteen years old. That was a very long time ago, wasn’t it?” She sighed softly. “Our grandson, Donovan, was in the fraternity that Andrew pledged at the University of Texas. In fact, Donovan was his big brother at the fraternity house. They were such good friends. Donovan brought Andrew here for Sunday dinner many times, and then they’d go into the living room with Earl and watch football.” She smiled. “They were so full of fun and energy. We loved having them.”
Something had happened, I could tell by the wistfulness in her voice, but the patina of gentility in her house kept me from coming straight out and asking what it was. Instead I said, “I thought that Andrew graduated from a college in California. UCLA?”
“I guess that’s where he went after the accident. I knew he left.”
I waited for her to go on, and after a few moments she did.
“The boys, Donovan and Andrew, were with another friend one night coming home from Sixth Street.” Sixth Street is part of downtown where many of the clubs are—a hangout for the college kids. “There was a car accident,” she went on, her voice soft but firm. “Donovan was killed. It was such a tragedy for all of us.” She sighed, then straightened as though being strong might make it more bearable. “The other boy ended up in a wheelchair. Andrew was in the hospital for a while, and then he went away.”
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