After Jake outlined the details, we left for Opie’s, and we made quite the group. I gave Gram a lift in the Nova, and Joe and the horse followed behind, trotting so quickly that the horse’s hooves would have stirred up dirt if they’d been attached to an animal that was alive and it was back when all roads were unpaved.
Ophelia Buford lived in a mansion—well, a mansion by Broken Rope standards—on the edge of town. She and I had grown up together, enemies since we were young, enemies squared when we were in high school and Cliff broke up with her and started dating me shortly thereafter. No matter how he’d tried to make her understand that he hadn’t broken up with her just so that he could date me, that his feelings for me had been a surprise, she had never forgiven me for luring him away from her. Our relationship had been quite antagonistic toward each other. She was openly rude to me and I was openly rude to her. However, when she was dating Teddy, we’d both tried to mellow our bad feelings for each other. We’d become more passive-aggressive than just plain aggressive.
I didn’t know the details behind their breakup, but when Teddy told me that Opie had ended the relationship, I hadn’t felt the pure glee I’d anticipated when daydreaming of the day the happy event would occur. Instead, I was sorry for my brother’s broken heart. I didn’t understand Teddy and his Lothario ways, but he was my brother, and he didn’t attempt to hide the pain he felt over losing Opie. I also didn’t understand Opie, but the fact that she dumped my kid brother—no matter how much he might have deserved it, and he just might have—my feelings for her fell comfortably back to irritated dislike. For years I’d called her my personal Nellie Oleson, and now as far as I was concerned, it was really on. No more passive with my aggressive.
“Just be nice,” Gram said as we pulled onto the long birch tree–lined driveway. “We don’t know what happened. Teddy . . . well, he doesn’t have a great track record, Betts. As much as we love him, maybe Opie was right to dump him, though it bothers me, too. Just remember who we’re dealing with and that neither of them is all that talented with personal relationships.”
I made a noncommittal noise as I glanced in the rearview mirror at the horse and rider. Joe was bent over, the flap of his hat blowing somehow backward with the horse’s forward progression. How their movements were separate from the current-day movement of air around them baffled me. They didn’t stir up present-day dust, and the present-day dust and wind around them had no effect on their state of being. Two separate worlds, but taking up the same space.
As I looked back toward the driveway in front of us, something caused me to do a double take in the mirror. What had I seen on Joe’s face? For a fast and brief instant, it was as if something happened, transformed slightly, maybe, but my mind hadn’t picked up on it quickly enough to understand exactly what I’d seen. Had his face become less grimy for just a split second? Possibly. But why would it do that?
“What?” Gram asked as she twisted and looked out the back windshield.
“I’m not sure. I think I saw . . . I’m not sure what I saw.”
“I don’t see anything unusual. Well, unexpected,” she said before she turned around again.
I shook it off and turned my attention fully toward the front of Opie’s family’s mansion. The white, stately manor was wide and intimidating. Four thick columns punctuated the front, and the windows were perfectly placed and reminded me of a friendly jack-o’-lantern. The wide double front doors, each with a large brass knocker, gave the whole place more of an Oz castle aura than a country home feel.
Opie had never moved out of her parents’ house. She hadn’t ever behaved as if she’d even considered the idea. Her parents traveled frequently, so she often had the whole place to herself. And it was a big place; ten thousand square feet of living space with a huge pool and some horse acreage extending from the back.
During the moments I wasn’t irritated by her, I had to give her at least a little credit. She was as unfriendly as she could be to me, but she’d never flaunted her family’s fortune. Well, at least not in a snobbish way. I’d seen her pull out her checkbook and throw lots of money at Broken Rope issues with no request for anonymity, but she’d never done it to prove herself better than anyone; she’d just known what needed to be done, and she knew she had the funds to take care of the problem. She’d never asked for any sort of thank-you in return.
I also had to give Teddy a little credit. He hadn’t fallen for Opie’s money—I knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t lying to me when he said he couldn’t have cared if she was poor. Teddy wasn’t all that into money himself. He lived simply, making more than enough money to pay his bills and still have the type of fun he liked to have.
I hadn’t brought it up with him, but I suspected that his less-than-über-ambitious nature might have been at least part of the reason Opie had thought to end the relationship. Despite her humble behavior when it came to income, I couldn’t see her living in his cabin, and he’d never consider living in her family’s house.
“I’ll be nice. Or as nice as she allows me to be,” I said after I parked in the driveway and we got out of the car.
“No, you have to be nicer than that. Just ignore her if she tries to get you riled, Betts. We just need to deliver this letter.”
“I wish we’d let Jake do this one, too.”
“No, I want to do this one. We’re getting close to the end with Joe—whatever that might be. I feel I owe it to him. I wished I’d been the one to talk to Jim. Afterward, it bothered me, and I’m not going to make that mistake again.”
I was surprised to hear that she was regretful, but I said, “I understand.”
“Ready?” Gram said as she looked at me.
“Yes.”
“Ready?” Gram said to Joe, who’d dismounted and was standing behind us.
He rubbed his finger under his nose and then scratched his ear. His face was as dirty as it had been when I first met him. I still didn’t understand what I’d seen a moment earlier. “Yes, ma’am.”
We walked up to the front doors. Gram lifted one of the heavy knockers and tapped lightly. We could hear the sound echo through the cavernous house. Opie’s BMW was parked around the side of the garage, out of sight from anyone who didn’t take the time to take a quick look. I suspected her parents were traveling again.
It was a long moment before a slight shuffle of footsteps moved toward the door. The hesitation after they stopped made me think that Opie was considering her visitors through the peephole long and hard. I tried to keep my expression neutral.
The door finally opened.
“Miz, Betts, what’s up?” Opie asked.
She looked terrible. Normally, when she wasn’t in costume as a local historical character, she was done up. She wasn’t shy with makeup, and her bleached blond hair was always a little bigger than it seemed it should be. She wore her clothes tight—and it truly got under my skin that she looked good in things a size or two smaller than what she should be wearing.
But today, she was different. I wondered why she’d opened the door. There was not a stitch of makeup on her face, and her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail. She wore sweats that were perhaps older than my own favorite pair.
“Uhm, everything okay with Teddy?” she asked, before we could answer her first question.
So that’s why she opened the door. A part of me wanted to understand what had gone on between her and my brother. A bigger part still didn’t want the details.
Gram looked at me and then back at Opie.
“He’s fine, Ophelia. We’re just here to share some information with you. We found out something we thought you might find fun and interesting,” Gram said.
“What’s it about?” Opie said.
“We came upon some evidence that you are related to one of our more infamous citizens,” Gram said with a fake smile. This wasn’t any easier on her than it was me; she just wanted to be more mature.
Opie’s eyes lit brighter. “Who?”
“Can we come in, Ophelia? There’s a letter attached to our discovery and we’d like to read it to you.”
“Sure,” she said, no hesitation.
I recognized that a part of me kind of liked that we might be telling her something to bring her out of whatever funk she was in. What was wrong with me? I had no doubt that at any minute she might say or do something that would insult me directly. Why would I be happy to make her feel better about anything?
Gram led the way inside. I followed her, and Joe followed me; the horse remained outside this time. Joe whistled when we were in the entryway; it was decorated with a large round table adorned with a vase of fresh flowers. A crystal chandelier hung above the table, and even though it wasn’t lit, the sun, coming in from a window above the front doors, made all the small crystal pieces shimmer.
“These folks are richer than everyone I knew combined,” Joe said.
Evidence of the Buford fortune continued as Opie led us out of the entryway and into a library next to it. The room wasn’t small, but it wasn’t so big that it took away its cozy feel. One red velvet chaise took up the space beside the front window, and four high-back leather chairs filled the middle, facing each other in pairs; tall Tiffany lamps were placed in between each pair.
The walls were, of course, filled with hardback books, probably many of them first editions, though I doubted Opie cared much about the books. She wasn’t ever much of a reader, or a student. She didn’t have to get the grades to put her in the running for college scholarship money. She hadn’t had the ambition I’d been required to have to maintain a 4.0 in high school, finish college at the top of my class, and then jump into law school. I did drop out of law school a year and a half in, which was a humiliation she hadn’t had to face. And, other than the fact that Cliff had broken up with her and then started dating me, she’d probably had lots more fun than I did when we were younger. And we’d both ended up in pretty much the same place: Broken Rope, either working or living with our families. I tried not to dwell on the irony.
We each sat in one of the leather chairs as Joe perused the books on the shelves. He seemed much more interested in those than in our sharing of the letter.
“Ophelia, it’s a long complicated story of how we came upon the letter I want to read to you. And the hows and whys won’t make a lot of sense anyway, so would you mind if we just skipped over that part? Jake authenticated it and then researched how you were related. Can you just trust me on that?” Gram said.
Opie sent a quick but unmistakable glance of doubt in my direction but gave Gram a fully agreeable nod. “Of course, Miz.”
“Good. Well, here it is.”
Gram put on her reading glasses and then read the reproduced letter, written by Jake on parchment, just like the first letter, from Elizabeth to her mother, Alicia Zavon.
Opie was enthralled, literally on the edge of her seat through the entire reading. I don’t think she breathed or blinked until after Gram was done.
“I . . . I know who you mean. Alicia Zavon killed her husband, right?” she said when Gram refolded the letter.
“Yes, that’s the one, but there’s a little more,” Gram said.
“Okay,” Opie said, her eyes now fully bright and alert, still not blinking.
“Elizabeth did come to Broken Rope. She was too late, because the letter never reached Alicia.”
“Oh, my! So if the letter had arrived or if Elizabeth had arrived a little earlier, then maybe Alicia wouldn’t have killed her husband?”
“It’s possible, but then other things might not have occurred either,” Gram said. “And Elizabeth never went back to her family, so it seems that the lineage was all but forgotten. Jake is working to figure out if the rest of the family eventually came to Broken Rope or not, but one of Elizabeth’s abandoned daughters was named Ophelia. It seems that you are a part of Alicia’s family tree.”
Opie stood, gasped, and put her hand to her chest.
I forced myself not to roll my eyes.
“I’m related to Alicia Zavon and I’m named after one of her granddaughters!?” Opie said, almost breathless.
“It appears so,” Gram said.
“This . . . this . . . well, it changes everything, doesn’t it?” Opie said as she moved to the space behind her two chairs and began to pace.
“Well, I don’t know,” Gram said, “but it’s very interesting.”
“No, Miz, you don’t understand.” After a couple back and forth jaunts, Opie returned to the chair and sat. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees as she continued, “I’ve always known I was somehow special to this town. I’ve always known! Now, this proves it.”
“Opie, I think you’ve always been special, too. I didn’t need this letter to prove it,” Gram said.
I held back a myriad of protests, including incredulous noises and doubtful commentary.
“Oh, Miz, you’re so sweet,” Opie said. And then she actually took the next half second to send me a disgusted and disappointed look before turning her gleeful aura back to Gram.
“It’s true, my dear,” Gram said.
I looked at Gram. Okay, maybe this wasn’t too hard on her. Maybe she was being sincere to Opie. I sure hoped I was more like her when I grew up.
“Oh my, oh my, oh my, this is such a wonderfully tragic story,” Opie said.
“Yes, it is, but it is also the distant past,” Gram said, bringing at least a little present-time reality back to the moment. “This happened a long time ago, Ophelia, and there’s nothing to be done to change it. It’s good that you know though, I think.” Gram looked quickly at Joe, who’d moved to a spot beside the lamp in between me and Gram.
I looked at him, too, and there was something different about him, but again I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. Was he more solid? No, not really. But I could still somehow see him better even with all the bright light. Was that it? I couldn’t be sure.
“Oh, yes, Miz, it’s very good that I know. I think I shall have to do something to honor the memory. No, that doesn’t sound right. Murder was involved. I think I shall have to do something to document . . . yes, that’s the word, document, the entire tragedy of the situation. Perhaps a statue or something. Maybe something right in the middle of town. I could stand next to it for a couple hours every day during the summer and let the tourists take pictures. I’m sure Jake can help me figure it out.”
“I’m sure he can,” Gram said.
Suddenly, whatever it was about Joe that had seemed momentarily different was gone. I couldn’t distinguish what had disappeared, making me think I’d imagined it. Maybe I was just trying too hard to see something, see apparent changes with the reading of the letters. Maybe I had also just hoped that I could feel Jerome’s touch in bright daylight.
“Oh, Miz”—Opie looked at me again, this time with less disdain—“and Betts, you two have brightened one of my darkest times. I’m ever so grateful. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Gram said.
“Ya, uhm, yes, you’re welcome, Opie,” I added.
Gram stood, and I followed suit.
“We’ll be on our way, then,” Gram said as she stepped around me and exited the library. She was done.
“Betts,” Opie said as she grabbed my arm.
“Yes?” I looked at her hand on my arm.
“How’s Teddy?” she asked.
“I think he’s okay.” I squinted as I tried to read her pretty blue eyes. Did I see sincerity there? Did she really care about him? Would she be upset if she heard about the fight and the condition he was genuinely in? My hard heart softened a little, and even though I thought I’d probably regret it, I said, “Actually, Opie, he was in a fight and, well, he’s fine, and he’s going to be fine, but he got a little beat up.”
“What happened?”
“He’s still sorting out the details.”
“Oh, dear, should I . . . Oh, Betts, I want to see him, I miss him. Should I?”
I shru
gged. “I don’t know, Opie. Teddy doesn’t share his personal goings-on with me. I don’t know what happened between the two of you.”
“I’m too old for him, Betts. I knew he wouldn’t remain interested in me long-term. I thought it was best to break us up before I got too deep.”
Judging from the condition she was in and the mood Teddy had been in, I suspected they’d both already fallen too deep. I wanted to tell Opie to quit being so stupid. Though Teddy had a reputation, he also knew how to care about people; he truly did have feelings, too. But I didn’t think I should advise either of them regarding anything.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Opie, but he has seemed a little down in the dumps since you two broke up.”
“He has?”
“Yes,” I said. I had the urge to run. I could tell she was about to ruin our moment.
“I will call him today,” she said, as if assuring me.
I smiled as I nodded and turned to leave.
“Betts, wait,” she said as she took the steps to catch up with me.
“Yes.”
“Thank you.” She smiled sincerely. “And, well, never mind.” She put a few stray pieces of my hair behind my ear. She wanted to insult my hair, but she held back.
It was the nicest she’d ever been about my hair.
I sighed deeply.
“See you later, Opie,” I said before joining Gram and Joe and the horse outside. If she only knew that she’d had a ghost from Broken Rope’s past right in her house.
At least I had that on her.
Chapter 17
After our visit with Opie, Gram insisted on us all going back to the school. I asked her why we just couldn’t back out of Opie’s driveway, find a quiet spot, pull out the last letter, read it, and call Jake for help. Or better yet, just call him first and set up a quick meeting. Surely he would have to be of assistance again, and we still had a little prep to do at the campsite.
Gram said, “No, this is important, Betts; the culmination of so many years of Joe’s and my search, or mission, maybe. This all began back at the cemetery outside the cooking school; it needs to end there, too.”
If Catfish Had Nine Lives (Country Cooking School Mystery) Page 13