Wild Raspberries

by Connie Chappell

  Arnett perked. “Am I a valued client?” She batted dark eyes at Willie, articulating her own thought, one so like Arnett.

  “Oh, oui, oui. What if I put you into an annuity that provided you an extra, say, fifteen hundred dollars a month? Would that meet your expenses, give you a cushion, allay your fears?”

  Lucius watched Arnett actually consider that one. “Is that possible?” she wanted to know.

  Lizbeth’s discouraging voice answered. “First of all, that figure is pre-tax. All the taxing agencies will want their share. And it may be your responsibility to remember and pay them. Secondly, that figure may be good today. But don’t bank on it for years on out. Over time, inflation will erode your spending power. Monsieur Thorne should be telling you about mortality tables and fine print.”

  “Mortality tables? I don’t like the sound of that,” Beebe said, frowning.

  “He can make estimates now, but they’re purely hypothetical,” Lizbeth said.

  “This financial stuff is crazy,” Beebe directed her words to Callie. “Purely and hypothetical used in the same sentence.”

  Callie, Lucius’s co-conspirator, grinned, then passed him a knowing look.

  On it went, Willie’s claims designed to part poor Arnett from her money; Lizbeth redirected his strategy toward safer ground.

  “I can’t believe you just said bullish with a French accent. What a hoot,” Beebe laughed.

  “Watch him,” Callie said. “He’s a fast-talker.”

  “It’s all get-rich-quick scheming,” Beebe decided.

  “You want prudent planning,” Lizbeth advised Arnett. “Remember words like: stability of principal, growth funds, and variable annuities.” Lizbeth snapped her fingers at the choir and the terms flew back.

  “Stability of principal, growth funds, and variable annuities.” They were a little out of synch, but Lucius thoroughly enjoyed the fun.

  “Listen to Lizbeth, honey,” Beebe said, “Monsieur Thorne appears to be a charlatan of the highest degree.”

  It was Beebe who shot the first make-believe arrow at Willie. Then Callie picked up her imaginary bow and repeated the exercise. Neither could Lucius resist. Willie played along masterfully. His hand covered his heart, where the invisible arrows struck. Slowly, dramatically, he deflated. Lucius’s gaze circled the table and his band of merry women in Nottingham Forest.

  Beebe capped the performance by raising Lizbeth’s arm in victory. She had no idea how great was that victory.

  Lucius clinked his dinner knife against a wineglass to silence the jabbering. His gaze drifted around the table. “I am so glad we did this. Our first dinner party,” he laughed, “maybe not in the cabin, but on the grounds anyway. We couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful group of ladies to be our inaugural guests.” The men clapped their hands, then Lucius looked at Willie. “Well, up or down?”

  Four heads turned. Willie gave a thumbs-up gesture, then licked his index finger and drew an exclamation point in the air.

  “Excellent,” Lucius said, thrilled. “The floor is yours.”

  Willie shifted in his chair, turning a line of white teeth on Lizbeth. “My dear, your entrance into Lucius’s life at this moment in time is nothing less than a miracle. You’re an intelligent young woman with impeccable credentials.” Sitting forward, he added quietly, “I’ve checked.”

  Everyone was riveted to the scene: Lizbeth stared at Willie, open-mouthed, cheeks flushed.

  Willie continued. “All the shop banter about finances and investments was a test. I listened and graded your responses. You see, I’m in need of a first lieutenant, someone to manage the Cassel office. I spoke with Senator Emerson.” Lizbeth’s eyes bulged and Willie’s glittered. “He agrees you’d be underutilized and underpaid in his office. He gave you a glowing recommendation that when added to Lucius’s high praise, and with what I’ve heard and seen tonight, brings me to this question: Lizbeth, will you accept a managerial position in my firm?”

  Lizbeth stammered. She turned to her faithful counselor and searched Beebe’s face. Consent was written there. When Lizbeth flipped her questioning gaze at Lucius, he put his hands together in prayer and mouthed, “Say yes.”

  After Callie’s exuberant nod, Lizbeth’s course around the table got hung up on Arnett. The light went out of Lizbeth’s eyes, taking the night’s gaiety with it.

  She swallowed. “My plans to move to Florida hit a major snag yesterday. Once that sunk in, I realized I was looking for something that never truly existed.”

  Her explanation came without form or content. Lucius’s heart went out to her. He understood the nonexistent something was the murals.

  “Willie,” Lizbeth smiled, “yes, I will accept the position because you come very highly recommended yourself.” Boss and underling shook hands. “Or maybe I should call you Mr. Thorne?”

  “Willie is preferred.”

  Beebe whistled. Applause and congratulations followed.

  Willie said, “We’ll set up a private interview next week, but only after I make a contribution to Emerson’s campaign fund.”

  “No. He didn’t.” Lizbeth laughed in disbelief: She’d been traded like a football star. A quizzical look came over her, and she wagged a finger from Willie to Lucius. “Wait, how did you guys know I had a finance degree? Lucius, we never spoke about my college studies.”

  “Callie,” Lucius said. “She put it together. She knew Willie had a position to fill.”

  Still Lizbeth appeared stupefied.

  “Don’t you remember?” Callie said. “You gave Tom your resume when we asked to use the restaurant’s phone.”

  Lizbeth bestowed Callie with a fond look. “Thank you so much.”

  Callie nodded. “You’ll do well.”

  Lucius scooted his plate forward. “Now, my lovely ladies, more good news. You are also present to hear about the next chapter of our life, Willie’s and mine.” He paused for effect. “We’re selling the house in Cassel next week. Come January, Willie and I will be here under the same roof. Our good friend, Lizbeth, will be efficiently managing the business by then, and I’ll see her and her alabaster skin daily by video feed. It will be a delight.”

  Willie chirped up. “Very quickly, though, I need to find temporary accommodations through the end of the year. I don’t want to be living in the office.”

  “You’ve got them. My house.” The speaker was Callie.

  “Move in with you?”

  “No, you’d have the place to yourself. I took a job offer at Brier Hills.”

  Lucius was up-and-out-of-the-chair ecstatic. He gave Callie multiple and loud kisses on the top of her head. “My Callie with me in Baron. And Willie, too.” He skipped around, smooched Willie’s head, and was rewarded with a whiff of sexy cologne.

  “Apparently, Lucius didn’t know.”

  Willie’s comment stopped Lucius in his tracks behind Lizbeth and Beebe. “Ah!” He pointed at Callie. “You, girlfriend, kept a secret from Lucius.”

  He reseated himself just as Beebe cleared her throat. She pulled her napkin from her lap and laid it on the table. As her weeklong confidant, Lucius knew what was coming and covered her hand with his. When he took it away, she turned her chair to face Lizbeth.

  “This appears to be the evening to speak of new beginnings.”

  Lizbeth’s face went slack. She seemed to sense the arrival of something ominous in the night air. Even the birds and crickets oddly ceased their chatter.

  “I’ve been in a state of flux for a while. Months ago, my mother died, and I need to reestablish a closer relationship with my father. I’ve agreed to join forces with an old and dear fri
end and take on some social work.”

  “Where?” Lizbeth asked, hesitant.

  “My hometown. Larkspur, Michigan. I leave next week.”

  Lizbeth stiffened. She drew in a long breath, then let it escape. “First Callie, now you. Here, I’m staying in Maryland, and you’re both leaving.”

  “But you’ll survive.” Beebe patted Lizbeth’s shoulder.

  Lizbeth raised her chin. “Yes. Yes, I will.” She lifted both arms to Beebe.

  When the embrace ended, Beebe said, “You’re all invited up. If not this fall, then next spring.” She smiled. “After winter’s thaw.”

  “Fine, because we’re all coming.” To Callie, Lucius said, “May I?” She tipped her head, granting permission. “We’ll trek north,” he announced, “and we’ll come bearing a quilt.”

  At the notion of a visit, Beebe’s expressive eyebrows climbed her forehead. Slowly, they slipped back into place. “A quilt? I don’t understand.”

  “I called Vincent yesterday from Lucius’s cabin,” Callie said.

  “You found Vincent? How?”

  “Lucius remembered the agency’s name from the fax,” Callie answered. “With the name, a phone number was easy to find, and I needed to know that you’d be all right back home.” Callie tapped her chest hard. “I needed someone to provide that comfort. And I wanted to know a little about Vincent as well, and whatever part of the story he’d tell me. But he got me talking about how I met you. That led to talking about the quilts. He told me your mother’s clothes were still there, in the house.”

  Beebe’s hands found the discarded napkin. She twisted it.

  So very gently, Callie said, “Vincent talked with your father. He talked him out of the clothes.”

  The expression on Beebe’s face deteriorated to dread. “No, Callie, no,” she said, shaking her head repeatedly.

  Lucius scooted to the edge of his chair. In his best soft-as-combed-cotton voice, he said, “Look, kitten, we all want Arnett to accept her quilt, but I’m asking you first. Accept yours.”

  Beebe flung off his proposal. “No. It’s not possible.”

  Lucius’s eyes never left the woman struggling with the weight of the years, the abandonment, perhaps some strong feelings bordering on hatred, the taunting of schoolmates, a teenager’s crumbled life. She saw its rocky remains piled at her mother’s feet. Or was she picturing her grave?

  “Are you saying you won’t accept a healing quilt made of your mother’s clothes?” Lucius said. “You’ve been urging Arnett to accept hers, given the circumstances, but you won’t accept yours?”

  “But my mother’s clothes—”

  “Have already been shipped to Callie’s house.” Lucius revealed that confirmation to Callie at Heatherwood after the pancake breakfast. He hunched over the corner of the table. “Now, Beebe, in front of all of us, by next spring, will you accept the quilt?” Lucius could almost hear Arnett’s mind chirp, “And display it.”

  Final Caucus

  Lucius asked again. “Please, Beebe, accept the quilt?”

  For the longest time, she didn’t move or speak or breathe. No one did. Finally, she dragged her eyes around the dining room scene, from Lucius to Callie, then to Arnett. There, they stayed. “I hope to be living at home with Dad. He and I can share the quilt and heal together.”

  Lizbeth patted Beebe’s back. Willie applauded. Lucius watched Callie. She wore a satisfied smile. He wished he’d lain fine linen place cards at each chair, so at this moment, he could instruct everyone to turn the card over. Fancy calligraphy, graceful, yet with bold lines, would hand-letter the week’s true ending. By candlelight, each guest would read: Life repackaged by Callie.

  The woman on the road to golf stardom met and fell irreversibly in love with Jack Sebring. Lucius didn’t doubt that Callie, with her many strengths, experienced vulnerability with Jack, and he with her. A giddiness preceded Lucius through every moment since he drove Callie to Godfrey’s the day before. Along the way, she conceived the plan to lift Lizbeth and Beebe over the hump, and she enlisted his willing assistance. He went to sleep last night tingling to greet the dawn. He fully expected to tingle with every dawn greeted thereafter. Callie gave Willie sanctuary and eased Lucius’s loneliness. Those were priceless gifts.

  Lucius stared down the table to transparent Arnett. She felt the pressure to drop her defenses, follow Beebe’s lead, and accept her quilt. She squirmed nervously as though she sat on a quilt in progress, straight pins and all.

  “One more piece of information before I ask the question of the week.” Lucius drew Arnett’s pained gaze. “What Lizbeth doesn’t know—because it would be crass to discuss salary in public—is that Willie’s job pays enough to send Chad to a fancy pre-school. Paycheck-Saver Arnett won’t be needed for that reason any longer. You’ve lost some ground there, gummy bear. I hope you can let go of some pride, too.”

  Callie tugged his shirtsleeve. “Wait! My caucus.”

  At the interruption, an anticipation-stiffened Arnett went absolutely rigid.

  Beebe frowned. “From earlier?”

  “I said I’d put it off, but I didn’t agree to abandon it altogether. What I have to say must be said now.”

  Beebe quickly studied faces. “Okay. Begin when you’re ready.”

  For all her urgency, Callie hesitated. She tipped her head back, her eyes closed. She was steeling herself. That worried Lucius.

  She began the caucus with a dedication. “I miss Jack so much, and what I have to say, I want to say right. For the most part, these are his words. Without realizing it, he allowed me a glimpse of Arnett. Two glimpses, really. Miniscule as they were, I meshed them together. Before you all showed up in my front yard, I’d already formed an image of Arnett in my mind. All week long—with everything that’s happened, with everything that’s been said—I’ve been unable to blot that image out. And we have Jack to thank.”

  Callie looked dead on at Lizbeth. “I know what Jack would do if he were here. You know it, too. He would never permit this treatment of Arnett. You may not understand his motivations, but I do. He would not want his family torn apart further. If he were here, if Chad were here, he would sit that little boy in his grandmother’s lap, and then he’d stand guard in front of them.” Callie wired determination through her words and pointed one finger in the grandmother’s direction. “He would dare you to take him away. He’d be the first to admit to Arnett’s faults, yes; but he would never allow this.”

  Night had fallen. The canopy blocked what little benefit the moon and stars might have provided. For a moment, Callie stared at the dwindling dinner candles. When she spoke, Lucius knew she found memories in the candlelight.

  “One afternoon, I caught Jack lost in thought. He stopped at Arnett’s earlier to get more of his things. When I asked, he told me he was thinking about the hurt he caused. Then for some reason, he added, ‘Arnett is so sentimental, especially about family.’ I tucked that away. Months later, I learned about Arnett’s grandmother’s chair.”

  There, Lucius departed briefly from Callie’s presentation to smile down at his own memory. Grandma Hannah and he spent many mornings reading storybooks in her grandmother’s chair, wingbacked and sized for two.

  “Over the course of four grandsons, I guess the chair required recovering,” Callie said. “Jack went to settle the bill with the upholsterer and see to its delivery. So now, I’ve got two things contradicting my prior impression of Arnett: sentimentalities and a grandmother’s chair. This is the image I can’t force from my mind. No matter what I’ve heard, that image sticks. I can’t stop seeing Arnett and Chad sitting in that chair. It may be Jack’s influence.” Callie leaned onto the chair arm to face Arnett. “You may disc
ount everything I’ve said on that argument alone, but he would not wish you any more heartache. He would want you to bend just this little bit, for the sake of family peace, and accept the quilt.”

  Callie painted a nice picture of Arnett, Lucius thought, only to be struck by the irony of taking Callie out of the equation. What if Jack’s life had proceeded without Callie? Would he have died on the same day? Would Dan have? Would Lizbeth’s feelings for her mother-in-law have been any different? Probably not. But without Callie, there’d be no quilt to accept. This trip would never have happened. In all likelihood, Arnett would have done something else to royally piss Lizbeth off, and the fight over Arnett’s involvement in Chad’s life would have shot off from the starting gate anyway. Given the general animosities between wives and their husbands’ girlfriends, Callie had every reason to side with Lizbeth, but she chose to stand with Arnett.

  “If you don’t accept the quilt on my terms, Arnett, you can’t ride home with me,” Lizbeth said, reviving her ultimatum. “Your only option is to ride with Callie. I’m going straight to Marietta to get Chad. The prohibition starts tomorrow. We’re out of time. Decide now.”

  “You can ride back with us,” soft-hearted Willie said, reaching out a hand to Arnett. “We’ve got real estate matters to tend to.”

  Willie’s brief interruption was no deterrent. “I have rights to that child,” Arnett blasted Lizbeth. “Maryland grants rights to grandparents. It’s the law. I can win in court—”

  “Court again, Arnett. No,” Beebe rebutted. “We’ve been through this.”

  “You’ve been through it. Why would I agree to compromise when I can get temporary visitation—”

  Lucius tapped a knife against his wineglass. “Shhh, Arnett. You don’t have to decide right now.”

  “Hey,” Lizbeth argued.

  “It’s my party, and I say she can wait.” After the firm words, Lucius released a sigh and some tension with it. “Look, we’re all sitting on some pretty nice rewards this week. Our benefactor,” he indicated Callie, “gets a new start in West Virginia. Lizbeth gets a to-die-for position in Willie’s firm. My beloved has been offered a home while in flux. This wild one gets a memory quilt she will treasure, and our promise to visit.” Beebe returned his smile. “And my precious, over-the-top-stubborn Arnett, you, my pet, get one minute and thirty seconds.”