Рита Браун - Cat's Eyewitness

"This isn't to say you wished they'd molested girls, dear." Big Mim coolly drank some piping hot yerba mate tea. "But it is most peculiar, as is the response from the Vatican."

"In keeping." Alicia took a restorative sip of the bitter brew herself. "Pope Pius the Twelfth knew perfectly well what was going on in Nazi Germany. Not a word. Politics is politics. The Vatican is about power, not about saving souls."

"You don't find God in a building with a cross on it, you find God in your heart and in the hearts of others," Miranda, who was devout, agreed. "But that doesn't mean we rejoice in the sorrows of the Catholic Church. We're enduring a little contretemps in the Church of the Holy Light." She mentioned her church, a charismatic Baptist one, where she sang in the choir. "All about money."

"Always is. When I served on the vestry board I nearly went bald from tearing my hair out." Susan laughed. "Now Harry's taken my spot. And you were thrilled when you were elected."

"Oh, it's not so bad, but you have to sit there while everyone shoots off their mouth. Time-consuming. Once we settled the issue of new carpets, things calmed down." She reached for a gooey brownie. "But I swear what was running down the face of Mary's statue wasn't rust."

"She's right. It really did look like blood: the color, the consistency. I tell you, it was eerie." Susan shook her head.

"Why don't we go up there when the ice is off the roads?" Big Mim suggested, unaware that, with the exception of her daughter, the others had agreed to this.

Miranda nodded. "If we see it with our own eyes, we'll know more."

That settled, Harry changed the subject. "Doing my grape research. Grape expectations." Everyone groaned. She plugged on. "Virginia is home to eighty wineries, which bring in five-hundred thousand tourists a year and put ninety-five million dollars into the state economy. Read it in the Daily Progress." She named the local newspaper, which paid its staff a pittance, but since they were dedicated newspeople they did a bang-up job, anyway, out of pride, pure pride in their craft.

"Well and good, but let us not forget that the horse industry brings over one point five billion dollars annually to this state, and as Colonial Downs gets better and better, if we can finally convince the legislature to authorize more offtrack-betting sites, you will see that double in five years. I promise you." Big Mim bred Thoroughbreds, mostly for steeplechase racing, some for foxhunting, but she kept a keen eye on the overall equine picture.

"The equine industry should be one of our most protected industries. As tobacco slides, it will be horses that make up lost revenue, if the state is smart enough to offer generous incentives." Little Mim, vice-mayor of Crozet, supported her mother one hundred percent in that area.

"You never know down there in Richmond." Harry laughed. "Are they smoking tobacco, weed, or opium? When you look at some of their decisions, you have to wonder."

"Harry, you're a rebel underneath it all." Alicia smiled at her with warmth. "Any state has its share of blistering idiots elected to public office, but this state has a solid government. If you want to observe entrenched corruption, watch Massachusetts; the reason they were the only state not to vote for Nixon was because the voters could spot a crook before anyone else." She paused. "Ah, but you're too young to remember all that, and I'm sounding like sour grapes. Let's go back to your grapes."

"Just doing my research. Good soil, rainfall, and sunshine for whites I've got. Maybe I can put in a row or two to see how they turn out. One good thing our legislature did was pass that Farm Wineries Act in 1990, which taxes wineries like farms, not like commercial businesses. That shows some foresight. But for now I'll stick to hay and timber."

"What about ginseng?" Big Mim kept up with the agricultural market.

"Down by the creek I might could grow some." Harry looked around the room. "You know, here I am talking about myself and my little world. I'm lucky you put up with me. I'm even luckier that you all help me."

"Harry, we're all family here." Miranda meant that. "We circle the wagons when we need to do so."

"Or open them up." Little Mim's face was flushed.

"Yes?" Big Mim pushed her glasses down on her nose, looking over the top.

"Nothing, Mother, just adding to the conversation." Little Mim didn't fib; she was merely withholding the major news that Blair Bainbridge had proposed to her after Thanksgiving dinner. As her mother and father were herding the guests toward what Big Mim referred to as the "just desserts room," Blair had taken her by the hand and trotted her to the den. She thought the big question might be coming. She answered yes with blazing speed. They kissed, then joined the others, deciding to tell her mother and father in private when it seemed propitious.

"Let's see what the weather holds. If we're going to climb the mountain we might as well make our plans now." Alicia clicked on the large flat TV screen mounted on the wall in her den.

"You can do that from here? From the living room?" Miranda was incredulous.

Alicia held up a small remote. "I can turn on the radio, the TV, the security system, I can specify the rooms. Easy."

"She's so high-tech." BoomBoom was impressed. "I thought I was cutting edge, but Alicia is way ahead of me. Do you know she even had a computer built to her own specifications?"

"Don't be too impressed. Most of making a film is sitting in a chair trying not to wear off your makeup or crinkle your wardrobe. I had plenty of time to learn from the techies. I liked it.

"Why don't we take our tea into the den and see what the report is? Dessert, too, if anyone would like more."

Susan's eyes fell on the brownies next to the small lemon-curd pastries. Lust filled her. "I can't."

"Susan, honest to God, you make me miserable by denying yourself," Harry complained.

"I don't deny myself enough."

They filed into the den, a large room painted lobster bisque with creamy white trim. History, military history, and natural-science books filled the shelves. Alicia, an avid reader, skipped through a book every two or three days. In Hollywood she'd kept her brains to herself, which only proved how very smart she was.

The tail end of the news finished just as they found seats. The weather report came on.

"Should be good tomorrow. Mid-forties. You never know." Big Mim, like most residents of central Virginia, was continually surprised, even enchanted, by the changeable weather.

The news returned after ads for carpet cleaner, aspirin, the Dodge Durango, and pet food.

"Hey!" Harry shouted, which caused her pets to run into the room followed by Alicia's steady, placid, and terribly handsome Gordon setter, Maxwell.

A close-up of the Virgin Mary's face, bloody tears still frozen, filled the screen. The camera pulled away to reveal the entire statue, with Nordy Elliott at the base, looking dapper in his navy winter coat, tan gloves, and red plaid cashmere scarf.

"The monks discovered this unusual phenomenon Thanksgiving morning." No brothers were in sight as Nordy spoke, great puffs of air coming from his mouth like cartoon captions. "At this point no one can say just what is happening, but it appears the statue is crying tears of blood."

As he continued, the women erupted, all talking at once.

"Hear, hear." Big Mim finally called them to order.

"Liar!" Harry's cheeks burned. "Brother Frank lied through his hat or his tonsure or whatever!"

"Don't jump to conclusions," BoomBoom sternly advised. "He's a cold fish, but he's not a liar. Someone else has let the cat out of the bag."

"Why do people say that?" Pewter wondered.

"To irritate you." Mrs. Murphy giggled.

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