Рита Браун - Pay Dirt

"You won't discuss them at any other time."

"I can't. Maybe I know things you don't and maybe you should forget about me for a while. You shouldn't have come in today. It upsets everyone." He spun on his heel and walked away.

Steam wasn't hotter than Kerry McCray. She followed him. "You sorry son of a bitch."

He grabbed her arm so hard he hurt her as he half pushed, half dragged her down the narrow corridor to the back door. He practically threw her down the steps into the parking lot. "Take the day off! I don't care if Rick Shaw thinks it's okay for you to be here. I don't. Now, get out and chill out!" He slammed the door.

Kerry sobbed in the middle of the parking lot. She walked over to her car, opened the door, and got inside. Then she put her head on the steering wheel and sobbed some more.

Mrs. Hogendobber passed on her way from the bank. She hesitated but then walked over.

"Kerry, can I help?" she asked through the rolled-down window.

Kerry looked up. "Mrs. Hogendobber, I wish you could."

Mrs. Hogendobber patted her on the back. " 'Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to diem diat hate you… For if ye love them which love you, what reward have ye? Do not even the publicans die same?'"

Kerry recovered enough to remark, "Make that Republicans."

"There, there, I knew you'd perk up. I find the Bible always helps me in time of need."

"I think it was you as much as your quote. I wish I could be as wise and as calm as you are, Mrs. Hogendobber." She opened her glove compartment for a tissue. "Do you believe I killed Hogan Freely?"

Miranda said, "No." She waited for Kerry to finish blowing her nose. "You just don't seem like the type to me. I can imagine you killing Norman in a lover's rage, but not Hogan." She paused. "If you live long enough, honey, you see everything. You're still seeing many things for the first time, including a two-timing ex-boyfriend. After a while you know what's worth getting het up over and what just to let go. He married Aysha. Let him go. Reading the Good Book and praying to the Lord never hurt anyone. You'll find solace there and sooner or later the right man will come into your life." She inhaled. "It's so hot. You'll fry in that car. Come on over to the EO. and I'll make you some iced tea. I have some chocolate chip cookies, macadamia nut ones too."

"Thank you. I'm wrung out. I think I'll go home and maybe I'll take your advice and read the Bible." She wiped her eyes. "Thank you."

"Don't give it a second thought." Miranda smiled, then turned for the post office.

Kerry drove off.

Mrs. Hogendobber waited until there was no one else in the building to tell Harry about the episode. Crozet, being a town of only 1,733 people, didn't miss much. A few noticed Kerry's pursuit of Norman down the corridor. BoomBoom Craycroft saw him push her out of the building and fifteen people coming and going saw Mrs. Hogendobber consoling Kerry in the parking lot. Variations of the events made the rounds. Each telling exaggerated Kerry's unhappiness and surmised guilt until she was suicidal. Norman's handling of her seemed tinged by heroism to many.

By the time Little Marilyn drove up to Ash Lawn to relieve

Aysha, the tale was worthy of a soap opera, but then, maybe daily life is a soap opera.

Everyone at Ash Lawn was working double duty since Laura Freely would not be returning for the remainder of the year. Trying to schedule and work in Ottoline, who substituted for Laura, frazzled Little Marilyn, in charge of the docents.

Marilyn combed her hair and straightened up as Aysha finished a tour for a group of sightseers. More were coming, but Marilyn had about ten minutes before she would gather up a new group to commence the tour.

Aysha related her version of the Norman-Kerry episode. Her gloating offended Marilyn Sanburne, Jr.

"She's the loser. You're the winner. Be gracious enough to ignore her."

Aysha threw her shoulders back and squared her chin, prelude to some pronouncement of emotional significance tinged with her imagined superiority. "Who are you to dictate manners to me?"

"I used to be your best friend. Now I wonder."

"You're on her side. I knew it. Oh, don't women just love a victim and Kerry paints herself as a real martyr to love—she's a murderer, for chrissakes!"

"You don't know that and you don't have to wallow in it."

"I'm not."

"You look like you're gloating to me," Marilyn shot back. "Just drop'it."

Aysha's voice lowered, a signal that what she was about to impart was really, truly, terribly important and that she'd been keeping it in only because she was such a lady. "She kissed my husband at Hogan Freelys wake."

Since neither Harry nor Cynthia had ever mentioned it, Marilyn didn't know about the kissing part of the incident. As the two rivals had yelled and screamed at the top of their lungs, she certainly knew about the rest of it. She heard every word, as did most of the other mourners. "Look, I'd have been upset. I understand that. I wouldn't want anyone kissing my husband, especially a former lover. But, Aysha, get over it. Every time you react to her, she gets what she wants. She's the center of your attention, Norman isn't, and she's the center of Norman's attention and you're not. Rise above it."

"Easy for you to say. I remember in school how devious she was—so nice to your face, so vicious when you were out of sight—"

"I don't want to hear that stuff." Marilyn advanced toward Aysha a step, realized what she was doing, and stopped. "Keep this up, Aysha, and you'll be as big a bitch as your mother."

"You think you're better than the rest of us because you'll inherit your mother's fortune. If Big Marilyn were my mother, I'd be worried. Every woman turns into her mother. Mine is small potatoes compared to yours."

"I don't care about the money."

"Those who have it never care about it. That's the point! Someday I hope I have as much as you do so I can rub your nose in it."

"Your time is up. I'll take over now." Marilyn quietly walked into the front room to greet the visitors to Monroe's home.

33

Air-conditioning was a luxury Harry couldn't afford. Her house at the foot of Yellow Mountain stayed cool except on the worst of those sultry summer nights. This was one of those nights. Every window was open to catch the breezes that weren't there. Harry tossed and turned, sweated, and finally cursed.

"I don't know how you can sleep through düs," she grumbled as she stepped over Tucker and headed toward the bathroom.

As Harry brushed her teetli Mrs. Murphy alighted nimbly on the sink. " Hotter than Tophet ."

Harry, mouth full of toothpaste, didn't reply to Murphy's observation. After rinsing, she petted the cat, who purred with appreciation.

Walking through the house provided no relief. She wandered into the library, shadowed by Murphy.

"Mother, this is the hottest room in the house. Why don't you put ice cubes on your head and a baseball cap over them? That will help."

"I'm hot too, sweetheart." Harry glanced at the old books her mother gleaned from the library sales she used to administer. "Here's the plan. Let's go into the barn, move the little table from the tack room out into the aisle, and think. The barn's the coolest place right now."

" Worth a try ." Murphy raced to the screened-porch door and pushed it open. The hook dangled uselessly because the screw eye was long gone.

As they walked into the barn, the big owl swooshed overhead. " You two idiots will spoil a good night of hunting ."

" Tough . "Mrs. Murphy's fur fluffed out.

When Harry switched on the lights, the opossum popped his head out of a plastic feed bucket. " Hey ."

"Simon, don't worry. She doesn't care. We're going to do some research. "