Stuart Woods - Palindrome

Liz was tempted to ask about the surprises, but she didn't want to pry.

They finished their dinner with a blueberry pie and a honey-like dessert wine from Angus Drummond's cellar, then they repaired to a leather sofa before the fire. "I don't think I've ever had a better dinner in my whole life." Liz sighed, accepting a brandy snifter from Angus. "And certainly not one where everything came from the backyard, so to speak."

"It's been awhile since I've entertained a beautiful woman," Angus said, sipping his brandy. "I'd forgotten how satisfying it can be."

"Thank you." It was at this moment, she thought, when a younger man would move on her. She wondered if he were about to, and, if he did, what she would do.

"Will you accept a gift from me?" he asked suddenly.

"I beg your pardon?" she asked, surprised.

"I'd like to give you something. Will you accept it?"

She hesitated only a moment. "Yes."

Angus rose and walked to his enormous desk. He brought back an envelope and a sheaf of papers. "I assure you it's not an inappropriate gift for an old man to give a young woman." He handed her the envelope. "Wait until I die to open it. I don't much like being thanked, and, I assure you, you won't have long to wait."

She looked at him, alarmed. "Do you know something I don't?"

He laughed. "No, but at my age, I could go at any moment. Lately, I've been feeling that it might be soon."

"All right," she said, laying the envelope in her lap, "I'll respect your wishes about waiting, but I'll thank you anyway. Even though I don't know what it is, I'm very grateful that you would want to give it to me."

Angus looked nonplussed for a moment, then he began shuffling the papers in his hands. "I'd also like to ask a small favor of you-nothing to do with my gift."

"Of course."

"I'd like you to witness my will."

"All right. I was at the inn when your lawyer arrived the other day. Germaine thought you might be making one."

"He didn't prepare this, I did. I told you I was trained as a lawyer, and when Cheatham paid me his visit earlier this week, I decided I didn't need a lawyer any longer." He turned red, apparently at the thought of Cheatham. "Do you know what that sonofabitch tried to do?"

"Easy now," she said, placing a hand on his arm.

He took a deep breath. "He brought my congressman and a man from the government here to… the congressman wants to introduce a bill in the Congress that would turn Cumberland Island into a national park. Wants to pay me thirty million dollars for it."

Liz said nothing. "Said it would be a monument to me. The idiot."

"I can imagine what you must have told them," Liz said.

"I fired my lawyer. I told the congressman this: I said, I'm making a will, and I'm going to put a clause in it leaving fifty thousand dollars to the campaign fund of the principal opponent of any congressman or senator who introduces such a bill in Congress."

Liz burst out laughing. "Oh, that's wonderful! What did he say?"

"He said, 'Well, of course we want to respect your wishes in this matter, Mr. Drummond.'" She started laughing again.

"I did it, too, I put the clause in my will."

"Good for you," she managed to say.

"Now, I don't want you to think that I drew this up hastily, because I didn't. I've been working on this document for a month, and it's just the way I want it. I've made it very difficult, I hope impossible, for anybody to ever make any radical change in this island. When Aldred Drummond got the grant of this place, he made it into a seat for himself and his family, and we Drummonds have been prolific enough to see that there'll be family around for a long time to come."

"It's your property, Mr. Drummond," Liz said, "and I think you should do whatever the hell you want to do with it."

"Good girl," he said, smiling broadly. "Now, listen to me. This document is my last will and testament; I am of sound mind, if not body; I'm not crazy, and I wasn't drunk when I wrote it, even if I am a little bit right now; it contains what I intend for this island and my family, is that clear to you?"

"Yes, it is." He produced an old Parker pen and signed it. Then he pointed at the place for her to sign. "Sign and date it right there." Liz did so.

"Why did you want me, in particular, to witness your will?"

"Because you're damn near the only person on the island at the moment who's not either a beneficiary or cut out of it. You've no ax to grind."

"That's certainly true, but don't you need two witnesses for it to be legal?"

"You're perfectly right, in the state of Georgia you need two witnesses. Don't worry, I'll find another one before it's too late." He walked to his desk and deposited the will there. "Enough of business," he said, "let's get back to the brandy. Did I tell you about the brandy?"

Sometime after midnight, Angus Drummond walked her down the front steps of Dungeness, put her into her Jeep, and kissed her on the cheek. "Don't worry," he said, "there are no policemen to check your breath on the way home."

Liz reached up and kissed him firmly on the lips. "Thank you, Angus, for a fine dinner and a wonderful evening and for whatever is in this envelope." She drove back to Stafford Beach Cottage, happily drunk, her skirt blowing in the breeze. When she got home, she felt thirsty and went to the refrigerator for a cold bottle of mineral water. Her thirst slaked, she turned toward the bedroom, thinking of other appetites. Sadly, he wasn't there, but then, she thought, I'm too far gone anyway.

In the late afternoon Liz left the cottage with the Jeep full of gear and headed for the west side of the island. As she drove past the landing strip, a single-engine airplane set down and taxied up to the road. She slowed as Hamish Drummond got out and helped down a woman and a small boy. She pulled to a stop. "Hello, there," she called. "You're back early."

He smiled at her. "Yes, I finished sooner than I had expected. Liz, meet Hannah Drummond, and this is our son, Aldred." Liz sized up both of them quickly. Hannah was in her mid-thirties, with blond hair swept straight back and tied. Everything in her appearance and bearing said, "ex-deb; old money; thoroughly conventional." The boy was a smaller image of his father, tousle-headed and crafty looking. He watched her appraisingly. "I like your Jeep," he said. "Can I drive it?"

"You're still a bit young for that," his father said, mussing his hair further. "You did it when you were little," the boy said reprovingly. "You told me."

"Sure you can drive it sometime, Aldred," Liz said. "I'll come and find you at the inn." She turned back to Hamish. "Can I give you a lift?"

"Thanks, but we buzzed the inn. They'll send out the van." As he spoke, the van emerged from the trees on the other side of the strip, with Ron at the wheel.

"I'll see you later," Liz said. "I'm off to photograph the sunset. Any suggestions for the best spot?"

"Plum Orchard," Hamish replied. "You'll have an unobstructed view across the marshes from the dock." He waved and turned to their luggage.

Liz turned north for Plum Orchard. She turned left at the fork, and soon the mansion appeared, bathed in the golden afternoon light. Not wanting to drive across the lawn, even if it was neglected, she followed the road around the back of the house, then toward the dock. She slowed to let half a dozen of the island's wild horses move grudgingly off the road. One of them, she noticed, was hobbled. She had never seen anyone but James Moses riding a horse on the island, let alone a wild one. She pulled the Jeep onto the grass near the dock and got out. The sun was well above the horizon, and she turned to setting up her 4 X 5 view camera. When she was ready, the sun was still too high, so she walked over to inspect the old boathouse. She peeked through a broken pane at the inside. The doors, surprisingly, were open, and there was a length of new rope coiled on the rotting catwalk inside. She went back to her camera, unfolded her camp stool, and waited. The sun crept slowly westward, growing larger and redder as it sank, lighting the salt marshes from a low angle, casting long shadows. She framed a shot and took it, then reloaded. She got four well-spaced shots before the last bit of the sun's rim sank below the horizon, then she got two more in the afterglow of day. Well satisfied with her work, she slowly packed her gear, enjoying the creeping dusk.