The Last Dupont

by Rachel Renee

  As I sit down on the couch, my head finds my hands and they cover it as best they can. “Why are you fixed on my sticking around?”

  His sigh is so loud that it startles me, my elbows nearly falling from my knees. “Your granny doesn’t want this house out of the Dupont name. She told me to do whatever it took to get you to want to stick around. She figured if you stayed long enough, you’d grow to see how beautiful it was and want to stay. I don’t want to fight you. I can tell you don’t belong here.”

  I knew Granny had put him up to it, but… “What do you mean I don’t belong here? This is my history,” I shout. “Well, part of it,” comes out a bit quieter. I’m not sure why I’m even upset.

  “I just meant, you want to get back to your home in Georgia and here I am trying to get you to live in this old home, in an old town where you know no one.”

  My relationships back home leave something to be desired. I have friends, but really, none that I’m actually close to. I could stick around a bit longer, just to see. My head leaves my hands and rests back against the couch. Staring at the ceiling, I scan through all the reasons I need to get home. My job at the restaurant is really the only thing I have to get back to. “My momma hated this place. Granny sent me away,” I say aloud, speaking my thoughts to no one.

  Tucker comments anyway. “I know you think there is some curse here, but you’re wrong. Maybe it’s just a story your Momma made up to keep you away?”

  “She wouldn’t do that. Would she?” My eyes roam the ceiling. Was she just a broken woman who made up a story to frighten her child? Tucker leaves that question alone. I wonder if that’s because he thinks that’s exactly what happened.

  I could stay a little longer and give this town a chance. This is a beautiful house. There’s still a lot to go through. Plus, I’ve got Rusty here with me so there really isn’t a rush to get back. Jean’s not going to be happy, though. I’ll need to call her and let her know. Maybe just tell her the paperwork to sell the property is held up. Sounds believable. Here I am making plans to stay when just last night I wanted to hightail it out.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Thanks for running me over to the grocery.”

  “No thanks necessary. You needed supplies and I had a few items to pick up of my own. Worked out just fine.” Tucker smiles over.

  “I better get this stuff inside.” I look back at the brown grocery bags positioned in the bed of the truck. “Will I be seeing you later?” He mentioned he may be stopping by to take care of that window upstairs, but he didn’t say when.

  “I’ll be over after supper to refasten that window, if that’s all right?”

  “I really appreciate it.” It’s been this weird, polite conversation since I decided I was going to stick around for a bit. Grabbing the door handle, I pull back, releasing the lock and opening the truck for me.

  “Want some help carrying those groceries in?”

  I only have two bags, enough to get me through a couple more days. “I’ll manage. Thanks for the offer.”

  After hopping out of the truck and shutting the door behind me, I notice Tucker staring my way, the same grin still plastered on his face. If he isn’t happy that I’ve decided to stay, I’d eat my hat. Once I’ve grabbed my sacks from the truck bed and moved to the porch, Tucker gives a toot-toot before the vehicle goes rumbling back down the drive.

  Tucker is definitely a popular man in this town. Everyone said hello to him as we drove through, and he stopped a few times to have a quick chat and introduce me to a couple of townspeople. Every one of them had a comment for me about my grandmother, “She was such a lovely woman,” or “We were so sorry to hear of her passing.” One woman even said she loved Granny’s pecan pie, but not one memory including pecan pie even entered my mind. There were a few people who commented on how much I’ve grown, and I held my smart remark about how that happens after twenty years. I was actually the most surprised by the comments about how sorry people were that I was left to deal with the mess of handling the Dupont estate. I nodded mostly, allowing the people their comments before smiling politely and giving a see-you-around wave.

  At the grocery, Tucker disappeared while I perused the shelves in search of some quick meal options and a couple more personal items I needed for my unexpected, extended stay. When I approached the counter with my groceries, Tucker’s conversation with the woman behind the counter halted, both people staring over at me with a wild gaze, something you’d expect from a startled animal in the woods, not from two people recently in a conversation.

  “Here she is.” Tucker blinked, his wild eyes turning normal. “This is Sarah.” He motioned to the woman who was then smiling at me. “Sarah, meet Ella Dupont.”

  I reached my hand out to shake hers, the basket slipping slightly down my arm, causing me to become off balanced and I almost toppled over. Tucker grabbed ahold of me and then the basket, setting it down on the counter and tilting me back upright. I gave him a side smile before reaching out again to properly introduce myself. “Nice to meet you, Sarah.”

  She nodded and the same courtesy flowed from her lips. She’s about my age, although her eyes were more wrinkled around the edges and darkened underneath as if she hadn’t slept in days. The blonde hair that was browner at the roots than at its ends was pulled back into a braid, slung slightly over her left shoulder. She held onto my hand for longer than need be, staring at me intently the entire time.

  “Trying to figure out if I remember you. You certainly look like a Dupont.”

  Like a Dupont. I’d never heard those words uttered about me before. I always thought I looked like my momma and her family, but I don’t really remember what the Duponts looked like, other than the pictures I came across recently. Which honestly don’t do the people trapped inside them any justice.

  “I thought the same thing,” Tucker told Sarah. “I was just thinking how much she looks like her Granny. Well, a younger version.” I was about to protest his comment of me looking like an old lady when he redeemed himself.

  “Gladys was an Astor, so I guess I can’t really say a Dupont then, can I?”

  I’m still dwelling on that statement. I never thought about my extended family. The ones who came before my grandparents. It was the Duponts whose house was left to me, but that would have been my grandfather’s relatives who built the place, not Granny’s. I’ve never once thought of that. I mean, not that it really matters, but thinking about it now makes me realize how much I’ve missed out on not knowing my relatives. Are there any Astors still living in this town or elsewhere? I wonder if Tucker knows. Although, I would think he would mention that to me, especially after the conversation about my ancestry continued on a few more beats. I’m going to ask him anyway, just in case he forgot about them.

  Mr. Jones stopped in for a few minutes after I arrived home from my shopping experience, kind of frustrated with my desire to stay longer. He left in a hurry after that and told me to let him know when I was actually ready to set the estate for sale. Rusty and I spent the rest of the afternoon going through old documents, clearing out cabinets and drawers. Granny seemed to hold on to a whole lot, most of it not of importance, or at least not to me. I’m starving by five o’clock and Rusty lets me know he’d like his bowl filled as well. I rustle the two of us up some dinner and sit down at the now completely cleared table to eat. Before the first bite reaches my lips, I hear the knock at the door. Rusty’s tail is wagging, his head peering around the kitchen wall toward the front door. It must be Tucker here to take care of that window. Dropping my fork to my plate, I shuffle toward the knocking, opening the door to the man outside it.

  “Good evening, Ella,” he says.

  “Tucker.” I smile. “I was just sitting down to dinner; would you like to join me?”

  “Oh, no thank you. I just ate. I’ll just take care of that window and be on my way.”

  His head motions toward the stairs and I move so he can enter the home. “You go right ahead. I’ll be in the kit
chen if you need anything.”

  “Thank you,” he answers. He knows this house better than me so I let him get straight to his work and I head back to eat my meal.

  There’s some banging from the floor above, a couple of thuds, squeaking floorboards, and many footsteps moving overhead. After finishing dinner and cleaning up my mess, I have still yet to hear Tucker descend the stairs so I think to go up and check on the progress. I didn’t know it would take so long to fix a latch and reseal one window.

  Rusty follows me up the stairs, tail wagging swiftly behind him as each thud on the railings reminds me he’s right there. Reaching the landing, my shoe clods against the wood, causing a noise that reverberates off my ears. If Rusty’s noise didn’t alert Tucker of our intrusion, that surely did.

  “Everything all right up here?” I yell out.

  “Yes, ma’am. Decided to recheck all the windows. Just in case I missed something else. Don’t want another incident like last night keeping you up or waking you in the early morning with a start.” He peeks his head out of the doorway at the end of the hall.

  “I’m thankful for that. I’m sure Rusty is too. The noise caused just as much a fright in him as it did in me. I’ve never seen him so upset.”

  “It won’t happen again.”

  I’m almost to the room that Tucker is occupying when he comes out with a hammer raised above his head as if he’s ready to strike. Rusty’s tail halts, his cackles rise, and a growl rushes from him. My body stills at the sight as my head moves slightly from the man to the dog. Tucker looks up and realizes that the way he’s holding the hammer is angering Rusty, which causes him to immediately drop it to his side.

  “Sorry, fella.” He looks to Rusty once more and then over to me. “I just noticed a nail sticking out of this door frame and was going to hammer it back in place.”

  A quick breath escapes my lips. I didn’t even realize I’d been holding it in. It was an innocent act, but when Rusty got upset, it threw me off balance. With the hammer lowered, Rusty moves in closer to Tucker, his nose sniffing at the air then at the man and his tool. Slowly, Tucker reaches out and lets Rusty smell his empty hand before patting the dog on the head and telling him how good of a boy he is.

  “Here I am saying you won’t be startled in this house again, and I scare you and the dog half to death.”

  I chuckle. “It wasn’t that bad. Had Rusty not lost it, I would have thought nothing of the way you were standing. If you wanted to hurt us, you’d have had plenty of time to do so before now.” I try to tease the man, but by the look on his face, I’m guessing he doesn’t think my comment was very funny.

  “I hope you don’t believe that of me. That I want to hurt you?” It’s a question and not a statement.

  “No, no. I don’t believe that at all. I was just…” I don’t know why I said what I did. Just thought to make light of the tense air in the room. Only, maybe I made it tenser. I decide to drop the subject. Scratch that, change it. “Thank you for taking care of this old house. The windows, the loose nails…I just…I appreciate that you’re here taking care of it.”

  “I told your granny I would and I always keep my word.”

  “What else did you tell Granny you would take care of?”

  “That’s about it. And making sure you got settled in properly if you chose to stay.”

  “She really wanted me here. Why is that? I mean, after all this time is it finally all right that I’m here?”

  “Like I said, I don’t think your momma told you the whole truth about why she kept you away.”

  I don’t want to believe that about my momma. I mean, why would she lie? I had no means to get here, and no desire to, anyway. My momma was my home and Georgia is where she chose to put down roots, so I never questioned her story about Crimson Falls. Why am I letting this man, whom I barely know, change the way I think about my own mother? The one person I thought I knew better than anyone else.

  “She had her reasons. Curse or not, she didn’t want me here.”

  “Maybe it’s all the bad memories? That might keep me away. Losing one loved one is bad enough, but then to lose another. I might want to keep my distance from the place as well.”

  That could be it. Too many bad memories. Too much thought of what she could lose and what she had already lost. I bet Momma did feel like this place was cursed. How could she not think that something threatening was playing out in the background of the town when two people that she loved most died here? Still, in the back of my mind, I can’t stop asking myself even if Momma did just think it was cursed, why create an elaborate story? To keep me away. If she was never going back, I shouldn’t either.

  “I don’t want to think my momma a liar. She must have just been trying to protect me. Whether her story is real or not, she didn’t want me to come back to this town because she couldn’t handle coming back.”

  “Parents want the best for their kids. That’s probably all she wanted for you.”

  “Yes, you’re right. I’m sure that’s it.”

  “Well, I’m just about finished up here and then I’ll be out of your hair.” His upper lip rises slightly with the lift of his brows. “Unless there’s something else you need me to work on?”

  I smile. “No, not that I can think of at the moment. Can I get you some tea or coffee before you go? You don’t have to rush off.” After all, I have a few questions I want to ask and he’s the only friend I have in town at the moment who may be able to answer them.

  “I don’t want to intrude,” he answers, just like a true gentleman. Although his lingering gaze tells me that he wants to stay.

  “You won’t be intruding. I enjoy the company. I was going to have some coffee and a cookie and would be happy to have you join me.”

  “If you insist,” he says with a tilt of his lips.

  “I do.” Turning on my heels, I go back down to the kitchen and turn on the water to make a mug of coffee for the two of us. I baked some cookies earlier and have been dying to eat one since the smell of chocolate chips and dough filled the air.

  By the time the table is set with the coffee and cookies, Tucker is sauntering through the doorway. “I thought I smelled cookies when I came in earlier. I’m not going to lie, I was hoping you’d offer me one before I left. Chocolate chip is my favorite.”

  “Sit right down and enjoy a couple. The coffee is hot, so watch yourself when you take a sip.” I go to the back door and let Rusty in from his quick walk around the yard. I left chocolate chips out of a few of the cookies so that my furry friend could indulge as well. I grab one off the plate sitting on the counter before walking over to my spot at the table and taking a seat.

  Rusty takes his spot at my feet and I offer him the treat made just for him. When I look back to the man across the table, his smile is wider than I’ve ever seen. “Nice to see someone treat their dog like family.”

  “He is family,” I say.

  “Not many people feel that way.”

  I furrow my brow. “That’s sad. Why have a pet then?”

  “Some animals work for their masters, others are just ornaments or status symbols.”

  I shake my head. “Rusty has been by my side since Momma died. He’s seen me grieve and helped me through the process. He’s with me when I’m happy, angry, lonely, or sad all over again. I never asked for it, but I appreciate it just the same. I can’t picture him in any other capacity.”

  Tucker’s grin fades, only half of his mouth upturned. “Like I said, your experience is different the many people I have known.”

  “Well, I feel sorry for them,” is my last comment before picking up my coffee cup. After taking a few sips, I break the silence. “Do you know anything about the Astors? Do I have any relatives living nearby?”

  From the coffee cup, up to meet my gaze, Tucker’s eyes widen, his mouth slack. I watch intently as he puts his jaw right again, his gaze darting from side to side before it lands once more on me. “What makes you ask about them?”
/>   “The conversation at the grocery. I don’t know anything about my family, other than I’m the last of the Crimson Falls Duponts.”

  He lets out an audible breath. “Gladys didn’t really associate with the Astors after she married your grandfather. There may be a couple around, but I don’t know them.” The way he says it gives me pause.

  “I thought you knew everyone in this town?”

  “I never said that. I mean, I do know a lot of people. I’ve done a lot of work with my father in Crimson Falls, but that’s no indication that I know everyone.”

  “It’s not that big of a town.”

  “You’re right, but there are people who live on the outskirts or closer to the cities. That’d probably be where you’d find the Astors. From the little your grandmother said about them, they aren’t really the small-town type.”

  “But it’s possible they’re out there?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Absolutely. I’m not sure why that word strikes a chord in me. “I might be tempted to look them up before I go back to Georgia. I mean, just to know.”

  “What would that do for you?”

  “To know I’m not the last of my family. I’m not all Dupont, after all, or all Miller, which was my momma’s maiden name. I have some Astor in me as well. There’s nothing wrong with knowing that there’s some family out in this big old world, whether they have knowledge of me or not.”

  “I see. Just the knowledge you aren’t alone.” His glare softens.

  I can’t help but wonder why he got so tense upon the mention of the Astors. There may be a little more than he’s letting on. Throughout the next couple of days, I’ll see what I can get out of him. I learn a bit more each time we talk. “Yeah. Just knowing I have family out there is comforting. I know the Millers are out there, and even though I don’t connect with them, it’s nice knowing I have kin.”