Belle Pointe

by Karen Young

  “Paige, that’s enough!” Victoria stood rigidly with her hand resting on the back of an elegant Queen Anne chair and frowned at Buck. “Do not encourage her, Buck. Her behavior is already a disgrace…as well as her style of dress. She does not have any piercing on her body.” Victoria paused, giving Claire a stern look as she tapped ashes into the small crystal dish she held in one hand. “At least, I assume you haven’t allowed any other atrocities, Claire.”

  “I didn’t ‘allow’ the piercings she has now,” Claire replied, drawing deeply on her cigarette. “You try keeping a fourteen-year-old from doing anything outrageous and if it works, tell me your secret. Short of tying her to the bedpost 24/7, I don’t know how else it could be done.”

  “I have asked you countless times not to smoke in my house,” Victoria snapped. “Go outside if you can’t discipline yourself to give it up altogether.”

  With an ironic twist of her mouth, Claire’s gaze went to the windows where rain still lashed at the panes and thunder rumbled. “Being struck by lightning is one way to quit, I guess,” she said. But she ground the cigarette out in the crystal dish.

  “I’ll get rid of all my piercings,” Paige said slyly, “when Claire quits smoking.”

  “Do not refer to your mother by her given name,” Victoria ordered. Again, her disapproval settled on Claire. “Have you lost complete control of this incorrigible child?”

  “I am not out of control, Gran,” Paige said in a bored tone. She began ticking points off her fingers. “I’m not, like, doing drugs, I’m good in math, plus I floss every day and I’m not pregnant. In some families, I would be considered a model child.”

  Claire sighed. “Paige, please. You’re just making things worse.”

  “How could they be worse?” Making wide eyes, Paige poked one finger into her cheek as if thinking. “Oh, yeah. They could be worse if the bottom fell out of the cotton market and Jack Breedlove beat Daddy in the election.”

  “Paige,” Pearce barked, finally noticing his daughter. “Knock it off!”

  “It’s a free country,” Paige sassed, unfazed by his threat. “Or doesn’t the Constitution apply here at Belle Pointe?”

  Anne looked at the adults in the room, expecting someone to speak up before the evening spun totally out of control. To her relief, it was Buck.

  “C’mon, brat,” he said suddenly, catching Paige by the nape of the neck. “Let’s go eat. Another round and you’re gonna be in really hot water. Is dinner ready?” he asked his mother over his shoulder as he headed to the dining room. “I can’t be the only one starving.”

  Buck’s intervention wasn’t any too soon, but Anne wondered why Victoria hadn’t stepped in earlier to defuse the hostile situation. Still, she gave the signal to Miriam to start serving and everyone moved into the dining room.

  It was at the table with Buck’s family when Anne decided with a sigh that her wish for a better understanding of Buck’s family was coming true…in spades.

  Be careful what you wish for.

  The conversation bounced from politics to Tallulah gossip to movies and books, to the demands of the planting season. Victoria, at the head of the table, was very much in charge. Pearce and Joel Tanner, the only person Anne had never met before tonight, concentrated on luring Buck into the campaign. Claire, she observed, kept her wineglass close at hand and was mute, for the most part. Very different from the chatty person she’d been earlier with Anne. It was as if she’d suddenly assumed another personality, the role of the quintessential politician’s wife when Anne knew she was almost apolitical. And that she admired Pearce’s opponent more than her husband.

  Anne was taken by surprise when Victoria suddenly addressed her directly. “How does it feel to be a working journalist again, Anne?”

  “I love it. There’s not a lot of excitement in Tallulah, but I’m keeping busy.”

  Pearce looked up, breaking off a conversation with Joel. “When’s my article coming out?”

  “In this next week’s issue.” She didn’t want him questioning her about it before it appeared in the press. “Meanwhile, I’m just poking around in the archives since it seems a good time to bone up on the history of Tallulah.”

  “Be still my heart,” Paige muttered sarcastically.

  “And I’m bound to find many references to the Whitakers,” Anne said with a smile. Then, mostly to tease Paige, she added jokingly, “So if you’ve got any shocking family secrets, look out.”

  “There are secrets in every family,” Victoria said quietly. “Pearce, would you please begin carving the roast? Miriam, we’ll need another basket of rolls, please. See that they’re warm.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” It was a whisper from Miriam, the first sound Anne had heard the woman make all evening. Pearce rose obediently and began carving the roast. Anne met Buck’s eyes and found him looking at her with an enigmatic expression. She thought nobody had picked up on Victoria’s intriguing remark until Paige spoke.

  “If I’d known there were Whitaker family secrets,” she said, munching on a slice of cucumber, “I would’ve been looking harder. For about three weeks, I’ve been unloading a ton of stuff in boxes that came to Mr. Marsh from an old professor who died. So far, no secrets, only boring stuff about when Yankees came to Mississippi in the sixties and started stirring up black people.”

  “Yeah,” Buck said, giving her a tolerant smile. “What were those folks thinking trying to give a black man the right to vote?”

  “Well, I know it wasn’t really stupid,” Paige said, stung. “But it happened so long ago that it’s hard to find anything fascinating about it now.”

  “I guess you’d have to be black,” Buck said, still teasing her.

  “Okay, Uncle Buck, I get it. I get it.” She grinned. “Now, hold your breath because this is really riveting. It happened, like way before I was born. Some guy was arrested for operating a still out on Old Tucker Road and he was fined a hundred dollars.”

  “What happened to his merchandise?” Buck asked, deadpan.

  Pearce snickered. “You can bet it wasn’t busted up, not in that part of the county.”

  “I mean, it’s just so not interesting,” Paige said plaintively.

  “Maybe not to you,” Anne said, “but you’re bound to find a lot of material relating to the Whitakers. They’re a prominent family and they’ve been here for five generations.”

  “Hey, you may find the original source of the Whitaker’s money,” Buck drawled, twirling a water goblet. “Could be that guy operating the still was one of our ancestors.”

  Paige grinned. “My great-great-grandfather could have been a bootlegger. I love it.”

  Victoria sighed. “If you’re finished, Paige, you may be excused.”

  “I haven’t had dessert.” Paige tipped her head to one side, studying Anne. “Were you really serious about writing a book?”

  Victoria gave Anne a keen look. “You’re writing a book?”

  “I haven’t decided definitely to do anything so ambitious, but I find the culture of the Delta pretty unique and even though Tallulah is small, history placed it in the center of things when a lot was happening.”

  “I get it,” Claire said, slurring her words a bit. “You see Tallulah as a little Peyton Place, complete with scandals and secrets.”

  “No, not even close.” Anne smiled. “But my journalism background probably does make me curious about…things. And since the paper has been in existence in one form or another since the Civil War, it’ll be like a treasure hunt to sniff it out.” She sent another smile across the table to Paige. “You’re welcome to join me, Paige. You might learn a few things you don’t know. And you might find yourself interested.”

  “Don’t I wish,” the teenager said, pushing green peas around on her plate. “But if I could discover interesting secrets, like a murder or a rape, now that would be interesting.”

  “Paige,” Victoria snapped. “One more vulgar remark and you leave the table.”

  Pai
ge gave an exaggerated sigh, rolling her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re poking around down there because you like it, Aunt Anne,” she said.

  “Blame it on my dad,” Anne said, playing with a spear of asparagus. “I was telling Claire before dinner how Dad talked so much about Tallulah and the Delta when I was growing up, so I guess some of his obsession must have rubbed off on me.”

  “Everyone was amazed when Franklin moved here and purchased the Spectator,” Victoria said.

  “Including me,” Anne said. “And I was even more amazed when he announced he’d met a nice lady and was going to marry her.”

  “Aunt Beady,” Paige said, cutting a sly glance toward her grandmother. “Gran about had a kitten she was so surprised.”

  “What a ridiculous thing to say, Paige,” Victoria said irritably. “It isn’t true.”

  “I’d like some more wine,” Claire said, looking around for Miriam.

  Paige frowned at her mother. “You don’t need any more wine, Mom.”

  “I didn’t say I needed it, just that I’d like it,” Claire said.

  “It’s a major advantage to have you working at the Spectator,” Pearce said to Anne. “I’ve been hoping to get Franklin onboard in my campaign. With a positive article coming out this week and an endorsement from Buck, Breedlove will be toast from the get-go.”

  “Dream on,” Claire murmured, motioning to Miriam, who circled the table with a newly uncorked bottle of wine.

  Pearce gave her a hard look. “Excuse me?”

  “I said, dream on,” Claire repeated, enunciating clearly. “Which is what an endorsement of your campaign from Buck or Franklin Marsh is…a dream. A fantasy, my dear hubby.”

  “Our daughter’s right, Claire. You’ve had too much wine.”

  “Whatever it takes.” With a tipsy smile, Claire raised her refilled wineglass high. “Here’s a flash, Pearce. The only way Franklin Marsh would stoop to anything as tacky as a political endorsement of you in the Spectator is if you figure out a way to apply a little pressure. Unfortunately for you, I can’t see Franklin knuckling under the way everybody else does in this county when you put the pressure on.”

  Pearce glared at her. “You’re drunk, Claire. Which means you stopped making sense about two hours ago.”

  Anne glanced uneasily at Buck, who sat stony-faced, still twirling his wineglass by its stem. Was anybody going to speak up before open warfare broke out? She gave a little start when Victoria suddenly struck the side of her glass with a spoon.

  “It’s time for dessert, Miriam.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I need more wine, Miriam,” Claire complained.

  “You won’t get it,” Pearce snarled, seething. “If you’re angling to have me slap your ass in a rehab facility, just keep this up, Claire. You make the argument for me.”

  “That is enough!” Victoria repeated sharply. “I won’t tolerate having dinner deteriorate into a crude sideshow. Claire, Pearce is correct,” she said sternly. “You’ve had too much wine. If you can’t control yourself, please leave the table.”

  Claire turned to Anne defiantly. “Anne, tell them I’m right that your daddy won’t get involved in a sleazy political campaign.”

  “Here now,” Joel Tanner said, taking the entire table by surprise. “I’m afraid I have to take exception to that,” he said, using his courtroom voice. “There’s nothing sleazy about Pearce’s campaign.”

  “Oh, please…” Claire said with disgust.

  “I don’t know anything about my father’s position on political issues,” Anne said quietly. “Just as he had no input into the article I wrote. You will have to speak to him personally.”

  “You could work on him,” Pearce persisted. “Remind him we’re family. He’ll listen if you push it.”

  Suddenly, Paige pushed back in her chair. “Leave her alone!” she shrieked. “And my mother, too!” With her arms straight at her sides, she glared at their astonished faces. “What is the matter with all of you? It’s no mystery to me why Uncle Buck and Anne don’t ever want to come here. It’s because we’re so weird. So mean to each other. So screwed up! If I had anywhere else to go, I wouldn’t be here!” She threw her napkin on the table in disgust. “I’m just sorry I don’t have a car or I’d take off right now!”

  “Sit down, Paige!” Pearce roared.

  Claire made a motion to stand up. “Paige—”

  “I don’t want to hear it, Mom!” Paige cried, her hands over her ears. “You don’t make any sense when you’re drunk. Don’t worry, Dad. I’m going.” Eyes brimming, Paige surveyed the faces of the adults at the table. “We’re supposed to be a family here, people. Instead, it’s like we’re inmates at a halfway house full of crazies and we just live together because we have to.” She dashed tears from her eyes. “Well, I don’t care if I’m grounded for a month, or if I have to work another ten years at Mr. Marsh’s newspaper for punishment, I’m leaving even if it’s raining up a hurricane outside!” Whirling about, she ran out of the room.

  In the shocked silence, Anne looked around, expecting someone—Claire, Pearce, Victoria, someone—to go after her, but Claire’s face was buried in her hands. Pearce was white with rage and Victoria wore a chilly mask of disapproval. Anne looked at Buck and something in his face made her rise to her feet. “Excuse me, please,” she murmured.

  She hurried out of the dining room, heading in the direction that Paige had taken. She went first to the living room, but found it quiet and empty. The curving staircase was visible from the dining room, so she knew Paige hadn’t gone upstairs. That left only one place.

  She moved to the front door, opened it and looked out. Rain still came down, but the worst of the storm, it seemed, had passed. She hoped so, as Paige stood on the porch looking as if it wouldn’t take much for her to dash out into it.

  Something about the slump of the teenager’s shoulders and the utter misery on her face caught at Anne’s heart. After the scene at the table, she sympathized with Paige wholeheartedly. Stepping out of the house, she closed the door behind her. “Mind if I join you?”

  With a shrug, Paige used both hands to wipe tears from her cheeks. “You probably need fresh air after all that.”

  Anne raised her gaze where rain dripped from the eaves. “There’s not much fresh air out here, but if we stay in this spot, we’ll get wet.”

  “I’m not going back inside,” Paige told her stubbornly.

  “Well, could we move over there? I’m already soggy after dashing from the car to the house.” Not hearing a flat refusal, she slipped an arm around the girl’s waist and urged her away and around the corner of the porch. “Now, isn’t that better?”

  Paige sniffed. “I guess.” After a minute, she added, “You wanted to get to know the Whitakers so now that you’ve had a good look, I bet you can’t wait to leave.”

  Anne chuckled. “Hey, you know how we reporters are. We don’t back off from a story easily.”

  “You’re just being nice. It was awful, Aunt Anne. Tell the truth!”

  “I admit it was pretty dicey there once or twice, especially looking at it from your point of view. But mostly, I found it…interesting.”

  “To me, it was just plain horrible! Dreadful. It always is. My mother always gets drunk and Dad always gets mean. And Gran sits there like the queen of nice. I can’t stand it!” She burst into tears again, hiccupping with the effort to talk. “I h-hate my life and this house and I hate that m-my mom is so wimpy and won’t s-stand up for herself. If she doesn’t get some g-guts, Dad really will send her off to rehab.”

  “Here.” Anne offered the table napkin she’d brought with her, waiting while Paige wiped at her tears. Rehab might be the best thing for Claire, but now was not the time to say it, nor was Anne the right person to say it. When the girl had calmed a little, she said, “I wish I could think of something wise and wonderful to make you feel better, Paige, but I’m fresh out of advice.”

  “It’s gonna take more than advi
ce,” Paige said flatly. “Like it’ll take a miracle to fix all that’s wrong in this house.” She looked down at the napkin in her hands, then up into Anne’s eyes. “You want to hear something funny? The Dragon is always telling me how to act, how to look, always nagging me about my manners and the way I talk and what people will think. Her big thing is that above everything I have to remember that I’m a Whitaker as if that’s some kind of special honor or something.” As she dashed tears from her eyes, her mouth twisted bitterly. “Well, I bet if somebody like Aunt Beady or your dad saw what happens around here, they wouldn’t think we’re special at all. They’d think we were white trash!”

  Anne felt out of her depth. The girl’s anger was scary. Kids did reckless things in the grip of rage. “Have you tried to talk to your mother? Or to your grandmother? Have you told them how you feel?”

  “Are you kidding? Talk to my grandmother? It would be like talking to an android. Sometimes I wonder if she has blood in her veins like other people. And my mother is hopeless. Just hopeless.”

  Anne reached up and smoothed a strand of the girl’s preposterously tinted hair. “Nobody’s hopeless, Paige. I know your mother loves you and worries about you.”

  “Yeah? Well, she sure has a crazy way of showing it.” Paige swiped at her nose and then used the napkin to blow. “Tonight, when I realized that Uncle Buck was here, I was so thrilled. You read about him all the time doing things for people, helping sick children, being like a real live hero. I used to dream that he’d come home to Belle Pointe and fix things.” She folded and refolded the napkin, then looked up into Anne’s eyes. “That’s why it hurt so much that he didn’t say something tonight. Why didn’t he stand up and say something to stop my parents from tearing each other to pieces?”

  Anne put an arm around the girl’s shoulders. “I don’t have answers for you, Paige, but I do know this. Buck can’t fix what’s making you so unhappy with your family. He’s been gone from Belle Pointe too long.”