"You're up early," Evey said from behind her.
Joan straightened up so quickly that her movement momentarily threw her off balance and she felt light-headed. Evey reached out and took her arm to steady her. "Are you all right?" Evey asked, concern tingeing her voice.
"I'm fine, thank you. Probably ran too far this morning on an empty stomach," Joan answered, taking a deep breath to calm her mind and slow her heartbeat.
"I was going to fix a light breakfast before I started work. Why don't you join me before the thundering herd wakes up?"
"Let me take a quick shower first."
Joan followed Evey into the house, appreciating the scent of freshly-brewed coffee wafting into the front room.
"Bacon and eggs okay?" Evey asked as Joan started up the stairs to her room.
"Sounds wonderful."
Joan's hair was still damp and she ran her fingers through it as she entered the kitchen. She felt better, at least on the outside.
Evey looked over her shoulder, her seemingly constant smile on her face. "Just in time," she said as she set two plates on the table.
Joan poured a mug of coffee and pulled out a chair. "Smells divine," she sighed.
Evey cut her eggs and filled her mouth, washing it down with a swallow of coffee. "Today's the big day," she said.
"What?"
"The rest of your family is arriving this afternoon, right?"
Joan stared intently at her plate and nodded.
"I gather you're not thrilled about seeing them," Evey said. "Frannie's told me you're not exactly close."
"Fran's being very generous," Joan said as she leaned back and sipped her coffee. "If it had been my decision they wouldn't have been invited." Joan gazed blankly out the kitchen window. "That's not true," she finally said. "I would have invited my brother. Even though he has no parental rights, he is Fran's biological father."
"And your rift with your mother?"
"As I said last night, we haven't spoken since Martine's death. She believed Martine had corrupted me in some way and never acknowledged her as my spouse."
"But the children..."
"She does accept them as her grandchildren. Fran and Charmaine because Ron is their father and Tuck and Meg because I gave birth to them. Martine, even over my strenuous objections, insisted on sending school pictures and such every year. Occasionally the girls would visit their uncle and I suppose Mother saw them then." Joan took another sip of her drink. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound bitter. I promise not to start a scene while we're in your home."
"I'm sorry the next few days may not be pleasant for you," Evey said.
"I won't allow anything to ruin Fran and Brad's wedding."
JOAN'S CELL RANG at three-thirty that afternoon. She looked at the incoming number and saw Tucker's name. "Hello," she said as she flipped open the phone.
"We should be there in about fifteen minutes," Tucker's voice said. "Lock and load."
"Thanks." They had decided that Tucker, Brad, and Fran would meet the private plane that was bringing Joan's worst nightmare to the peaceful Virginia countryside.
Joan closed the phone and disconnected. She stepped onto the wrap-around porch and saw Evey striding toward the house. Brad must have called his mother as well. A few minutes later Giselle and the children rounded the side of the house and Charmaine, accompanied by Meg, stepped onto the porch. To Joan, they looked like an army preparing for battle. Well, that's what it would be, she thought. She moved to stand behind her children and grandchildren. It would be better if she were the last to greet her mother. She rested her hands on Meg's shoulders and squeezed them lightly.
Meg looked over her shoulder and smiled at Joan. "Let the games begin," she said.
"At least they're staying in town," Joan said.
She was surprised to see a second vehicle following the farm's Suburban when they made the final sweeping curve leading to the house. Joan looked at Evey and shrugged.
As soon as the vehicles stopped Brad, Fran, and Tucker got out. The second car pulled in next to the Suburban. Tucker opened the back door of the sedan much like a hotel valet might and held out his hand. A moment later a tall, rather elegant looking woman with snowy white hair stood next to Tucker and took his arm. Byron Carmichael stepped from behind the steering wheel. He smiled broadly and waved as he walked around the car to open the front passenger door. A woman in her thirties took his hand and stood up. Joan didn't recognize her. The older woman holding Tucker's arm held a cane in her other hand as they made their way slowly toward the front steps. Joan pressed her hand against Meg's back signaling her to greet her grandmother. Before Meg could take a step, however, Charmaine went down the steps and embraced the older woman. "Meme," she said, taking her hand. Finally Meg joined them for a series of expected hugs and kisses.
"She looks happy to see them," Evey noted quietly.
"Uh-huh," Joan said as she leaned against a porch pillar.
Luella Carmichael stopped at the bottom of the steps and looked up at Joan. She held her hand out and Joan took a step down to assist her mother in negotiating the steps onto the porch. Luella's grip was strong as Joan and Tucker helped her.
"It's good to see you again Joan," Luella said as she straightened her clothing slightly.
Joan leaned forward and embraced her mother lightly before quickly releasing her. "I'm glad you could be here for Fran, Mother," she said.
Fran quickly joined them and introduced her grandmother to Brad's family before everyone filed inside. Tucker and Joan remained on the porch alone for a few minutes.
"How is she?" Joan asked.
"About the same. Didn't talk much at the airport," Tucker answered.
"Was she upset to be staying in town?"
"Doesn't seem like it. She has a first floor suite you're paying for."
"Who the hell is that with Byron? The flavor of the month?"
Tucker patted his mother on the back. "Her name is Anita Ferguson. Apparently a secretary at Carmichael Industries. She's actually quite a pleasant woman."
"She has to be at least twenty years younger than Byron," Joan said, shaking her head.
"He was told he could bring a guest and you know he prefers younger women."
"That's because their bullshit meters are broken," Joan said with a smirk. She plastered a smile on her face as she watched her brother escort his companion onto the porch. She stepped forward to hug him and place a light kiss on his cheek.
"You're lookin' good, Joanie," Byron said.
"No one calls me that, Byron," Joan said.
"I always have."
"And I always hated it."
Ron turned to the young woman accompanying him. "Joan, allow me to introduce someone very special. This is Anita Ferguson. Anita, this is my older sister, Joan Carmichael."
Anita extended her hand and smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you at last, Ms. Carmichael," the redhead said as she took Joan's hand and pumped it briskly.
"Just Joan will be fine, Anita. Did you have a pleasant flight?"
"Oh yes," Anita said. "Ms. Ochoa was very kind to me." She leaned slightly forward as if preparing to impart a secret. "I've never flown on such a small airplane before."
"Well, I hope it was everything you expected," Joan said, rolling her eyes. She looked at Ron. "And how is Mother?"
"I made sure she took her meds before we left," he said. He glanced at an expensive-looking wristwatch. "Almost time for her next dose."
When Joan turned toward the house, Ron took her arm and said, "Can we talk privately for a minute, Joan?"
"Of course, "Joan answered with a nod.
"I'll tell everyone that you'll both be in in a few minutes," Anita said as she started toward the door.
"Thanks, sweetie," Ron acknowledged with an affectionate smile.
Joan led Ron onto the now familiar path toward the stables. "Anita seems to be a nice woman," she said to break the silence.
"Where did you meet her?"
&n
bsp; "At work. She's in the secretarial pool." He paused for a moment before adding, "I've asked her to marry me."
"Congratulations," Joan said.
"She turned me down."
Joan laughed. "Smart and pretty."
They stopped and Joan saw the sincere look on her brother's face.
"I love her, Joan."
"You've said the same thing twice before, honey. Remember Belinda and Suzanne?"
"Okay, okay. But now I realize I was only in lust those two times. I've never been in love in my entire fifty-two years."
"Does Anita love you?"
"She says she does."
"Then why turn you down?"
Ron had the same nervous habit as Joan and cleared his throat before answering. "She wants to make sure I've grown up and have sewn all my wild oats."
"She seems a little older than you're usual fare, maybe older than Charmaine."
"Look, Joan, I know Anita didn't go to Harvard, but she's so smart in other ways. The ways that count. She's still almost twenty years younger than I am, but she's a wonderful woman and, unlike Mother believes, is not after my money."
Joan laughed. "Mother must be having a hissy. A pervert daughter and a cradle robbing son. That almost makes my day! I wish Daddy was here to enjoy it."
"Anyway, Anita isn't why I needed to talk to you," Ron said as they continued walking. "It's about the company and you're still a major stockholder. I'm going to ask, no tell, Mother she needs to step down as the Chairman of the Board."
"That should go over well," Joan said.
"She won't agree to let us explore a couple of avenues that could be very profitable. She's stuck in the past."
"Have you presented her with the research to back your claim these areas would actually be profitable?"
"More than one time. I even made sure they were presented to the board by the head of our R&D department."
"How did the rest of the board react?"
"The majority was very excited about developing the new areas. But Mother convinced them it would be cost prohibitive. Personally, I think she's starting to lose it, Joan. What was presented was only an off-shoot of something we're already doing. Right now it's a very small off-shoot, but the potential is enormous."
"Why don't you send the research to my office? Tucker and I can go over everything and give you our opinion. I'm not familiar enough with Carmichael Industries to make an informed decision at this moment."
"I convinced Mother to place the ideas up for a stockholders' vote that will take place around the first of the year. I'll be interested to know what you think."
Joan took a deep breath and turned back toward the house. "Time to face the music, I suppose."
When they entered the living room, it looked as if Luella was holding court. She was firmly ensconced in a large wing-back chair in front of the now dormant fireplace. Evey, Brad, and Fran sat on the couch to her right while Charmaine and Meg shared a loveseat to her left. Giselle leaned back into an upholstered chair with Morgana in her lap and Mitchell seated on the floor at her feet. Beth and Tully leaned nonchalantly against the couch behind their mother. Joan helped Tucker move four dining room chairs for the rest of them. Joan took a chair next to the couch near Evey. She couldn't remember the last time she felt so uncomfortable and apprehensive. It was as if she knew something horrible was going to happen and was waiting for the shoe to finally drop.
Evey stood as the others were discussing the plans for the wedding. She leaned down behind Joan and touched her lightly on the shoulder to get her attention. Close to Joan's ear she said, "Your mother asked for tea. Would you like some as well? Otherwise, we have coffee or soft drinks." She turned her head toward Ron and Anita before glancing back at Joan.
"Coffee is fine," Joan said. "Do you need help?"
Evey shook her head, patted Joan on the shoulder, and walked toward the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with four cups and a glass. She set the glass on a small table next to Luella, handed one cup to Joan, then Ron and Anita before taking the last cup and resuming her place next to Joan on the couch.
Joan took a deep breath and ordered her body to relax. What was the worst that could happen in a room full of family members?
Luella brought her glass to her mouth and sipped her tea. She picked up a handkerchief and dabbed at her lips. She turned toward Evey, a tight smile crossing her lips when she saw how closely Evey was sitting to Joan. She cleared her throat and calmly asked, "So tell me, my dear, has my daughter made an indecent proposal to you yet? She is a pervert, you know, and you are quite attractive."
Coffee sprayed from Joan's mouth and she jumped to her feet. "Mother! How dare you? What the hell are you thinking?" Joan opened her mouth, wanting to say more, but closed it and set her cup down with a rattle. "Excuse me." She strode into the front hall and out the front door of the house, allowing the screen to slam closed. She ran down the steps and across the front lawn. She had no idea where she was going. She simply needed to get away. Whatever was happening inside the Chase home, Joan hoped it involved blood and the need to summon an ambulance.
AFTER JOAN'S ABRUPT departure, silence descended on the living room. Luella looked as if she didn't understand what she had said wrong. Tucker leaned closer to Giselle and she rose, taking her children with her. Evey set her cup on the table next to the couch and leaned forward.
Evey thought for a moment before speaking. "I hardly know what to say, Mrs. Carmichael. I assure you I am not a pervert, nor is your daughter. She lives her life openly and honestly, without the need of sneak attacks. You have entered my home as a guest and proceeded to insult me and question my morals in front of my children, as well as embarrassing your own child. I suspect that in the process you have only succeeded in making yourself look foolish. You risk alienating your grandchildren and great-grandchildren, as well." She stood and looked at Ron. "Mr. Carmichael, if I may, I believe your mother is exhausted from her trip and not thinking clearly. Perhaps she should be taken to her hotel to rest. Dinner will be served here this evening at seven if you would care to join us. Please excuse me."
"Mom?" Beth said. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, dear. Thanks for asking." Evey picked up her cup and stopped long enough to pick up Joan's as she walked calmly toward her kitchen.
"I shouldn't have invited her," Fran said into Brad's chest. She looked up at him. "I'm sorry."
"You didn't do anything," he smiled down at her.
Ron handed his car key to Anita while he moved to help his mother to her feet.
Evey left the house through the back door. She had no idea where Joan might have gone as she walked quickly toward the stables. From the end of the walkway she saw Ralph leaning against the gate to the last stall and heard repetitive popping sounds coming from inside. She quickened her steps. Ralph saw Evey striding toward him and stopped her before she could reach the stall.
"What's going on?" Evey asked.
"It's okay, Miz Evey. I'm watchin' her."
"Who?"
"Your house guest. She's a bit worked up. Been wallopin' that punchin' bag for nearly ten minutes non-stop. Don't look that strong, but she's powerful angry about somethin'."
"She has a good reason," Evey said. "Go back to work. I'll keep an eye on her." She patted Ralph on the back as he sauntered away. After a few minutes, the sounds inside the stall began to taper off. Evey started to step into the gateway, then heard a low guttural sound that grew louder, almost into a primal scream of rage followed by a final sharp, loud thwap. She peeked into the stall to see a stricken face still filled with anger. Joan clung to the heavy bag that was suspended from the beam running across the stall. The tracks from tears ran down her face and her clothing was soaked with perspiration. She pushed away from the bag, her long legs wobbling slightly as she held the bag with one gloved hand and prepared to strike it again with the other. She wiped the back of the glove across her face and through the hair now hanging limply across her forehead. Her hand
lashed out one last time at the bag before it fell to her side. She brought a glove to her mouth, using her teeth to untie the knot at her wrist. She looked up and saw Evey watching, the redness of her face turning even deeper. She cleared her throat, a mannerism Evey had come to associate with nervousness.
"Let me help you get those gloves off," Evey said as she stepped into the stall.
"Thank you," Joan said stiffly, extending an arm.
"Feel better?" Evey asked as she worked at the knot.
"My deepest apologies for my mother," Joan said, standing straighter, but refusing to meet Evey's eyes.
"None needed."
"I...I...well, I don't know quite what to say. Humiliating me seems to be her greatest pleasure in life. I'll see to it she doesn't return here."
"She's Fran's grandmother."
"She only accepts that because Ron is Fran's biological father, not because she respects the memory of the woman who gave birth to her. She hates me."
Evey looked up at Joan. "I don't believe that. I agree she has issues..."
Evey held the glove as Joan pulled her hand out. "Issues my ass! She's a hateful old bitch who lives to make our lives miserable."
Evey took the other glove and began loosening the knot. "She might be back this evening for dinner."
The Game of Denial Page 9
