Read Online In Her Day by Rita Mae Brown - Free Book Online Page A

time—time to think, travel, read, write. That’s a greater luxury to me than money which incidentally I could have had. I know Granddad would give me that business. Of all the grandchildren he loves me the best because he says I’m the smartest. Shows you what he knows,” she grinned.
    “I don’t know, Dell. It would be a challenge, don’t you think?”
    “Sure it would but not for me. Anyway, when everyone dies at age a hundred and ten I’ll get my share then I’ll fund a dig, so help me, I will. Think of that, my own Mayan city!”
    “Hope you’re not too old to enjoy it by the time you get the loot.”
    “Listen, Hanratty, I intend to be a mean old woman and live forever.”
    The phone rang and Carole slowly got to her feet. “I’ll bet it’s Lynn F. insisting in her best Tallulah voice that we get over there. Think of some little white lie.”
    “I will not. You make up your own lies. Oh let’s go. I’m in the mood for a party.”
    Carole picked up the phone. “Carole, Carole this is Mother.”
    “Mother?”
    “Honey, I have bad news.” Her voice was quite deliberate; she pronounced each word evenly as if it were a keystone, as if any word that got lost inemotion would make the whole weight of the sentence fall apart and crush her. “Can you hear me?”
    “Yes, yes, I can hear you. The connection is clear. Mother, what’s wrong?”
    “Margaret was in a three-way accident down by the Capitol.”
    Carole began to shake. Adele came over to her and stood helplessly not knowing what to do. Carole looked up at her.
    “Mother, where is she? How is she?”
    “Honey, she’s gone. Burned. She was hit from behind and the gas tank blew. There’s nothing left.” Still the voice stayed firm if weak.
    “Mom, I’ll catch the next train out. I’ll get there as fast as I can.”
    “Yes, come home, honey. You come on home.” On the word
home
she cried, quietly. “Now I have to hang up. Do you have anyone with you? I don’t want you alone until you leave.”
    “I have a friend here, Adele.”
    “That’s a nice name. I don’t believe I ever met her.” Anything attached to ordinary exchange seemed to comfort the older woman.
    “No, Mother, you haven’t met her. Now you hang up. Is Luke there to take care of you?”
    “Luke’s right here next to me, honey. You come home.”
    “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mom. Goodbye.”
    “I can’t say that.” She cried harder now and hung up the phone.
    “Carole, what in the world is wrong?”
    “My sister, Margaret, was killed in a car accident.” Carole’s lip trembled. When Adele put her arms around her she couldn’t see for crying. Adele guided her over to the sofa. She didn’t try to say anything. Words were useless. Carole cried for three-quartersof an hour. She couldn’t stop herself. It got so bad she got the dry heaves and a splitting headache. Slowly she stopped crying. Finally she spoke, “We were more like twins than sisters.”
    “You told me about her many times … I am so sorry, baby, I’m just so sorry.”
    “Adele, you’re awful good.” Carole hugged her again and cried some more. They rocked back and forth until she quieted herself. “I’ve got to go pack.”
    “You tell me what you want and I’ll pack.”
    “No, I have to do something, anything.”
    “I’ll call the train station then.”
    A train left late that night for Washington, D C., where Carole would have to lay over for hours before catching another train to Richmond. Adele, ignoring Carole’s protests, rode with her to D. C. and waited through the night to put her on her connection to Richmond. They nibbled donuts and talked of life and death and how they never believed it could hap pen to them. Carole couldn’t sleep and Adele wouldn’t so the hours, like a magic circle, closed around them and strengthened the bond of friendship already between them. As Carole boarded the train, finally, she turned to Adele and said, “You’re my sister now,” and