Read Online Necessary Lies by Diane Chamberlain - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Diane Chamberlain
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“She’s actually from Brogden,” and me kicking her leg and my father asking her how she knew that and Teresa shutting up, because she wasn’t supposed to read those movie magazines. She thought Ava and Frank Sinatra had the best marriage. Teresa would never know about their divorce. There was so much she’d never know.
“Where are we headed?” I tried to sound casual, suddenly aware that being in Grace County was going to be harder than I’d thought.
“I thought we’d start with the Jordan family. Ordinarily, I’d see the Hart family at the same time because they live close together, but I don’t think we’ll have time for both today, since I … we ”—she glanced at me with a smile—“have to pick up an elderly gentleman to get him to his doctor’s appointment by noon. Besides, it’s harvesttime for the tobacco, so everyone’s probably at the barn. I’m hoping we can catch Lita Jordan at home since she’ll be getting lunch ready for her boys.” She glanced at me. “‘Lunch’ is called ‘dinner’ on the farm, by the way,” she said. “The main meal of the day.”
We were coming up to the Ku Klux Klan billboard. It looked even bigger than it had that terrible afternoon two years ago. Red background. Hooded man on a white horse holding a burning cross. JOIN & SUPPORT THE UNITED KLANS OF AMERICA. FIGHT INTEGRATION AND COMMUNISM. Beyond it was the stand of tall loblolly pines that haunted my dreams. In an instant, we were past it, just like that. I let out my breath. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding it.
“Ava Gardner’s from here,” Charlotte said.
“Yes.” I smiled to myself. I wouldn’t argue with her. “Did you see On the Beach ?”
“Wasn’t she marvelous in that! Depressing movie, though.”
On either side of us stretched tobacco fields, people toiling in a sea of green. Mostly colored. Some white. The sun beating down on all of them. The car windows were wide open and I was still perspiring. I couldn’t imagine how hot it was out there in the fields.
We passed an occasional house, the yards dotted with trees and shrubs, bicycles and trucks. Every farmhouse I saw was painted white and most looked well cared for. Tall tobacco barns, many of them buzzing with activity, were tucked into stands of trees. We turned off Ridley Road onto a narrow dirt road. Dust rose up around the open windows, but it was too hot to close them. I now understood why Charlotte’s car looked the way it did. I supposed mine would be just as dusty in a few weeks.
Charlotte looked at her watch. “All right now,” she said, as we pulled into a long drive leading to a white farmhouse with a red metal roof. Tobacco fields stretched away from the house in all directions. “Let me give you some background on your clients here.”
“I’ll have clients who live in this farmhouse ?” I asked, looking at the broad front porch. I was astounded that anyone who could afford a home this nice would need welfare.
“No, not in the farmhouse. You’ll see.” She pulled to the side of the road and turned off the ignition and the car immediately filled with heat. “This farm is owned by Davison Gardiner. No relation to Ava.” She smiled. “Spelled differently. His family’s farmed this land for generations. The Jordans and the Harts live on his land, and they’re your clients. The Harts will almost certainly be at the barn, like I said, so tomorrow or the day after, we’ll come back later in the day and you can meet them. We have too much else to do today.”
“Okay,” I said, wondering how late she was talking about. I’d have to make sure dinner was ready to pop in the oven as soon as I got home. Robert had been very sweet about me starting my job, even buying the briefcase for me and wishing me luck when he kissed me good-bye this morning. But last night he said I seemed more excited about the job than I was about fixing up our beautiful new—well, new to us, anyway—house, and that was
“Where are we headed?” I tried to sound casual, suddenly aware that being in Grace County was going to be harder than I’d thought.
“I thought we’d start with the Jordan family. Ordinarily, I’d see the Hart family at the same time because they live close together, but I don’t think we’ll have time for both today, since I … we ”—she glanced at me with a smile—“have to pick up an elderly gentleman to get him to his doctor’s appointment by noon. Besides, it’s harvesttime for the tobacco, so everyone’s probably at the barn. I’m hoping we can catch Lita Jordan at home since she’ll be getting lunch ready for her boys.” She glanced at me. “‘Lunch’ is called ‘dinner’ on the farm, by the way,” she said. “The main meal of the day.”
We were coming up to the Ku Klux Klan billboard. It looked even bigger than it had that terrible afternoon two years ago. Red background. Hooded man on a white horse holding a burning cross. JOIN & SUPPORT THE UNITED KLANS OF AMERICA. FIGHT INTEGRATION AND COMMUNISM. Beyond it was the stand of tall loblolly pines that haunted my dreams. In an instant, we were past it, just like that. I let out my breath. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding it.
“Ava Gardner’s from here,” Charlotte said.
“Yes.” I smiled to myself. I wouldn’t argue with her. “Did you see On the Beach ?”
“Wasn’t she marvelous in that! Depressing movie, though.”
On either side of us stretched tobacco fields, people toiling in a sea of green. Mostly colored. Some white. The sun beating down on all of them. The car windows were wide open and I was still perspiring. I couldn’t imagine how hot it was out there in the fields.
We passed an occasional house, the yards dotted with trees and shrubs, bicycles and trucks. Every farmhouse I saw was painted white and most looked well cared for. Tall tobacco barns, many of them buzzing with activity, were tucked into stands of trees. We turned off Ridley Road onto a narrow dirt road. Dust rose up around the open windows, but it was too hot to close them. I now understood why Charlotte’s car looked the way it did. I supposed mine would be just as dusty in a few weeks.
Charlotte looked at her watch. “All right now,” she said, as we pulled into a long drive leading to a white farmhouse with a red metal roof. Tobacco fields stretched away from the house in all directions. “Let me give you some background on your clients here.”
“I’ll have clients who live in this farmhouse ?” I asked, looking at the broad front porch. I was astounded that anyone who could afford a home this nice would need welfare.
“No, not in the farmhouse. You’ll see.” She pulled to the side of the road and turned off the ignition and the car immediately filled with heat. “This farm is owned by Davison Gardiner. No relation to Ava.” She smiled. “Spelled differently. His family’s farmed this land for generations. The Jordans and the Harts live on his land, and they’re your clients. The Harts will almost certainly be at the barn, like I said, so tomorrow or the day after, we’ll come back later in the day and you can meet them. We have too much else to do today.”
“Okay,” I said, wondering how late she was talking about. I’d have to make sure dinner was ready to pop in the oven as soon as I got home. Robert had been very sweet about me starting my job, even buying the briefcase for me and wishing me luck when he kissed me good-bye this morning. But last night he said I seemed more excited about the job than I was about fixing up our beautiful new—well, new to us, anyway—house, and that was
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