“Renew yer vows then. Iffen anyone needs a new beginning, it’s you. You caint fool me, girl. I doan care if you got obstacles up the kazoo. Iffen you two still love each other, and I ‘spect you do, there could be a mountain sitting on yer toenails, and it wouldn’t matter. Speakin’ of nails, I need to do mine to match my hair. You got any of that Chili Pepper Red? Thass my favorite.”
Tante Lulu had a way of rambling from one subject to another to distract a person, but Charmaine was not about to be distracted. “Listen, I don’t know how to make this more clear. Luc will be bringing the divorce papers with him on Thursday. We will probably sign them.”
“Probably? Probably never made the gumbo boil.” She cackled at her own joke.
Charmaine closed her eyes briefly with frustration, then tried a different tack. “Wishing something were so, doesn’t make it happen.”
“Hah! Doan I know it, sweetie. Wimmen gots to make their own destiny. The question is: Are you woman enough?”
“I don’t have a bleepin’ clue,” she said.
Well, here’s a clue, that wretched voice in her head said. God gave you a second chance. You gonna flub it again?
Now, that was food for thought… that her divorce to Rusty never having been finalized was actually a celestial intervention.
Finally! Someone’s listening to me.
“Mebbe you ought to ask St. Jude for help,” Tante Lulu suggested.
Righto!
Was her aunt reading her mind now? Scary prospect, that!
Once Charmaine was done dyeing and styling her aunt’s hair, they cleaned the living room, starting from the raftered ceiling and working downward. It really was a charming room, much in the style of that old Bonanza TV series. Lots of wood and exposed beams and
Western-style furniture. The only modern feature in the big room was a large-screen TV, which was at least ten years old.
After lunch, while her aunt was taking a nap, Charmaine went to work in Rusty’s office again. She was making progress and uncovering some interesting information. For years, as much as a decade ago, oil companies had been contacting Charlie Lanier, trying to obtain the oil rights under the Triple L, if not the land itself. A familiar saying in these parts, and in Texas as well, was that the successful rancher had a wife who worked in town or at least one oil derrick on his property for the steer to scratch their butts on. The point was that a little bit of oil drilling didn’t hurt. In fact, it allowed the rancher to stay afloat financially while cattle prices fluctuated.
Unfortunately, or fortunately, Charlie hadn’t shared that opinion. He’d refused, adamantly, to sell or lease his land to the oil interests. Some of the letters from the oil companies, including her father’s own Cypress Oil, were testy the past year, borderline threatening.
Could an oil company have been responsible for Charlie’s untimely death?
Sounded logical. But they had to know that Rusty would be the heir. And he would follow through on his father’s wishes.
Oh, my God! Not if Rusty was in jail. Not if he was on nonspeaking terms with his father. Not if they didn’t know the terms of his will, splitting everything between her and Rusty.
Good heavens! Could those same oil interests be responsible for putting Rusty in jail, wanting him out of the way?
She would have to show these papers to Rusty tonight. No, tomorrow. He had said he’d be back late tonight. Charmaine was uneasy about the worried look she’d seen on his face that morning when he’d left the house. Yes, this news could wait till the morning.
After Tante Lulu’s nap, they began to tackle Charlie’s former bedroom, which obviously hadn’t been touched in ages. While Charmaine took the curtains and the bedding, including a beautiful old patchwork quilt, to the laundry room, Tante Lulu began to put Charlie’s clothing and boots and hats into a large cardboard box. They would offer them first to Clarence and Linc, and the rest would go to Our Lady of the Bayou’s annual rummage sale, if Rusty approved, of course. It was only when they flipped the mattress, preparatory to vacuuming out the box springs, that they got their first shocks of the day.