Dilworth, who had been her aunt’s attorney and now took care of Nora’s minor
legal business. “From what you’ve told me,” Travis said, “Dilworth knew your
aunt better than anyone, so I’d bet dollars to doughnuts he can tell you things
about her that will break this goddamn stranglehold she has on you even from the
grave.”
Nora said, “But there’re no great dark secrets about Aunt Violet. She was what
she appeared to be. She was a very simple woman, really. A sort of sad woman.”
“Sad my ass,” Travis said.
He persisted until she agreed to make the appointment with Garrison Dilworth.
Later, upstairs in her bedroom, when she tried to take off the Diane Freis, she
discovered she didn’t want to undress. All evening, she had been impatient to
get out of that costume, for it had seemed like a costume on her. But now, in
retrospect, the evening possessed a warm glow, and she wanted to prolong that
glow. Like a sentimental high school girl, she slept in the five-hundred-dollar
dress.
Garrison Dilworth’s office had been carefully decorated to convey
respectability, stability, and reliability. Beautifully detailed oak paneling.
Heavy royal-blue drapes hung from brass rods. Shelves full of leather-bound law
books. A massive oak desk.
The attorney himself was an intriguing cross between a personification of
Dignity and Probity—and Santa Claus. Tall, rather portly, with thick silver
hair, past seventy but still working a full week, Garrison favored three-piece
suits and subdued ties. In spite of his many years as a Californian, his deep
and smooth and cultured voice clearly marked him as a product of the upper-class
Eastern circles in which he had been born, raised, and educated. But there was
also a decidedly merry twinkle in his eyes, and his smile was quick, warm,
altogether Santalike.
He did not distance himself by staying behind his desk, but sat with Nora and
Travis in comfortable armchairs around a coffee table on which stood a large
Waterford bowl. “I don’t know what you came here expecting to learn. There are
no secrets about your aunt. No great dark revelations that will change your
life—”
“I knew as much,” Nora said. “I’m sorry we’ve bothered you.”
“Wait,” Travis said. “Let Mr. Dilworth finish.”
The attorney said, “Violet Devon was my client, and an attorney has a
responsibility to protect clients’ confidences even after their death. At least
that’s my view, though some in the profession might not feel such a lasting
obligation. Of course, as I’m speaking to Violet’s closest living relative and
heir, I suppose there’s little I would choose not to divulge—if in fact there
were any secrets to reveal. And I certainly see no moral constraint against my
expressing an honest opinion of your aunt. Even attorneys, priests, and doctors
are allowed to have opinions of people.” He took a deep breath and frowned. “I
never liked her, I thought she was a narrow-minded, totally self-involved woman
who was at least slightly . . . well, mentally unstable. And the way she raised
you was criminal, Nora. Not abusive in any legal sense that would interest the
authorities, but criminal nonetheless. And cruel.”
For as long as Nora could recall, a large knot had seemed to be tied tight
inside of her, pinching vital organs and vessels, leaving her tense, restricting
the flow of blood and making it necessary for her to live with all her senses
damped down, forcing her to struggle along as if she were a machine getting
insufficient power. Suddenly, Garrison Dilworth’s words untied that knot, and a
full, unrestricted current of life rushed through her for the first time.
She had known what Violet Devon had done to her, but knowing was not enough to
help her overcome that grim upbringing. She needed to hear her aunt condemned by
someone else. Travis had already denounced Violet, and Nora had felt some small
release at hearing what he said. But that had not been enough to free her
because Travis hadn’t known Violet and, therefore, spoke without complete
authority. Garrison knew Violet well, however, and his words released Nora from
bondage.
She was trembling violently, and tears were trickling down her face, but she was