Page 13 of The Vaudeville Star

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Marshall puffed on his cigar while Faylene looked at it with distaste.

“I said that with Earl now dead, Lucille and Pernetta are running their plantation all alone.”

Ford glanced up at his father. “All alone? Surely they have an overseer.”

Marshall shrugged. “You know how that woman is. Stubborn as a mule. I can’t help but think you were lucky not marrying into that family. Even if it would have doubled the size of our plantation.”

“How was Ruby when you saw her, Ford? Did she look well? When is she coming home?” Jessbelle asked one question after the other.

“She looked fine enough.” Ford answered, trying not to focus on the rush of desire as he recalled Ruby’s naked body entwined with his own.

“Did she say when she wa

s coming home? Surely she should be home already,” Jessbelle persisted.

“We didn’t talk much about her plans, Jess.” He saw no reason to elaborate on Ruby’s crazy scheme to travel to New York and go onstage.

“Of course they didn’t,” Faylene interrupted. “Her Daddy died. She was distraught. Am I right, Ford?”

Ford could still see Ruby lying naked in the bed and in his arms. He coughed suddenly. “Yes Momma. That’s right.”

Faylene turned to her daughter. “Stop pestering your brother with all your questions, Jess.”

“No, Momma, it’s fine. I just don’t have that much to add.”

Ford remembered Ruby’s words and wondered where she was. He must send a telegram. He needed to know she was safe. He should have gone himself, but she would have spotted him. At least she was not alone.

“Do you think Lucille and Pernetta will be able to run the plantation alone, Marshall?” Faylene asked.

“I truly don’t know. That Lucille is determined. I’ll say that much for her. I don’t see why not.”

“I suppose I must send another card to convey our sympathies. I believe I did when Earl died, but she never responded,” Faylene said to no one in particular. “I’ll invite them for tea or lemonade.”

“Of course she didn’t respond, Momma! Her youngest daughter was caught in the watering hole with your son whilst her eldest daughter was supposed to be marrying him. They hate us!”

“Hush your mouth, Jess,” Faylene said, shaking her head. “My goodness, Marshall! Where does this child get her sassiness from? I honestly couldn’t say.”

Lucille and Pernetta Sutton entered the parlor in a swish of silk gowns. Faylene welcomed them and asked the ladies to sit down. A maid entered with a tray of lemonade and freshly baked miniature cakes and placed it in front of them.

“Lucille, I wanted to tell you in person how sorry I was for your loss. Earl was such a fine man,” she said softly. “We didn’t get to speak at the funeral.”

“Yes, he was. And of course we received your note and flowers, but I have been rushed off my feet. Running the plantation and looking after Pernetta,” Lucille responded.

“Of course you were. I understand,” Faylene said, leaning over to pour several glasses of lemonade.

She handed one glass to Lucille, who took it in her gloved hand, and then handed the next to Pernetta, who took a sip and then immediately excused herself to get some air.

“I’m sure you’ll be pleased to have Ruby back home. Ford didn’t say much about his trip to Connecticut, but I’m sure she’ll be home shortly.” Faylene smiled.

“Honestly, Faylene, I’m not so sure about that,” Lucille said, eyeing the room around her. “I love my family—God knows I do. But that girl has been a burr under my saddle since the day she was born. That is the truth. And I can’t help but wish she would stay in Connecticut. I really do.”

“Hello, Ford.”

Ford turned to see Pernetta standing behind him on the veranda. Her wavy brown hair was pinned at her neck, and there was a flush on her cheeks. She wore a yellow dress that did not enhance her coloring nor her flat bosom.

“Hello, Pernetta.” He nodded to her.

She moved to stand beside him, and together they looked out over the vast cotton fields that belonged to the Rutledge family. She removed a handkerchief from her skirt pocket and dabbed at her face.


Tags: Nicola Italia Historical