Chapter 4
The sun refused to shine on the day of Ben Lockett’s funeral. It, too, seemed to be mourning the man who had spent long hours under its hot rays, worshiping the land and its elements.
For two days, Lauren had watched from her window as all types of people came to pay tribute to Ben. There were wealthy visitors, their affluence evidenced by their clothes and their conveyances. Others looked to be farmers or ranchers wearing clean but worn clothes. Their wives tagged after them staring at the beautiful house in awe. Vaqueros in dusty leather chaps rode up to the house on trail-weary horses. The mourners came singly, in pairs, or in groups, but there was a continuous parade of them. Lauren couldn’t imagine the woman who had greeted her with such hostility graciously welcoming the humblest of these visitors.
The hearse came down the shell lane, glistening blackly. With its tassel-trimmed, fringed drapes, plumed horses, and driver who wore a cutaway coat and top hat, it looked like some sort of circus vehicle. Ben would hardly have chosen such an ostentatious, frivolous conveyance to carry him to his grave, Lauren thought, feeling another pang of grief for the rugged, virile man.
Lauren watched from her window as Olivia was escorted down the front walk by a man no taller than she. From Lauren’s perspective, his bald head seemed on a level with Olivia’s veiled black hat. His black coat fit snugly across a portly torso. Shyly he touched Olivia’s elbow as he assisted her. It was hard to tell if his hesitancy in touching her was in deference to her grief or in fear that she would turn on him. His attitude toward her seemed to be almost subservient.
Lauren inhaled sharply when she saw the figure behind the other two. His height and the breadth of his shoulders gave away his identity, though she still couldn’t see his face under the wide-brimmed black hat. His black suit bore no distinguishing details. He appeared to be withdrawn, oblivious to the sympathetic friends who watched him with pity as he followed his mother and the other man to the covered carriage which waited behind the hearse.
The coffin was ceremoniously lifted into the hearse. Lauren thought Ben would have scoffed at all this pomp and circumstance. She was sure he was somewhere watching all of them, his blue eyes twinkling in amusement. She offered a prayer for his soul as the hearse led the procession away from the house.
As the family’s carriage rolled by, she noticed a strong, lean, tanned hand dangling negligently against the door.
* * *
The summons came so suddenly that Lauren was unprepared for it. Elena had flung open the door to the room and, with colorful skirts swirling around her bare legs, and breasts bobbing like lanterns suspended on a wire, she sputtered the message.
“La señora wants to see you pronto, señorita. Quickly she say. Quickly. She is with Señor Wells in Señor Lockett’s office.”
She was a flurry of motion as she helped Lauren button her shirtwaist, which had been discarded when she had prepared for a nap. Her hair was hastily pulled into its usual bun. Elena knelt down to button her shoes. Lauren would have thought it impossible for Elena to fold herself into that position, but didn’t have time to wonder about it now. She was breathing rapidly, her heart was pounding, and her palms were sweating. In all her life, she had never been this nervous.
They left the room after Lauren grabbed a lace handkerchief. Whether it was to dry her hands or to have something to hold on to, she didn’t know. Elena also seemed jittery as she led Lauren down the hall to the wide staircase. They descended quickly and walked toward a large sliding door. Elena gave Lauren a quick nod of encouragement and pulled aside one panel of the door. Lauren drew a deep breath.
She stepped into the room and was again surprised at the simple beauty of the house. There were floor-to-ceiling book-shelves on one side of the room. Other shelves flanked a large fireplace. The mantel was intricately and masterfully carved. Wide, full-length windows composed the fourth wall.
An Aubusson rug covered most of the
hardwood floor. Leather chairs and small tables, strategically placed, lent themselves to private conversations. There was a long sideboard loaded with decanters and glasses of cut crystal. The window drapes had been completely opened, allowing the afternoon sun to stream in and reflect on the glass surfaces.
In front of the windows was a massive desk littered with ledgers and papers of various shapes, sizes, and colors. Olivia sat in the high-backed leather chair behind the desk. The short, stout man Lauren had seen with her as she left for the funeral was seated in a chair in front of the desk. He stood and walked toward her.
“Miss Holbrook, this is indeed a pleasure. I’m sorry that circumstances have prevented me from meeting you before now. I hope you haven’t been too uncomfortable since your arrival.” He seemed to expect no answer as he continued, “I am Carson Wells, an old friend of Ben’s and Olivia’s, and also their lawyer. How do you do?”
“How do you do, Mr. Wells.” Lauren’s nerves were calmed by his graciousness. She replied steadily, “I have been most comfortable. I’m only sorry that I was an intruder at an unhappy time.”
“No one blames you.” He spoke to her gently, and she was glad for his presence in the room. He was bald except for a skimpy fringe of nondescript brown hair which adorned the back of his head. As if to compensate for his bald-headedness, bushy sideburns grew, in an outdated fashion, to within inches of his fleshy nose. His eyes were kind and smiling, and he seemed aware of her awkward situation.
Olivia had not uttered a sound. Now, she said in level tones, “Mr. Wells and I wish to speak to you, Miss Holbrook. Will you sit down? Would you care for some sherry?”
Lauren accepted the chair Mr. Wells held for her and declined the sherry. Olivia’s position in front of the glare of the windows outlined her frame, but kept her features dark and inscrutable. Lauren wondered if Ben had thought how advantageous this placement of his desk would be to the person sitting behind it. She almost had to squint to see Olivia clearly.
“I will get directly to the point of this discussion, Miss Holbrook. I’m ignorant of my husband’s reasons for inviting you here. I had construed some, though upon meeting you, I realize that they were wrong.” She didn’t explain and her meaning eluded Lauren. Olivia continued, “In any case, he was determined that you stay for at least two months. The night he had his seizure, as ill as he was, he asked me to allow you to stay for that length of time. Your being here was obviously important to him.”
Lauren moistened her lips nervously with her tongue. She wasn’t sure she could speak. “Your husband told me that you might find me helpful in handling your correspondence, entertaining, things like that. I envisioned myself as a sort of secretary.” Lauren’s heart was pounding so loudly that she could barely hear her own words.
Olivia came the closet to smiling that Lauren had ever seen. Carson Wells reached over and patted her hand as he said quietly, “Miss Holbrook, Ben liked to surprise folks and joke with them. Olivia is an astute businesswoman and has a number of clerks at the bank at her disposal. Ben may have told you his wife needed a secretary, but he had an ulterior motive, I assure you.”
Bank? She didn’t know anything about a bank. She was grasping at straws and she knew it, but she stammered, “I… I play the piano quite well. Maybe he thought I could give small concerts for your guests or something.”
Olivia lifted a derisive eyebrow. “That would be lovely, I’m sure, but we don’t even own a piano.”
Lauren was stunned, and had nothing else to say. She looked first at one and then the other. Humiliated beyond endurance, she bowed her head and stared at the soggy, twisted handkerchief clenched in her lap by white, trembling fingers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know any of this. You must think… I was so sure… He didn’t tell me…” The tears that had been clouding her vision finally flooded her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks.
“Now, now, no need for that,” Carson said quickly. “I’m afraid old Ben was just playing one of his notorious tricks on someone at your expense, and didn’t live to see it through. You can stay for a while. Olivia and I will try to make this an enjoyable visit for you. Come now, stop crying.” Carson sounded genuinely distressed and was patting her hand so vigorously that it stung.
“Will you join us in the dining room at seven-thirty for dinner, Miss Holbrook?” Olivia sounded annoyed at this display of emotion.