Beauty for Ashes Page 0,108
leaned against the door frame and crossed her arms. “They’re as important to me as this land is to you.” She sent Carrie a pleading look. “I don’t blame you for being angry with me, but try to understand.”
Carrie felt her anger soften. She could understand Mary’s reluctance to part with the last vestiges of her family’s history. Everyone needed something to hold on to. Hadn’t she kept Frank’s letters, her mother’s tortoiseshell hair comb, Granny Bell’s favorite quilt?
Mary went on. “Last night I realized that if you hadn’t come back here to take care of me and the boys, I might not have my baby now. My boys are worth more to me than anything.” She picked up the bracelet and draped it over her arm. “Besides, there’s no place around here to wear these.”
“Exactly.” Carrie set the necklace back into its satin nest. “Even if there were, nobody in Hickory Ridge has that kind of money.”
“Mr. Gilman has plenty of money, and his wife likes pretty things. Did you see that sapphire pin she wore on her hat at the harvest festival? She told everyone it came from the best store in Nashville. I’m sure it cost a fortune.” Mary set the bracelet back in the box and snapped the lid closed. “Take them, Carrie. Sell them for whatever you can get. If Mr. Gilman won’t buy them, try Jasper Pruitt at the mercantile.”
Carrie ran her fingers over the case. “I can’t imagine that Mr. Pruitt will have any use for them, but I’ll—”
The baby wailed. Mary scooped him up, and Carrie saw tears standing in her eyes. “Go now,” she whispered. “Take them before I change my mind.”
Carrie tucked the jewel case into the bread basket, picked up her reticule, and hurried out to the waiting wagon. The fog had burned away, revealing a bright blue sky that lifted her spirits. She climbed up and headed for town.
A long line of mourners joined Griff, Philip, and Susan at the cemetery. The weather was raw. A sharp wind, heavy with salt, whipped through the churchyard. Standing apart from the knot of mourners at the open gravesite, Griff nodded to the members of Charleston society who had come to pay respects and to a seemingly endless procession of black-clad Rutledge and Venable cousins he hadn’t seen since boyhood.
As dirt fell onto their father’s polished mahogany coffin, Philip wept openly. He had always been less inhibited than Griff when it came to displays of emotion. What Griff felt, deep in his soul, was a mixture of regret for the years he’d wasted, operating from the false assumption that his father had ceased to love him, and deep gratitude that he had learned the truth before it was too late. Despite the loss, he felt a sense of peace.
The service ended. Griff climbed into the crepe-draped carriage with Philip and Susan, and they returned to the house to greet the other mourners, who arrived with offerings of food and memories of Charles Rutledge. For a while the house hummed with sounds as stories were shared and condolences offered. After the last of the guests departed, several Venable cousins stayed behind to prepare a late lunch for the family. Then, with a flurry of embraces and last words of condolence, they too entered their waiting carriages and drove away.
The three of them sat in the dining room and poked at their food. Philip, his eyes red and swollen from crying, stared into the dancing flames, his fork poised above a plate of ham and grits. Finally he looked across the table at Griff. “Susan told me you aren’t planning to come home.”
“Charleston hasn’t been home for me in a long time. Even during the war, I felt like a stranger here.” He drank his tea and set down his cup. “Too restless, I reckon.”
Philip nodded. “Still planning your trip to Australia?”
“Not now. I’m staying on in Hickory Ridge.”
“And live in that rundown hotel?”
“Not for long.” He picked at a small lemon tart. “I’m working on getting my own place. I’m going back there tomorrow, in fact. On the afternoon train.”
“So soon? But what about Father’s will? The lawyers—”
“It’s only a formality, Philip. We both know what it says.” He waved one hand, taking in the house and its furnishings. “You’re welcome to all of it. I’m perfectly at peace with it.”
Philip pushed his plate away. “I daresay you would be, sitting on that fortune from your blockade-running days.”
Griff laughed. “I did all