whether or not Rowan is remaining with him of her own free will, and then…shoot him. Perhaps.”
“You know all about it, don’t you?”
“No, not all about it. That’s the disturbing thing. But I know this. If Rowan sent you those samples, it was because Rowan was afraid this thing could breed. Let’s go inside, shall we? I’d like to call the family about this incident in Destin. I’d also like to call the Talamasca about Stolov. I have rooms here too, you see. You might call it my New Orleans headquarters. I rather like the place.”
“Sure, let’s go.”
Before they reached the desk, Lark had regretted the small valise and the one change of clothes. He wasn’t going to be leaving here so soon. He knew it. The dim feeling of something unwholesome and menacing warred in him with a new surge of excitement. He liked this little lobby, the amiable southern voices surrounding him, the tall, elegant black man in the elevator.
Yes, he would have to do some shopping. But that was fine. Lightner had the key in hand. The suite was ready for Lark. And Lark was ready for breakfast.
Yeah, she was afraid of that all right, Lark thought, as they went up in the elevator. She had even said something like, If this thing can breed…
Of course he hadn’t known then what the hell she was talking about. But she’d known. Anyone else, you might think this was a hoax or something. But not Rowan Mayfair.
Well, he was too hungry just now to think about it anymore.
Eight
IT WAS NOT her custom to speak into the phone when she answered it. She would pick up the receiver, hold it to her ear; then if someone spoke, someone she knew, perhaps she would answer.
Ryan knew this. And he said immediately into the silence: “Ancient Evelyn, something dreadful has happened.”
“What is it, son?” she asked, identifying herself with an uncommon warmth. Her voice sounded frail and small to her, not the voice of herself which she had always known.
“They’ve found Gifford on the beach at Destin. They said—” Ryan’s voice broke and he could not continue. Then Ryan’s son, Pierce, came on the line and he said that he and his father were driving up together. Ryan came back on the phone. Ryan told her she must stay with Alicia, that Alicia would go mad when she “heard.”
“I understand,” said Ancient Evelyn. And she did. Gifford wasn’t merely hurt. Gifford was dead. “I will find Mona,” she said softly. She did not know if they even heard.
Ryan said something vague and confused and rushed, that they would call her later, that Lauren was calling “the family.” And then the conversation was finished, and Ancient Evelyn put down the phone and went to the closet for her walking stick.
Ancient Evelyn did not much like Lauren Mayfair. Lauren Mayfair was a brittle, arrogant lawyer in Ancient Evelyn’s book, a sterile, frosty businesswoman of the worst sort who had always preferred legal documents to people. But she would be fine for calling everyone. Except for Mona. And Mona was not here, and Mona had to be told.
Mona was up at the First Street house. Ancient Evelyn knew it. Perhaps Mona was searching for that Victrola and the beautiful pearls.
Ancient Evelyn had known all night that Mona was out. But she never really had to worry about Mona. Mona would do all the things in life that everyone wanted to do. She would do them for her grandmother Laura Lee and for her mother, CeeCee, and for Ancient Evelyn herself. She would do them for Gifford…
Gifford dead. No, that did not seem possible, or likely. Why did I not feel it when it happened? Why didn’t I hear her voice?
Back to the practical things. Ancient Evelyn stood in the hallway, thinking whether she ought to go on her own in search of Mona, to go out on the bumpy streets, the sidewalks of brick and flag on which she might fall, but never had, and then she thought with her new eyes she could do it. Yes, and who knew? It might be her last time to really see.
A year ago, she could not have seen to walk downtown. But young Dr. Rhodes had taken the cataracts from her eyes. And now she saw so well it astonished people. That is, when she told them what she saw, which she didn’t often do.
Ancient Evelyn knew perfectly well that talking made little difference. Ancient Evelyn didn’t