I told her.
"Then sing one you do know!" Augusta swung into an oak tree, sat on a limb, and balanced an acorn on her nose.
Bellowing out a rendition of "Jingle Bells"—(it was all I could think of)—I did the same. By the time we skipped, ran, and sang our way back to the cemetery gates I was dizzy and exhausted. I had also forgotten for a few happy minutes the somber reasons for our visit.
The phone was ringing when we reached home. "Where in the world have you been? I've been trying to reach you," my grandmother demanded to know.
"I was up on cemetery hill checking out that lot where the Dennises are buried. (I decided not to tell her about Sylvie Smith.) There's nobody else in the plot except for some people named Carstairs. Do you know if any of them still live here?"
"There's Jewel Carstairs—no, wait a minute—she married the Knox boy and moved to Alabama, but I think her brother still lives here…. Why are you so out of breath? You been running?"
"Just trying to keep in shape. Her brother—is he related to the Dennises?"
"Gordon Carstairs? Remotely, I think. What's all this hullabaloo about the Dennises, Arminda? My goodness, they've been dead since before I was born."
"She made nondescripts. I think their daughter might have been a member of the Mystic Six."
Silence. "And what if she was? She's dead, too—unless she's found the fountain of youth. If you're thinking of tracing down that old quilt, you've got your work cut out for you. Give it up, Minda. That thing's long gone."
"It's not the quilt. It's the women who made it. I need to know who they were, what happened to them."
She didn't ask why. I was glad I didn't have to explain that my angel and I thought they had something to do with Cousin Otto's death.
"I called to tell you they're reading Otto's will tomorrow, and I can't get in touch with Mildred."My grandmother sounded put out. I don't know what she expected me to do about it.
"Are you sure you have the right number?" I said.
"It's Lydia's voice on the answering machine, all right. I've left two messages."
"Maybe they went on a leaf tour or something—you know, one of those all day trips. She'll probably call you back tonight. What time are they reading the will?"
"That's just it. It's at ten in the morning, and if I don't get in touch with her soon, she won't get back in time."
"Frankly, I'm surprised Otto left a will," I said. "I didn't think he was that organized."
"I think Butler Pike shamed him into it," Vesta said. "Had his law office where the bookshop is before he built that place downtown. He was the one who sold us the building."
I knew my grandmother and I were thinking the same thing, but she was the one who finally spoke it. "I do hope he remembered Mildred," she said. "I honestly dread for tomorrow to come."
But it did come, and fortunately for us—and for her— Mildred never showed. Otto had left his share of Papa's Armchair to Gatlin.
"It took only ten minutes," Vesta said when she and Gatlin stopped by the Nut House afterward. Otto's share of the shop was all he had to leave."
Gatlin was still flabbergasted. She looked from Vesta to me and tried to speak, but nothing came out—a first for my cousin.
"I—well, I guess—"Gatlin shrugged. "Don't you think Otto left it to me because he didn't think you or Mildred would outlive him?" she asked Vesta. She was wide-eyed and pale, and her voice actually trembled when she spoke.
"That's exactly what I think," Vesta said, putting an arm around her, "and I can't think of anyone I'd rather it go to. I just don't know how to explain it to Mildred."
"Do we have to?" My cousin regained a flush of color. "I mean I know we'll have to tell her he left me his share of the shop, but can't we say he made provisions for her to live there? She seems to want to stay, and I can't see any harm in it."
"What about money?" I said. "She has to live on something."
My grandmother spoke in her "don't question me" voice. "That's taken care of. You don't have to worry about that."
Gatlin and I exchanged glances. I knew Mildred had a modest income along with her Social Security, but I never knew until now who supplied it.
My cousin followed me to the kitchen to help