Olivia and Kathy were staring at her.
“Honey,” Kathy said, “you need a man.” Olivia nodded in agreement.
“I’m ready, but the only one I’ve seen is Ray and I wouldn’t have him if—” She looked at Kathy in horror. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disparage your husband. He’s quite nice. Lovely to look at. Olivia and I made him sit around shirtless for hours and he—” Again, she broke off. “I think I’ll shut up now. Is there any iced tea? I’ve had more than enough wine.”
Kathy looked at Elise for a moment longer, then back at Olivia, who was filling a glass for Elise. “How long did your sweet, innocent friendship last?”
“Wait a minute,” Elise said. “I want to know about the children. You told us that Ace grew up to be a doctor, but what happened to Letty? Please tell me those kids grew up to marry each other.”
“No, they didn’t,” Olivia said. “When the kids were about ten, Bill got a job in California and they quit spending summers at Tattwell. Letty married a man she met in college. You know the actor Tate Landers?”
“Sure. Who doesn’t?” Kathy said.
“He’s almost as beautiful as Alejandro. Not quite, but close.”
“He’s Letty’s son.” She paused. “And he recently married one of Ace’s daughters.”
“That’s good,” Kathy said. “Really great. Does the name Tate come from Tattwell?”
“Tate is short for Tatton and both names came from Tattington. His sister’s name is Nina.” Olivia paused for a moment. “Tate bought the plantation in memory of his mother.”
“In memory?” Elise said. “Oh no! I think I hate knowing the future. Poor Ace and his mother, and poor Letty dying young. And you and Kit.” There were tears in her eyes.
“Tell us some more good things,” Kathy said. “Tell us about you and Kit being friends and the wonderful things you did for the children.”
“My mother...” For a moment, Olivia had to blink away tears. All this talk was bringing up some painful memories. “My mother knew me so well. I talked to her every day on the phone. At first all I did was complain, but gradually, I began asking her how to do things. About twice a week she showed up with cooking equipment that I needed or something that would help me. Back then, I was too young and dumb—sorry, Elise—to understand how much she did.”
“No offense taken,” Elise said, “but we all tend to mess up our lives, no matter what our age.”
“Ouch!” Olivia said, making them laugh. “Mom foresaw that two old Southern men and two little kids were going to get sick of elegant French cuisine. Before they did, she handed me a shoe box. Inside were big index cards with recipes for meat loaf, beef stew, chicken and dumplings, fish with hush puppies, et cetera. All homey things. The first time I again served them Campbell’s tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch, I thought the four of them were going to start crying.”
“What about the bikes?” Kathy asked.
“The Saturday after he met my dad, Kit and I drove into Richmond to get them.” She smiled in memory. “It was a nice trip. He told me so much about himself that I didn’t realize he was leaving out the biggest parts. He talked about his first year in college, about majoring in poly sci, his friends, his family. All of it. At least I thought he did. He just left out that he was planning to go undercover to infiltrate Muammar Gaddafi’s new regime.”
Both Kathy and Elise drew in their breaths in horror.
“Right. Back then we had no idea what the man was like. There was no hint of what was coming.”
Elise put her hands over her face. “I don’t want to hear the bad things. Poor Ace and Letty and now Kit.”
“Was Kit hurt?” Kathy spoke quickly, before Elise could add Olivia’s first marriage to the list of bad.
“Yes. It’s a wonder he can still walk, but the good part was that he was declared unfit to be a soldier. That’s what made him go into diplomacy. But I always knew that was his calling. I saw it that first summer.”
“You have to tell us,” Elise said.
“But first,” Kathy said, “tell us about the children and the bikes. Did they like them?”
Olivia took a sip of her wine. “Yes and no. Kit and I agreed that if we gave them two shiny new bikes as gifts they’d be so suspicious that they might not use them. So we decorated them.” She smiled. “With pond slime. Letty’s bike was silver and Ace’s black, but Kit and I covered them with mud and all the icky things we could dig out of the pond.”
For a moment Olivia loo
ked off in the distance in memory. “One rainy afternoon I was teaching the kids—and by that I mean all four of them—how to put papier-mâché strips over balloons. When the sun came out, Kit burst through the door in a rage. Furious! We were all shocked. He said he could no longer work in the wood shop because there was so much useless junk in there that he had to throw some out. He said the first thing to go were those old bicycles he’d found in the back. He said they must be a hundred years old. That was all the kids needed. They took off running.”
Olivia sipped her wine. “Kit and I tried to get them to wash off the mud and slime but they never did. They truly loved those bikes!”
The women were silent for a moment, thinking how good it was to have given so much pleasure to children whose futures were less than perfect.