Neal’s eyes glittered above the rim of his brandy snifter. “All I know is, if there’s a new industry in Palmetto, it’s going to belong to the Patchetts.”
Ivan cackled. “That’s the way I taught you to think. It does my heart good to know that some of the lessons took. Nobody’s gonna come in and muscle us out.”
“No, but Jade can sure as hell muck things up temporarily. For beginners, she can cause a wage war. If she offers a dime more an hour to her employees, who do you figure folks will want to work for?”
“Our employees are loyal.”
“Loyal, my ass,” Neal said scornfully. “This is the new South, Daddy. Wake up. All that generational crap is just that—crap. If Jade promises to pay them more than we do, we’ll lose them. It won’t matter if their daddies and granddaddies worked for us. Damn! Every time I think about it, I wish I had my hands around her throat.”
Ivan looked at Neal from beneath his brows. “Y’all probably should have gone ahead and killed her that night, then blamed it on niggers or white trash.”
“Yeah. Wish I’d known then what I know now.”
“She’s out for revenge all right. I’ve gone after it enough times myself to recognize the signs.” Ivan smacked his lips with disgust. “Wouldn’t you know it, that chickenshit kid of Myrajane’s had to up and die. Our venerable sheriff sure as hell ain’t in any condition to fight this thing. So, guess who’s left?”
Neal clamped his hand on his father’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Daddy. We’re all we need.”
* * *
Jade pulled the Jeep Cherokee into the yard, which looked remarkably, and lamentably, the same as it had the last time she had seen it. The chickens were probably several generations removed from the previous ones, but they still pecked about the yard. A sow grunted from her muddy sty.
Through the kitchen window she could see Mrs. Parker wiping her hands on a cup towel and looking through the w
indow to see who had arrived. Jade experienced an eerie sense of déjà vu. She should have come at another time of day, one not so reminiscent of that other dusk when she had made the grisly discovery in the barn. But suppertime was the only time she was certain to catch Otis in the house.
She approached the front door and knocked. With the cup towel slung over her shoulder, Mrs. Parker answered the door and peered at Jade through the loose screen, shading her eyes against the setting sun. “Can I help you?”
“Hello, Mrs. Parker. It’s Jade. Jade Sperry.”
Jade heard her quick intake of breath. It gave a brief rise to her bony chest. She adjusted her hand against her brow and took a closer look.
“What do you want here?”
“I’d like to come in and talk to you.”
“We got nothing to say to each other.”
“Please, Mrs. Parker. It’s important or I wouldn’t have come. Please.”
Jade waited anxiously through a seemingly interminable silence, then the screen door squeaked loudly as Mrs. Parker pushed it open. She inclined her gray head; Jade stepped into the front room of the house. The upholstery on the sofa was so threadbare that, in spots, the cotton stuffing showed through. There was a stain on the headrest of the easy chair. The rug had unraveled around the edges. No improvements had been made in the room since Jade had last been in it. It was a gloomy room with dingy wallpaper, derelict furniture, a loudly ticking clock, and a framed picture of Gary in his graduation cap and gown, which he had never worn to commencement.
Since her return, Jade had visited Gary’s grave. Seeing his face smiling at her now from the dimestore frame gave her a start, but strengthened her resolve. She turned back to Gary’s mother, who had aged beyond the fifteen years that had passed. Her hair was thin and unkempt, and her clothes fit loosely. Beneath them, her skin sagged, covering nothing but bone.
“Where are the younger children, Mrs. Parker? What happened to them?”
Without any elaboration, she told Jade that two of the girls were married and had children. One of the boys lived in town with his wife and worked at the Patchett soybean plant; another had joined the navy; another had left home without saying where he was going. The last postcard they had received from him had been mailed in Texas.
“The baby’s still here at home,” she reported tiredly. “She’ll graduate high school next year.”
Sadly, Jade remembered all that Gary had wanted to do to pave the way for his younger brothers and sisters.
She heard a door closing in another part of the house.
“That’ll be Otis,” Mrs. Parker said anxiously. “He won’t cotton to your being here.”
“I need to see him.”
Otis Parker had aged even more than his wife. He was stooped, and what hair he had left was white. The elements, along with fatigue, despair, and grief, had carved deep ravines into his face. He drew up short when he saw Jade.